“I don’t understand, sir,” Tall Boring Guy said.
“A bar exists for a reason,” Wayne said. “It is a controlled environment in which to drink. People are going to seek to partake in spirits, you see, and it is better for society that we plan for this.
“Currently, the octants are tense. The people are angry. The Outer Cities, why, they are riotous! We must allowrageto be experienced in a similar way to drunkenness—with a controlled outlet, with someone for everyone to dislike.”
They looked at him blankly.
“We’re gonna get a bunch of chaps to beat on one another,” Wayne said in a lower-class accent. “Playin’ for teams representin’ the octants, so everyone can pick their favorite and hate all the other teams. In a right proper way.”
“Ah!” Short Boring Guy said.
People these days, and their lowborn vernacular. Why, he suspected this pair didn’t even know how to properly burnish a golden toilet! For fear!
“Yes…” Tall Boring Guy said. “I see. So, like the local clubs, but on acitywidescale.”
“People love their local teams,” Wayne explained. “We can do something good with that.”
“Building arenas of the proper size will be expensive,” Short Boring Guy said. “Even for you.”
“We could charge people a bit to get in the door, then,” Wayne said. “Everyone enjoys something more when they have a monetary stake in it.”
“Yes…” Tall Boring Guy said. “Yes, this isinteresting.Monetization of the rivalries—and the personal coding of interest—will be a seminal part of this activity…”
“Thatismy favorite part ofmostactivities,” Wayne noted.
Tall Boring Guy nodded. “This is excellent. We shall put our best people on it.”
“Nah,” Wayne said, “put your worst ones on it. They’ll know moreabout loafing—the rapscallions—which shall serve me better in this particular situation. Now, let us discuss the beating of servants and how it’s not really so bad for them.”
Rusts, this hat. He pulled it off and wiped his brow. Stupid money and stupid rich hats. This one even had aluminum foil on the inside to protect from emotional Allomancy.
Well, surelythisidea with the noseball would finally bankrupt him. It was, after all, his very worst idea—and he was an absolute idiot. He spun the hat on his finger and thought about it. What if Wax—or worse,Marasi—figured out he was rich? He’dnever hear the rusting end of it.
Tall Boring Guy tugged at his collar. “Do you… actually want us to investigate using more corporal punishment on, um, some of your staff?”
“Nah,” Wayne said. “Bein’ in the army stinks.”
“Sir,” Short Boring Guy said, “what about the provisions in your trust? We’dlike to talk about the more unusual ones you’ve made.”
“Nope. Next.”
“Your current housing situation—”
“Nope. Next.”
“Have you yet confirmed with Waxillium that he understands he signed away likeness rights to you in that deal—”
“Nope. Next.”
“Your fleet of cars?”
Those he liked. “What about them?”
“There’s a new Victori,” Short Boring Guy said, getting out a picture of it. It hadno top.Like, so you could drive and spit into the wind, if you wanted.
“Damn, that’s nice,” Wayne said. “Get me one.”
“Absolutely, sir,” Short Boring Guy said. “How many shares in the company shall we buy?”