Chapter 2
Lord Voldemort
The little wisp of a girl who had stopped his horse was interesting. So far, she was the only interesting person he had met in this insipid place. He noted that the girl had wandlessly cast the spells in a near split-second with good precision—he could only imagine the kind of magic she could do with a wand—but he didn't have time to dally here, even just to stare and disconcert the comely girl.
He spurred Hades, his black charger, forward to meet his troop. A red haired fellow, wearing an equally bright red uniform was arguing with Abraxas, his second-in-command. The characteristic quiet fell upon his appearance, his extremely pale complexion did not draw as attention as his red-eyes, which immediately unsettled people—he was known as The Beast or The Dark Lord. People feared using his name.
He was dispatched wherever disloyalty to the heir of Slytherin, Silverhaven's royal family arose. His most recent conquest of a portion of Meadowland, had created fear in the neighbouring countries. The vassal lord of Meadowland's small principality, Lord Haggar, had been infiltrating and raiding Silverhaven's bordering villages. The action against him had been swift, and Silverhaven now had expanded borders where Lord Haggar's principality had previously stood.
Meadowland's King Albus Dumbledore was most displeased with him, but he had impressed upon that doddering old codger that his annexation of Lord Haggar's principality would seem a child's play if Silverhaven wasn't allow to keep the piece of land it had rightfully earned. Meadowland had bowed to his threat, but with ill grace. The old codger had tried to go the marriage-route with him, offering his sister, Ariana's hand to him, but in one meeting with the girl, he knew she was in love with someone else, not to mention, the girl had suicidal tendencies—and heaven forbid, if after marrying the girl she killed herself, a full-blown war with Meadowland would have become inevitable. Thus, he had dodged the bullet, and offered trade instead. That settled, the matter of Briarwood had cropped up. Their King Potter, had broken off trade-ties with Silverhaven in a show of solidarity with Meadowland over annexation of their territories.
Briarwood was almost a self-sufficient land, but it lacked metal mines, which Silverhaven had in abundance, and Silverhaven traded in that.
The only reason Briarwood was important to him was because of its rare medicinal plants that grew indigenously here, and were exported to Silverhaven—but since the Meadowland matter, trade had been at a stalemate, which necessitated action on his part.
"And who are you?," the red-haired fellow asked him as he drew near them. His first impression of the man was that he was a loud, brash person, who should not have been given the position he had been. Did Briarwood's soldiers have no intelligence. His own network of spies were working extensively, and he could guess from the information he had received that this red-haired fellow must be one of the Weasleys.
King Potter had married Lady Ginerva Weasley, and from then on, many key portfolios of the kingdom had been handed to the Weasleys. Potter had taken nepotism to another level—or maybe that was Lady Ginerva's influence.
"I am Lord Voldemort, General for Silverhaven." Taking out the scroll with the Silverhaven seal, he handed it to the fellow. That shut him up for a moment. He had the sense to send the message to their King, but the Briarwood soldiers were still standing belligerently around them.
By implicit understanding they divided themselves, his troop gathered around the forest line, and the Briarwood soldiers camped right in the middle of the road blocking it entirely. This arrangement suited him just fine. He could move in into the forests to confer privately with his people. He gestured Rosier to follow him into the woods. The gangly dark-haired man followed him.
"What intelligence have you got Rosier? Who is this person blocking our path? Must be some Weasley."
"Indeed my Lord. That is Sir Ronald Weasley. Lady Ginerva Weasley's youngest brother."
"I see," he mused aloud. "They wouldn't keep us here much longer. It is still a journey of 6 hours to the castle. Ask everyone to see to their horses, and bring out the food here. Eat in twos, and be ready to move from here within an hour."
"Yes, my Lord," Rosier went back to relay his instructions.
As he had predicted, within two hours, they had been asked to go on to the Castle.