Haldred Chronicles: Alyssa by JG Cully Read Free Book Online

mercenaries had then descended with
vengeance on the camp and nobody had walked out of it alive.  Brutal, but
considering what the Darnhun renegades had been doing to the merchant ships
crews, entirely justified.  The Darnhun government had protested, to little
effect, with both the Tornar government and Trima tribal masters agreeing with
the Council of Peace's tough, if brutal solution. 
    Victoria,
meanwhile, had slipped back to leave the politics to the politicians.
    She still ached
from the journey back.  That long on horseback did not do your muscles any
favours.  Whilst she was a very experienced rider (she found horseback the most
effective form of transport outside of the cities), long hours on horseback
took their toll.  She was grateful that one of the bonuses of working for the Council
of Peace was comfortable chairs.
    Victoria was
twenty eight now.  Just over halfway to dead according to the latest life
expectancy figures.  Comforting thought.  Her long black hair was tied back in
an elegant braided ponytail, wooden clasps holding it in place.  She had plain
but unblemished features, sharp green eyes staring out over a small pointed
nose and similarly small mouth.  She was not given to smiling though she was
told that when she did it was either charming or chilling depending on circumstances.
    Her body was
shapely, her hips in particular drawing more than their fair share of
attention.  A fact that resulted in more than a few men ending up with either a
slap or, more commonly, a punch.  Victoria despised being leered at and made
her displeasure abundantly clear with the precise application of physical
violence.
    She was dressed,
as always, in black leggings and a burgundy tunic, with high brown leather
riding boots.  She preferred such clothes for the freedom they provided in her
line of work.  The better for the chase and more comfortable for the frequent
riding.  A black leather belt was tied round her middle, and just beside its
clasp was clipped a small circular cut of metal, emblazoned with her badge of
office.  The badge depicted six small circles, one for each of the six nations,
all connected toward a stylised outstretched hand.  The outstretched hand of
peace.  The central symbol of the world wide council. 
    The symbol was
in stark contrast to the real life symbol of war that hung on the wall behind
her.  Namely a fine Tornarian rapier with attached sword catcher, sheathed in
brown leather.  It was her own weapon of choice, one that had tasted blood on a
far more regular basis than she preferred in her work for peace.         
     
    I'm bored.
    It was an odd
thing to think considering she had literally just put her signature to another
job well done.  But Victoria was a woman of action; she needed to be doing
something.  Lazing around for her required reading a report, or at the very
least a book.  Her need for action was about to be satisfied though, as a knock
came at the door
    “Come in.” she
said with disinterest.
    The door was
opened by her partner, Malak.
    Malak was an
ex-Tornarian sergeant of the Bulldog Guard, an elite formation of mercenaries
from Tornar.  Tornar and Argon had only ever skirmished during the Six Nation's
War and been allies at various times over the last fifty years.  As nations
went, the two of them got on better than most.  Their cultures were similar,
though Tornar had many odd customs that Victoria never understood, such as the
drinking of tea before battle, a fondness for eastern foods and a variety of
bloody weird accents.  Despite being the smallest of the six nations, Tornar
had more accents within its landmass than the rest of the world combined.  The
Argon nation could boast a good variety of accents, particularly between the
north and south regional divide, but Tornar was much more varied.  You could
literally step from one district to another in Tornar and the speech, never
mind the language, would be completely different.