“Most people have some qualms about killing other people, even if they’re used to it. The ones you have to worry about are the ones who actually enjoy killing. All too often those crazies end up losing control and start butchering people like crazy and end up being mass murderers.” - Ibrahim Neros, retired mercenary.

Slash.

Twist.

Push away a spear.

Slice the arms off the poor sod holding it.

Step to the side to let another spear pass.

Neatly slice the shaft with one blade.

Take the man’s head off with the other blade.

To Elfriede, who found the dance at the blade’s edge to be a thrilling exercise, where life and death could be decided by a single step or mis-step, a one-sided slaughter against poorly skilled opponents was little more than a chore. In fact, that was exactly what she viewed it as: the job she was being paid good money to do.

Her platoon and Fatimah’s had been assigned to the main killing field because their members were the ones with the least qualms about taking another person’s life amongst the company. People were often quite willing to kill another in a heated battle, or when they were defending themselves. However, when it came to butchering a multitude of opponents who were barely able to resist as they were caught off guard, not everyone had the stomach to do the deed.

All too often, people hesitate. The act of slaying another person who couldn’t fight back properly presented a mental hurdle for most people. While they might be able to power through that hurdle once or twice, when they had to do it more often, they usually failed to cope with the guilt they felt. That typically resulted in openings that might well lead to their own demise, or worse, the demise of one of their compatriots.

No such issues with the people in Elfriede’s and Fatimah’s platoons.

Fatimah’s platoon were entirely surviving members of some assassin cult from the southern continent, as best as Elfriede could tell, or their own descendants. Their training as assassins showed in how all the men and women in the platoon would reap lives without even blinking, as if it was the most normal thing for them to do.

As a former assassin herself, Elfriede had identified them early on. She had also reported her findings to Reinhardt, but both agreed that as long as Fatimah and her people worked for the company sincerely, they would have no reason to call them out. If anything, Fatimah likely knew that Reinhardt knew about her platoon’s real background, given how they had been assigned on assassination missions several times of late.

It was a working arrangement both sides were happy with.

On the other hand, Elfriede’s platoon was composed entirely of the daredevils, the maniacs, the cold-blooded killers, and even the actual murderers from the company’s roster. Normally most mercenary companies would be iffy on employing people like those, as they tend to get out of hand when handled poorly.

Elfriede’s role was to wrangle them into submission so that they would only kill when told to, something she was well-suited for given how similar her own mindset was to theirs.

Naturally, a few members of her platoon had similar roles as Elfriede couldn’t be everywhere at the same time. Her old friends Karenina and Cassie helped quite a bit in that regard, as did Olyvee and Ylisera, who all practically functioned as her lieutenants within the platoon. Together they directed the murderous impulse of their subordinates towards the right direction.

Since the number of people in the platoon had increased over the years, Elfriede thought that she might need another such lieutenant to help her out soon. Out of the people she had worked for quite a while with, there weren’t that many she’d consider for such a position for one reason or another. Definitely not anyone who needed to be wrangled into submission themselves.

Ignaz and Silva, two veterans who had survived through the Theodinaz campaign, were reliable, but ultimately too soft. They wouldn’t be able to wrangle the hotheads and murderous maniacs of the platoon into submission properly.

Kari, Alva’s younger sister, was too much of a daredevil herself, which also made her unsuitable for such a position. Elfriede thought that the young woman often fought like she had a deathwish or something, with recklessness that was far from healthy. So far Kari’s luck held and she survived many battles despite her reckless behavior, but one day it might catch up to her.

In the end, Elfriede figured that Katja – the former criminal caught by the company when the posse of outlaws she was part of tried to kidnap some of the children for ransom years ago – was probably the best candidate she had for such a position. The one-eyed former assassin was calm and collected. She went about the killing with a cold, detached efficiency, in full control over herself.

That alone was a rather rare quality amongst the platoon’s members.

Elfriede felt how the one-eyed woman slit the throats of two barely resisting enemy soldiers with her pair of short swords since Katja happened to be within the range of her perception. There was the tiniest of delays in Katja’s movements, so maybe she was not as unaffected as Elfriede had thought. In its own way, that was good too. Having someone with a kinder conscience would be a boon as long as it didn’t get in the way.

Even while she was busy with her thoughts, Elfriede never stopped moving. Her body danced around the enemy soldiers as she simply allowed instincts and muscle memory to take over. Between her magically enhanced perception and the decades of experience she had behind her, she barely needed to pay attention to deal with the sort of enemies her platoon was slaughtering.

As for the volunteers that followed in their wake, they were mostly there to finish off those who were still alive and to set what they could on fire.

For Elfriede herself, it was just another day at the job.

Parry away an enemy’s sword with one blade.

Stab into their belly and disembowel them with her other blade.

Kick the dying enemy soldier into another.

Pierce through the fallen enemy’s throat in passing.