POV Stepan Grigorievich Khmurov
There was no escaping the experienced gaze as the very young boy examined him with a single look. An ordinary man would never understand what Stepan realized from that look. They hadn't even had a chance to say hello, and the older mage had already discarded several options for conversation with this young man. What followed was a greeting and a handshake.
Not every mage wears gloves on his hands all the time, for protection and not because it is "customary". The man noticed that the white material of the gloves was covered with fine particles of either woven fibers or powder coating, but it silenced magic. Well, the man deserved a handshake.
On the other hand, he was unexpectedly careless when it came to protecting himself not from indirect damage, but from direct contact, because if he wanted to, he could pierce his heart in a second with a blade that neither the magical goblin-made chain mail so popular among Europeans nor the Muggle armor could protect him from. A quick glance at the papers on the table caught the interest of a few names — these rare herbs Stepan Grigorievich would not mind buying for his eager granddaughter's workshop, but that could be discussed later if they found common ground.
After all, let the Khmurov family and wants revenge, and even must punish Dolokhov, it does not mean that the head of the family will go to some absurd deal at a loss to himself. Davydov, having been informed of this unexpected offer, told him something about the Japanese, but the information was far from complete, rather fragmentary, and the fellow himself acted strangely in some places, so that it was not possible to make a precise portrait, from which it was necessary to speak as usual — evaluatively, with a look back.
— First of all, I would like to make sure that you really have the object of the bargain. — After the greetings, the older wizard immediately took the bull by the horns. He wouldn't let the boy take the initiative.
— Let's get down to business, shall we? — the boy asked evenly, shrugging his shoulders. — There's a chest in the corner of the room, — he nodded to the chest from which his gaze had wandered. — It has a standard set of enchantments on it.
The old mage nodded to his assistant, who quickly verified that the "goods" were real, confirming a thorough check of the artifacts for magic and potions with a single nod and expression.
— Good, — the man nodded, but did not take his eyes off his interlocutor. — In that case, I have a few questions I'd like to have answered before we begin to negotiate. — The Japanese raised an eyebrow, but that was all, and his whole demeanor expressed a neutral friendliness. If Khmurov didn't know what Davydov had revealed to him, and if he hadn't made inquiries through his own channels, he would have believed that this young man had no idea how complicated and ambiguous the situation was at the moment.
— First of all, I'm curious how you managed to get hold of the goods. — The man nodded at the closed chest again. — As far as I know, this subject was in a magical prison until recently, and then he died and was buried according to standard procedure. — A short pause, a sip of hot tea prepared by an assistant. — The mere fact that there is an officially dead criminal from a terrorist organization in this place will raise a lot of questions for the local police, so I want to hear your answer.
— Well, — the teenager pondered, raising his eyes to the ceiling and completely breaking the image, revealing his unprofessionalism in the pretense. — I really don't think there's any chance of the police, Aurors, or any other outsiders showing up in this room....
"Of course," Khmurov grinned to himself. — Even if someone were to make a surprise raid, both he and his men as escorts have diplomatic documents, both Muggle and magical, so outsiders can only enter this room with permission, his, Stepan Khmurov's, permission. But how would a child trying to play adult games know that? No, to gain experience — it is important and useful, but you should not go to places where they can not only pinch your nose, but also tear off your head. And therefore, boy, if you obey, good grandpa Styopa will not even be too strict... —
— ...But even if that happens, it won't be a big deal. — the guy shrugged.
— What about the problems with the law? — grinned the mage, who really wondered: is it stupid teenage self-confidence, or does the kid have a plan?
— What problems are you talking about, Khmurov-san? — The boy was demonstratively surprised, and Stepan had to admit that this time he wouldn't have recognized the lie if he hadn't known about it beforehand. — Muggles will not see anything, nor will wizards, for there are few really strong or skilled individuals in the local magical police, and those who are, do not run around making false denunciations. — The man paused, clearly noticing something in the older man's eyes, and continued. — But if this fatal accident happens, then as the most extreme way out — the runic chain of vaporization will only work for ten seconds, and the absorbing circle will hide all traces, so that even the most attentive and skilled magician will only find traces of some magic, and that's the end of it.
The man wanted to complicate the modeled situation, to add drama and espionage games by recruiting a promising agent with the harshest methods, but he held back: why inflame the situation when everything can be found out without all this? Not being a sadist by nature, Stepan Grigorievich did not always choose the most brutal methods, only when it was necessary, so he simply pushed aside the thoughts that appeared.
— All right, so be it. — The man nodded, as if he recognized the man's preparation as sufficient, but in fact this plan is quite easy to destroy, and there are actually many ways, but he will think about it, perhaps, later. — Next, I'm interested in your decision: instead of not getting into all this trouble, you, young man, have decided to get into human trafficking. Is that okay with you?
No, Stepan Grigorievich did not have goose bumps or shivers on his skin, but life had tested him in many ways, he had seen and participated in many things. So when something... — something appeared in the teenager's eyes for a few seconds, the man just tensed imperceptibly.
Throwing himself into a fight wasn't the best decision at his age and with his responsibilities, but defending against the first attack and then quickly escaping afterward also required a certain amount of skill. In fact, the man was not ready to see the hurt pride in this "Tumbleweed", in a representative of the Imperial Clan from the High Circle — yes, but not in this idiot, and that was why he was surprised, even if imperceptibly.
However, to his credit, the feelings only showed in his eyes, and even then — not for long.
— We, Khmurov-san, call humans different creatures. — The Japanese spoke in a neutral tone. — Human beings are distinguished from animals by their behavior, by their reason. And I'm not talking about the animals of the forest, I'm talking about those bipeds who don't have a mind and who don't live in a human body. — A short pause and a direct look. — I have never considered them to be human beings, and accordingly I have never considered it immoral to buy or sell a dog, a pig, or a chicken in the marketplace. And since there is no difference between them, why should I treat them differently?