Prymorus Achler leaned back in his chair and stared moodily at the holographic map. In the background, he could hear several men talking, including the Kassisan that had been ‘assigned’ to him. He didn’t trust the bastard. He fingered his drink as he thought about what had happened during the night.
The Kassisan had saved his life, but if he expected any special consideration or appreciation for that fact, he was in the wrong company. The Waxians were mercenaries. They liked to kill and they liked to make money. Most of the time, they did it for both, but on a few rare occasions, they did it for pleasure. The one thing they never did was keep a dangerous enemy for too long.
Cordus Kelman had done that. The Drethulans had hired a dozen Waxian warlords to do two things: deliver enough weap
