I concentrated, trying to remember my bind point. It had to be the Vet's portal hall. I sent a message to my mini-clan (Cryl and Lena, that was the extent of it) telling them to meet me in my apartment. Then I wrote to Frag asking him for an urgent meeting of paramount importance to the Vets, ideally in the East Castle. Two minutes later, the General replied saying he was expecting me in his office and that I had better be quick as 'it's like Israel and the end times here; the arrival of the Fallen One has changed the lay of the land and the clan is delirious with excitement'.

Clear enough. I looked around, checking if everything was under control, and wistfully canceled the tea break. I was about to teleport when something in my newly-acquired environment caught my eye. I gave the room another scanning glance. The unhappy cook, purse-lipped, was placing her pretty china teapots and cookie plates back onto their tray; one of the chambermaids fussed about arching her back and darting her vibrant eyes as she polished the newly-materialized table with a pristine white cloth brushing away the non-existent crumbs. Crumbs. Fragments. That was it! Yes! I needed to hire a hundred cleaners to sweep the entire space inside the inner wall, collect all the scrap mithril and pile it into neat little piles.

In my mind's eye, I reached for the charm on my neck, activating the castle control menu. I scanned through the unfolding submenus until I got to recruiting. Non-combat staff, cleaning services. Chimneysweeps, plumbers, various moppers and sweepers. The latter were exactly what we needed, including their foreman. His wages were three times those of his workers but he allowed me to delegate the task of running his brush brotherhood. In total, they cost mere peanuts even though they admittedly took up a lot of staff positions.

A troop of little goblins filled the room, armed with brooms, dustpans, buckets and some totally arcane cleaning tools. Immediately I realized quite a few of the mistakes I'd made. Firstly, I didn't really need to hire this cartload of chimpanzees for a month. I should have paid ten percent more and just kept them for five to seven days. My second mistake was ticking the 'character: random' box. Already those green monsters were making a sparrow-like racket, pushing and shoving each other, a few of them rolling on the floor in disagreement.

"Out, everyone! Out into the court! Line up!" I yelled, confirming my command with an almighty kick that sent flying the two goblins who were fighting over some especially good broom.

I hurriedly summoned their foreman, ran through his options and increased his strength, aggression, diligence and desire to please his patron. That was another fifty gold a month gone, but I had to be sure he was able to run his menagerie with an iron hand.

The ash gray goblin was middle-aged and covered in old scars. His stance commanded respect. He studied the surroundings and stroked the bamboo stick he carried as weapon.

"What can I do for you, Master?" he lowered his head.

I glanced at his stick. "You'll be Harlequin," I said remembering the Italian commedia dell'arte character whose job was meting out blows to the ever-sad clown Pierrot.

The goblin stood up straight. His eyes glistened, his back bending lower in a bow. "Thank you, Master."

They all seemed to have funny reactions to the name-giving procedure. Could it have something to do with the divine spark the Fallen One had mentioned? When we singled someone out, raising them over the homogenous faceless crowd by giving them a name, were we not breathing life into them? I really had to find out my Hell Hound's moniker or present her with one.

"I've got here fifty cleaners to put under your authority," I said. "Your task will be to clean up the castle. All the non-standard debris has to be collected and stored in the inner court, sorted out where possible: metal and ores into one heap, artifacts into another, unidentified miscellany into a third one. What else... yes, no dismantling any compound objects. You'll see two statues of trolls, please don't touch them but try to transport them into court if you can."

"What's the surface area?" Harlequin asked, all businesslike.

"Everything up to the outer walls. In case of any danger, address the head of castle guards. Let me know when you're finished. I'll need you to arrange a work party to the fort. That's it. Get on with it!"

As he dashed off, eager to apply himself, I had one belated idea. "Wait! One more thing. On one of the north towers," I gestured in their approximate direction, "there's a Bone Dragon's batch of eggs. You need to find it."

He scratched his head. "What does it look like?"

I very nearly did a facepalm, amazed at his stupidity, when it dawned on me: did I have any idea myself how the eggs—whether bone or phantom ones—looked like? Not good.

"Eh, a nest and, you know, two eggs, yes, sort of round ones," I made an OK sign with my finger and thumb. "I think. Just play it by ear, dude. I don't think the place is packed with dragon eggs."

He shrugged, as if saying, the boss is always right. Obeying my nod, he finally dashed out of the room. Right he was, too. I could bet my bottom gold piece his subordinates were already at each other's throats, busy ripping each other's overalls.

I suppressed a smile and activated the portal spell. Bang.

I greeted the Portal Hall guards, one of them a very bored Eric who roared like a happy bear as he descended on me with an equally bear hug. Immediately he began telling me about some really cool piece of bear gear he'd seen, if only-

There he was interrupted by a messenger—the sergeant who'd been shifting his feet by the door as he waited to take me to the General's office. I shook Eric's enormous paw and hurried down the stairs after him.

The NPC guards saluted me indifferently, showing no reaction to my hatred relationship status. By then, I already knew how easy it was to change the guards' friend/foe settings from the castle interface. The Vets' clan didn't differentiate by race or faction, they had plenty of players of both Light and the Dark. You couldn't surprise anyone here with a Blood Orc whose face otherwise graced all the quest boards elsewhere in the Lands of Light.

Finally I reached the carved oak doors of the General's office. The sergeant knocked and opened one side of the door, letting me in.

Inside, Dan and Frag were choking on their coffees. You can't really enjoy the poison of your choice twenty cups in a row. Dan squinted at me, tired but cheerful. The General's poker face didn't change; he nodded and beckoned me to approach.

"Come sit down. Take the weight off your feet."

I obeyed. Both stared at me expectantly. Pointless beating about the bush with two seasoned sharks like those. So I moved straight to the point.

"General, as far as I know, you were considering the possibility of dedicating the clan's entire contingent to Macaria, offering two million for the rite. Is that correct?"

Frag raised an eyebrow, soundlessly enquiring about my information sources but neither confirming nor refuting my words. Dan gave me an encouraging smile.

I took in a lungful of air and said with a TV-soap actor's lilt, "The Dark Priest you wrote to is me."

I wasn't prepared for their reaction. Dan guffawed, clapping his hands. Frag shook his head, unbelieving.

"You didn't believe me, did you?" Dan turned to him. "So you owe me one more staff member for my seventh department. Sorry, Sir, a bet is a bet. I want Brown's Lieut, please."

"You want too much. Find someone from your kindergarten group and train them up yourself," Frag turned to me and lay his heavy fists onto the fragile tabletop. "Report," he ordered, boring me with his glare.