I scowled. "General," indignation was welling inside me, "I have come here as a clan leader, First Priest and your friend. But not as your subordinate."

"First Priest, I knew it..." Dan muttered, ignoring my escapade.

Me and my big mouth. These sharks had me just where they wanted. I was fed up with their rotten tricks. "Please. I know very well you have guys like myself for breakfast every morning. But I'm afraid, I'm the only First Priest you have, at least for quite a while. I may be a bit simple but there's no need to rub it in. Let's just work with what we have."

Dan grew serious. He raised his hands in a peace-making gesture. "Stop grumbling, Max. We're all friends here. We're only laughing because we want to make you see it's time to tie your simplicity up in a few knots. You're flying way too high these days, and still you're trying to remain Laith the simple guy playing a new and funny game. They'll scoff you up before you can say Ding!"

Poor Fallen One. How I understood him right now. This wasn't life: this was some stupid downward escalator, its steps sweeping you right down into a sea of lava, its top riding high in the thunder clouds, and you keep running up the stairs simply to avoid being swept into the fire.

I took a deep mental breath and looked Dan in the eye. "I've heard you. I really appreciate your advice, thank you. But my life has long ceased being a leisurely walk in the park. It has since taken me up and down all sorts of funny little trails. Just give me some time. I might end up such a smartass bastard you'll regret ever saying this to me. You'd better knock on wood it doesn't happen soon."

Dan chuckled and tapped a bony knuckle on the wooden tabletop.

"So, First Priest," Frag cut us short, "what can we do for you and what can you offer us in return?"

Taking the bull by the horns, very well. I concentrated, lining up the items I was going to discuss with them. "The First Temple will need protection. Its restoration will also demand a considerable injection of funds. Although the official version of the Temple's devastation is not exactly correct, its outcome is the same: the place is in ruins. I don't think you're going to question the importance of having the Temple properly defended. The advantages of Macaria's gifts are too obvious."

Dan's eyes had glazed over the moment I'd mentioned financial problems. Now he sat up, offended, "Not everything is as rosy, I'm afraid. Our clan's siding with the Fallen One might bring us some serious pain in the butt."

"So what?" I said. "We'll still have our XP bonuses plus the Goddess' skills..."

Dan and Frag exchanged glances. "How many deities are there in the Pantheon of Light?" Dan asked softly. "Your guess?"

I frowned. "Dunno. I was sort of too busy to find out. My life has been a bit hectic in the last few weeks. I thought you knew that."

Dan shook his head, refusing to accept my excuses. "Six—six gods, each with his or her own specialization. It's true that they don't have the High God or the First Temple: they've got some democracy there, or anarchy, whatever. But they're quite generous with their skills, not to mention their fourteen temples and their respective XP bonuses to all the worshippers of Light."

I slumped in my chair. How could I ever have missed it? True, I'd given their temples a wide berth, unwilling to worship one particular god: my chosen class cast plenty of shadow as it was. But how come no one had told me that? I desperately needed an analytics department of my own.

"So I hope you don't think," Dan went on, "that all the players will now march to join the Fallen One's ranks? True, the smarter among us—those who are either capable of independent thinking, have the necessary information or possess good self-preservation skills—will ignore the Light Ones' toys and will be more than happy to dedicate themselves to Macaria. Over time, we might look at a figure of several tens of thousands. Add to that those who'll follow him out of conviction or racial solidarity—there're bound to be a few. But those of the players who choose their religion by dumbly comparing the available bonuses will all remain on the other side of the barricades. And what do you suggest we do when, after a few tentative attempts, the Admins call for an event and a hundred thousand-strong crowd will arrive at the First Temple's walls? Who's going to face them—you and I and ten thousand die-hard permas? Because that'll be all the force we'll have."

He kept speaking, probably trying to bring me back down to earth by making me see the sheer vastness of the task at hand. And I—yes, I guess you could say I was a different person already because the problem's scope didn't scare me any more. To each of his arguments, my mind came up with a possible solution and a potential counter measure. Too many temples of Light?—we could always thin them out. Not enough manpower to defend ours?—Well, humans weren't the only AlterWorld's inhabitants. Gnolls and Hell Hounds were prime examples of the opposite. Our Pantheon too modest, the XP bonus too small?—It only meant we had to summon more gods and build new temples.

Had I bitten off more than I could chew? But that was the only way to do it. You had to have ambitious goals. Saving enough for a new couch would hardly motivate one to move his backside. But if his objective were to buy a Porsche Cayenne in three years' time, that might motivate him to move it and be proactive, seek so he could find.

I nodded to Dan, "I appreciate the sheer scope of the problem. But we'll make it. What solution do you suggest, personally? I'm not going to charge my allies seven million; I'm not even going to accept the two the General has already offered. I need friends and allies more than I do trade partners. I intend to make one of the Vets a priest so he can dedicate the entire clan to Macaria. I also invite you to sign up for my alliance, The Guards of the First Temple, in order to join our defense forces. I don't seek a commanding post. There are some people here who deserve it more than I do."

Again they exchanged glances. Oh yes, I was full of surprises: first my new confidence that seemed to defy the complexity of the situation, then my rejection of a very lump sum, and now the news of the alliance I'd created. They froze, apparently discussing their decision through some closed private channel.

I had told them the truth. I needed allies more than anything. Money, too, but judging by the auctions' trends, I had staked a gold mine with plenty of potential to pay off my castle mortgage. And one more thing. By refusing their money, I hoped to reset my clan obligations to zero. Because if one day they had asked me for a service in return, I'd have had to drop everything and comply. This way, I was debt-free with them.

Clink, a money transfer dropped into my inbox.

You've received a money transfer: 100,000 gold.

Sender: The official Veterans clan account

I raised a quizzical eye to Frag.

"We appreciate your proposal," he said. "We're more than happy to accept it. We also give our preliminary approval to joining your alliance, but this will need more discussion and working through all the agreement details. As a gesture of allied good will, we return to you the sum you paid us for helping to solve Taali's little problem. We'll pay our men from our own resources. Moreover, we'll monitor her problem closely: I can already tell you that we're going to replace her gun. The civilian Tiger is good enough but a Vintorez will suit her purpose better. I'll also make sure some of my men will cover her at the most difficult stage: a retreat."