Planet B

Ch.7

Draxta tossed the bloody towel at the feet of one of her servants. She made sure to clean up after these incidents in front of her staff so they knew what she was capable of. This resulted in minimal repercussions dealt out to her staff as they all did their jobs very well. Fear goes a long way to order.

She'd gotten past the point of nausea with how many tortures she'd had to administer. The first few had been a struggle in maintaining her gag reflex. The horror of it never left though and while she hated that she had to inflict pain, she knew it was necessary to reach the end goal. Life. Good life. For the majority. But there was more pain to come between then and now.

The war room she stood in was the most recent addition to her manor. Tall bushes blocked the windows so none could see in. Skylights allowed for natural light, something she craved given all her time in the university basement. In front of her sat a large oak table, a map of someplace very few had seen etched into it with pieces representing troop size and location. The war had been going on for so long the image seemed etched in her mind. Soon it wouldn't be a place of conquest, it would be a place to live.

There were a handful of others in the room too, strategic minds that she'd found long ago, all willing participants in her endeavor. Each focused on a particular invasion point while she, with their input, guided the whole of the invasion.

Hunched over the western edge of the map she heard the door open and looked up to see a familiar face. It wasn't a pleasant face, or always a welcome or trustworthy one, but a familiar face nonetheless and a face that she relied on. The bearded face smiled at her as he entered, straightening his spine with some difficulty to place his hand on her shoulder in greeting, his overly perfumed smell nearly causing her to wretch.

"Greel," she said, "nearly on time. I'm impressed." As his hand left her shoulder he immediately hunched back down, the strain he was under keeping himself upright plain on his face. He wasn't always late, but with how scattered his mind has been of late sometimes things like punctuality escaped him.

"I do what I can," he replied, voice rough but with a cadence of someone used to being a smooth talker. It was a voice that belonged to a much older man. For Greel though it wasn't age that wrecked his body, but his own experiments with magic. His appearance, his voice, his mannerisms all were distasteful. Like torture, it took time to get past the revulsion of this man. Or at least Draxta supposed it would, seeing as she hadn't reached that point yet. Greel nodded to the others who politely nodded back. There was no love lost between him and anyone here.

Draxta looked back down at the map and motioned to of the land masses, a large continent bordered by water on three sides. Troop figures sat condensed in the center of it.

"I hope you've come with good news," she said, "a resolution to our little problem."

Greel smiled, only one side of his mouth raising.

"Indeed I have. The threat turned out to just be barely a man, a young one leading a group of armed militia. I laid a trap to assess their strengths and weaknesses. As we speak he should doing his best not to get killed."

"Good," Draxta nodded. "Were you able to determine the range of his magic?"

Greel frowned, but only for a moment.

"No ma'am. I have orders for him to be taken alive, if possible. With any luck we'll have him in custody and you can test to your heart's desire."

Draxta was pleasantly surprised by this. When she'd first recruited Greel he was the most popular figure at university. He was handsome, suave, and knew how to talk to anyone and everyone. But then he began his experiments. Over the years his voice became rough, his spine crooked. His multitude of friends quickly found others to associate with. The only thing that stayed the same was his well-groomed beard. Greel tried to present the person he was in his youth, but the bitterness of abandonment and the pain of his body's existence could not be held back. Draxta knew he wouldn't have been as ruthless in his youth, back then he knew restraint and wise tactics. Those were good qualities. But he cared then, cared for every living thing he came across. That would not serve this day. Now he was effective, yes, but often too brutal and too risky. That he had the foresight to capture the boy was incredible.

"And how goes the rest of the invasion points?"

One of the others, a woman called Mithra, turned to the table and began moving pieces around slightly.

"Not much has changed in the last week, ma'am. The troops from your girl have maintained our positions, but until we can get greater numbers from her we won't be able to advance further. Our enemy has superior weaponry and the current output of troops has led us to a relative standstill."

Draxta nodded to herself. The last several years have been much the same. As much as she told Sarah that her powers would grow, in truth they were near capacity already. Without another source to create Draxta's soldiers, they would not be able to gain any more ground than they already had. Which is why Draxta was about to put another part of her plan into motion.

"I know this has been brought up before," a man called Hemlin said, "but with our solider output leveling off, why not focus the invasion at one point. We could take them by surprise with sheer numbers and overrun them before they have a chance to respond."

Before Draxta could respond Greel spun on the man, grabbing him by the shirt and pressing him back against the table, the angle of the man's back painful even to look at.

"How stupid are you Hemlin? Have you not learned from the past ten years?" Greel hissed, spittle flying from his mouth.

Hemlin sputtered the start of a response but Greel talked over him, pushing him back even further, a few figures falling over as they were struck by the grappled man.

"They have weapons capable of wiping our entire army out at once. They used them twice in the Ruthenial invasion point. The only reason those weapons aren't effective is our attacking at many different locations. If we bunched everything together our entire force would be decimated and it would take months to create that many replacement soldiers."

"Yes, but if we focused on a location with a large number of civilians they might not use it due to collateral damage."

Draxta could see smoke rising from where Greel's hands held the shirt. She felt no pity for Hemlin; Greel was correct. Hemlin was just lucky the twisted bearded man hadn't decided to draw his sword.

"You are correct," Greel said. "They might not. Tell me Hemlin, do you wish to risk the entire invasion, the future of our people, on the word might?"

Hemlin looked down and stammered.

"Well, no, but..."

Greel turned to Draxta, releasing the man, some of his madness beginning to surface.

"We need more troops. That is the solution. What are the plans to increase soldier output?"

"Just trust that I have things under control," Draxta said smoothly, presenting as much indifference as she could. Her war council needed to see her nonplussed about the progress of the invasion, and to Greel she needed to always appear fully in control. It kept him in line. "If all goes as planned, next week's report should be much different."