"It won't be that easy, Mr. Breen. We've dealt with those Frenchmen for centuries; they won't give in so readily—"
Old Bana showed no delight at Amosta's proposal.
His face remained drawn as he sighed heavily.
"In my view, their aim is to make the Goblins contribute a satisfactory amount of gold before we leave."
Old Bana shot Amosta a quick glance. Seeing that the faint smile at the corner of his mouth remained unchanged, his drooping eyelids trembled.
"But you know this is difficult, Mr. Breen. The Goblins have just made the largest investment in our history, and we may not recover the principal for another century. We no longer have the means to satisfy the French Ministry of Magic's greedy appetite."
"So?"
Amosta lifted his teacup and took an unhurried sip.
"You need more help from me with this matter?"
Cunning old fox—
The man and Goblin in the office both assessed the other this way.
Amosta knew full well that the old Goblin's miserable expression was an act. That was not the true purpose of his visit.
As for Old Bana, the Goblins' current predicament had arisen entirely because they had supported Breen's plan.
Yet Breen acted as though it had nothing to do with him, as if all this were the Goblins' own trouble and he was merely offering friendly assistance out of regard for their friendship.
But however much resentment Old Bana harbored, he could only swallow it himself.
There was no turning back once the arrow had left the bow. The Goblins had openly declared their support for Amosta Breen; they could not switch allegiance to someone else.
And Old Bana understood clearly—
When dealing with a wizard like Amosta Breen, the only option was conciliation. If you acted forcefully, he would only be