Chapter Four: Lord Calvin's Judgment

It took about an hour for 'Lord Calvin' to arrive, an hour that saw a fierce, if silent, standoff in Silnok's office. The goblin account manager maintained his post at his desk while his son remained standing near the door. In the chairs before the desk, Lance and Alanna clung to each other, cowed and frightened by the idea that they'd already spent their entire inheritance. And even more frightened by the concept that their future was now in the hands of someone they'd never even met.

Then a rap resounded on the wooden door and Silnok called, "Enter!"

A goblin teller entered, followed by a lean man with crew-cut black hair, hazel eyes, and the beginnings of a beard and mustache on his face. He was dressed in a red polo, black jeans, and brown boots rather than any type of formal wear – as if he'd been planning on a day off rather than a trip to Gringotts. Glancing around, he spied Greg; the officer was still standing between his wards and Silvergrip, casual yet determined.

"Lieutenant?" the newcomer asked, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

"Thank you for coming, Constable," Parker returned smoothly. "I'm sorry I had to call you on your day off, but this is one of those situations that has to be dealt with immediately."

"Of course, sir," Constable Lancelot Cabrera agreed, moving forward to regard the two goblins. "What seems to be the problem?"

Silvergrip opened his mouth, but Silnok growled low, cutting him off. The elder goblin regarded the constable narrowly for a few seconds, then grunted and straightened in his chair. "You are Lancelot Gale Calvin, named for your father and his ancestor before him, and brother to Lady Amelia Swanwhite Calvin, ancestress of the present-day House of Calvin?"

"It's been many years since I heard that name, but, yes, I am," Lancelot confirmed, hazel widening as he began to figure out why he'd been called in. "I beg pardon, cousin, but who are you?"

Silvergrip rumbled offense, but Silnok straightened, pleased by the acknowledgement. Inclining his head, he replied, "I am Silnok of the Sil Clan of goblins, Sir Knight. My clan has served your sister's family with pride for many centuries."

A faint smile traced the constable's jaw. "Then you are aware of our history."

"Indeed," Silnok confirmed. One hand gestured to his son. "Of late, milord, my son Silvergrip has begun working with myself and your young cousin in preparation for the day when I retire."

Parker stiffened, a motion that did not go unnoticed by his subordinate. Hazel the same shade as Greg's flicked to him then back to the goblins. "I see," Lancelot mused, deliberately noncommittal. "Perhaps, cousin, you might come straight to the point?"

"Of course," Silnok agreed, bowing in his chair. Grimacing, he lifted the cause of all the fuss. "Your cousins believe that my son negotiated this contract and advised that your young namesake sign it."

Lancelot made no move to take the lease, though hazel narrowed dangerously. "And what do you believe?"

The old goblin hesitated, then sighed, slumping minutely. "My son wrote this lease, milord. I know his work far too well to doubt its authorship." A glare was sent in Silvergrip's direction. "In particular, he has always been fond of contracts which seem to say one thing, but truly say another."

Hazel flicked towards Silvergrip. "How bad, sir?" he asked without taking his eyes off his opponent.

"I wouldn't live there if you paid me, much less for three years with rent increases every six months," Greg replied in a dry tone. "Mio nipotes have to give six months notice or the lease renews automatically for another three years." He paused. "Oh, and they're paying penthouse rent for a lousy two bedroom apartment in a bad part of the city."

In the deadly silence that followed, Silvergrip finally gulped.

Lancelot stalked forward, managing to loom over his opponent despite his average stature. "You deceived my sister's heirs? You put them in danger? You were entrusted with their welfare and instead you cast them to the wolves!"

"As I was commanded, so I have done," Silvergrip protested.

"Commanded?" Lancelot hissed. "Commanded? Have you no independent thought of your own?" A faint flare of deep brown ignited his eyes. "How dare you put my kin in danger!"

"They were never in harm's way," Silvergrip objected. "The child exaggerates!"

"He wasn't exaggerating the assault," Greg offered sardonically from the sidelines. "Three-on-one fight and a knife got involved, too. Plus internal injuries from his cracked and broken ribs."

Silvergrip leered. "That is your fault, human," he jeered. "You allowed them to flee from your keeping."

"And you insured their sanctuary was in a den of hyenas," Lancelot snapped, bristling. "Do not blame my kin for your actions, goblin! You deceived my cousins and robbed them of what was rightfully theirs."

"It was never theirs!" Silvergrip burst out. "You are the Head of the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin, milord! They have no right to your inheritance."

The constable froze, staring at the goblin in shock. After several moments, his fists clenched. "You did this for my benefit?"

"Of course, milord," Silvergrip replied, bowing deeply. "I am at my Lord Calvin's service."

"And what gave you the impression that I would approve of your actions towards my sister's heirs?" Lancelot demanded.

The goblin bowed again. "As milord's proxy instructed, so I have done. He bade me protect your interests, milord, not the interests of a foolish young interloper."

"That 'foolish young interloper' is my kin," Lancelot snapped. "The inheritance you speak of is hardly mine when my sister's family has toiled for centuries to amass it."

"You are the firstborn Heir, milord," Silvergrip demurred. "To the eldest goes the inheritance, as it has been from the Dawn of Time."

"You still had no right to deceive my kin," Lancelot retorted. "If you believed they had taken liberties that were not theirs to take, then you should have contacted me and left any retribution to me. Instead, you took matters into your own hands and placed two Scions of my House in danger."

Silvergrip paled, but stood with resolute determination. "Your proxy acted on your behalf, milord. I had no need to consult you, not with your proxy's approval of my actions."

"How could I have a proxy when I didn't even know you believed me to be the Head of my sister's House?" Lancelot protested.

"Your proxy knew, milord, and he acted in your best interests," Silvergrip insisted.

Stalking away from the goblin, Lancelot's face twisted into a snarl of outrage. Spinning back, he growled, "You placed my kin in danger and robbed them at the word of one who is not even of our House. You did this without consulting anyone, not even your honored sire who has served our House well for many centuries."

"Wait." All eyes shifted towards Lance. The young man was pale, but he stepped past his uncle's sheltering bulk to meet his ancestor's gaze. "My Lord Calvin, before you pass Judgment on this goblin, please, consider that it is only his first offense. To banish him without giving him a chance to make amends is beneath our family's honor."

Lancelot considered the argument, regarding the young man closely. "You would grant him mercy after he placed you and your sister in jeopardy?"

"I…" Lance looked down at the floor, gathering his nerve. "I want him to suffer like we did, but that's not right, sir. I know it's not right, but I still want to hurt him." A tear slipped down. "Dad would be so mad at me right now."

"No, kiddo, he wouldn't," Greg intervened, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulders. "He'd be proud that you were willing to speak up for Silvergrip, even though you're mad at him and have every right to want justice."

"If courage is doing what is right in spite of our fear, then I must believe virtue is doing what is right in spite of our emotions," Lancelot agreed. "You don't want to give him mercy, but you feel that you should, am I right?"

Another tear slid down and Lance nodded roughly without looking up.

Turning to Silvergrip, Lancelot's hazel narrowed. "Very well, goblin. My kin has interceded on your behalf, but I must have satisfaction for your actions."

Silnok cleared his throat. "Perhaps, milord, you might allow me to handle this matter? I shall discipline my son and ensure that he does not ever again breach your trust."

Lancelot studied the old goblin before turning back to his target. "I am willing. On one condition." Leaning forward, he demanded, "Who claimed to be my proxy?"

"One who has your best interests at heart, Lord Calvin."

"That did not sound like an answer to me," the constable growled. Stalking right up to Silvergrip, he let his magic flare in his eyes and around his fists. "I will ask you again, goblin. Who dared claim I wanted my kin placed in danger? Who dared claim to be my proxy and gave you instructions counter to my House's ancient honor?"

Silvergrip quailed, but gazed up into furious hazel. In spite of the magic that roiled around Lancelot, almost audibly snarling in outrage, he replied, "One who has your best interests at heart, milord."

Power blazed around the constable, right on the edge of control. Straightening to his full height, Lancelot declared, "You were offered Mercy, goblin, but have chosen to slap it away. If you will not answer to my satisfaction, then you leave me no alternative. I Judge that you, Silvergrip, son of Silnok, have broken faith with the Ancient and Noble House of Calvin. You cannot ever again be trusted with our House's affairs and I banish you from our service." Whirling towards his namesake, Lancelot added, "I declare that my sister's firstborn heir is my heir. As my House passed to him, so it now passes to his heir, for all time. So mote it be."

Silvergrip cried out in protest, but far too late. Power flared around Lancelot, darting first to Silvergrip; the goblin recoiled from the magic, gasping in pain; then to Lance, swirling around his shoulders and sinking in. The young man lifted his head, eyes glowing brown for a moment before his own gold peeked through.

Hazel turned to Silnok. "Is that sufficient, cousin?" Lancelot asked quietly.

"More than sufficient, milord," Silnok replied, bowing his head. Teeth bared in goblin grin. "Or it would have been, had it been necessary, Scion Calvin."

"It wasn't necessary?" Lance blurted, sapphire wide.

"Of course it was not, Lord Calvin," Silnok replied firmly. "My foolish son forgets himself," he growled, glaring at Silvergrip. "Had you been illegitimate, the Lordship ring would never have accepted you."

The teenager flushed, left hand dropping to cover the rings on his right hand.

Silnok inclined his head towards the rings soberly. "They accepted you, Lord Calvin, and so your position has always been secure. Once you claimed your House, all rights and privileges as Head were yours." Dark eyes narrowed in Silvergrip's direction. "My son had no just cause to deprive you of your vaults, milord, nor to deceive you in the matter of any potential dwelling."

Silvergrip perked up, sneering in Lancelot's direction.

"Silence!" Silnok bellowed; the young goblin cringed. "You, my foolish, wayward son, have much to learn." He slammed his palm against his desk. "Sir Lancelot's banishment will stand, young fool! Never again will the House of Calvin acknowledge you or accept you into their service!"

"But Father," Silvergrip whimpered. "Where will I go?"

"You should have thought of that before you defied your Oaths, my son," Silnok growled. "You should have thought of that before you refused to answer Scion Calvin." Surveying the downcast goblin, he sneered. "Begone! Return to our clan's dwellings to await my Judgment of your actions."

Lancelot cringed as Silvergrip fled from his father's wrath. Once the door had slammed closed behind him, he swallowed hard. "I am sorry for the trouble I have caused you, cousin."

Silnok sagged. "Do not be, Scion Calvin. He has been a rebellious soul all his life and must learn the consequences of such rebellion. You did not force him into betraying your young kin, nor did you coerce him into refusing to answer your question regarding the proxy."

"But what about you, Silnok?" Alanna asked, gazing at her family's account manager in distress. "Who will help you now?"

The old goblin smiled, touched by her concern. "My Lady, I have another son. He has always been much wiser than his brother and I confess I have oft wished that he was the elder." The smile turned sorrowful. "It seems the Lion has granted me my wish."

None of the humans responded. There was no need to cause the old goblin any more distress and it didn't take a negotiator to know that the old axiom, while true, would only rub salt in the wound.

After a few seconds, Silnok shook himself and turned back to Lance. "I will investigate my son's actions ever since I appointed him as your junior account manager, Lord Calvin. You may trust that I will uncover any other deceptions and ensure your House is compensated for my foolish son's misguided quest to return the House to its 'rightful' Lord."

"Thank you, Silnok," Lance murmured. "Could you arrange for all the furniture to be moved out of that apartment?"

"Certainly, Lord Calvin," Silnok agreed. "Once the premises is inspected and your belongings removed, I shall personally deal with the landlord and his…lease."

Very privately, Greg suspected that the landlord was about to find out why you didn't cross a goblin – even if you'd been working with another goblin to do it. Putting that thought aside, he moved to his constable's side and gave him an approving nod.

"How 'bout you come back to my place, Lancelot," he offered. "I'm sure Dean would love to meet you."

Lancelot considered, then nodded acceptance. "I would like that, sir."

"Greg," the lieutenant insisted.

The younger man pondered a moment longer, briefly glancing towards Lance, then remarked, "Perhaps all of you could call me Gale. As long as you promise to never tell Gwaine my middle name."

"Done," Parker agreed.