In hindsight, she should have demanded to read the files they had on the different suspected curse-breakers, it would not have prepared her to the reality of these imbeciles and inbred idiots, but it would have provided a nice advance warning. Alas, she had not done so. And Alexandra really, really regretted it now. The main issue she had with her assignation was the less and less likelihood the goblins had only wanted to get rid of these curse-breakers because they stole or abused their employment contracts, but also because said persons were generally loathsome characters.
Thurgood, the curse-breaker she was currently assistant, was bad enough. The man was rude, arrogant, selfish, gluttonous, had no manner, and seemed to delight from any opportunity to insult the common goblins or the humans who were below him in the hierarchy of the expedition force. These were his qualities. His light brown hair were spiked like if someone had cursed them to stand straight until the end of times, which combined to his perpetual anger, made sure everyone stood well away from him.
Not that the others were any prize. If anything, Stephen Selwyn of the Noble and Ancient House of Selwyn, the senior curse-breaker sent by Gringotts London, was even more arrogant than Thurgood (if it indeed was humanly possible) and was a fanatic supporter of the pure-blood idiocy which had done so much damage in Wizarding England during the decade of her birth. The man was throwing out the words "mudblood" and "blood-traitors" in conversations like these were the only words in his vocabulary. The less said about how he was treating the liaison goblins, the better.
The rest of the English group was a reflection of the leadership provided by Selwyn and Thurgood: null. Andrew Flint, of one the secondary branch of the Noble House of Flint, was looking like he was closely related to a troll and had the aggressive behaviour and the stupidity of the species in question. Marcus Cram and Denver Poke were young adults who had found the job promised by their families was too boring and had applied for the position of curse-breakers with the idea of filling their pockets with gold and searching for adventure. Timothy Boxley was an old man who had left the administrative branch of Gringotts London because the pay was not good enough for him to earn a decent retirement, although his gambling problems no doubt played a part in this. Craig Trigg and Jeremiah Maestro were men who were continuously drunk, how and why they were doing this job was beyond her knowledge. Brendan Parkin was a smuggler, who considered his duty to sell to the rest of the curse-breakers all sort of things which figured on the forbidden list of any curse-breaker having sense. And yes, it included the equivalent of magical drugs, alcohol and adult movies.
Nine curse-breakers sent by Gringotts London, all purebloods. All idiots. No wonder the goblin had only been able to find a single assistant, Alexandra herself, to deal with this band of thieves.
Of course, there were some good points as well. Grimjaw had been courteous enough to allow her to work under a pseudonym, and she had taken "Galadriel Arwen" as her new fictional name. She did not know how Thurgood and the others humans present would react if they learnt her name was Alexandra Potter, and she had no intention to find out. Pureblood being out of touch with anything concerning the non-magical world, much less the Lord of the Rings, her anonymity had a good chance to hold until the end of her mission.
Alas, Thurgood and his fellow curse-breakers had no idea of proper hygiene and it was painful to live in the same area as them, but they were forced to do their job about eight hours a day, which left the young Ravenclaw away from their non-pleasurable presence the better part of day's light.
As a third good point, the landscape was also spectacular. Brise-Roc, like the dwarf fortress of Erebor imagined by Tolkien, was built inside a mountain, with a monumental bridge over a large precipice being the only way to access it.
The valley leading to the bridge was where the goblin army and their human employees had based their camp, and it was a magnificent spectacle, with thousands of flowers blooming in the green pastures, the imposing mountains of the French Alps all around them. A blue sky without any trace of clouds, very warm temperatures, a river with cold water to freshen the bodies when it grew too hot and some adorable animals emerging from their dens like marmots contributed to make the scene an idyllic vision. It was infinitely better than the weather and the ambiance she would have seen at Privet Drive at any rate!
Fourth, Alexandra had a lot of anecdotes to send to Hermione by the intermediary of Atalanta. It was always good to have a friendly ear to complain your boss was a jerk and that the pure-bloods were diseased with criminal stupidity.
Unfortunately, the good news ended there. It had been seven days since the goblin army and the curse-breakers had arrived to Brise-Roc and in that period of time, no one had managed to find a trace of the goblin garrison which had been stationed there. The humans and the goblins had opened the gigantic steel gates, only to be greeted by a silence of death. The citadel was empty of living beings.
So far, no one had managed to explain how such a thing was possible. The vaults of the upper levels, full of gold and silver bullion stocked there by different branch of Gringotts Bank and wealthy magical parties, were intact. The gates of the fortress were intact. The magical protections of the upper levels were intact. No door had been breached, no alarm sounded, no ward deactivated. Only the goblins supposed to guard the place had volatilised themselves.
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