CHAPTER 11

"Does shaking your head mean no?" Mila was surprised once again.

"No. I mean, it doesn't mean that. It just means I'm taken off guard. It wouldn't have surprised me if you decided to cut me up and scatter my pieces around Brad. This is much more surprising."

"If that were possible, we'd have cut you up five minutes ago," said Carol. "But you'd just respawn."

"So are you going to accept the invitation?" asked Mila, who was starting to get nervous.

"Hey, hey, hey," I cautioned. "Like Spartacus said, let's figure things out before we get into the arena."

"Who said what?" asked carolan.

"He was a famous tank," summarised Carol, giving an answer obviously informed by bitter experience talking with the half-ore.

"Why 'was'?" continued carolan.

"They weren't able to buff him fast enough before he got into a fight, and he was killed. They even got his account!"

"Oh, come on, that doesn't happen." carolan pressed on, "What server did he play on?"

I couldn't help myself. "I heard of him, too. He played on the Italian server. The Roman server, to be exact."

"See who we have to work with?" Mila said sadly and gloomily.

"It's okay." I tried not to smile as I looked at a perplexed carolan. "But back to the matter at hand. I'd like to know what you expect from me and what I get out of it. Who will I owe what?"

carolan shook his head in annoyance at the sting of a Level 6 noob rolling out with a bunch of questions.

Still, he stayed quiet.

"What do we want? We want you to keep your mouth shut about everything you heard here. Really, that's in your interests too. If that information gets out, we'll be well within our rights to do what carolan suggested. We'll name you a Clan Enemy, and you'll die wherever you are in Elysium—even in the Gray Lands. If nothing leaves this room, you'll have the support and protection of the clan. You can level-up in the areas we control, and you can get clothes and weapons from the clan storehouse. Not epic, of course, but better than the crap you have. Basically, your standard agreement."

"But what if the information gets out, and I have nothing to do with it?"

"There's a spell called True Word. Ridiculously rare and expensive. But if we have a leak and you say it isn't you, I'll shell out for it to make sure."

"There's also Truth Powder, and it's cheaper," noted Carol.

"Sure, it's cheaper, though it has a 10% margin of error," Mila nodded. "That's fine for little stuff, but not something as important as this."

"Got it," agreed Carol.

"Well, you obviously wouldn't be buying it for my sake. You'd want to find the rat," I noted reasonably.

"Of course." Mila wasn't going to argue. "I won't spend a copper coin on you. No offence."

"And one more condition," the scout butted in. "You can only leave the clan in two cases. Either you have Mila's permission (and only hers), or you're our sworn enemy. If you leave the clan on your own, we'll hunt you down wherever you are."

"Do I have to sign something? And will I have any responsibilities? As a member of the clan?"

"You don't have to sign anything," confirmed Mila.

"The fortress sergeant will explain your rights and responsibilities to you," Carol said with a wink that spoke volumes.

"And if anything happens, you'll have me to answer to!" carolan was roaring again.

I looked at them thoughtfully, remembering how Billie said that clans are good, and strong clans especially good, and asked my last question, "And what if there are three ores promising to put me on a conveyor belt to the respawn point?"

"Don't worry about it, warrior," said carolan. "We'll make mincemeat of them. PKers don't get a long leash with us. Touch our noobs, and we'll hunt you down. It's a good deed, and we have some fun while we're doing it. We're the only ones who can smack our noobs around." And with that, he guffawed loudly.

"Then I'm in!" I said and tapped the button to accept.

Congratulations! You joined the Thunderbirds.

You are currently a volunteer in the clan.

"Will I be a volunteer for long?" I asked Carol.

"You start as a volunteer; that's how our clan works. Then, a month or two later (or earlier if you prove yourself, you become a kinsman. That's when you're a full clan member."

"What then?"

"What then? When you get to Level 120, you earn respect in the clan and, if the clan council deems it necessary and possible, you can become an officer. Then, you can invite new members, you get new bonuses, and you get a nice badge next to your name. After that, it's deputy leader and, well..."

"I'm not going anywhere yet," announced Mila.

"Though we could skip the volunteer stage. Maybe we should make him a kinsman?"

"Why skip it?" Carol asked. "First, that's giving him too much. Second, we can't put the spotlight on him like that. People will start asking why he gets special treatment, and we can't have that. Let him run around with everyone else."

"Agreed," Mila nodded her head. "Okay, get over to the fortress."

"Me?" I sheepishly asked.

"Who else?" the elf sarcastically responded.

"How? I have no idea where it is!" I was taken aback.

"As if I didn't know that." I was starting to think the young lady wasn't quite the pleasant person I thought. I was going to have an interesting time of it.

"Carol, take him there."

Carol took me by the hand and read from some kind of scroll. The last thing I heard in the room was Mila, "Well, how much money did we save?"

Another blue rainbow spun out in front of me, and I found myself standing on a cobblestone square.

When I imagined their "clan fortress," I thought of something from my distant childhood: Walter Scott, Dumas, or, especially, something from Ivanhoe—some kind of forbidding castle built out of enormous blocks, a drawbridge, turrets, dungeons, and a courtyard in the middle.

There was a courtyard, but that was it. I mean, yes, it was all there, but not how I imagined. It was more like an overgrown country house belonging to some oilman or mid-level delegate somewhere in Nikolina Gora[6].

"Not impressed?" Carol asked ironically.

"Nope," I honestly replied.

"Well, good."

"Why?" I didn't understand at first, though the truth began to dawn on me. "Ah-ha! I get it! The more unassuming it looks from the outside, the fewer people you'll have trying to figure out what's inside?"

"Exactly. Well done!" Carol nodded.

"But other people could figure that out, too."

"Not everyone. carolan still has no idea why we like to keep things on the down-low."

"Draw it for him," I suggested. "Maybe he understands pictures better than he understands words."

"You're just a volunteer, and don't forget that," the scout turned serious. "We're talking about a deputy clan leader here. Oh, and the clan master for combat He's no genius, but there's no one better when it comes to planning raids. If he ever invites you to go with him into a dungeon or on a raid, you'll see for yourself. Anyway, let's go find Sergeant. I'll turn you over to him for training, and then I have some things I need to do. Quite a few, in fact..."

As I had imagined, the fortress was much bigger on the inside than it looked from the outside. Either the Thunderbirds were well acquainted with the fifth dimension, or there was an extra paid option I didn't know about when you buy a clan fortress. (I was much more inclined to believe the latter option.) One way or another, there were rooms, twists, passages, and balustrades everywhere.

Carol quickly ran through the whole maze, from time to time, pointing things out. "That's the training hall," "That's the small clan storehouse. You aren't allowed in there yet," "And that's the big clan store-house. You'll never be allowed in there," "That's the main hall." After seven minutes or so of that, he stopped at the entrance to a small room.

"We're here. What's with the long face?"

"I'm trying to figure out how I'll find my way out of here. You're about to take off, and I have no idea where the exit is. I'll wander around until I die of starvation."

"Don't worry, someone will show you where to go. Sergeant, are you here?"

"Come in," rang out a deep bass voice. The echo boomed around and across the room.

Once we walked in, I saw that the owner of the voice was a bearded (as if there's any other kind) dwarf with powerfully built arms and a potato of a nose. From the label above his head, I saw that his name was, in fact, Sergeant.

"Huh, so Sergeant is your name," I said, voicing my surprise. "I thought that was just your rank."

"It's both, and it's a way of life," bellowed Sergeant. "Carol, you've got to be kidding me. What, are we going to be like that Armedakil and start recruiting right in front of Noobland? Why not? We have plenty of leaders, we have so much money to spend on training that we don't know what to do with it, and we have good players coming out our ears..."

"Okay, okay, I hear you," the scout responded, waving his arms in a conciliatory gesture. "This is a onetime thing. Don't worry about the details, but it's true. Mila invited him herself, actually."

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