She let out a shriek as a canine tooth pierced her flesh. "Get them off me!I surrender!" she cried out. A boy's voice shouted "Here she is, sir!" as the dogs were pulled back awayfrom the woman's tired body. She turned and saw the boy, dressed in ratcatchertweed, tighten his grip on the dogs' leashes and pull them back. "Alright then, come on out. The hunt is over for you." The voice belongedto a man on horseback, dressed in a scarlet coat and riding breeches. The boyand his hounds retreated back behind the man, but remained at the ready incase she tried to flee. The woman stumbled out of the brush and into the clearing as other ridersemerged from behind trees and underbrush. "I claim her!" shouted one riderin a black coat. "No! This one is mine! I directed her towards the pack!" anotherrider challenged. "That's enough, gentlemen," the man in the scarlet coat – the HuntMaster – declared authoritatively, shooting a sideways glance at thetwo quarreling hunters, "You'll both be awarded. Come on. You have a report to give. Not you, you silly bint. HIM!”“So, you’re proposing four regions, with regional governors. Not suggesting yourself as one by any chance?” Ling smiled back; these two understood each other. The general was noble-born, rough, crude and a born army man; Ling was merchant class (which was why he understood the merchants, they were copies of his father), clever, sophisticated, and used to but not in love with army life; but they both understood something many others didn’t seem to. There were officers who fought for glory, officers who fought for wealth, and officers who liked killing. And there were people who understood that war, like trade or religion, was a necessity to achieve power ... and peace. Because without peace the territory that General Burton was carving out would be a burnt war zone and that would not provide the food, wealth and pretty palaces that are the definition of success for a King/Grand Duke/Bishop, or Governor.Ling acquired.
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