1171 Blessing Ⅱ

Coming down from the attic, Rowan made her way down to her grandfather's study. She paused at the oak door and peeked inside. Seated at his desk, Reginald Prince's dark feathered quill swiftly moved across the parchment. Seeing her grandfather occupied, she quietly stepped inside and sat down so as not to disturb him.

The door to their grandfather's hidden laboratory remains shut. It had remained shut since, the death of their grandmother, Sirsa. Even his worktables remained bare and neat. Showing they had not been used in a long time.

Rowan's eyes drift over to the magical chessboard in the corner of the study. Various chess pieces are carefully positioned across the wizarding board. Unlike most wizarding chess boards, the magical chess board in her grandfather's study was quiet and stoic. Though various chess pieces were off the board. There were none to represent them.

The grandfather clock in a corner of the study ticks steadily away. At long last, the dark feathered quill ceases to move, before being set down. Allowing the ink on the letter to dry, Reginald raises his dark gaze to meet that of his granddaughter. "I expect the visit to the Black Family summer home was educational."

"It was grandfather," Rowan grimaced slightly upon recalling the spectacular failure of her music lessons.

"I am pleased to hear that; I would be disappointed to hear otherwise." Clasping his hands together and resting them lightly on the desk, Reginald says, "So what is that which you have come to discuss this afternoon with me, Rowan? I am curious considering the impromptu visit." 

"I wish to discuss the chess board that you are setting up, grandfather," Rowan gestured to the wizarding chess board in the corner of the study.

"Oh, so you did notice, I thought you might have," Reginald retorted as a gleam of pride shone in the depths of his eyes. 

Rowan arches her brow at her grandfather and refrains from rolling her eyes in exasperation. Her grandfather had been around cunning Slytherins for far too long as of late. He really needed to take a break.

"In the efficiency of time, I wish to be direct grandfather, may I?"

"You may," Reginald leaned back in his seat as the chess board in the corner of the study arose and floated over to the desk, before gently settling down onto the desk.

"I presume you will make your move at the International Confederation of Wizardry, grandfather," Rowan indicated with her head toward the chess board. "That being the case, you do not have sufficient chess pieces in your corner."

"You feel that I do not have sufficient pawns?"

"You do not have sufficient versatile chess pieces placed on the board. You will need more than pawns to win this match grandfather."

"I concur, but I already hold a king that is infinitely versatile unlike most."

"Dumbledore is powerful without a doubt grandfather, even more so as he will side with you on this occasion. However, the federation is made up of more than just Dumbledore and our hard-won allies. We need to convince the rest of the world that is in their favor as well."

Reginald glanced at the bishop chess piece on the board. "Are you implying that the giant's willingness to abide by a peace treaty and the actions of the goblins, hags, and trolls taken during the war will not be sufficient to convince the council?" It was a rhetorical question as Reginald knew that was exactly the case. He wouldn't be so arduously working otherwise.

"I have entrusted the sword of Godric Gryffindor to you, grandfather to use as the symbolic gesture of the treatise," Rowan plainly stated. "A symbol is only powerful and relevant when it means something. It means nothing to the delegates beyond the Isles."

"I am vastly aware of that Rowan, but I cannot push any further. If I push our allies any further, we will lose them. I am hard-pressed as it is to continue to maintain control over them."

Reginald's eyes linger on the bishop on the board representing Phillipe Verninac. He would lose the European Delegation if he continued to push any further. Phillipe Verninac may owe him for gaining him a seat on the Council, but Phillipe Verninac held no love for the Prince family. He only continued to deal with Reginald in commemoration of Sirsa.

"That is precisely, we offer them a trade that no one else can replicate."

"Oh?" Reginald momentarily showed a gleam of interest. "If it is the creation of artifacts, I am afraid that ship has already come and gone. The Minister of Magic intends to reveal the latest artifacts to the world. They were largely created thanks to the combined intellect of the muquibs and goblins. They will not sway the council further in favor of the cause."

"I know you are not in favor of the goblins receiving wands, grandfather," Rowan plainly stated. "However, if the fear of making a former enemy stronger than expanding the chess board ought to remedy the situation, dear grandfather."

Reginald pressed his fingers together in thought. "And who exactly are you suggesting?"

Rowan picked up a bishop from the discarded pile and placed the black bishop on the board. "Versatile with incredible power. Currently, they are an enemy, but if they can be turned, they will be an invaluable ally."

"However, they hold a perceivable weakness, Rowan. It is their weakness that makes them treacherous," Reginald flatly stated as he glanced at the added bishop on the board.

"On the contrary, they will be loyal," Rowan reached into her poke skin to pull out a ruby red blood fruit and a handful of acromantula silk.

Leaning slightly forward, Reginald peered at the unknown ruby red fruit and the handful of the finest acromantula silk. He gestured at his granddaughter to continue to speak.

"This fruit is called a blood fruit. The plant in question was created by me and the shaman of the centaur tribe," Rowan pointed to the ruby red fruit with a finger. "This plant, unlike others grows quite quickly and survives on the corpses of dead beasts. And its fruit is unlike any other ever seen. In fact, the acromantula traded their silk to the centaurs for the fruit. If I am correct, then this fruit will solve the immediate needs of those that require blood or flesh to exist."

Reginald glances at the fruit and then at the acromantula silk. "The acromantula were willing to trade for this?" He gestured to the fruit.

"Yes, and offered their venom as well, but the centaurs declined the trade."

Reginald positively brightened at the idea of acromantula venom. Acromantula venom is a most useful component in many a potion but is a rare and costly ingredient as acquiring it is nearly fatal or oftentimes is. Not to mention acromantula silk is highly valued for its magical properties, if it could safely be acquired the economies of the wizarding communities around the world would be booming.

"Not to mention, I received Lorcan's letter earlier today," Rowan said with a confident beam in her eye. "The blood fruit alleviated all his hunger needs."

"And with a portion of the magical community under control, the economy of the rest of the magical known world will be booming," Rowan subtly suggested, before adding a knight to the board.

"The centaurs may prove useful," Reginald finally relented, before raising his gaze to meet that of his granddaughter. "However, that is not all you desire to add to the board."

"The are always potential allies at Hogwarts," Rowan subtly indicated and added two rooks and the Queen to the board.

Reginald arched his brow at the placement of the two rooks and queen. He opened his mouth and closed it, before pressing his lips into a thin line. He pensively tapped his finger against the desk. Power is always a powerful motivator. He could use that.

Seeing that her grandfather understood her proposal, Rowan reached into her moke skin pouch and removed a bushel filled with ruby red fruits. The bushel was not quite as full as once upon a time. She had sent a handful to Hagrid to test among the giants. Along with some more for Lorcan to share with Annis Black, who would be sure to share it with the hags. She had yet to receive a reply, but if her suspicions were correct, the blood fruit would prove to equally popular among the giants, hags, and vampires.

 "I trust that you will ensure they arrive in the right hands," Rowan set the basket on her grandfather's desk.

"Naturally," Reginald said glancing down at the letter and crumbling into a wad of paper. He would need to rewrite the letter. He had a bargaining chip in hand.

"Good," Rowan said as she stood up and turned to go. "I should warn you, grandfather. The queen intends to be fully present."

"I would expect no less," Reginald murmured in resignation.

"The pieces added to the board will be present in one form or another," Rowan matter-of-factly stated. "I would recommend setting the board to your advantage grandfather."

"Of course, I shall," Reginald confidently arched his head. "Though it would be that much simpler if it was simply allowing the goblins the right to a wand."

"Yes, well tell that to the magical serpent of Hogwarts."

"Touche," Reginald muttered under his breath, before shooing his granddaughter out of the study. He had much to write, and he knew exactly who to start with Luther, the Pontifex of the coven. 

Pontifex Luther was very much against the vampires joining Voldemort's cause. Yet he had not been to the Pontifex for years and had survived under Ambrogio Sangria to know when to pretend to side with the winning side. Those who opposed Ambrogio Sangria did not live for long. Yet if would save the coven, Pontifex Luther would be willing to risk it all.