The Merchants' War
“Perhaps it was the memory of all the spilled blood that had run like water down the years: despite the eighty-degree afternoon outside, the atmosphere in the hall made Eorl Riordan shiver."Erik, Carl, Rudi. Your thoughts?"Carl cleared his throat. Unlike the other two, he was attired in local style, although his chain shirt would have won few plaudits at a Renaissance Faire on the other side. Machine-woven titanium links backing a Kevlar breastplate and U.S. Army-pattern helmet-the whole ensemble painted in something not unlike urban camo pattern- would send entirely the wrong, functional message. Even without the P90 submachine gun strapped to his chest, and the sword at his hip."I think he'd be stupid to invest us. The fort's built well, nobody's ever taken it in the past three hundred years, and it has a commanding view of the river and land approaches. Even with cannon, it'll take him a while to breach the outer curtains. I've inspected the outer works and Villem was right-we've go...t a clear field of beaten (ire over the six hundred yards around the apron.MoreLess
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