0495 Conditions & Assumptions

0495 Conditions & Assumptions

Bryan having seemingly exhausted his list of revelations, gracefully lifted his delicate porcelain teacup once more. He leaned back into the plush embrace of his chair, and took a long, contented sip of the exquisite brew quietly waiting for Gerson Barnah to accept the deal.

'What could be so valuable that the renowned Bryan Watson would personally travel to Paris to negotiate this business?'

The old goblin's gaze lowered, his rheumy eyes fixating on the exquisite pastries laid out before him like jewels on a goldsmith's workbench.

An oppressive silence fell upon the room, broken only by the soft ticking of an antique clock and the barely audible breathing of its occupants.

It was impossible for Barnah to quell the burning curiosity that gnawed at his insides like acid. Yet, with the wisdom born of centuries of high-stakes negotiations, he recognized the futility of pressing the issue. Bryan Watson's demeanor made it crystal clear that he had no intention of divulging any further information.

"Mr. Watson—"

After what seemed an eternity, the old goblin finally raised his head.

"We find ourselves with no compelling reason to refuse this most intriguing proposition. The profits generated from the Triwizard Tournament broadcast will be distributed precisely as you have outlined. As for the matter of your personal remuneration..."

Here, Barnah paused, his long fingers steepled before him in a gesture of deep contemplation.

"If my memory serves me correctly – and I assure you, Mr. Watson, that despite my advanced years, it rarely fails me – we have a workshop in the heart of Diagon Alley. Its current function is the production of broomstick maintenance kits, a respectable if somewhat mundane enterprise. Beginning at first light tomorrow, this establishment will dedicate its efforts solely to the completion of existing orders, steadfastly refusing any new commissions. The machinery along with our skilled workforce, the factory buildings, and the land upon which it stands – all will be transferred into your capable hands with the utmost haste. However—"

Bryan raised an eyebrow slightly, waiting silently for Barnah to state his conditions.

"While the exact nature of your intentions for this alchemy workshop remains a mystery to us," Barnah continued, his voice taking on a note of calculated speculation, "I cannot help but surmise that its purpose is linked to the production of yet another of your groundbreaking inventions. Am I correct in this assumption, Mr. Watson?"

"You want to be involved in the workshop's future endeavors?"

Bryan's lips curled into a smile.

"This, despite being wholly ignorant of the nature of the business, unable to ascertain whether it will yield bountiful profits or catastrophic losses? Such a proposition seems wildly at odds with the goblins' notorious penchant for risk aversion, Mr. Barnah."

"You yourself are our greatest assurance, Mr. Watson—"

The old goblin chuckled in his aged voice.

"While the acquisition of a workshop is undoubtedly a crucial first step, we both know it's just a single piece in a far more complex puzzle. The realization of your vision will require substantial capital, a meticulously crafted supply chain for raw materials, and robust channels for product promotion and distribution. Such endeavors, I need hardly to remind you, would consume a lot of your valuable time and energy – resources that could be better applied to matters more befitting a wizard of your stature."

Barnah leaned forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. "These logistical challenges, Mr. Watson, happen to be exactly what we excel at. Our expertise in these matters is unparalleled. By allowing us to participate in the future management of the workshop, we can alleviate many of your potential headaches. And in return for this service, what we ask is quite modest—"

"It's a regulation agreed upon by both the goblin nation and the wizards. I can assure you that Gringotts branches across the globe adhere rigorously to this regulation."

"And yet," Bryan smiled noncommittally. "I've heard whispers of... alternative methods of handling such delicate matters. Might there be any substance to these rumors, I wonder?"

Not only Gerson Barnah but even Ragnok and Laddie, who had been dutifully attending to their master, felt the weight of Bryan's implication settle upon them.

In truth, the practice Bryan referred to was not as covert as one might expect. Among the upper echelons of goblin society, those who occupied positions of power similar to themselves were well aware of the actual procedures employed by branch employees in such cases.

The reality was far from the neat and tidy process outlined in official documents. Instead, a complex web of collusion had been woven between certain Gringotts employees and their counterparts in various Ministries of Magic. Together, they would systematically take valuable items from the vaults of the heirless dead – priceless antiques, rare magical tomes, stocks in both magical and Muggle companies, deeds to properties in prime locations.

These ill-gotten gains would then be hedged through local black markets, the proceeds laundered through a complex series of transactions before being divided among the conspirators, along with whatever gold and Galleons had been stored in the original vaults.

This was no small-time operation, but an intricate and far-reaching chain of interest that implicated mid to high-level personnel from Ministries of Magic and Gringotts branches across multiple countries.

For Bryan Watson to raise this issue now, in such a nonchalant manner. It was clear to all present that he had no interest in joining this nefarious enterprise – such methods would be far beneath the dignity of a wizard of his stature.

"I won't insult your intelligence by denying it, Mr. Watson," Barnah replied, matching Bryan's casual tone with practiced ease. "Regarding the situation you've described, I concede that there may indeed be some instances of... shall we say, irregular operations."

Bryan clicked his tongue, his face a masterpiece of feigned disappointment. "How utterly disheartening," he lamented, shaking his head slowly. "If only those Ministry officials could channel even a fraction of the energy they expend on lining their own pockets into their actual duties, perhaps they wouldn't find themselves constantly criticized by the public for their gross incompetence."

With that pointed observation, the topic was summarily concluded. The remainder of the breakfast was linked to more pleasant subjects – discussions of magical theory, the finer points of goblin craftsmanship, and even a bit of good-natured speculation about the upcoming Triwizard Tournament.

As the meeting drew to a close, Bryan rose from his seat. In a burst of brilliant flame, Fawkes appeared in a shower of golden sparks.

With a final nod to his hosts, Bryan grasped one of Fawkes' tail feathers. In the blink of an eye, the wizard and phoenix vanished in a dazzling conflagration, leaving behind only the lingering scent of cinnamon and woodsmoke.

For several moments after Bryan's departure, Ragnok and Laddie remained rooted to the spot, their eyes wide with wonder as they stared at the place where the legendary Phoenix Fawkes had materialized. But their reverie was short-lived, as the moment Bryan's silhouette had dissipated into the air, a dark cloud seemed to appear upon Gerson Barnah's face.

"Ragnok," the old goblin growled, in a sharp tone,."you are to depart for our British branch immediately. First, conduct a thorough investigation into the matter Mr. Watson so casually mentioned. I want a comprehensive list of every goblin and Ministry employee implicated in this... unsavory business. Second, compile detailed records of the wealth they have misappropriated."

Barnah's eyes narrowed, conveying the gravity of the situation. "Prepare two copies of your findings. One is to be delivered directly to me, the other sent to Bryan Watson himself. Time is of the essence, Ragnok. This must be done with all possible haste."

For a moment, surprise flickered across Ragnok's face. He had always prided himself on his unflinching obedience to orders, but the nature of this task gave him pause.

"Master Barnah," he said cautiously, "are we truly prepared to expose the British Ministry of Magic in this manner? The repercussions... we stand to make many enemies."

"Bryan Watson considers this matter to be of great importance," Barnah said with a grave expression. "Perhaps... perhaps this was the true purpose behind his visit today."

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