Captain of the Guard by Ron C. Nieto EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Ron C. Nieto
- Language: English
- Genre: Military Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
The tender fingers of spring still hadn’t made it to the lofty peaks of the
Sansford Range, and the belly of Berviel Keep held on with determination
to the dying winter. Oren Trevaine could see his own breath puffing in front
of him, small clouds of warmth escaping his body as he tightened the
leathers of his armor.
Good. The enduring cold meant the high passes remained closed one
more day. It meant the enemy raiders would not be preying on the people
under his protection, not yet. It meant he still had time.
How much longer though? How many days of grace were left before the
first war bands descended on defenseless farmsteads and hamlets scattered
through the mountains? When would he wake up to a budding sprig and a
messenger reporting a field had been burned, a family had been killed, a
home had been ransacked?
The murky mirror over the dresser, its ancient burnished frame one of the
few luxuries of his post as Lord Captain of the Mountain Guard, returned
his stare through a veil of mist and offered no answers.
Oren splashed his face with the freezing water from the washbasin and
willed any trace of uncertainty and weakness to melt from his expression,
sloughing off like dirt after a long day at work. His back twinged—he must
have pulled a muscle or tendon during the training drills the previous eve.
Well. It would go away, just as the dull ache of old bruises would fade
when he had something else to focus on. He was no stranger to hard
fighting and harder sparring, despite what his men might think.
If only the bedamned exercises worked and prepared his men to face the
raiding season without suffering the heavy losses that had become the norm
over the last few years, he would consider all of those small hurts a more
than fair asking price.
With a sigh, Oren ran his still-wet fingers through his hair. It was getting
longer. He would have trimmed it a sennight ago if he’d been back in
Dracourt Castle. But his place was no longer in his home, where he had
fostered and become a man under the Lord Calmarch. There would be no
more spring festivals for him, no Lady Annabelle hunting him down to
make sure he was presentable while chastising her husband for focusing too
much on strategy and politics and not teaching Oren to look chivalrous
enough for the grand ball.
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