Chapter 530 - Preorder Ⅲ (2/2)

The elderly goblin with sharp eyes asked, ”Goblin silver?”

”No, my King, a magical item for daily use.”

”A weapon.”

”No, my King, but the item was kept a secret.”

Grok Gringotts pursed his lips in annoyance. ”And who is the crafter?”

”Wulm, my King.”

Grok nods his head sagely and gestured for Ragnok to depart. Dismissed Ragnok silently makes his way out leaving Grok to his brooding thoughts. It surprised him that the Prince child had not called in the favor that was owed to her. But then again, a Prince always knew when exactly to call in an owed favor.

Sighing Grok makes a note in his journal to speak to Wulm regarding the artifact. Wulm, despite being a council member had her pride as a crafter. She would not reveal the usage of the item but would at least confirm that the item posed no danger to them.

Though Grok rubbed his head as if in a headache as he glanced at the note that he had received that afternoon from his subordinates. There was great unrest and anxiety among his people. Many goblins feared that squibs and muquibs would replace them at Gringotts.

Gringotts Bank was one of the few places in the wizarding world that employed goblins, and it was the only location where goblins made up most of the workforce. He had already spoken and assured his people that the squibs and muquibs would mostly be working at Gringotts Inc. but still many of his enemies had taken this opportunity to seed dissent and unrest among this people.

And even worrying was the message that he had received this afternoon. The Brotherhood of Goblins had been unnaturally quiet. And there were whispers only known to few that there were some that sought his death.

Normally, Grok would have scoffed at such rumors, but he too felt that there was someone moving in the shadows using the unrest among his people to further their gains. He did not know who, but what truly worried him is that in the event of his unexpected death, his heir would fall into the trap already laid by the enemy.

Rubbing his weary face, Grok rose to his feet and carried the sheet of parchment to the fireplace. Tossing the sheet of parchment into the flames, he hatched the parchment curl up and burn under the heat of the flames until nothing, but black ashes remained.

Carefully prodding the ashes with a poker, Grok returns to his desk and begins to work. He would gain nothing by further stewing over the problem. It was better to work on what he did know, and what he could change. With that steadfast thought in mind, he soon lost himself reviewing the bank ledgers. He did run an international wizarding worldwide bank, after all.