For the common people, cheap, low-quality whiskey priced under a dollar—ideally under fifty cents—was what they truly needed. But for someone at James’ level, and for the big players he was about to network with, discussing such low-end alcohol was pointless.
High-end spirits were the real currency in their circles.
Arthur nodded proudly. “My first batch was mid-to-high-end whiskey—Gold Label and Deland.”
James glanced at Congressman Williams, who closed his eyes. In James’ mind, the label of “foolish little brother” would never leave Arthur.
Arthur didn’t even understand what should be stockpiled first or second. His profit this time was pure luck. If not for having a capable father who warned him in time about Jingang City’s impending Prohibition, Arthur wouldn’t have made a single cent from alcohol.
But… he was still a Williams.
“Tell me exactly what you have and how much you plan to sell it for,” James instructed. “After that, leave the rest to me. Just wait for the money.”
“Oh, and consult someone about legal ways to avoid taxes. Otherwise, the taxes will kill you.”
Arthur detailed the inventory, but a thought struck him. “There’s a small issue…”
He scratched his cheek nervously. “I used some of the high-end whiskey as collateral with Jobav…”
James frowned. “Are you planning to use underhanded methods to get your whiskey back?” Without waiting for a response, he shook his head. “Don’t even think about it. Jobav recently invested in a municipal project pushed by the mayor. He’s the mayor’s guy now, so don’t mess with him.”
“Follow the terms of your agreement.”
Williams raised an eyebrow. “How much did he invest?”
“$350,000, plus $100,000 in political donations,” James explained. “That’s at least $25,000 per quarter.”
$450,000.
Arthur fell silent. “Understood.”
After Arthur handed over the relevant documents, James left. His time was valuable, too.
—
Back at the company, Lance called his warehouse staff, including Ethan, back from guarding the stockpile. Their return signaled that the alcohol had been sold.
Lance didn’t hide the news. “$465,000. I’ll allocate $230,000 to the company account. If you have time, look for a safe and suitable house nearby.”
“Preferably a townhouse with a yard so we can connect a few of them and make modifications.”
He glanced at Ennio. “You’ll do the legwork. Have Morris drive you.”
Ennio agreed readily. His arm hadn’t fully healed yet; though he no longer needed a splint, it couldn’t bear weight or take any impact. Running errands was about all he could manage for now.
Lance handed them $20 for gas, food, and other expenses. His principle was clear: employees shouldn’t have to spend their own money to subsidize the company.
—
Lance spent the afternoon visiting industrial areas to survey the market.
The next morning, he went to the Commercial Services Bureau, intending to see Patricia and register a new company.
“So, what’s the plan this time?” Patricia handed him a form. Around them, her colleagues exchanged knowing smiles—some amused, others envious.
As Lance filled out the form, he replied, “I’m registering a clothing company to produce apparel.”
Patricia raised an eyebrow. “What exactly is your business? Your ventures jump from consulting to labor services to clothing production.”
Shrugging, Lance explained, “I need at least several thousand pieces of clothing. Even if the profit per piece is only ten cents, that’s still a few thousand dollars.”
“And I’ll produce more clothes in the future, so why not just open my own factory?”
“Besides, it’s not expensive.”
The Jingang City government encouraged the establishment of businesses and factories, as they created jobs for residents. Employment was closely tied to public safety, societal stability, and politicians’ approval ratings, so the administration placed high value on it.
Capitalists could pressure the Federation government because they had money, connections, and leverage over officials. But their greatest weapon was controlling employment and income.
That power was terrifying. They didn’t even need to openly oppose the government. A simple announcement that a policy would force factories to close or temporarily halt operations would incite workers into a rage, potentially overwhelming the government.
Whether necessary or not, having control over jobs offered benefits with no drawbacks.
Land outside Jingang City was inexpensive. For a minimal cost, one could acquire it as long as they provided jobs proportional to the land area.
If they failed to meet the job quota, they’d incur various fees, as stipulated in the contract.
Patricia shook her head after hearing his reasoning. “I can’t imagine why you need so many clothes, but… oh well!”
“Are you free this weekend?”
Lance handed her the completed form. “Not sure, but I’ll try to be. I’ll let you know Saturday afternoon.”
While processing his form, Patricia muttered, “Sunday’s my cousin’s birthday. William is going to the state government, and my mom has a hiking trip with others. I don’t want to go alone.”
“I’ll do my best.”
Before leaving, Lance asked, “If I wanted land nearby, could William help with that?”
Patricia shook her head. “I wouldn’t know. I’m not interested in his work.”
—
Later, at City Hall, Lance found William in the Public Utilities Office. Seeing the shared workspace with four others, Lance decided to have their conversation outside.
Fortunately, the city hall had no strict rules requiring officials to stay at their desks. They went to a coffee shop near the building.
“I want to acquire industrial land to open a factory,” Lance began. “Who do I talk to about that?”
“The Land Management Bureau,” William answered. “But city hall has people who handle it, too. You’re opening a factory?”
“A clothing factory,” Lance explained briefly. “I’ll save on costs, and when I don’t need production for myself, I can take on external orders. As long as the factory isn’t a financial burden, it’s worthwhile.”
William was impressed. “That’s a mature and smart idea. Providing jobs will also earn you policy benefits.”
“Even if you bend a few rules in other areas, having jobs on the line makes things easier to resolve.”
William had done his research on Lance’s operations. Lance wasn’t breaking laws outright but operated in legal gray areas.
He offered small loans, exploiting loopholes in the Usury Act. His labor services circumvented restrictions on work cards. Though not illegal, they weren’t entirely aboveboard either.
Providing jobs, however, gave him leverage—even if his activities drew scrutiny, they’d be easier to resolve.
After discussing Lance’s plans, he turned his curiosity to William. “You don’t seem happy at city hall. Others have private offices, but you share yours. Have you considered moving up or changing environments?”
William responded without bitterness. “I’m a Federation Party member. Here, they care more about political affiliations than competence.”
“It’s the same everywhere. In Federation Party territories, Liberal Party and Socialist Party members face similar struggles.”
“And even if I moved to a Federation stronghold, I’d be no better off. Without backing, I’d be seen as a competitor—a threat.”
“But here, no one sees me as a threat, so I don’t mind.”
It was resignation, but William embraced it. With the best benefits and welfare of city hall employees, his lack of ambition was enviable to many.
“Have you thought about advancing further?”
William glanced at Lance. “When you’re in a position to help me, we can discuss it. Until then, it’s premature.”
Unfazed, Lance pressed, “I’m just curious—how much does it cost to push someone like you up the ladder?”
William raised an eyebrow. “You must’ve made quite a bit of money.” After a moment’s thought, he said, “A few thousand dollars. But it’s meaningless.”
“Even if I were promoted, I’d still just follow the mayor’s orders instead of making my own decisions.”
“What about becoming a city councilor?”
William looked surprised. “Do you have more money than you know what to do with?”
He explained, “That’s a long-term investment. Jingang City has ten districts. We’d need significant support and votes in one of them.”
“Once elected, the councilor role costs about $15,000 annually for basic expenses—assuming you do nothing else.”
“To make an impact, you’d need to host political events, invite influential figures, and so on. Do you know why many city councilors hold their positions for years?”
“It’s because getting a new councilor elected requires massive investment, with uncertain returns.”
Draining his coffee, William concluded, “If you want a councilor worth their salt, budget at least $60,000 per year. Every year.”