+- Knockturn Bound (https://knockturnbound.net)
+-- Forum: Portkeys (https://knockturnbound.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=14)
+--- Forum: The Wizarding World (https://knockturnbound.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=71)
+---- Forum: Districts (https://knockturnbound.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=78)
+----- Forum: Residential Wizarding World (https://knockturnbound.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=198)
+------ Forum: Estates/Manors (https://knockturnbound.net/forumdisplay.php?fid=221)
+------ Thread: Arundel Castle | shepherds and sheep ~ James (/showthread.php?tid=1287)
Arundel Castle | shepherds and sheep ~ James - Oleg Zdravkova - 09-09-2026
◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥
Saturday, 15 September 1923
~ 7:30 pm, after dinner ~
Arundel Castle
◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢
Saturday, 15 September 1923
~ 7:30 pm, after dinner ~
Arundel Castle
◣━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◢
The invitation to dinner at the Laurence Castle had arrived on Oleg’s desk like a glittering trophy. It had elicited no small amount of self-satisfaction and triumph, the payoff of over a year’s unrelenting, unforgiving hard work.
Just one year after their move to Britain, the Zdravkova had already managed to embed their name in the Minister’s head.
Not merely a foreign business seeking a foothold in British markets, nor another ambitious pureblood family attempting to purchase their way into higher circles, grappling for power and influence alongside much older, more established names.
No.
A people worth knowing. Worth inviting.
Oleg had spent the past year carefully cultivating precisely that perception. By establishing Argentum Memoriae as a serious enterprise, he had multiplied their dealings with British families—diligently, tirelessly—and quietly built his influence. Connection by connection, patiently over time, the right names had begun appearing beside theirs at dinners, galas, and Ministry functions. Bit by bit, their name had grown until people had begun behaving as though its presence had always belonged here.
And now he was sitting across from James Laurence, British Minister of Magic, in his own home after dinner, nursing a glass of scotch.
Oleg’s eyes settled upon the man, and he raised his glass with a subtle lift of his hand. “Za zdorovye”, he said, smiling pleasantly before taking a measured sip. The liquor spread sweet and smooth across his tongue, warming his throat as he swallowed.
For a brief moment, he allowed the silence to settle. There was no need to rush. Shifting one leg over the other, Oleg settled more comfortably into his chair.
“Your hospitality has been very generous, Minister.” The words were polite, almost warm. His expression suggested only quiet appreciation. “My family and I are thankful for your invitation. Arundel Castle is quite the impressive residence.”
His gaze swept the room with lazy curiosity.
Naturally, he knew the Laurence’s history, just as he knew that of every important family. The Laurence family, however, was one of the more memorable ones.
Their lineage could be traced back nearly nine centuries, even further than his own. Oleg had to admit, it was a most powerful thing to claim for oneself. Time. Dukedom, maintained for generations. Power. Never once surrendered.
James Laurence was the biggest prize yet, and Oleg intended to win it.
A cordial smile spread a little wider across his lips. Tapping a finger against his glass, Oleg tilted his head. “If I may ask,” he said, fixing his blue eyes back upon James, “to what do we owe the pleasure?”
RE: Arundel Castle | shepherds and sheep ~ James - James Laurence - 09-14-2026
The whole affair had been his nephew's idea.
The older Benji got, the more serious he seemed to take his role, and the more levity James gave the young man's opinions in matter of home and business. He was still a teenager, yes, still apt to outbursts and moments that drove James to the edge of his sanity, but overall, Benji was intelligent. Strategic. Far more than anyone else gave him credit for or even noticed.
James had grasped it from their first meeting, when he'd sized up the boy, silently assessing whether little Benji Cuddrun could one day step into the role of a Laurence and lead the family James would one day leave behind. Where there was stubbornness and petulance, there were the makings of a fearless commander. Where there was an athletic boy with a never-yielding tenacity on the Quidditch pitch, there was man who wasn't afraid of backing down. Where there was a teenager who could score well on his OWLs without studying or attending classes, there was a quiet brilliance waiting to be groomed.
When Benji had come to him, insisting he give the Zdravkova family another shot, James had agreed. The previous meeting hadn't led to any business deals, James having not seen a need for what Nadežda had presented to him. Part of it was her. While James had never shied away from powerful women making their own mark on the world - his sister and Harper were prime examples of his willingness to rely on a woman's intelligence and guidance - there was something about Nadežda that had turned him off from the entire idea. Unable to pinpoint exactly what it was, he'd been happy to leave the former meeting in the past, with no follow-up or communication as to when he may be interested.
Never, he'd thought, until Benji had mentioned meeting with Oleg Zdravkova instead.
Amelia had put on a beautiful evening. Their two girls, Claire, only three and Elodie, a year old now, both presented to the Zdravokvas in their finest dresses, smiling and offering polite little waves where they had not yet learned to curtsy. The rest of their family, Benji, Edith, little Adira, Uncle Robert and Aunt Elizabeth had all shown the proper graces, offering polite conversation to the rest of Oleg's family that had joined them. His sister, Julia, had even been in attendance, albeit without her husband or children this evening, charming as ever.
The whole thing had gone off without a hitch, the rest of the families now gathered in the guest parlors, playing cards and socializing, while James and Oleg had retired to his office.
“Za zdorovye."
"Cheers," James offered in return, waving for Fidèle to leave them before taking a small sip of the amber liquid. A measured smile met his lips as he placed the glass on the table between them and leaned back into the oversized leather armchair. The fire in front of them crackled and popped in the ornate fireplace- stone and ordained with a mahogany frame, trimmed in gold.
“Your hospitality has been very generous, Minister. My family and I are thankful for your invitation. Arundel Castle is quite the impressive residence.”
James gave a slight wave of his hand, "Please, think nothing of it. We were glad to host your family. Your children are impeccable in mannerisms. You've raised them well." It was polite, perhaps genuine in the sentiment, but James held no illusions about what made pureblooded, statused children kneel. He'd been one himself, with a father that ruled with an iron fist. "I am sorry that my last meeting with your cousin, I believe it was, couldn't result in business between our families."
If I may ask, to what do we owe the pleasure?”
James had followed Oleg's gaze around the room, one he'd sat in a million times throughout his life. When it was his father's. When it was his brother's. Now his, echoing of the hundreds of ancestors that had once walked through those very doors. Intrigues. Plots. Treachery. Loyalty. Strategy. All of it had been seen here, shouts and hushed whispers, all clawing for more power, more wealth, more glory.
For King and Country, as they said.
"I am interested," he began, leaning forward a bit in his chair, "In understanding the plays your family intend to make over the next several years. Five. Ten. Even twenty. Where do the Zdravkovas see themselves in the grand scheme of Britain?"
They'd start there. It would enable the man to understand how to utilize Oleg and his sons - or not at all.
RE: Arundel Castle | shepherds and sheep ~ James - Oleg Zdravkova - 09-19-2026
"Please, think nothing of it. We were glad to host your family. Your children are impeccable in mannerisms. You've raised them well."
Oleg’s smile widened slightly as he tilted his head in appreciation.
While his three youngest hadn’t attended tonight, away at Hogwarts, his three oldest had presented themselves as flawlessly as expected. Lev, Danika, and Dragomir understood the importance of presentation. Even Liliya had managed to behave properly. Oleg had had his apprehensions, but one sharp look at the girl before leaving had been enough to settle the temperament he knew she barely knew how to control—even after Nadežda’s intervention— and flicking that same look towards Lev had done the rest.
The evening had gone as smoothly as it could.
"I am sorry that my last meeting with your cousin, I believe it was, couldn't result in business between our families.”
A cordial flick of his hand and an almost-chuckle quickly dismissed the man’s apology.
“There is no need, Minister,” Oleg said, his eyes twinkling faintly. “Not all business is meant to succeed. Sometimes the conditions simply aren’t right. There is no ill blood.”
He raised his glass, taking another measured sip.
Nadežda had conducted that meeting. Oleg remembered it well. It had been one of the Zdravkovas’ attempts to weave their name into the minds of British society, build rapport, and lay the foundation for an eventual migration. The Laurence had been one of the more important candidates on the list. All of it had been handled by his cousin before any firm decision on moving abroad had been made, but Aleksandr had given her free rein, as he often did.
She hadn’t been entirely useless. Enough people had remembered their name when Oleg and his branch of the family had finally settled here. But this one, she had fucked up. Arguably, the most valuable one. Oleg had made his opinion on the matter quite clear—both regarding the woman’s competence and her place among the family ranks before the move to Britain.
And yet here she was, living at Harewood House—still a thorn in his side.
Thankfully, Dragomir’s acquaintance with the Laurence boy, Benji, had been enough to replant the seed in James’ head, giving Oleg this new opportunity to get it right himself. And this time, the stakes were even higher.
Nadežda hadn’t been invited for good reason.
Oleg settled his glass against the arm of his chair, his eyes still lingering on the Minister across from him.
"I am interested in understanding the plays your family intend to make over the next several years. Five. Ten. Even twenty. Where do the Zdravkovas see themselves in the grand scheme of Britain?”
Right to the point, this new Minister. Wasting no time assessing how to utilise the elites gathered beneath him, who to use and who to discard, and what to make of this unexpected Russian presence at its centre. Oleg could appreciate that. He let a brief moment pass as he considered the question, the curl of his lips small but pleasant. One finger tapped once against his glass.
“Established.”
The word lingered for a beat before he continued.
“Influential. Reputable. Permanent.” He paused between each word, allowing them to settle into the space between them. “The Zdravkova are shapers of markets, Minister. We study them. We identify where they are weak, where they are growing, where they need something they have not yet realised they need, and then we build ourselves into those spaces.”
Direct. Confident. Honest. Oleg was certain James knew how to appreciate those things when they were due. He shifted slightly, waving his free hand.
“Argentum Memoriae is a unique business; I am sure we can agree on that. It provides services no other business can offer, certainly not on the scale as we do. And while we intend to grow and engage the market as much as we can, the skill sets we bring are useful far beyond that.”
He inclined his head, the faint smile returning. “The political landscape can be shaped just as much as markets can.”
Oleg took a sip of his drink, letting the words settle. His eyes dropped briefly to the amber liquid as he swirled it once within the glass.
“Britain holds potential,” he continued at last, his gaze back to James. “The landscape is shifting.” He raised his glass slightly, the corner of his mouth curling. “To something better, I believe. Something mighty.” The glass settled once more against the armrest.
“The Zdravkova want to be part of it. We want to see this country rise to glory, embrace its magical inheritance and take pride in it.” His gaze sharpened subtly. “Russia does it well. The Zdravkova have had no small influence on that over the past centuries. I intend to ingrain our name here as just as deeply as it is in my home country.”
RE: Arundel Castle | shepherds and sheep ~ James - James Laurence - 10-14-2026
“Not all business is meant to succeed. Sometimes the conditions simply aren’t right. There is no ill blood.”
Good. Then they could move forward without incident. James had no need for enemies, whether they spoke their disdain to his face or kept it silent behind their breast. Was it a possibility Oleg held some sort of resentment, and simply chose not to speak it? Certainly. The man chose to believe the best.
“Established. Influential. Reputable. Permanent. The Zdravkova are shapers of markets, Minister. We study them. We identify where they are weak, where they are growing, where they need something they have not yet realised they need, and then we build ourselves into those spaces.”
James watched Oleg carefully over the rim of his glass as he brought it to his lips. There were tells about men - never in the loud or boisterous, but in everything they didn't say. All the expressions they fought to contain. The smallest curl at the lips, the minute flash of eyes, a nostril flare or twitch of an eyebrow. Nearly invisible to the hawk-eyes that didn't possess the ability to see them.
The Zdravkova family were self-made, which was more than many old British pureblood families could say. Not that they would necessarily want to. There was a crassness perceived amongst the old guard when it came to more entrepreneurial sets, viewing them as lesser or 'second-class'. Money spoke, but family money spoke louder in certain circles.
James wasn't so evolved so as to say he didn't feel some of it as a knee-jerk. He was raised among the sort that looked down their noses at anyone and everyone. But the young minister also wasn't the sort to look a gift horse in the mouth or be stupid enough not to recognize how power built on merit rather than blood was the greatest sort.
Oleg believed his services could be powerful enough to influence politics. James raised an eyebrow. Color him intrigued.
“Britain holds potential. The landscape is shifting. To something better, I believe. Something mighty. The Zdravkova want to be part of it. We want to see this country rise to glory, embrace its magical inheritance and take pride in it.”
James drummed two fingers against his glass as he stared a moment, absorbing what he thought Oleg was trying to imply.
"Why?"
It dared to reason that aside from money, the Zdravkova family stood to gain something they thought valuable in Britain. Power? Position? They had plenty of that in Russia. What would it serve them here, in a place where they'd have to fight their way into the sorts of circles that would provide it to them.
“Russia does it well. The Zdravkova have had no small influence on that over the past centuries. I intend to ingrain our name here as just as deeply as it is in my home country.”
Lips twitched upwards as he swallowed the last of his drink and tucked the glass away onto the side table between the two men. James leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, his gaze steadfast on the Russian. "And what would that look like in Britain?" He tilted his head only slightly, "Russia is a dictatorship. Britain is a democracy."
In name, anyways.