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HP: Bloodraven Chapter 180 - The Quiet Before the Quarrel (II)
🕑 Added 2025-06-10 14:15:14 +0000 UTCBeauxbatons Academy of Magic – A Private Meeting Chamber
A gentle fire crackled in the hearth, its golden light flickering across the polished wood of the long table. The air was still, yet heavy, as if it knew something important was about to happen.
Takamaru sat across from Maverick, his eyes closed beneath thick, snow-white eyebrows. The old Archmage had the air of a weathered mountain—silent, unmoving, and utterly confident in its presence.
“First of all,” Takamaru said, his voice calm and oddly warm, “congratulations, young man, on everything you have achieved. I must say, I admire you... truly. Even without that fellow Garling, I believe your accomplishments would still stand tall.”
Maverick said nothing and waited. Praise, especially from someone like this, often came with a price.
Takamaru opened his eyes ever so slightly and saw the young man looking at him without even a hint of flinching, as if his presence as an Archmage meant nothing. His eyes gleamed with quiet interest. He found the young man’s calmness unusual—almost daring.
Interesting...
But there was no time for distractions. Business came first.
"I trust a sharp young mind like yours has already deduced the reason for my visit, so I shall not waste time with pleasantries. I am here to request a five percent stake in your company. In return, you will have my support... and the weight of those who stand behind me."
Sure enough, it was just as he had thought. This old fossil wants his hands on my alchemy.
For most entrepreneurs in the magical world, this would have been a dream come true. Archmages often held more sway than entire Ministries in many magical communities around the globe. Having one on your side could open doors overnight—granting international access, legal protection, and magical security.
Sharing a small slice of your cake was more than a fair price to pay for such backing.
But Maverick was not most entrepreneurs.
Maxime glanced between the old man and Maverick beside her. She said nothing, watching with quiet amusement. One thing she was certain of — Maverick would not agree.
She saw him lean back slightly in his chair and fold his hands calmly in front of him.
“I assume this is about more than just a few shares.”
Takamaru gave a small smile. “Of course. I would also like access to the technology behind Magic Vision.”
That was the real prize.
Maverick narrowed his eyes.
"I'm also assuming that part isn't your idea alone," He said. "From what I know about you, speaker, you're not the type to learn how a toy works—just to own it. So it must be your Council that's greedy, am I right? The same people who ignored me last year when I proposed a fair partnership for the next World Cup"
He turned his gaze to the man seated beside Takamaru—an older wizard whose face he recognized.
“I remember you, Councilor Victor. You were in that meeting too. I laid everything out—offered cooperation, mutual gain. You lot didn’t even bother to listen. All you wanted was my alchemy.”
He turned back to Takamaru.
“Now that Magic Vision is a global success, you suddenly want to collaborate? My answer is still the same. Cooperation—my company will handle the global broadcasting of the World Cup. But I’m not selling my shares, and I won’t hand over my alchemy to anyone, not even you, Speaker. If you want the alchemy, go ahead. Figure it out on your own.”
Silence swept through the room like a cold breeze. Even the fire seemed to still.
Victor scowled, finally losing control of his irritation. “Boy, don’t think just because Garling is backing you that you can run your mouth—”
“Victor,” Takamaru interrupted. His eyes remained half-lidded, lazy, yet his voice cut through the room like steel. “Did I give you permission to speak?”
Victor’s words died in his throat and he bowed his head immediately.
“Apologies, Lord Takamaru.”
Takamaru glanced at the young man and studied him carefully. There was definitely something strange about him. He couldn’t read him at all—and that, more than anything, was beginning to bother him. No aura, no trace of magical rank. Just a quiet, unreadable presence.
And that unfiltered confidence... it told him all he needed to know. This boy would not budge.
In truth, Takamaru had no real interest in the alchemy. What he wanted was a small share in the company—nothing more. Just as Maxime had warned Maverick, he was a man who enjoyed being involved in anything noteworthy, and Maverick’s inventions more than fit the bill.
The demand for the alchemy had come from certain Councilors within the ICW—greedy, short-sighted men who served under his banner. Greedy as they were, they were still his. And while he could use force to keep them in check if he wished, this was no longer the age of wands and fear. Power today was not just about strength, but balance—and sometimes, that meant feeding the wolves just enough to keep them from sniffing around for a new alpha.
In other words, he wouldn’t have concerned himself with such petty requests. But the mountain that was Edward Garling left him no choice. If he didn’t throw his weight around, his underlings might start thinking he was growing soft.
But what he hadn’t expected was that even when he came personally, even when he asked politely—by his standards—this boy would look him in the eye and turn him down without the slightest hesitation.
Stubborn. Unruly. Arrogant.
Just like Edward Garling, he thought.
He rose slowly to his feet and, for the first time, opened his eyes fully. They were neither sharp nor cold, only indifferent, as they locked onto Maverick’s unwavering gaze.
“How unfortunate,” he said with a soft sigh. “You have something extraordinary, child. But having a treasure is not always a blessing.”
“Even with Garling by your side, he is just one man. And men, no matter how strong, cannot be everywhere at once. You are young. I understand your pride. We were all like you once. But when your people are the ones targeted… when it is your family who bleeds… then you will come to know the true face of this world.”
Maverick’s gaze hardened. He said nothing, but he wasn’t stupid to miss the meaning behind those words.
If I can’t get to you, then I’ll go after those around you. Your people. That was the unmistakable, unspoken threat.
Perhaps not through bloodshed. Takamaru was an Archmage—more than capable of it—but this wasn’t the medieval age where one could simply throw magic around to get their way. Only a retard like Voldemort would resort to such barbarism.
Takamaru didn’t need to lift a wand. With the weight of his title and the Councilors behind him, he could tighten the noose in quieter, more insidious ways—politics, and pressure. All designed to slow Maverick down, choke his progress, and make each future step harder than the last.
But a threat was a threat, no matter how politely it was delivered.
His fists clenched, and for a moment, he had half a mind to incinerate the bastard where he stood.
But then, a large palm closed gently over his fist—grounding—making the heat behind his eyes settle, if only for a moment.
Yes. Takamaru wasn’t some random street thug he could silence with brute force. This man… was a true powerhouse.
“I suggest you leave, Takamaru,” said Olympe Maxime, who had been quietly observing until now with a firm and clearl voice. “I don’t take kindly to threats made within these walls. Whatever favor I owed you—consider it cleared.”
Takamaru turned to Maxime, regarding her with a glance of calm indifference before offering a slight nod. Her open disrespect—for the second time, no less—seemed to trouble him not at all. Like one who had weathered such slights too many times to count, he was simply beyond being fazed.
They might share the same rank in magic, but he was older by centuries. A pity, he thought, that something as fundamental as respect for one’s elders was lost on this half-breed.
Then, without another word, he strode toward the fireplace. Victor and the other wizard followed, both shooting Maverick a final glare.
The flames in the hearth flared green as Takamaru stepped into them. But before vanishing, he turned once more and spoke:
“Seven days. I will give you seven more days to reconsider. If no agreement is reached… then we will have to pursue other avenues.”
He disappeared into the fire, and the room fell still.
Maverick exhaled through his nose and leaned back in his chair.
"I want to register my rank as Archmage—and let the world know." His gaze flicked to the half-giantess, and his decision solidified.
"Do you need my help, little raven?" Maxime asked, her smile worn but amused.
Maverick considered for a moment, then shook his head. "I’ll ask Teacher. But... you’re welcome at my side during the inauguration."
"Hah!" Maxime let out a sharp chuckle. "Are you suggesting I board your ship? Join your camp? Lend my backing as well?" She leaned in, her face inches from his. "Little raven, what’s in it for me?"
Maverick ignored the old woman’s theatrics. He stood and strode toward the fireplace, stepping into the flames. Before disappearing, he turned to see Maxime still wearing that wild grin.
"You have... no idea... what kind of power stands behind me."
Whoosh.
His words echoed through the chamber as he vanished, leaving silence in the air—until—
Hahaha!
“What an arrogant little brat,” Maxime murmured, leaning back with a wicked smile tugging at her lips.
“It seems the magical world is about to be swept into a storm.”
She chuckled, low and amused, eyes glinting with heat.
“Should I watch from the sidelines, I wonder... or—”
Hehe
She chukled again, unable to contain the burning intrigue rising within her.
“Who told you to be so very... interesting, little raven...”
