Chapter 317: Personal Allowance

Chapter 317: Personal Allowance

Sometimes you have to take control of a situation.

You may not want to, you may be happy in the background, letting others steer the boat, but circumstances wont let you. Life is a big ocean and the chances of hitting a random iceberg are quite small, you would think.

At some point you realise that someone on this boat is a fucking iceberg-magnet. It just isnt possible for RNG to be this bad. That was the third iceberg today, and were sailing around the Caribbean.

And when you throw everyone else overboard, and you still have a bunch of penguins bearing down on you at ramming speed, you have to accept the magnet is you.

Theres no point trying to leave the shipping lanes for a quiet life. You have a responsibility to yourself to control your own fate. If life wants to keep sending giant obstructions into your path, time to start farming icebergs.

I dont think youll need to arrest anyone, Commander, I said.

Grayson looked around again, making it clear the mess he was seeing wasnt to his liking. Someone is responsible for this.

Yes, him, I said, pointing past Malmur, at the little tax collector.

He didnt deny my accusation. He didnt get flustered or panic, either, even though everyone had turned to look at him. He just stared at me with a pinched expression. Here was a man who tallied the receipts before making his adjudication. I could claim all I wanted, the taxman would decide if my claims were valid.

What do the city statutes say about compensation for an act of god? I asked him.

We were in a city where gods had been in attendance for a long time. Long enough that they would need to have some system in place to deal with unsanctioned resurrections and sexual harassment by swans. If Mutual of Omaha had provisions for intervention by a deity, Gorgoth, with its temple in the shape of a giant skull, must have had a meeting or two on the subject.

Oh, well, let me see, said the taxman, a small smile on his lips as he entered the arena of his many past victories. Here was a man who loved his work. A gladiator who couldnt wait to get back in the Thunderdome. Such a man was to be feared and respected. But mainly avoided. If its a true act of god, of our god, then the matter resides with the Church of the Shrine. There have to be witnesses, though. Independent verification.

Here was a simple solution to everyones problem. It might even make Malmur feel more generous towards me, I stupidly thought.

No, I dont want the church involved, said Malmur sharply. Theres no pleasing some people. He actually looked a bit frightened.New novel chapters are published on

Of course, big religious organisations are capable of some scary shit. A cold-blooded mobster knows his own kind. I felt like I should trust his instincts.

Youre right. We dont need to bother them with such a minor disturbance. The Golden God wanted to let us know we need to do better, and we will, right?

Everyone nodded. The vagueness of suggesting we do better without specifying how was the key, I think. We can all agree to improve ourselves at a later date, in an area yet to be decided. Put that sentiment to gospel music, and youve got yourself a packed house on Sunday.

In the meantime, I said, Uncle Malmur will get this cleaned up and the Piscine Cuisine back to its former glory. Okay, lads, fetch some brooms and lets get started. And someone grab a bucket of water to wash away this vomit.

A good direction for us all to move in. Who didnt want less vomit in the streets? The lads didnt move. Thats not entirely true. Some of them flexed at me. Some jaws may have tightened.

And whos going to foot the bill for that? asked Malmur, not so happy to find himself being ordered about by yours truly. No one was ever happy with that.

Gangsters, in general, are hard to deal with. They dont like following rules, they dont like sharing whats theirs. Very territorial. They do, however, respect a strong opponent. Which was bad news for me.

Sure, you can take the edge off. Call it democracy, give them limited terms in office, but they arent really the ones with the power anymore. Peter understood that. He was happy to sit in his spire where he could pull levers and turn knobs. Sadly, those knobs were in my party, and he turned them against me, but the joke was on him.

He didnt realise his ambition had intersected with Maurices. Because who the fuck would have predicted that?

I was fine with them getting in their fancy clothes and ruling Narnia like a bunch of English kids ruling Narnia. Fuckers didnt have an ounce of originality in them. I could have gone down that road. Marry a princess, order people about like I cared what they did. Not the life for me.

But I couldnt simply potter about without support or money. I had powers, but I didnt want to show them. What I really needed was a way to get shit done on the QT. Work with people who were used to keeping their mouths shut. Who worked in the shadows.

Malmur had everyone running around cleaning up, and the crowds had more or less dispersed. They certainly werent going to be reporting what had happened to anyone. Even Grayson, who was the law (more or less), seemed fine with letting things slide. Why bother making things tougher for everyone when shit was getting done already?

It occurred to me that I had been looking at it all wrong. I didnt want to be top dog because of the baggage that came with it. But the kings and queens and popes werent the only people in charge. In many ways, they werent in charge at all.

If I were going to take control of an organisation to help me get shit done the quickest, quietest way, it would be an underground group with solid ties to the community, but nothing anyone would talk about.

Nothing as flashy as ninjas and assassins, even though that held its own appeal (how could it not? I was twelve once). Just a small group taking care of the fish industry would do me. A cosy nostra.

Having said that, it would be no easy task to take over. No one in their right mind would simply start following my orders. It wasnt like I knew much about the price of fish. But I had other gifts.

Grayson was watching the thugs with a stony face. Malmur was supervising. Damicar was sniffling as he forced more onions down his throat. He was some kind of onion junkie, I was starting to think.

They would have access to a boat, I bet. Had to smuggle in fish somehow, I figured. It might have been easier just to ask them if I could hitch a ride, but now that I had it in my mind to be a made man, I was having a hard time not following it through. A base of operations. Hidden from the public. No state dinners. It had all the elements someone like me was looking for. I even had some leverage.

I closed my eyes and my mind slipped from my body. I was in a dark space, but with surprisingly nice furnishings. A sofa, some comfy chairs. A lamp with Wesley was sitting under it. She had changed her clothes into what looked like a brown velour tracksuit.

What did you do to the place? I asked my younger-self, who was squeezed into a corner of the sofa even though there was plenty of space.

He stared at the ground. She made me, he muttered. Said if I didnt get her new clothes, shed walk around naked.

That was a pretty dark threat. I felt a bit sorry for myself (so no change there).

Do you like it? asked Wesley, showing off the latest in chav fashion. He said this is what the modern people of your time wear.

You had to hand it to him, he knew how to grasp victory from the jaws of defeat. Its very nice. I have to take a trip to the Municipal Directory. I wont be long.

She gave me a look that suggested she didnt approve of whatever I was about to do, but I may have been projecting. She didnt say anything.

I exited my body and looked around. Everyone was standing still, vines sprouting out of all and sundry. I floated a bit higher.

I knew roughly which direction the Directory was in. It would be closed, but that wouldnt pose a problem. I planned to go take a look in Damicars lockbox. I had thought of doing it before, but this time I actually had a reason. Plus, Id figured out a way to locate it.

Damicar and Malmur both had a strong attachment to the box. There would be a link to it from both of them. Once I found it, and had a better idea of what had Malmur wound up so tight, Id be in a much better position to take over his organisation.

He would still be in charge, nominally, and I would be a great help to him, so it wasnt like hed lose out in the deal. But access to funds and manpower would make things a lot easier for me. I saw it as both of us finding ourselves in a better place. There was just the slight chance of bloodshed and mass murder getting there.