WorldCrafter - Building My Underground Kingdom-Chapter 186 - High Taxes

186: High Taxes

186: High Taxes

Barrek hesitated, shifting the strap of his supply pack on his shoulder.

The question was already at the tip of his tongue.

But Ben spoke first, not turning to look at him.

“Tell me, Barrek,” he said, voice low but clear.

“What do you think makes a good city to live in?”

Barrek blinked.

The question caught him off guard.

He rubbed his beard, thinking about it carefully.

“Trade routes that don’t bleed you dry.

Taxes that actually help the folk pay ’em.”

He paused.

“…And maybe… maybe a leader who doesn’t see people as numbers.”

Now Ben turned.

His eyes met Barrek’s.

“Is that all?

How about one that make your prosper and rich?”

Barrek scratched at the edge of his chin, letting out a low hum.

“By the Deepforge, if that’s possible, I’d love it.

Gods know I wouldn’t mind being rich.”

He gave a wry grin, then added with a more serious tone, “But truth is, as long as I have a place that’s safe, where I don’t have to wake up wondering if slavers’ll knock on my door, that’d be more than enough.”

Ben’s gaze didn’t shift, but the word echoed in his mind like a hammer on stone.

Security.

He’d thought about trade, infrastructure, facility, but he forgot their basic needs.

These people weren’t dreaming of riches.

They were just trying to survive.

Trying to go one day without fearing someone might put a collar on their neck or a blade in their back.

‘How could I miss this, no one will think to be rich, when their wealth can be taken anytime.’

But then came the next problem.

Even if he made the city safe from raiders, thieves, and corrupt guards… the taxes would still choke them.

Because the tax wasn’t just his.

Every city lord paid tribute to the Ashking.

A chunk of every coin scraped from the people went upward, filtered through bureaucrats, counted in sealed ledgers, then sent in caravans that disappeared into the capital.

And it wasn’t small.

Even the standard rate hovered around 30 to 50%.

And the worst of them?

Some city lords, untouchable in their rule, bled their people dry, raising taxes as high as 80%.

Ben’s jaw tightened.

‘This is a problem.’

If he started faking tax reports to shield the people, it wouldn’t take long for the wrong ears to hear.

Word would spread.

Sooner or later, someone would come knocking.

And yet… maybe erasing the tax wasn’t the only way.

He didn’t have to stop the system.

He just had to work around it.

Because now that he saw it clearly, this so-called “tax” wasn’t just about wealth.

It was a leash.

A way to keep the fear.

people drained of strength never thinks of rebellion.

It thinks of food.

Shelter.

Breathing.

And that’s how the system endured.

You didn’t need chains if the people were too tired to stand.

Ben had lived this before.

Not here.

He remembered the quiet resignation in the faces of people on the subway.

Eyes dulled not by defeat, but by routine.

Wake.

Work.

Survive.

Repeat.

He remembered factory strikes silenced by unpaid bills.

Students crushed under loans too large to imagine paying off.

Neighborhoods gutted by rising rents while billionaires bought homes they’d never live in.

And all the while, politicians grinned on screens, telling them it was a free world.

That they had choices.

Ben had laughed at that once.

The same bitter laugh he heard in the quiet corners of the city here in Krahal-Zir.

‘But what if he give people a way to breath?’

What if the basics, food, safety, a place to sleep, were guaranteed?

The Ashking dont care about this people, he underestimate them, not realizing they’re the true danger.

Because people who had nothing would cling to survival.

But people who had something, something to protect, would fight like hell to keep it.

And Ben plan to give them that.

Ben’s lips curled into a slow grin as his gaze settled on Barrek.

“Thanks,” he said simply.

Barrek blinked his eyes filed with confusion.

But Ben didn’t explain further.

Instead, he turned and motioned for the Dwarrow to follow.

They walked through the crumbling streets of Krahal-Zir, until they reached the city lord’s mansion.

The moment they entered the office, Ben pulled out a crystal tablet and dropped it onto the desk with a sharp clack.

He tapped the screen once, and glowing lines of text lit up.

Then he turned the screen toward Barrek.

“Read it.”

Barrek leaned in, and froze.

His eyes widened, jaw slackening as he scrolled down.

His calloused fingers trembled.

This wasn’t just a trade agreement.

It was a declaration.

A contract that granted him exclusive rights to oversee all external trade coming in or out of Krahal-Zir.

Every deal, Every shipment, Every merchant, All under his, and then he saw it, the most important bits.

A clause near the bottom.

Ben would provide his family with housing, food, education, and full protection.

Not as a favor.

As part of the deal.

Barrek looked up, throat dry.

“By the deep forge…!

Is this… real?”

Ben nodded, leaning back in his chair.

“I don’t care if you’re Nephirid or not.

I care if you can work.

If you’re loyal. freёnovelkiss.com

As long you follow me, you will be rewarded.

And right now?

You’re the one that meets my standards.”

Barrek tried to speak, but the words caught in his throat.

He gripped the edge of the desk.

“…But lord… Are you sure?”

“That clause stays,” Ben said firmly.

“The rest is my problem not yours.”

Ben understand his worry, education is something that never given to other species, most of them were self taugh.

Than there’s housing and more than everything security.

The clasue detailed how it will guarantee his family freedom.

Of course this is only for him and his wife and children, but that’s all that matter.

Barrek swallowed hard, his voice cracking.

“You don’t know what that means to me.”

Ben gave him a look.

“I do.

That’s why it’s there.”

And in that moment, all of Barrek’s hesitation it vanished.

Because this wasn’t just a contract.

It was trust.

A chance.

And most of all It was home.

A safe home something beyond his wildest dream.

Barrek dropped to his knees with a loud thud, head bowed, his fists clenched over his heart.

“Thank you… my lord.

I swear to the deepforge and primordial flame, I will never betray you.

You don’t know what you’ve done for me.

For my family.”

Ben gave a half-smirk, waving a hand.

“Yeah, yeah.

Get up before I change my mind and auction the agreement to the next merchant dumb enough to walk in.”.”

Barrek looked up, red-eyed but grinning like a fool.

He scrambled up and signed the contract with shaking hands.

Ben took it, tucking it into a secure case and locking it shut with a press of his thumb.

“Good.

Now let’s put you to work.”

He motioned, leading Barrek out of the office and through the luxurious halls of the mansion.

They walked in silence until they reached the lower trade quarter, where one of the blacksmith compounds had been marked earlier by Eight and Nine.

The air grew thicker with heat and iron, smoke curling out of the half-ruined chimney.

In the dim forge, the Dwarrow blacksmith raised his head at the sound of opening door.

The clang of hammer against steel fell silent.

His apprentice straightened, wide-eyed, wiping soot from his face as Ben stepped through the open archway.

The Dwarrow’s orange eyes flicked up and down Ben’s frame, then narrowed slightly.

“I’ve not seen your face before.”

Ben gave a small nod, stepping into the forge.

“The new City Lord of Krahal-Zir,” he said simply.

Bragan blinked at first, long and slow.

Then his molten-orange eyes narrowed, in surprise.

A Nephirid had just walked into his forge.

Not just walked in.

Declared himself the new city lord.

Merrik froze entirely, the lad going rigid as if expecting a blade to come next.

But Bragan He turned, not to Ben, but to Barrek, who stood just behind.

“His name is Barrek, a merchant that come to our city risking his life despite the blockage.” Ben introduced him.

The old Dwarrow stepped forward and gave a short, sharp motion.

First a fist to the heart, then a twist outward like striking an invisible hammer.

It’s not a just a normal greeting, it’s one filled with respect.

A gesture from one craftsman to another, steeped in the old culture of the Dwarrow.

A mark of respect earned, not given.

Barrek returned the motion with practiced ease.

“Name’s Barrek, Just a merchant, like Lord Tzarek said.”

Bragan’s eyes lingered on him.

“Folk think craft belongs to smiths and masons.

They’re wrong,” he said, voice low like distant thunder.

“A merchant crafts too, shapes his trade, builds trust, haggles with grit, and risks everything to make something that lasts.”

He gave a slow nod.

“You came through fire and blockade to get here.

That takes spine.

The spirit of the Dwarrow’s still burnin’ in you, and that, lad… that earns my respect.”