AlterWorld

Life was getting too complicated for me. I questioned his account of the events. The Olders? Quite possible. Or could it be the Vets themselves, staging a show for one naive viewer as its audience? To make sure he arrived at the negotiations suitably compliant, impatient to get rid of the patent which by then would be burning a hole in his pants? I didn't for one moment doubt Dan's ability to run a double game, but as for the brave captain and his men… I wasn't so sure.

Dan took me down a corridor to a door guarded by a couple of soldiers. A Torch of True Flame burned by the doorway. He reminded me that the staff meeting was at 10 a.m., saluted and left on some other secret agenda of his. Did he ever sleep? Despite the absence of a material carrier, our minds tended to overload and needed some rest, sending us into a deep and happy sleep. We did need less of it, though. Four hours were enough for me now to recharge my batteries; the rest of the night I just stayed in bed out of habit.

My room here was a cut above the hotel one. Its size, its expensive interior design, a fancy fireplace—it was all supposed to point at a visitor's status. I crawled inside the four-poster fit for a king and, after some tossing and turning, finally switched off.

At eight in the morning, I was awoken by the sun peeking into a narrow window and by a sergeant's icy commands as he ordered the youngsters around the parade square. I had a quick wash and looked out the door to ask the guards if one could get any coffee there. They promised to send someone and indeed, ten minutes later a pretty NPC waitress brought in coffee and some sandwiches.

That was interesting. Apparently, the castle control interface allowed them to hire in-game characters. Who would want to play the part of a servant, a cook or even some basic guard on the walls? I knew nothing about this substantial part of game content. What could I do with my own home here? The Vets seemed to have some control over teleports and bind points, to say nothing of the fighting arena which apparently offered a lot of leeway: just the other day we'd been fighting there to near death while now it served as a training ground for a bunch of cadets hammering each other with hatchets—and not a single scratch. Plus, instead of sand, they were prancing around what now imitated a stone plateau.

I remembered my promise to roll some more cigarettes. I still had some time, so I opened the auction and checked the auto buy. It had been working hard, amassing about three thousand doses of pollen. The average price had risen somewhat as the suppliers tried to feel out the demand. This was another part-time opportunity if I needed it. Once the clans had the license, the demand for ingredients would soar. They would need millions of doses daily. And once the Admins realized that the shortage of ingredients prevented them from deriving more revenue, you could expect Gigantic Fly-Traps to sprout along all city ditches. Alternatively, they could encourage cultivation to give the game farmers something to do. In any case, the prices for raw materials had to explode. Should I really invest all my available cash into cigarette ingredients? I had to upgrade my basic Auction Depot, anyway, as it was now almost 90% full. That also cost money, making me two hundred gold poorer. Still, I shouldn't complain; my auction account looked healthy with almost five thousand gold having trickled in overnight. Shame all that easy money had to end in a couple days.

Oh, what was that? Another grand gold jingled into my account. I checked the logs. There is was, Ogre's Siege Shield, sold. Found a co

In whatever time I had left, I rolled almost two hundred cigarettes. After some thought, I took some colored ribbons—I now had plenty—and tied the cigs into batches of twenty. That was it. Enough. I looked out the window where the clan's senior officers were gathering in the courtyard. I noticed a few Dark ones among them. I could distinctly see two orcs, a Drow and one hell of a troll. What were they waiting to see, rabbit tricks? I decided to go out for a look.

The moment I walked out they all beamed. I looked around, doubtful that I could be the source of their happy grins, and offered, "How about a smoke, guys?"

Bingo. The men exhaled happily, getting closer. "Got some to share?"

I ripped open a couple bunches. Casting suspicious glances at the ribbons, the officers accepted my offer with military gusto, each helping himself to three or four. The troll scooped a good dozen and bellowed with a shy smile, "My lungs are too big. I smoke one in a single draw. No one wants to share with me anymore."

None of us had a light so we had to commandeer a nearby greenhorn to fetch us some matches from the kitchen. Finally the whiffs of smoke started swirling around. Our Prometheus, a.k.a. the flame-bearing rookie, showed no desire to leave.

"Comrade Colonel! Permission to speak to the civilian!"

"Granted."

He turned to me, "Spare a smoke?"

The officers fell speechless at such insubordination. Still, now they were too relaxed to have the kid punished. I didn't want to ruin the mood and gave him a cigarette. The boy lit up with a practiced hand, but instead of smoke, he began disgorging colorful soap bubbles. It was weird but also so fu

"What's all this?" the troll groaned, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"This, comrades, is a built-in under-18 protection system," answered Dan. How I hated his habit of creeping up on people.

One of the captains choked laughing and frowned at the greenhorn. "Cadet Burr! I thought your application said you were a twenty-year-old paratrooper? You piece of shit! We don't need no young offenders in here. Wait! Where d'you think you're going? Sleazy punk!"

He cast some sort of paralyzing spell. Two guards on duty rushed in from the watchhouse to intercept the kid. Unexpectedly to everyone, he resisted the spell, then smashed some vial on the ground at his feet. Immediately, the whole area around and above him was filled with an impenetrable black haze. We recognized the sound of an opening portal.

"Fucking piece of shit! He's gone, look," the Colonel spat, turning to Dan. I could read a whole bunch of emotions—from surprise to hate—on the agent's face.

"How can you explain it, Major?" the Colonel went on. "Spies are having a smoke with staff officers and you don't seem to know what's happening in your own castle?"

Dan gritted his teeth, "My fault, Sir. I'll look into it."

"Please do," the Colonel added, softening. "Let's go in now. Enough of making targets of ourselves. They've already laid the table in the small hall."

The enormous breakfast room was too good for its name. About sixty feet long, it boasted two massive fireplaces and some monstrous furniture. Despite the fake period interior, the breakfast didn't resemble a prim British meal. In our equally fake armor, we looked more like a conquering party of Vikings waiting for the ice to clear the river. We just didn't fit in with the carved wainscots, tall straight-backed chairs and four breakfast forks.

Dan sensed my feelings. "This room is used for semi-official meetings," he whispered. "We have to conform. In other places, you won't see all this pompous shit. And in your own room you can put a TV on the wall if you really want to. Having said that, it won't work, anyway…"

Once the breakfast was over, we moved to the private meetings room next door. Here, soft easy chairs stood around light tables laden with fruit and wine. Ashtrays were brought in and everybody lit up.