A double clink of gold informed me of the first bite. Sold: one dedication to Macaria and one raid offer. I was forty grand richer. Things were moving!
Clink, clink! Another bite!
Chapter Fourteen
I spent the following three hours networking non-stop, sifting through the messages that were pouring into the anonymous box. While the bulk of the letters were from the doubting and the curious and didn't merit immediate attention, those from serious buyers I had to answer on the spot as I tried to come up with the logistics of the impending operation. It looked as if it was going to be something truly extraordinary. Already I had over a hundred fifty people on the dedication list and more kept coming every minute. When two messages were dropped almost simultaneously into my inbox—two leading clans wanting to know the details—I finally realized I was losing my grip on the situation.
I closed the virtual keyboard and, forgetting, tried to lean back, losing my balance on the wobbly stool. Damn their cabinet makers!
AI's soft voice resounded in my head. Master, I've taken the liberty of saving 29 American dollars. May I offer you something to replace this sorry excuse for a chair with an ergonomic six-setting adjustable recliner bed?
What was it he'd blabbered about his emotions having been removed? His voice was rife with sleek sarcasm. I should have taught him a lesson of course, by refusing his offer and leaving myself to suffer in silence. But my heart was craving some comfort.
"Deal, you smooth operator. Where's your chair now?"
Name the desired color, please.
"Fucking purple!"
What kind of upholstery would you prefer?
"Whatever! Suede!" My annoyance started to affect my struggle with the stool's four uneven legs. Why would anyone make something like that?
The closest local analog would be the skin of a sand lizard. Unfortunately, it will increase the price of the desir-
"Chair—now!" I snapped. I didn't care anymore.
The air parted, materializing this marvel of modern design and medieval technology. With a yelp, I plonked myself onto its suede cushions and groaned with delight.
"Well done! As a reward please accept your new name: Lurch! I hereby allow you to use one percent of all the units generated for your own needs, on the condition that your activity doesn't hurt me or the castle's functions. Use it as you see fit. You could get yourself a gold weathercock or some fancy railing, you get the idea.
AI paused. Finally he spoke, his voice shaking with emotion. Thank you, Master. You've no idea how much this means to me. Thank you.
"You're welcome, Lurch. How about a bit of celebration? Some lemon tea, how about that? No chance of any cookies, I suppose? What's the situation on the kitchen front?"
AI's voice was filled with drama and regret. "The kitchen unit is status orange making it impossible to prepare dishes of over 80 difficulty. But that's not the problem. We're completely devoid of kitchen staff. Unfortunately, I don't have access to the kitchen interface. I would recommend hiring eleven sentient beings as castle staff in order to secure a bare minimum of habitability."
Bummer. More expenses. Still, he had a point. He might be a bit greedy but a castle needed some staff. I fiddled with the settings, and after five minutes the room filled with voices. First thing I hired three human chambermaids with cute faces and random-generated characters. It was more fun that way. I didn't quite get why a pretty face cost five hundred a month while the same character with the same functions but looking like an old hag was two hundred. I just hoped Taali didn't find out that I'd had choice, or she'd demand I replace all supermodel types with helpful old ladies.
Next I created a corpulent cook with +500 Culinary skill. She cost me more than all the chambermaid chicks put together, but once I'd studied the list of her skills, I gulped in expectation and pressed Confirm double quick. The portly lady's bloodline counted at least five different races endowing her with all the secrets of the numerous Elven, Dwarven, and human cuisines as well as some special meat recipes à la Orc. She also had direct access to the ingredients auction and her own bank balance which was the first thing I filled when I'd created her. Now that I had the food department out of the way, I told her to get some tea ready and went back to my work.
The incoming messages had been flashing at me for ages. I opened my inbox and hiccupped with astonishment. The auto broker balance had already exceeded three million, the number of those willing to surrender themselves into Macaria's gentle hands had reached two hundred eighty. But what made my day was the letter from the Vets where General Frag personally was asking the anonymous priest about the terms of having a seven hundred-strong clan dedicated. The General put it plainly that seven million was a bit thick and that two million would do the job nicely plus the dubious addition of their gratitude. The Vets didn't change, did they? They were still not averse to trading their friendship and pressurizing everyone with their authority. Two more similar letters from other clan leaders were still awaiting my answer.
That wasn't all. There was also a flagged letter from the auction admins informing me they had temporarily blocked the assets in my account until I fulfilled all commitments to my customers. They had assigned me a personal manager as a controller who'd just sent me another letter, introducing himself and asking about the time and place of the upcoming ritual. I clutched at my head, groaning. I needed more staff! I wasn't made of steel. Having one head had also proved pretty inadequate. But I had to make do with whatever I had at hand.
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.