HP: Spirit Talker

As always, the goblins created a special, "heavy" atmosphere in their bank. The presence of large rooms, high ceilings with a lot of heavy stone and gilding "presses" on the visitor, and also those high counters of theirs, so that even an adult had to look up at the goblins from below. Yes, those expressions of gray-green faces, looking at people with superiority and even a little (not always little) squeamishness, a way of speaking as if a royal person had come down to you.

I'm not xenophobic, even to the mermaids I treat well, even if they are stuck at the level of development, somewhere "tribal", but I can't stand goblins, as I see the behavior of this form, so I want to burn their nest with flames, or let the gas. But I have to restrain myself.

As I said before, the wizards of Europe made a serious mistake in their time — they allowed goblins not only to gain a serious foothold, but also to squeeze out competitors in the banking sphere, and not only in it. I've never heard of wizards-smiths-weaponsmiths, but I've heard of "goblin" steel, and if not everyone, then certainly everyone who's interested in weapons. It's a good thing this form doesn't interfere too much with the Muggle world, and if it does, I'm sure they're not the kind of tribe that would miss out on a profit or an opportunity to grab something else.

My men found a very skilled blacksmith near Manchester, with excellent references and recommendations, who was immediately commissioned to forge a few sample weapons from the material provided. Yes, of spiritual steel, I know the method of its production, and the fact that my tsurugi split in Japan, so it is the fault of poor processing of the metal — I simply cast it and did not try too hard with the hardening.

In short, the fault is entirely mine. And here a professional asked for two weeks time to work, and that's without making the hilt and sheath, which I will work on myself, most importantly, the master will put on the blades special patterns and hieroglyphics — the future anchors of the weapon's special properties.

So, goblins and their bank. In it I found myself in the afternoon, at the beginning of the second. One of the employees, with a grimace on his face, led me to the meeting room, at the door of which stood a couple of guards in full armor, but with short halberds and heavy daggers on their belts. All the metal was spirit steel, covered in runes, and their runes, by the way, were not like the ones on the blades Potter had so cleverly bound, so some other people had made them.

Behind the heavy white door was a rather large room, almost empty, with only a table in the middle and two chairs, on one of which a grey-haired Asian man was waiting for me. When he stood up to greet me, I could see much more. First, the man is not old, at most about forty years old, no more, and the gray hair is caused by something else. Second, the man was mutilated: the right side of his neck and face were covered with burn scars, and his right arm was cut off just above the elbow. Third, Mene Genosuke was a fighter, or had been in a serious fight — it was easy to tell from his eyes and facial expression.

— Pleased to meet you. — The man bowed respectfully. — My name is Mene Genosuke, husband of the late Hoshino Shiina and father of Marika and Manami.

— It is a pleasure to meet you. — Return the bow. — I am Hoshino Sora, son of Hoshino Junko. — The man flinched visibly and his expression changed slightly.

— I'm glad you agreed to this meeting, Hoshino-san, please. — The man pointed to a chair as the nominal host. — Junko-san is alive? How did she escape? — The man didn't even try to hide his interest.

— Yes, she's alive, but we're not here to talk about my mother, are we? — I had to keep my expression and voice calm.

— You're right, Hoshino-san, I apologize. — The man bowed his head and went on. — I asked for a meeting because I was once a member of the Hoshino Clan, I was accepted and allowed to marry Shiina-san, and when my daughters were barely three months old, the clan was attacked. — The man paused and lowered his eyes to the table. — Even though I'm a man, my strength was barely enough to win the ritual duel, and after the marriage, I did other things while Shiina-san grew stronger. — A bitter grin crossed his face. — She was the one who protected me and my daughters during the attack, because by then I was already a cripple. — The man twitched his stump. — But I saved my daughters. — She looked into his eyes again, firm and confident.

Hmm, strange, if he's not much of a fighter, why does he have such an aura? Genosuke didn't lie a single word, maybe he didn't say something, which is understandable, but I didn't feel any lies. And yes, I'm not afraid that the goblins will overhear us, I almost have a reflex to release a pack of shikigami and some loose seals when I enter unknown rooms. Now this room is under the barrier, and the interlocutor clearly noticed my manipulations, but did not even raise an eyebrow.

— An interesting story, but understandable under the circumstances. — I looked into the man's eyes and tried to control my emotions and my body. — But why are you telling me all this? And why do you think that I am related to the destroyed clan and not some namesake? — The man grinned at my words.

— Because there's no such thing as your eye color, they've always been the trademark of the Hoshino bloodline, and besides, you're quite similar to Junko-san and Shiina-san. — At my raised eyebrow, Minge grinned, but not maliciously or mockingly. — I'm a botanist by vocation and profession, and I've spent my whole life working with magical plants, so I'm very sensitive to the nuances of magic.

— I see. — I see. — Why did you invite me to this meeting?

— Mr. Hoshino, please take my daughters under your arm! They are what I believed to be the last shard of the great clan, as far as I could and knew I had trained them. Marika and Manami will be a worthy part of the reborn clan! — The man's eyes lit up at these words.