Godfather's System

"Any guess about how many?" I asked.

Zolast shrugged. "I'm in the same situation as you. How should I know?"

I shook my head. He was still trying to poke around. "Why don't you make a guess, give me a range."

"It's hard to make such a guess without understanding the forces that are assigned to the operation to stop those breaches," he countered, still reticent in committing.

He was still testing me. I paused a moment, measuring the benefits and drawbacks of playing around. My first reflex was to hide it all, still not comfortable in the new world I had found myself in. Luckily, I had a lifetime of experience — not the magical kind, but the ordinary kind that was collected by spending sweat and blood — warning me otherwise.

Zolast could have dragged me away from the camp once again, but instead, he used some kind of magic to isolate us, and I wasn't naive enough to believe it was a convenience that made him do so. He was revealing some of his abilities, and asking me to do the same.

"Let me give you a general breakdown, then," I said. "Since I had joined the camp, I had seen two hundred and twenty-seven different flying carts, fifty-five flying castles, and nine fortresses. Comparing that with the size of the plains, I expect the real number to be somewhere between two to three times." A simple breakdown, but not only it showed I had been always tracking the military movements, but I had the Perception to identify them from such a great distance.

The memory helped greatly in that aspect as well.

"I see," Zolast said, his expression flat as he considered the implications. Amusingly, I didn't care much about the exact conclusion he reached. He had his own secrets that he wanted to protect, and he couldn't ask me more questions without revealing his.

"Tell me, how many breaches you think there are, and the situation."

"Are you sure you want to know, it's not a happy situation."

"I didn't get old by burying my head in the sand," I answered. "Tell me."

"My best guess, at least two dozen, with a chance to reach at least double. Are you sure you want to stay?"

I chuckled. I had already gleaned enough about this new world to guess the answer. "With that many, is retreating even an option?"

"No, it's not," Zolast answered, confirming my guess that our camp wouldn't be the only one to be conscripted for this function.

"And, I'm guessing it'll take a while for the breaches to be established, giving our side time to counter with dungeons," I added. "Otherwise, the beasts wouldn't have been attacking us with such intensity."

"That's correct," he confirmed, but made no move to explain more.

"Then, I have no option but to stay," I said, then pushing a bitter smile on my face.

Staying was a horrible choice, one that I didn't want to make. Too bad that other options were even worse. The path to escape lay in the sea, and with the sudden change in the direction of the conscription, it was not a path I could take easily.

Technically, I could sneak in … but that would once again leave me drifting without an immediate target. Not a situation I wanted to be in.

Not if the sudden abundance of the breaches from the god of destruction, about me rejecting his offer of recruitment. There was no guarantee that the phenomenon wouldn't follow me if I escaped. If I was still on Earth, I would have still escaped. It was much easier to hide in an urban environment. But here, I still knew very little for that to work.

Moreover, there was another, even more important, reason for me to stay. The opportunity for promotion. The concept of breach sounded dangerous, but I remembered how I had triggered my previous promotion. Mana, both chaos mana and the normal variant, was required for promotion.

Or, at least, for my unique brand, as the others clearly didn't need it, their connection with the gods allowed them to bypass that need; but, not for free considering the constant loss of Experience and other possible costs.

I needed mana stones to promote, and the dungeons allowed me the chance to get that.

"That's a surprising choice. I thought you were determined to stay concealed," Zolast commented.

I smirked. It was time to counterattack. Zolast was dreaming if he was thinking I suddenly take point. "You're right, I'll still stay concealed," I said. He looked confused. "After all, who would pay attention to a little old man when there's suddenly a priest of unknown origin appearing to help a young noble trapped by his political opponents."

His eyes widened. "You think that—" he started, but I raised my hand, cutting him off with a gesture.

"Don't treat me as a child. The leveling ward already shows that you don't intend to hide your abilities … at least some of them," I said, adding the last part to test him. To his credit, he managed not to react other than a slight tightening of his eyes, but with my ability to read people, he might as well shouted the answer from a rooftop. "But this silencing spell just confirms it further. You are already taking a step into the light."

"And you won't, after everything?"

"I'm sure you're not merciless enough to drag a retired old man back into the sun. I'm more comfortable in the shadows," I said, even as I thought about how to sweeten the pot. "And, I'm sure that you'll love to have someone that can help you in some … unsavory aspects of taking such a visible position."

I didn't explain my suggestion in detail, not even as he waited in silence, waiting for me to give more details. Zolast was smart enough to understand the implication. And, I wouldn't spill more about my position just because he was lingering silently.

"Sounds like a fair agreement," he admitted a minute of silence, not raising any more clues. It didn't surprise me, as the deal certainly helped him.

"What do you have in mind, then?" I asked.

"Simple, I'm going to approach them, and offer my help. In exchange, he will approve the establishment of an independent guild. By that way, we'll have a certain amount of political immunity."

"And, he'll accept that?" I asked.

"For what I'm planning to offer him, he will," Zolast said. I quirked my eyebrow, and he chose to speak more in detail. "The only reason they are using a breach as a political punishment tool is the number of them. It'll take a great while to establish even rudimentary dungeons to plug them."

"And, as a noble house tethering in the edge of collapse, the breach assigned to our long lord would find itself at the end of a very long list, making the defense of the breach a long and thankless task. But, if they can suddenly find someone that can establish a dungeon…"

I didn't complete my sentence. It was not needed, with the implication clear. He nodded.

"I have a feeling that my retirement won't be as easy as I had hoped," I guessed. I doubted that the political opponents of the young noble would suddenly change their minds about opposing him. They might use some political tricks, but I doubted it. Zolast seemed to have a strong understanding of the political nature of the challenge, and if it could be countered that easily, he wouldn't have trusted his plan.

Which left the less savory methods of countering. Sabotage, bribery … and the ever-useful art of assassination.

"Your Perception will be very useful," he said, indirectly confirming his price for keeping silent. A deal I was happy to take.

"Speaking of Perception, what's the status of Karak," I said. "Any chance of recovering his arm?"

Zolast shook his head, the sadness on his face genuine. "No. The injury he received has a strong magical source, which makes it impossible to cure for us," he explained.

I shrugged. "Too bad, but I'm sure a Promotion would help his mood. We can always find a nice crossbow, and…" I started, only to fall silent as I noticed his expression, getting even gloomier. "But I have a feeling that it's not possible."

"Yes, he had lost the favor of his god," Zolast said. "He can't be Promoted anymore."

"Just because he had lost his arm," I asked.

Zolast nodded. "The gods are not merciful as most believe," he said, surprising me. Not because of the statement itself — as I didn't have a particularly good impression of them after seeing them acting like an overeager recruiter of a failing company, begging and scraping to make me pick them — but the flash of anguish that appeared on his face as he said that.

Another personal tragedy.

"A merciless punishment, indeed," I said.

"In a way," Zolast answered. "Ultimately, there are always limits when it came to promotion. Even if he could get his second promotion, the third promotion wouldn't have arrived. Not for a mere scout," he admitted.

"At least, he can still level up, right?" I asked.

"He can. Only a curse of banishment prevents any experience gain, and to do that, one needs to earn the fury of the god." He chuckled darkly. "Not an easy achievement. Still, it doesn't matter much for Karak. Without an arm, he can't use a bow, without a chance to promotion, even leveling has very little advantage."

"I wouldn't count on that," I shrugged.

"Really?" Zolast countered. "You still intend to help, even when he's injured to that degree."

"It's bad news, but not as horrible as I thought. You already saddled me with a difficult task, and I won't be able to pay much attention to my mission. I need someone with the right attitude I can trust to help me manage my little business, and Karak certainly fulfills the condition," I said.

"Your choice," Zolast said. "Do you want to recruit Jertann and the others as well?"

"I'm guessing it's not just an idle question, but you need them for the guild instead."

"I prefer to have some trustworthy people in the position of leadership, and they fill the need," Zolast said.

"Go ahead. They are nice kids, but they are too easily excitable to be helpful for my line of business," I admitted.

Zolast nodded, walking away after dismissing the silencing field around us with a wave of his hand. His path directly led toward the tent of the young noble, showing he had no intention of wasting time.

"Good idea," I said as I walked toward where Jertann and Karak were still talking…