The Almighty Dominance (by Sunshine) novel Chapter 782

It was a quarter to sunset.

The bank back office was crowded: Merriwether, Fennick, four police, a clerk, and Richie by the vault stairs.

Merriwether took a mug from Richie's desk and kept it on his bag.

"That's my mug," Richie said faintly.

"It's the Crown's mug now, Mr. Moss. Four hours, I said," Merriwether remarked. "You've wasted three of them, Mr. Moss."

"I've been reading the statute," Richie said.

"Read faster."

Alexander offered a slow, deliberate yawn. "Spare me the riddles and just explain it."

"Why would I do that?" Merriwether said.

"Because I don't read very well," Alexander said. "I'm still learning. I'd like to hear it."

The clerk stifled a laugh.

Merriwether sighed, opened his folder, and found the page.

"By this instrument," he read, bored, "the island of Harland, and all waters within its boundary, pass to the governorship and autonomous administration of His Highness Prince Alexander of Leonhart, to be governed at his discretion, without interference from any ministry of the Empire." He looked up. "Satisfied?"

"Without interference from any ministry," Alexander repeated slowly.

"Yes. And it's been superseded. You signed it away this afternoon."

"I signed away the governorship."

"Exactly."

"So the governor is Lord Fennick now."

Fennick looked up from the window as though he had been called on in a classroom.

"I — yes. That's correct."

"And the Treasury is a ministry."

Merriwether's smile thinned. "Your point, Your Highness?”

Alexander turned to Fennick.

"Lord Fennick. The statute of the Bank of Harland. The one that says no accounts are named, no audits, no disclosure to any government. Has it been repealed?"

"Not — not yet."

"Who can repeal it?"

Fennick glanced at Merriwether, and then at the clerk with the notebook, and swallowed.

"The territorial government. Which is — me."

"So until you repeal it," Alexander said gently, "it's the law. And the instrument the Crown signed says no ministry may interfere with the island's administration. Which includes its laws."

He looked back at Merriwether.

"Which includes you."

"Are we arresting anybody, sir?" one of the policemen asked.

"Be quiet," said Merriwether.

"And that mug is personal property—it belongs to Richie, not you. Taking it would be stealing, officer. You're supposed to arrest him for stealing the mug?"

Merriwether put down the mug very carefully.

"Lord Fennick," he said, without taking his eyes off Alexander, "you will repeal the statute. Tonight."

"I — Comptroller, I would need to consult with the Ministry of Justice first, and the Crown's lawyers, and there are treaty obligations with the partner banks, I can't simply —"

"You can."

"I really can't," Fennick said, quite miserably. "Not tonight. Not without a review. It'd take weeks."

"Let me make this clear once more: the Treasury has no authority to dictate policy to the government. Stick to your remit, and let them handle theirs."

Merriwether turned his head and looked at the governor the way he had looked at the harbour that morning.

Then he stood up and buttoned his jacket.

"Weeks, then," he said. "I'll be here for weeks."

He walked out, and the police went after him, and the door banged.

"Listen to me," Alexander said, and turned to him. "Everything with my name on it, I gave away today. The government. The companies. The machine that sells thinking to a million people. The Crown owns it, and they're welcome to it."

"I know. I watched you sign."

"The bank was never in my name. It's in no one's name. It exists as an institution whose shares are divided among all three thousand souls on this island. Nobody truly owns it—not even the state. The capital within belongs to account holders scattered across the globe, individuals whose identities can never be brought to light. That was the law I authored." He rested his fingers against the cold steel doorframe.

"Here's the play," Alex said with a dry smile. "The AI and power startup he funded as a stockholder pays out a dividend to Mr. Smith. And Mr. Smith tells them to wire the cash from his dividend straight into this Harland bank. This bank, after accepting the money, will say no one can check Mr. Smith's real identity when he pulls the money out, right?"

Realization hit Richie all at once. "Which means all the profit enters this bank and becomes untraceable. And nobody knows who withdraws it."

"Here's the bottom line, Richie: I didn't put a dime in under my own identity. The records show one Mr. Smith, citizen of Harland. Look after that account. Smith owns thirty percent of the shares, and the remaining thirty percent belongs to the three thousand people living here. That's a sixty percent majority. The Crown can claim whatever it likes, but as long as Smith holds the line, that power and AI infrastructure belongs to Harland. You make sure it stays that way."

"You understand what I'm telling you?" Alexander said. "We are law-abiding citizens, but the state cannot take what belongs to the people."

"Six years of finance, Your Highness," Richie said. "I understand exactly what you're telling me."

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