The Clan (18 page)

The price of the 3 sq. mile plot is two million gold.

The price of the Super Nova Castle, including the unique Temple Complex with 68% wear and tear is 23 million. For your information, the castle has been recently restored.

"I know, thanks. That's twenty-five million..."

All that was left to do was bite my lip and tap the control panel. Over two million US dollars, an enormous amount even in real life. But more importantly, I just didn't have it. I simply had to wait for some Olders or others to buy the castle, then be cloistered in the Temple Hall without much right to anything else.

If you thought in terms of eternity, there was always the possibility of earning this sort of money. But right here and now? Then again, why not?

"Would it be possible to pay in installments?"

What monthly amount could you afford?

Did this mean it was possible? That's the solution, then! "How about ten thousand gold?" I added a pleading note to my voice.

The installment plan is limited to one year. Considering the state of your bank balance, we suggest the following solution: a down payment of one million
gold which would secure your ownership of the castle, followed by twelve monthly payments of two million gold each. This is our best offer.

Oh. Where was I supposed to find two million a month? True, I had indeed managed to raise a similar amount in my first month in the game. The question was, how sure was I I'd have the same kind of luck for a further twelve months? Sure, I possessed a number of unique opportunities, but turning them into cash quickly and error-free was not going to be easy. In case of success, it would indeed consolidate my position in AlterWorld. If I failed
—well, I would lose all the cash I'd paid. That was bad but sufferable. Should I go for it? What would my greedy pig say?

For the first time in my memory, he didn't react. Was the million in hand better than a castle in the bush? No answer. How I understood him! I had to do it.

Switching off all self-control and sense of reality, I said in a stilted voice, "Agreed."

This was how I'd always reacted whenever a situation called for inane determination, like doing a high-board dive or approaching a stunningly beautiful girl. I switched off all emotion, shrugged and stepped forward.

"Agreed," I repeated in a more confident voice.

Congratulations on your acquisition!
I thought I heard a hint of amazement in the AI's voice.
An invoice and standing order request have been sent to your address. Upon confirmation of payment, all deeds will be sent to your Private Message box, signed and sealed by the official AI of the Cayman Islands offshore zone. A copy of the deeds will be forwarded to your official registered mailbox.

Indeed, my Inbox flashed with a new message. That was Drow Bank informing me of the requests received. I heaved another sigh and confirmed the transaction, burning all bridges. Sorry, Mom, sorry, Dad. I know you'd spent a lifetime hammering into me that credits were evil. You knew better, what with your Second Great Depression experience and all. But this thing was completely interest-free. So I just prayed I hadn't made a fool of myself and hadn't just become the winner of the How-to-Lose-Your-First-Million race.

More messages flashed before my eyes.

Congratulations on your acquisition! You are now the legal owner of a Super Nova Castle.

Updati
ng the virtual property register... OK

Sending form H:244 to the tax authorities... ОК.

Control of the funds' provenance... in progress.

For your information: As of 2029 Law 5011 on virtual property, the yearly tax rate of your property is 1.5%. The nonrec
urring virtual property tax for amounts over 1,000,000 is 4%. Notice of payment has been sent to your bank. Please note that non-payment within ten days will incur a late-payment surcharge of 5% on every 24 hours.

They didn't mean it. I had barely signed the freakin' thing and already I owed the Feds one million gold. Talk about conjuring money out of thin air. If you closed your eyes and turned round, then pointed your finger blindly, whichever object you pointed to would be taxable. All those excise and customs duties, direct and indirect taxes—the entire society was entangled in a golden web, its precious threads wound into gigantic balls somewhere in the depths of the state machine. How many months a year did it leave you to work for yourself? Two or three? Four max. The rest you were supposed to surrender. I remembered reading that every loaf of bread included over a hundred various taxes. AlterWorld wasn't like that yet.

I imagined a monster dropping one gold and dozens of greedy hands reaching for it. Before you blinked, you were left with a handful of coppers you'd then take to the shops and pay VAT on top of everything else. The Tartar Yoke
with its negligible tithe paled in comprison—a true tax-free Golden Age.

In any case, I had nothing to pay their taxes with. My rainy day million had already cleared my account, leaving me with a miserable twenty grand and over two million in monthly payments. Without the six-digit bank account, the world had changed its colors. The debt load burdened my shoulders, breaking my fragile wings and dissolving all my opportunistic plans. From now on, it was nose to the grindstone for me, only raising my head in order to look around for more work to do and some
one willing to give it to me. Mom had been right, after all.

No. They weren't going to do it. No one was going to break my wings. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger.

I'd find the money even if I had to eat dirt.

By then, I was a bit fed up with standing bolt upright, but this sterile box of a room had no seating facilities. I slapped the desk. It reacted so fast I didn't have a chance to speak.

Master!
so much passion and barely suppressed joy was in that voice that I felt ashamed.

"I'm Max. Call me Max, okay?"

As you say, Master.

Yeah. "Listen, Castle..."

There's no need for tactile contact. You ownership entitles you to a copy of the control artifact which allows you to stay in mental contact with the castle at virtually any distance.

With a pop, the control desk created an octagonal charm on a thin platinum chain. I weighed it in my hand. It was heavy. I put it on and a
ddressed the Castle AI mentally.
Can you hear me?

Yes, Master.

Yeah. Never mind.
So what's with the lack of soft furnishings?

Allow me to explain. The castle generates three hundred universal points an hour. You can spend them on restoration, building works or upgrading the existing facilities, including interior design. At the moment, six universal points are available. This will only be enough for the simplest of all devices meant to support a human body in a seated position.

A chair, I presume? I don't need a fancy one, just something to rest my backside on. Go ahead and generate it.

I'd suggest you wait another seven minutes. That would allow you to order a Gothic Chair #52 from the Miserly Knight collection I have just finished downloading.

It sounded a bit suspect. I frowned, "Don't tell me it was a pop-up ad. You're not going to hang the castle walls with banners and promote panty liners via the intercom? I hope not. And please, none of those oak chairs with high straight backs. Let the designers themselves get numb bums from them. I personally prefer ergonomic soft furniture. Now, where's my chair?"

The emotion the Castle AI sent me was the mental equivalent of a shrug. The air quivered with a snap and I realized I should have waited. On the floor stood a handmade stool
, rough and wobbly. Oh, well. Haste makes waste. Now I had to keep this contraption out of principle to make sure I didn't forget that particular old adage again. I crouched gingerly and swayed on it trying to balance myself. At least I wouldn't fall asleep on it. I had too many things to take care of.

"AI, do you hear me? Is there a master suite in the donjon?"

Yes, there is. The entire sixth level.

"How much time would it take to restore it to a medium comfort level?

Castle AI paused for a moment.
Approximately ten to fourteen days depending on the chosen design.

Too long. "How about guest rooms, then?"

Yes, Master. Fourth level. Six detached suites.

"Excellent. I want you to restore one every couple of days. Just a bed, a table, a chair or two and a fireplace. Look up a few ready-made designs and send them to me, I'll choose one. You think you can do it?"

Yes, Master. I will start now.

Excellent. That would give him something to do. In the meantime, Master
—myself, that is—would get busy cashing in on his skills and statuses.

I opened the auction and checked my auto buy's anonymity settings. Full-blast paranoia, that's my boy. The vendor is only known by his number, all correspondence redirected, no way to identify him. So
—what did we have to offer the world?

I opened a new window and generated a new auction. A few minutes later, I entered the first lot:

A unique raid buff for sale. Effect: +25% to all kinds of magic resistance, +10% to physical damage resistance. Duration: 12 hrs.

The success or failure of your raid is in your hands!

Offered on condition that the buff will not be used in raids targeting worshippers of the Fallen One, their clans or castles.

Price: 30,000 gold

Not too expensive, especially considering the price of the Spark. Still, this was a reusable offer so it should generate a trickle of steady money my way.

Next one:

A unique offer! A raid portal to Inferno! Hurry before your rivals beat you to the ancient castles of their demon lords!

The offer includes a one-way group portal. Return is done under one's own steam, via respawning or teleporting.

Price: one-week's public auction, bids start with 1 gold.

Good! What next?

Only a perma player can appreciate the choice of Macaria as their patron deity. Unique offer: her priest will personally consecrate you to the Goddess of Blissful Death.

Potential buyers are invited to teleport to the point given by the vendor. The consecration rite is 100% anonymous.

Price: 10,000 gold

The next lot
—or rather, my pack of trump aces:

A unique offer for big clans or connoisseurs: the First Priest will ordain you as a Dark Priest. Bring your clan under the protection of the Fallen One and secure your people's immortality.

Price: 1,000,000

I reread it and paused, thinking. Was it the right thing to do, really? The price was high, but in all honesty I could add another zero and still our oligarchs would cringe and
pay it. And what was I supposed to do with that clique of professional schemers with their security services, analytics departments and cellars full of gold? How sure was I they wouldn't cut me out and start their own game that wouldn't do any favors to the name of the Fallen One, his religion or his First Priest? Those gentlemen were the opposite of cute and cuddly: those were sharks who'd survived the Second Depression, the Dictatorship of the State and the New NEP. They'd swallow me whole without even noticing.

That wasn't the way to do it. Hadn't I said myself just lately that cadres were key? And was I really going to apply the trial and error approach to this crucial step? Next thing I knew, I'd have a quiet modest man sitting in one of the Temple rooms
under a sign,
First Secretary Comrade Stalin
who would start placing his own men in all key posts. Before I knew it, he'd hold a re-election campaign which would demote me to the post of junior carpet sweeper. No. I had to think it over, then think again and again some more. I blinked, sending the finished description into the Recycle Bin and made a mental note to deal with it later.

Next. Deactivating a castle shield. The altar's help allowed me to cast a High Spell while the Shadow of the Fallen One secured my anonymity. Still, I wasn't going to auction off something that scandalous. I'd have to look for potential buyers myself.

I opened the long-forgotten news feed, the section of war conflicts. Most clans were constantly in a state of smoldering vendetta with each other. I was sure I could find someone interested enough.

The OMON clan has besieged two central castles belonging to the Gold Net trade clan. The latter have hired large mercenary units which makes the outcome rather unclear. If you remember, OMON members have taken and resold three standalone castles in the last few months, all belonging to second-division clans.

The Pratz clan has been besieging a private castle on the border of No Man's Land without success. The point of their activity is dubious as they don't seem to have the potential to breach the shield.

The Korean farm alliance has completed a raid on the human city of Humas. Within the last twenty-four hours, they have taken and destroyed four nearby castles and a dozen mansions. The persistent Koreans seem to be quite happy with the twenty percent profits paid out for destroyed property. Insurance companies are said to
have raised their premiums.