novelraw Chapter 254 254: The Business of Protection
Chapter 254 254: The Business of Protection
He had nothing to slow him down or weigh him down.
The force he had initiated the run with was still there and now, he had amplified it.
He moved, his body shifting left and right with perfect precision, his footwork flawless. The impact markers lit up all around him, calculating near-misses, trajectories that would have struck him if he had been even a fraction of a second slower.
But he was not slower. He was fast enough.
He reached the extraction point, his breathing heavy but controlled, and he held up the device triumphantly. The simulation ended, the holographic fire disappearing, the field falling silent.
Yesss!
Torvan reviewed the data, his fingers moving across the interface, and then he nodded. "That works. He's fast enough. The plan is solid."
Tatehan, Riven, and Lyra walked over from the Skyblade, their expressions a mix of relief and grim satisfaction. It had worked. The plan was viable. Brutal, yes. Morally complicated, absolutely. But viable.
It was a plan that is would work and that was what they wanted.
They couldn't risk going to the obscuron's territory and fail. That would mean they were cooked.
But now, they were sure they would be doing this, surviving it and achieving their aim.
And the Obscuron's Battle Commander losing his life for the plan to work? It would be but a small price to pay for salvation.
Torvan turned to Jace, who was still catching his breath, and he extended a hand. "You're officially a member of the Red Crest Clan now. Welcome aboard."
Jace took his hand, shaking it firmly, and then he grinned. "Thanks. I won't let you down."
Torvan nodded. "You'll need to meet with the administrative staff later to sort out payments, salary, all that bureaucratic stuff. But trust me, it'll be worth it."
Jace had agreed to take the job without even knowing the exact pay structure, but he was not worried. Working for the Red Crest Clan was prestigious, and the compensation would almost certainly be worth more than anything he had been earning before. Hell, just being associated with the organization opened doors that most people in Waython Hollow could only dream of.
"I'm going to head back to my place," Jace said, already moving toward the gate. "Grab my stuff, pack my things. I'll be back later today."
"Sounds good," Riven said, waving him off. "See you then."
Jace jogged off, his white hair catching the sunlight, and then he was gone, disappearing through the gates.
Lyra and Riven exchanged a glance, and then they started walking back toward the main building, their voices drifting as they talked about something unrelated, probably lunch, or maybe the next round of something…
Tatehan unsummoned his helmet, the silver metal retracting smoothly into the collar of his armor, and he turned to Torvan. He extended a hand, and Torvan took it, the two of them shaking firmly.
Riven and Lyra smiled as they walked away, their expressions light and relieved.
But Tatehan and Torvan kept straight faces. Almost frowning, even. There was no celebration here, no triumph actually. They had just finalized a plan that involved sending a man to his death under false pretenses. It was necessary, justified, and tactically sound.
But it was not something to smile about.
———
The Red Crest Clan was not a government in the traditional sense. It did not run Waython Hollow the way a president or mayor would run a city, and it did not have official legislative authority over the population. But in practice, it functioned as the de facto governing body, providing security, infrastructure maintenance, and emergency response services that the city depended on to survive.
And like any governing body, the Red Crest Clan needed money to operate. A lot of money. Paying salaries to hundreds of fighters, engineers, medics, and administrative staff was not cheap. Neither was maintaining the base, repairing equipment, purchasing weapons, or funding operations like the raids on the Obscuron's bases.
So how did the clan pay for it all?
The answer was simple: taxes.
Waython Hollow operated on a voluntary tax system, though "voluntary" was perhaps a generous term. Citizens who lived within the city's borders were expected to contribute a percentage of their income or business revenue to the Red Crest Clan in exchange for the protection and services it provided. The exact percentage varied depending on income level, with wealthier residents and businesses paying more than those who were struggling to get by.
Most people paid willingly. The alternative: living in a city without the Red Crest Clan's protection, was not appealing. The Obscuron's forces were always a threat, and without the clan's fighters standing between the city and those attacks, Waython Hollow would have been overrun long ago.
But taxes were not the only source of revenue.
Waython Hollow sat on top of significant natural resource deposits, including rare minerals and metals that were highly valued across Mars. The Red Crest Clan controlled the extraction and sale of these resources, taking a cut from every transaction.
Mining operations, refineries, and export agreements all funneled money back into the clan's coffers, providing a steady stream of income that supplemented the tax revenue.
There were also fees for services. Businesses that operated within the city paid licensing fees. Merchants who used the clan's protected trade routes paid tariffs. Contractors who worked on infrastructure projects submitted bids that included payments to the clan.
And then there were the more creative revenue streams. The Red Crest Clan operated training facilities where people could pay to learn combat skills or improve their abilities. They rented out space in their armory to smaller security firms. They even had a few investments in commercial enterprises: restaurants, shops, tech companies, that generated passive income.
It was not so different from how a normal government earned money, really. Taxes, resource extraction, licensing fees, tariffs, public services. The Red Crest Clan had just streamlined the process, cutting out the layers of bureaucracy that would have slowed things down in a traditional government structure.
And it worked. The clan was profitable, efficient, and capable of funding operations that most cities on Mars could not even dream of. Which was why working for them was such a coveted position. The pay was good, the benefits were excellent, and the sense of purpose: of being part of something that actually mattered, was worth more than any salary (debatable though).