The five million fil were distributed as follows.
First, two million was set aside as capital for the party. This would be used to fund future activities. It also served as insurance in case something happened.
Next, two million was used for party expenses. This was needed to replenish our supplies, to repair and improve equipment, or buy new equipment. Lloyd and Walter’s weapons had been blunted in the battle with the lesser vampires, so they needed sharpening. I also needed more bullets for my silver flame. It would probably all total two million fil even if we went to the armament shop that gave us good deals.
Finally, it was time for our individual compensation.
“This is all that’s left?” Walter’s shoulders slumped. Hard to believe how elated he’d been moments ago.
We each got 250,000 fil. Considering a normal job came with an hourly wage of one thousand fil, it was nothing to sniff at…but it was disappointing, compared to five million. Tanya was also somberly looking at the two gold coins and one larger silver coin in her hands.
I wasn’t about to say I told them so. I might feel validated, but it would just make all of them feel worse.
“Come on, now, don’t look so glum,” Lloyd said with an uneasy laugh. “Our individual shares are a bit low, but our party’s capital is growing steadily. Plus, if we get another big job, we can make just as much.”
He was right…partly.
“Lloyd, this was a rare, high-paying job. They don’t come along every day. More importantly, we didn’t get this straight from the government. One of the clans passed it on to us. Normally, they’d keep this kind of job for themselves.”
“That’s true… That’s true…”
Requests for Abyss purification were all handled by the government and normally only given to clans. There was a way to get Abyss requests without being part of a clan, though. Clans would often subcontract out Abyss missions rather than simply refuse them, since the assessment system granted higher ratings to clans that accepted more requests per year. The request to take out the lesser vampires had been outsourced to us by a clan.
Abyss-related work paid well and was excellent training. Seekers like us, who chose not to join an existing clan, would go around to the other clans and take on their excess missions and turn a decent profit. The plan was to earn enough money and rank up sufficiently to start our own clan one day.
Of course, the clans didn’t hand over the entire fee to their subcontractors. We had to pay an expensive commission. The harvest rights to the beasts we killed also belonged to the clan, so if we didn’t negotiate carefully, they’d just take advantage of us. On the other hand, if we drove too hard a bargain, the clan might never hire us again.
But given our successful track record and ability to fight at a level above our ranks, the time was right. So I asked, “Lloyd, how much party capital do we have?”
“Huh? Umm… With what we got today, we’re up to 12.8 million fil,” he said.
As the leader, Lloyd was responsible for managing the party capital. And 12.8 million was in line with what I remembered.
“That’s enough for us to start our own clan.”
“Huh?!” Lloyd was surprised. The other two cried out as well.
“Noel…you know as well as us that we have to pay the government twenty million fil in order to create a clan.”
This twenty million fil wasn’t just graft. It was insurance, in case a clan failed to complete a mission by the deadline that the government sent.
Abysses grow when left alone. Therefore, they needed to be purified as quickly as possible; any delay made an Abyss larger and more dangerous…and missions more expensive. The failure of one clan meant that the next contractor hired to try to purify an Abyss could demand a higher fee. That was why we had to pay twenty million fil up front. The fee was compulsory, due every six months.
“I know. But we’ve grown stronger over the past year. We’ve also built a reputation. We can’t just live off of subcontracts forever.”
“I mean, I know how you feel but…”
“I’ll pay the remaining 7.2 million,” I said.
“Huh?!”
They were even more surprised this time and it showed in their reactions. They’d never expected me to offer to pay the 7.2 million-fil difference myself. Honestly, it wasn’t a small sum for me. I did have an inheritance from my grandfather, but there wasn’t much left of it.
I had used a significant amount to help the vineyard staff get back on their feet after that terrible night, and to support myself until I became a Seeker. I was very particular about equipment thanks to my grandfather’s teaching, and the best stuff was always priced at a premium. Quality equipment cost an arm and a leg, but it also let you keep your arms and legs attached to your body.
I didn’t just have a silver flame—I also wore a long, black coat of the highest quality. This coat, made from the myocardial fibers of a black dragon, a beast with an abyssal depth of 8, was highly durable and also boosted my resistance. There were many other expensive items I’d purchased in order to become a Seeker, such as the instruction manual for the attainment of skills.
“Of course, you can pay me back once the clan is on track,” I said. “It’s not like I’m giving you a handout. I just want to save money for the future, and we’ll earn more if we establish our own clan rather than just taking leftovers from others.”
If I could put these three in my debt, it would be easier to convince them that I should be the leader too. It felt a little unfair, but I was ambitious.
“Where would our base be? We need a building in the imperial capital to be our base in order to form a clan. Land here isn’t cheap. We could rent month-to-month, but that would cost too much,” Lloyd said.
“Don’t worry, I know a place we can rent for cheap.”
“Seriously? But…”
Tanya jumped in, as if pained by the sight of Lloyd hemming and hawing. “Noel, I know you’re serious, but don’t be hasty. Even if we rush into forming a clan right now, I really don’t think it’d be sustainable.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well, we’re still rookies. We’re only C-Rank, and still young. I’m seventeen, Lloyd and Walter are eighteen, and you’re only sixteen. Even though we’re technically adults, in the eyes of the world, we’re still children. It doesn’t matter how strong we are—it won’t go well.”
“Why?”
“Well, because…”