Long Live The King (Peaky Blinders)

A rude approach

(Nick's P.O.V.)
It was late at night when I turn onto the empty street that lays parrelel to my house in London. I have multiple houses and this specific house was located in the low-working-class part of town. So it was a bit run down area. With cracks in the walls of the buildings, dirty streets and often homeless people walking around. The reason I had actually bought this specific house was for the fact that it was located in the part of town where Parliment surely won't even think about finding a Prince. As I walk across the cobblestones, completely alone, I did not count for one person who actually could find me, bezide of course the Shelby's. And that was Inspector Chester Campbell. "Good evening, your Majesty" Campbell began and did a courtesy bow. I gave him a uninterest look as I kept walking towards the door of my house. Chester Campbell following me close behind. "If you're going to approach me, Inspector Campbell, I would suggest taking part in some etiquette lessons so that whenever you do to talk to me, you address me properly. After all, your Majesty is reserverd for the King. Which I am not" I tell him calmly. "My apologies, your royal highness" Chester apologised and corrected himself "but may I say, that Parliment already talks about you as our new King". "They may talk about me as the King of England. But as long as my father is still breathing, that title and the responsibility with it, do not belong to me. Good night, Inspector Campbell" I tell him curtly. Basically telling him we where done with this conversation, but clearly he was not. "I came here to-" he tried to talk further, but I cutt him off "Safe your story for someone who cares to listen". "I think you will be interested in what I have to say when you let me talk" he answered. I stop and turn to him. At first flashing him a warning glare, before motioning for him to tell me. "There are some heavy guns missing, and I fear that there will be a civil war outbreak if they fall into the wrong hands" he quickly tells me. I laugh shortly "There is always going to be a war somewhere, Campbell. War is the world's favorite spectator's sport" I tell him umbothered. "Yes and, everybody knows war is hell so-". I stop him mid-sentence "You're wrong. War isn't hell. War is war and hell is hell. And out of the two, war is much worse". "How do you figure that, Sir?" Chester asked me. I shrugg "It is easy. Tell me, Campbell, who goes to hell?". "Sinners, I believe" he answered my question. "Exactly. There are no innocent bystanders in hell. But war is chock full of them. Little kids, cripples, old people. If you ask me, everyone in the war, beside of course a few brass fucks, is innocent in a war". "So you agree that the threat of a potential war should be nutralized?". "Agreed. But there wont be a civil war outbreak" I answered him, "on the contrary, your royal highness" Campbell begins. He sure is lucky that we are the only people on the street. Or I would've killed him in a second for outing me so carelessly. "There have been multiple cases stolen containing ammunition and machineguns. And Winston Churchill fears for your safety if the IRA gets their hands on them. Considering the succesfull assasination on your brother, Prince Edwars, by order of the IRA-". I raise my hand, shutting him up almost immediatly "first of all, don't you dare mention his name ever again" I growl low, "secondly, weren't you hired by Winston Churchill to find those guns?". "That is correct, Sir" he told me with a nod, "then go find those fucking guns instead of bothering me. Good night, Mr Campbell" I sneer and turn around. "Rumor has it The Blinders have the guns" Chester simply told me. I face him and search for a hint wether he knows about my relationship with the Peaky Blinders. While not giving him any clues or hints to confirm his suspision if he do thinks I know the Blinders. "You must know about them, Sir. After all the three oldest Shelby brothers have served in your platoon". I chuckled "there have been a lot of people who served in my Platoon, you think I remember all of their names?" I asked him. "Of course not-". I was sick of hearing him talk and after multiple times trying to end this conversation. I was now fed up and was going to make it clear to him to leave me alone. "Let me stop you, right there, so you don't waste anymore of your precious breath" I began cutting him off, "I will give you some advise, Inspector. And I suggest you follow it. I'm a reasonable person who doesn't belief in the scentense death by hanging. After all, for centuries the death penalty, often accompanied by barbarous refinements, has been trying to hold crime in check. Yet crime just persisted on. So I much rather personally write a report detailing your treason against the crown and will have it put into your file where it will undoubtedly follow you for the rest of your career. But believe me when I tell you that I have no problem in seeing you being lynched if you ever have the audacity to approach me like this again". I see his face grew pale and he gulps quickly and nervously. "Is that understood, Inspector Campbell?". "Yes, your royal highness" he quickly tells me and does a courtesy bow. "Perfect. I wish you a good night" I tell him calmer, before turning around and leaving him behind.

Published: 6th of November 2023