“So you are a cult, then!” I crossed my arms, feeling like I was finally getting a handle on the situation.

Markov opened his mouth to respond when the door behind me opened again. In walked this petite little thing, blue skin, pink hair, thick black-rimmed glasses and a pencil skirt to signify that she was a secretary. In her hands, two tumblers full of whiskey. I reached for one and thanked her. She handed the other one to her boss, then promptly disappeared.

Not as in “go invisible”, but excused herself from the office.

Bringing the glass up to his mouth, Markov took a sip and closes his eyes, clearly savoring the drink and the temporary reprieve it brought. I followed suit, nursing the amber liquid as it danced across my tongue--

--and nearly spat it all over the table, opting instead to choke it down and do my best to tolerate the horrendous taste of liquid wood.

“Strong, isn't it,” Markov asked with a smirk.

“A little too strong,” I spat out, my four amber eyes blinking out of sync.

My host took another sip from his glass, and set it down on the table. “No matter what world you find yourself working on, it's amazing how quickly that your clients offer you alcohol. That was Nars'garthian Amber, distilled around two-hundred years ago, I believe? I received the first bottles from the batch, as payment for services rendered. I've lost count how many different kinds of alcohol I've got stashed away throughout the building. Ran out of room at home, you see... Now, where were we?”

I rubbed a small dribble of spit off my face with a sleeve. “You were going to conveniently explain everything for me,” I croaked.

“Ah, yes, that's right.” He slid open one of the drawers of his desk and pulled out a couple pamphlets. “As I said, we are gods. Or, at least, that's how we present ourselves to our clients.”

I started thumbing through the materials as he continued.

“Pantheon Solutions, Ltd. The continuation of the betterment of human- and humanoid-kind through synergistic, faith-based methods. It's a lot simpler than all those froufrou words make it out to be. Our mission, simply put, is to help chart a course for aimless, wandering peoples throughout the universe. We provide them with the information required to further develop their position in the world, and provide the necessary stories and distractions for them to explain the whys.”

I looked up from a charcoal drawing of a man in the clouds, pointing a trident as an army charged underneath. “Stories and distractions, like gods.”

Markov nodded. “Information is easier for people to accept and disseminate when they believe it comes from a higher power.”