Planet B

Ch.8

The smell of actual soldiers always twisted Draxta's stomach. The ones she'd created with magic had only the odor of their surroundings on them. Humans stank all by themselves. Most of her adult life had been in the basement of the university where everything was kept meticulously clean so as to not ruin the materials. Her present company, a grizzled man with a belly protruding from under his chain armor and a wiry woman with fewer strands of hair than teeth walked on either side of her through the mercenary camp she'd tracked down.

Mercenaries were common enough, outlying villages and farms needed protection from mutated wildlife, but they were mobile, always moving with the job, and more importantly, there were always people who'd rather fight for their livelihood than work for it. Though she supposed fighting was work of a sort. It'd taken a couple weeks to track this particular group down as they went from job to job, village to village. Most of the mutated animals they fought were a result of the sickness of the planet, some were Draxta's creations, loosed to study and improve upon.

The beasts were a precursor to the current soldiers Sarah was creating. Draxta'd needed to perfect her army. Initially she went with large beasts but found they were too hard to control. She also tried small and poisonous and had the same problem. The fact that the current soldiers had a mostly human physique and were easier to command at first perplexed her, but she came to the conclusion that she created what she knew. She didn't know how animals thought, but she did know how people thought, and so the minds of her soldiers were more easily formed the way she wanted if she based them off human minds. They would fight whomever she commanded.

The mercenaries on the other hand rarely fought anything but the roaming beasts, but human conflict with those beyond Thespa's influence happened enough that they had the know-how.

This particular group was important because of one of their members, a man with considerable skill for killing and staying alive. Also, the real reason she tracked him down, he always honored the contract. Blinded by honor, so to speak. She'd researched him enough that when they approached him, standing near some other mercenaries sorting out weapons, she knew him before anyone had the chance to introduce.

"Yank," she said, "it's a pleasure to meet you." Draxta tried to seem as unimposing as possible, while still maintaining a sense of authority. Her experience had taught her that uneducated men tended to react poorly to women of power. She wore plain wizard robes with no adornments and her hair in a simple braid just past her shoulders. She stood tall, but kept her face expressionless. Yank on the other hand, made no such attempts to commonize himself.

Standing well over six feet, he was one of the tallest men she'd ever seen. He sported a messy dark beard with bare slashes that hinted at large scars beneath. The beard was nearly the same color of his skin and it gave the illusion of a face much larger than was possible. He didn't wear the heavy armor that most mercenaries preferred, instead only a layered leather jerkin covered his chest, broad and thick, with a baldric over his left shoulder. Draxta could see the handle of a large sword over his shoulder and she guessed that between his reach and the sword's length, he was good enough at killing with that that his enemies didn't get close enough to warrant better armor. He folded his arms and grunted.

Draxta, used to deference in most of her interactions, continued, slightly perturbed.

"I understand that you and your company have recently fulfilled your latest contract and are currently seeking out work. Is this true?" Yank grunted again, a surprising affirmative tone in the grunt, and nodded. Draxta could tell this was going to be a trying conversation. "Well then, I have work for you, if you'll have it. Is there a place we can talk in private?" She shifted her glance slightly at her two guides and Yank furrowed his brow, Draxta wasn't sure if in thought or confusion. She was about to ask again when he spoke.