I looked up at the General and shook my head. "Currently, no restrictions. As for candidates, I believe Eric to be suited best to the post. I'd like you to keep in mind that if a priest is proven to be unsuited to the job, he can be defrocked or even excommunicated. This rule applies to everyone," I said as gently as I could hoping they didn't interpret my words as a threat.

They exchanged smiles. Those bastards just refused to take me seriously. I had my work cut out for me, authority wise.

"We could in fact agree to your proposal," Dan said, adamant he'd milk the idea for everything it was worth. "As a return favor, we'd like to help you carry your pot of mithril from the other end of the rainbow. For a few pennies, of course."

Yeah, right. Looked like they'd outsmarted themselves this time. Had they not been flexing their thinking muscles in front of me, I might have said yes. But now I could smell rats everywhere I turned. In any case, how were you supposed to give someone access to your own bank vault without supervision? No metal detector would find the gold stuck to their sweaty paws: the game's mechanics allowed you to move a tank into your bag with a single silent command. Okay, maybe not a tank—I hadn't yet met anyone with a thirty-ton weight carrying capacity here. Then again, you shouldn't forget about those artifact bags which could diminish or even nullify the item's weight. But pilfering something like a mithril tank barrel from a petrified troll's hands, I wouldn't put it past them. Soldiers! They can't resist temptation. There isn't even a word for stealing in the army. Instead, they say "appropriated". No, guys, sorry, but the gun is mine and you're not getting it.

"I have an offer, too," I said. "For a few pennies—say, a million gold—I'll sell you the coordinates of an alternative rainbow with a field of gold at the end. Mithril I can't promise but what I can guarantee is about twenty hectares of the best Gigantic Fly Trap."

Dan sat up. He swung his head round checking a place for unwanted ears, then mumbled, trying hard to look disappointed, "One million—don't you know any other figures for a change? How about a hundred grand? Any piece of intelligence is worth that!"

I grinned, shaking my head. "Sorry, chief, that's non-negotiable. You'll reap ten times more from that field. A couple of weeks working the land, and you'll have your million. I would have done it myself but I don't have any spare hands to guard and harvest it. Besides, I'm too busy as it is. It will also allow you to level up your farmers a bit. The area is unexplored with plenty of untamed game for them to tackle. By the same token, their presence will protect them from some overeager PKs."

Dan glanced at the General who nodded. He then heaved a sigh, his character begging for more haggling, but obeyed the unspoken order, accepting my conditions. "Very well. You have our preliminary consent. I'll forward you our standard contract for the acquisition of information regarding class A objects. You need to fill it in attaching all the screenshots and coordinates of the field, then seal it with your digital signature. We'll send our men to make sure the place answers your description. If it does, the money will be on your bank account the next morning. Please don't think we don't trust you. We just want to make sure you're not mistaken. It can be a different type of Fly-Trap or some visual illusion... ever heard of mirages?"

"Very well," I said. "When's Eric coming?"

Dan checked his internal interface, "He's on his way."

The General raised his stare at me as he rolled a dozen purple cartridges in his wide hand. "One more thing, Max. I really hope that if you happen to find more of the same, your findings won't spread uncontrollably over the entire cluster. You must understand the dangers firearms bring into our world. But personally, we would greatly appreciate having more samples... for research purposes."

Now what was that for logic? What's yours is mine and what's mine is my own? I decided against making an issue of it, giving him a noncommittal nod. He was welcome to interpret it in any way he wanted. By then, my inner greedy pig had smeared his venomous drool all over my heart, ogling the gun I'd just parted with. I shouldn't gift anyone another one of those in the near future if I didn't want to finish Mr. Piggy off. And what would I be worth without my resident treasurer? I'd splurge all my riches before I knew it.

Hurried steps resounded down the corridor. The door swung open, letting Eric in. He sprang to attention in front of Frag.

The General nodded. "As you were."

Eric slumped in the chair. Then he saw me, grinned and poked my shoulder with his giant fist. "That's what it is! I couldn't understand why they'd want to haul me over the coals. Sorry, Comrade General!" he glanced over the table groaning with various leftovers and twitched his nose, doglike. "May I?"

Not waiting for an answer, he scooped a few cookies.

"I thought the guards had eaten half an hour ago?" Dan asked.

"Ah!" Eric waved his objection away. "That was then!"

"Very well. If you can listen while you eat, you'd better do so. Command has confidence in you," Dan raised a meaningful finger. Eric frowned, surprised. His type wasn't used to command's confidence.

"You're about to fill a unique post. You'll be the clan's priest. Quit looking at me like that. You have Max to thank for that. But remember that the posting isn't interminable. One slip-up, and I swear on my immortality I'll make you swallow dust twelve hours a day as a second ammo carrier in an NPC gun crew of the defense ballista of the seventh tower of South Castle. I'm not joking. What with your level and your track record, you're long overdue for a promotion. If you really can't overcome the perma mode euphoria and if your healthy body and your immortality mean so much to you, you'd do better joining the Pratz. They love goofs like yourself. Is that clear?"

Watching Eric was breaking my heart. His drawn face paled, his doglike expression miserable and begging forgiveness. He jumped up, pressing his hands to his chest.

"Sir! I'm sorry, I mean it! It's like the devil's playing with it all the time. I feel like a teenager on his first night of boozing, I can't even walk, I can only hop and run! It gets better, though. I can control it. I still clown around, but it's more out of habit now. I really appreciate your confidence in me, Sir!" he jumped to attention and reported, saluting, "I won't let you down, I promise!"

Dan fixed him with his stare, then rose, adjusting his shirt like one would uniform, and crisply saluted. "Go to it, Lieutenant!"

"'Yes, Sir! Permission to leave, Sir!"

"As you were," Dan nodded, then turned to me. "Your turn. You'd better dedicate your protégé before he loses patience and races off not even knowing why or where to."

Impressed by the change in my best friend's behavior, I looked up the necessary skill on the priest's abilities list, selected Macaria as patron god and pressed the virtual button.

Millions of little bells filled the room with their gentle chimes. A cloud of glittering sparks swirled under the ceiling like a snowstorm, creating an opening into some other plane that revealed Macaria's happy and (I think) tipsy face. She peeked out, studying Eric, then gave him an encouraging smile, nodding. The opening collapsed, sending the colored snowflakes flying all over us. As Eric stood there open-mouthed, my internal interface reported a growing number of priests. Now we were already eleven out of the fifty. I'd love to know where the other three Dark temples were. I had big plans regarding them. We had to expand the Pantheon as soon as possible. The more people I could enlist, the fewer besiegers we'd find one day under the Castle walls.