The Journey of Drevlov and Thomas Buren

The wagon cracked and creaked as it kicked a steady cloud of dust toward the already-dusty skies. A warm, dry wind continually stirred the parched soil, creating a dusky haze that provided only minimal protection from the smoldering orange sun.

Thomas wiped the dusty sweat from his forehead.

“It’s a damn miserable day,” he grunted.

“Yes, sir. Quite lacking in the qualities of perfection,” observed his tall, blue-skinned companion.

Thomas grunted again. “Just as imperfect as a winter’s snow or a spring rain, right?”

“Yes, sir!”

The wagon cracked and creaked as the old mule heaved it along the rocky path. Thomas wasn’t surprised by the answer, but he was starting to regret having asked it. Or having agreed to take a traveling partner on this trip.

Having some company was usually nice, but something about Drevlov’s pessimism was particularly insufferable – even to a hardened cynic like Thomas Buren.

“Ah hah!” Thomas exclaimed, loudly – loudly enough to cause the mule to stop.

Drevlov turned, slowly. “Yes, sir?”

“I’ve figured it out. The problem is that, for all your complaining, there’s no where else you’d rather be.”

“That is an interesting observation, sir, but I would prefer if we continued on our trip and arrived for the exchange at the appointed hour. I would also like to know exactly who it is we’re selling these arms to. I can also think of at least eight ways that the weather could be improved.” Drevlov paused to convince the mule to start walking again before continuing himself: “But I have accepted my current position and my current task. Any other position or task would merely possess a different set of imperfections.”

“The important thing is that the Legion has another big, new client – and that they pay us on time. It is sort of a weird place to meet, though…”

Thomas trailed off. For the first time he could recall, he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t even want to think. He wanted to be on his horse, greeting the rains of the new year’s storm season. He wanted to be hunting the aurumvorax that would be venturing out from their burrows in search of mates.

“The winds are uncharacteristically unpleasant.” Drevlov conceded.

“That’s what I’m saying!” Thomas was already feeling a little better again. “You’re just not going to survive out here if you can’t think of something to look forward to.”

The two continued as the sun set slowly behind them. Before too long, Thomas was looking forward to sleep. The dusty savanna didn’t provide much cover for a camp, but Thomas wasn’t too concerned about potential threats so close to Rhuduar – not ones he couldn’t handle anyway.

Tomorrow was always another day, and maybe the weather will even get better…