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The girl in the photo was a blonde, freckle-faced scruffy looking tomboy of a girl with her hair cut to her neck, roughly Vittoria’s age- if Hell didn't tell you, you wouldn't have been sure if she was a girl, to be honest. Despite Hell’s phrasing seeming to practically imply abduction, she effused happiness in her photo. “Is that a uniform she has on?” She was wearing it improperly. In your old days you'd have assigned her cleaning duties for that.
“Fresh fitted for her then,” Hell said, “She’d wanted to for a while. Since I started the company up, even, but I don’t like making kids fight. Don’t have much option now. She’s been trained, she’s older, and I need the people after the last big fight I won. Should do just fine inside a tank. My Iron Hogs can’t be matched when there’s metal on the field.” He put away the picture and the pocketbook. “Brings me back to why I’m here. You hear of the Blood Suns? Mercenary mish-mash that the Southern Cites of Sosaldt use as their diplomatic arm.”
“I have, actually,” you said, “I’ve heard tell that a current rival of mine has hired a pair of their companies to fight me with.”
“Oh?” Hell crossed his arms, “I didn’t think I was talking to a Warlord. I’d heard Vitelia had gone to the dogs, but I didn’t expect mercenaries doing open battle. If we didn’t have to cross the sea to get here, I’d say it might be a fun time. It’s no coincidence I’m here. I followed that bunch here. It’d be a big favor if you told me where they went. I want to have a surprise party for them.”
…He ventured across the continent to chase down a bunch of sellswords? “You must not like them very much.”
“It’s to send a message. About the end of last year, they tried to make all of Sosaldt theirs. I disagreed, and sent them packing with their tails between their legs. Now that they’re trying to find other places to stick their noses in, I’m tellin’ them to stay in their rotten hole where I kicked them back to. No matter where the Blood Suns go, as long as I’m around, the Southern Cities should live in fear. This is just a taste of what they’ll get when they try their bullshit again back home.”
Curiosity for an opportunity struck. “How many did you bring to fight them, then?”
“A few dozen,” Hell answered nonchalantly, “A special tank we snuck over and a few kits for turning trucks into battle wagons. Once we put the tank back together again, they’ll be more than enough. Hard to sneak over too much this far.”
Supreme confidence radiated from this man, considering he spoke of taking on a few hundred well-reputed mercenaries. Though he seemed to know them well enough to have contempt for them.
“If you’re there for them, I can do you a favor,” you said, “Later, though.”
