Chapter 401

Chapter 401: Chapter 401

One hour later, the goblin attendant assigned to watch Lynn returned to the central hall where the banquet had been held.

With his head bowed, he crossed the floor, which had yet to be fully cleaned. After carefully stepping around the two halves of the stone table still lying amid the scattered food and shattered dishes, he approached Ragnuk and knelt on one knee.

"Reporting to Your Majesty. The man from Hogwarts is indeed drunk. He is currently fast asleep in the guest room."

The attendant paused, recalling what he had witnessed.

"He began swaying the moment he entered the room and had to support himself against the wall before reaching the bed. He collapsed without removing his shoes or covering himself with a blanket. His robes were hanging open at the chest, and he was snoring loudly."

"He was snoring when I entered, and he was still snoring when I left. He did not turn over even once."

Ragnuk nodded.

Seated at the head of the hall, he was still holding the sword Lynn had used to cleave the stone table in half.

He raised it to eye level. Beneath the flickering candlelight, its polished blade reflected a piercing white gleam. Ragnuk gently ran a finger along the flat of the blade while examining it from its tip to its ruby-studded hilt.

After a moment, he returned the sword to its scabbard and laid it on the side table beside him.

Then he raised his head and looked toward a shadowed corner of the hall.

"Elder Samael."

His voice was not loud, but the elderly figure waiting in the corner heard him clearly.

An ancient-looking goblin slowly stepped out of the shadows. He supported himself with a black cane topped by a dark red gemstone. Despite his hunched body and unsteady steps, his eyes remained sharp and his hoarse voice was filled with vigor.

"Your Majesty."

Samael stopped before Ragnuk and bowed.

Ragnuk studied his face for a moment before asking, "Do you believe that boy truly recognized the sword as a fake?"

"Impossible," Samael answered without hesitation. "Human wizards cannot distinguish the finer details of goblin craftsmanship. They do not understand our forging techniques, our runic systems, or the precise proportions of the materials we use."

"All they can see is the surface—the shape of the blade, its color, and its decorative patterns."

"We can imitate those details however we please. There is no way he could tell the difference."

Ragnuk considered his words and found them reasonable.

How could such a young wizard possibly understand the secrets of goblin craftsmanship?

Ragnuk had carefully observed Lynn throughout their conversation. The young man looked no older than twenty, and almost everything in the goblin city seemed novel to him.

He was clearly not some seasoned wizard who had traveled the world and dealt with goblins countless times. He probably could not distinguish an authentic goblin-made artifact from a convincing imitation. He might not even know how many stages were involved in the goblin forging process.

That was one of the reasons Ragnuk had decided to take the risk.

The sword on the table had also been forged from goblin silver, but it was ultimately a defective product.

Of course, "defective" was merely Ragnuk’s judgment. To an ordinary human wizard, it would still be considered a priceless treasure and one of the finest swords they had ever seen.

The real Sword of Gryffindor, however, was far too perfect.

So perfect that Ragnuk suspected he could spend the rest of his life at the forge and never create its equal.

He did not know whether its creation had been the result of extraordinary luck, an unprecedented moment of inspiration, or the blessing of some mysterious power. Every piece of material had been flawless, every rune had been carved with absolute precision, and every stage of the forging process had proceeded without the slightest mistake or deviation.

It was the finest weapon Ragnuk had ever forged.

He could not bear to part with it.

"Has the real sword been properly hidden?" Ragnuk asked, lowering his voice.

"It has been placed in the deepest chamber of the treasury," Samael replied just as quietly. "No outsider will ever find it."

"The treasury entrance is protected by seven locks, and each requires a different key. Without my personal guidance, no one can enter."

Ragnuk gave a soft hum of acknowledgment and tapped the armrest of his chair twice.

His gaze shifted from Samael to the imitation sword resting on the table.

"Fulfill that boy’s requests as best you can and send him away as quickly as possible. Once he leaves the kingdom, whether the sword is genuine or counterfeit will no longer concern us."

He paused before adding, "Give him whatever he asks for. Allow him to meet whomever he wishes and visit wherever he pleases. Do not argue with him, do not arouse his suspicions, and most importantly, do not give him any reason to remain here."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Samael bowed once more before turning around and slowly making his way toward the hall’s exit, his cane striking the stone floor with every step.

Meanwhile, in the guest quarters on the pyramid’s middle level, Lynn sat comfortably in a chair with one leg crossed over the other and a cup of tea in his hand.

The room was small but clean. It contained a window, a bed, a table, and several chairs, all neatly arranged.

Lynn took a sip of the tea, smacked his lips, and then drank again.

There was no trace of intoxication on his face. His gaze was perfectly clear, his posture was steady, and he appeared completely refreshed.

He looked nothing like a man who had supposedly collapsed onto his bed without even removing his shoes.

Lynn glanced toward the door.

The goblin assigned to watch him had finally left.

With a casual wave of his wand, he lit the candlestick on the table.

In truth, Lynn had not been able to determine whether the sword presented to him was fake. It was not because his eyesight was poor, but because he knew almost nothing about the forging techniques used by goblins in this era.

Who could say how much their craftsmanship had changed over the following thousand years?

Even so, Lynn was almost certain that the sword was not genuine.

The History of Magic textbooks from his original era had recorded the dispute surrounding the Sword of Gryffindor. After the sword came into Godric Gryffindor’s possession, Ragnuk regretted parting with his finest creation. He falsely accused Gryffindor of stealing it and later sent several goblins to reclaim the weapon, only for Gryffindor to repel them.

If Ragnuk had been unwilling to surrender the sword even to Gryffindor himself, there was no possibility that he would casually hand the genuine article to an obscure young wizard acting as a messenger.

Ragnuk was a man capable of murdering his own adoptive father to seize the throne. What wouldn’t someone like that be willing to do?

Still, whether the sword was genuine, counterfeit, or merely defective had nothing to do with Lynn.

He had not come to the Goblin Kingdom for the Sword of Gryffindor. His true purpose was to find a way to strengthen his Ancient Magic.

The sword did not matter to him at all.

...

By the twentieth century, the Goblin Kingdom had long since disappeared into the river of history.

Its records, ruins, and artifacts had gradually been lost to war, natural disasters, deliberate destruction, and the simple passage of time.

In Lynn’s era, those who wished to understand the ancient Goblin Kingdom could only consult History of Magic textbooks or study whatever ruins and artifacts had survived.

The information preserved in textbooks was cold and lifeless: the year the kingdom was founded, the year it fell, the deeds of a particular king, and the number of lives lost in a particular war.

Artifacts provided only incomplete fragments of the past—a broken inscription, a faded pattern, or a damaged piece of metal. They offered glimpses of history, but never the complete picture.

Lynn, however, did not need to rely on any of those things.

He was standing in that ancient era, inside the goblin city-state, surrounded by the very people who would one day become little more than names in old books.

He could witness their lives with his own eyes, hear their language with his own ears, and touch their buildings with his own hands. He could visit places that would one day become ruins, speak to people whose names would be forgotten, and ask questions no surviving artifact could answer.

He could experience the kingdom for himself.

Lynn cherished the opportunity. While searching for a method to strengthen his Ancient Magic, he began touring the Kingdom of Goblins.

Every morning, he climbed to the top of the pyramid. As the tallest structure in the entire city-state, it offered the best possible view of the surrounding territory.

From there, Lynn could overlook the whole kingdom.

The city-state’s outermost defenses consisted of rivers and hills beyond its walls.

A river flowed out of the western valley, curved around the city’s perimeter, and continued eastward before disappearing between the mountains. Several stone bridges crossed the water, connecting the city-state to the hills on the opposite bank.

Those hills were covered with forests, farmland, and grazing pastures.

The city walls had been constructed from enormous blocks of stone. Guard towers stood at regular intervals, each occupied by armed goblin soldiers.

Within the walls, the city was divided into three main districts: the Residential District, the Forging District, and the Commercial District.

The Residential District was dense and crowded. Most of its houses were low structures built from a mixture of stone and timber, with roofs covered in thatch. Narrow, winding alleys twisted between them like tangled threads.

The Forging District occupied the eastern side of the city-state, close to the river’s upper reaches.

There stood the largest smelting furnace in the kingdom, along with its tallest chimney. The pounding of hammers rang through the district from morning until night, filling the air with a constant metallic rhythm.

The Commercial District lay in the west, near the city’s main gate.

It possessed the broadest streets, the greatest number of shops, and the densest crowds in the entire kingdom. Stalls and storefronts lined both sides of every road, selling food, clothing, tools, weapons, jewelry, and countless other goods.

Lynn wandered past them at a leisurely pace. From time to time, he stopped to examine an item, feel its craftsmanship, or ask its price before continuing onward without buying anything.

At night, countless lanterns rose from the pyramid.

They began at its lowest level and floated upward layer by layer. The higher they climbed, the denser and brighter they became, until they gathered above the golden summit like a vast sea of light.

Every lantern glowed cyan.

Standing atop the pyramid and looking down at the silent streets and tightly packed houses bathed in cyan light, Lynn could not help thinking of Hogwarts a thousand years in the future.

He remembered the Great Hall illuminated by floating candles and the enchanted ceiling filled with stars—a place so beautiful that one could sit there for hours without wanting to leave.

During his spare time, Lynn also visited Gold and Silver Street in the depths of the Commercial District.

Despite its grand name, Gold and Silver Street was an extremely narrow alley. Jewelry shops stood shoulder to shoulder along both sides, their windows filled with ornaments of gold and silver.

Rings, necklaces, bracelets, earrings, brooches, and hairpins—every item displayed extraordinary craftsmanship.

Lynn had not originally intended to buy any of them. He was not particularly fond of jewelry, and anything he purchased would probably end up gathering dust at home. It seemed far more sensible to save his money for something useful.

Unfortunately, the jewelry was simply too cheap.

Not merely affordable, but absurdly inexpensive compared to what it would be worth in his own era.

A goblin-made ring that might sell for several thousand Galleons at Gringotts a millennium later cost only a few dozen silver coins here.

A necklace valuable enough to exchange for an entire manor in the future could be purchased for only several gold coins.

Pieces of armor, gauntlets, and sword hilts that would one day become more valuable than their weight in gold—largely because goblins no longer forged weapons for humans—were sold here as ordinary merchandise.

Lynn felt that refusing to buy them would be an unforgivable waste.

Once he returned to the modern era and sold these antiques, the profits would be unimaginable.

Thus began an extravagant shopping spree.

As Lynn spent each day purchasing jewelry, browsing shops, and admiring the scenery from the top of the pyramid, Ragnuk gradually lowered his guard.

What threat could possibly be posed by a young man who spent all his time shopping or sightseeing, displayed no interest in politics or power, and never approached any restricted area?

Nearly a week passed in this manner.

Lynn left early every morning and returned late each night, exploring almost every corner of the city-state.

Yet despite his efforts, he failed to discover even the slightest trace of Ancient Magic.

Could the goblins have hidden it?

The possibility slowly took root in Lynn’s mind.

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