"Merde!" Shouted Armand Delacour. The Directeur of the French Chasseurs de ténèbres was usually a jovial man, who was widely appreciated by his subordinates and the different institutions ruling Magical France. However, even he had his bad days. And in that case, it was better to be far away.
"We don't have days! Half of the goblins on our soil want scapegoats for this complete disaster and the rest are sharpening the pikes for our heads! We need to move NOW!"
"But Monsieur..." The poor employee did not know any spell to make himself invisible, but under the murderous look of his boss, he was quite ready to learn. "The first estimations of our team are that the cursed wards which were activated after the expeditionary force entered the citadel are of a power and a complexity they have never seen in their life! In fact they believe some of the goblins were still outside the fortress when the trap started, and that they were destroyed by this dark magic."
"Very well," Sighed Armand Delacour, calming a bit at the explanations delivered in a frantic voice. "Still, we have to..."
Whatever the Directeur had been about to say, his subordinate would never know.
A piercing noise, horrible and shivering, resonated loudly in the valley, forcing every living being in the area to cover its ears in pain. And then, as if the noise had been only a prelude, the mountain itself exploded in an inferno of flames and molten rocks, burning the valley in a spectacular firework no human artist would have been able to create.
"APPARATE AWAY! NOW!" Shouted Armand Delacour.
The other French wizards had no need to be encouraged by their superior. Facing a flamboyant death if they stayed at their post, most of them had already escaped.
Hours later as the sun sets, the phenomena was deemed enough stabilised for Delacour and more than four hundred wizards to come again, obliviate any Muggle in the vicinity who had noticed the huge eruption and extinguish any fires with dozen of overpowered Aguamenti and other water-based incantations.
But for the fortress of Brise-Roc, there was nothing the French elite wizards could do. Where had once been a citadel making the pride of the goblin race, now there was only a smoking crater and a crumbling mountain.
"Massive breach of the Statute of Secrecy and a potential Goblin Revolt. In one incident. This is going to be one of those weeks at work..." Whispered Armand Delacour.
14 July 1992, Unknown Location
"So by all accounts, you Majesty, the operation was an outstanding success. Brise-Roc is no more. The Goblin Expeditionary Force has been utterly demolished. Our organisation has taken possession of several priceless magical artefacts and a comfortable quantity of gold. We have dealt a heavy blow to the branch of the Gringotts Paris, which is going to offer interesting opportunities for the middle-term plans already activated. Best of all, the bankers have been unable to realise we gave them back alchemical gold. One of the great plans has been validated."
There was no evil laughter at the end of the red robed figure's announcement, but no one could have missed the satisfaction in the way the words were pronounced.
"You have done well Knight Summoner." The dark figure on the throne emitted an almost imperceptible nod in the halo of darkness. "Are there any survivors able to talk about what happened inside the citadel?"
"Unfortunately, yes, your Majesty. When the French arrived with their chasseurs and their curse-breakers, I was forced to bring back the Summon back to its plane of origin and overload the wards system of the fortress. Alas, there were four beings still alive inside it when it happened and I have good information two of them are detained in the Magical Hospital of Paris."
"Regrettable." Said the grey-masked figure on the right of the throne.
"Not really, my Queen." Said one of the figures wearing light green robes.
"Explain."
"The first, a goblin, is not expected to last the week due to the terrible injuries he suffered against the Summon of our esteemed colleague. As for the other, the curse-breaker Louis de Male Foi is still in a comatose state. He may never wake up to tell what he saw."
"And if he does?"
"I have placed an explosive runic circle nearby." Said the figure dissimulated by red robes. "If he wakes up, I'll send him back directly to his ancestors."
"And the two other beings which were inside the citadel at the moment of the explosion?"
"Regretfully, we have no idea of their whereabouts." Admitted the Knight Summoner.
"I would not worry about it too much, your Majesty." Said the green-robed individual. Seeing the attention focusing in his direction, the being continued. "Knight Summoner has transformed the citadel into a crater where nothing alive can possibly have survived. The most probable explanation is that the two other living magical signatures which were detected perished when the wards exploded. That, or they were buried under the mountain when it exploded. To be honest, I'm astonished they found two survivors out of four!"
"And if someone survived?" Insisted the grey figure.
"Frankly, my Queen, it might be to our advantage. The fools of the ICW have been extremely efficient in wiping out the magical knowledge they judged too dangerous for their weak powers to handle. Assuming they found a Summon was used to destroy these miserable vermin we call goblins, they will soon realise they have nothing to oppose us. In this case, there is the delicious possibility they will surrender immediately when we will come out the shadows!"
"Perhaps." Said the dark figure on the throne. "Or perhaps not. I'm not willing to base our plans on such hopes, rumours and speculations, Knight Informer. If you find any goblin or human has survived to tell the world what happened, you eliminate the survivor and make sure to pass it for a tragic accident."
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