Free Warlords race for power while the final battle looms! (Swords Versus Tanks Book 4) by M Harold Page

the Emperor?"

 
    CHAPTER ELEVEN
     
    Carved cherubs blew trade winds across the Great Door of Kinghaven's Council Chamber.
    Jasmine's lips quirked. The carvings were crisper than she remembered, and without the ancient musket holes, but they were still the same doors that had transported her on childish adventures, lulled by the muted sounds of her father doing business in the room beyond.
    Sails billowing, fat-bellied ships braved the wooden seas. From their decks, outsized merchants scrutinised the horizon for threat or commercial opportunity. Meanwhile, smaller figures of mariners coaxed the vessels between jagged rocks which dripped with harpies and sirens, or piled on the sail to outrun dragon-prowed longships bursting with axe-wielding barbarians.
    Father was gone now, and yet to be born, though – be honest – this fork of history would spawn other families in place of the Klimts of Kinghaven.
    Similar muffled conversation came from within, but now she could discern General Hamilton shrilling over General Woodsman's bass rumble. Into the gaps flowed Ibis-Bear's soothing tones.
    Behind her, her escort shuffled impatiently.
    Jasmine remembered what she had come to do, why she had brought these handpicked veterans to this place. Her her jaw set. She took a step forward.
    A plump Security Worker shifted to block the door. "Credentials, Field Marshal."
    His blue-uniformed comrade started rolling a cigarette. "We have orders,” she said "Very strict orders." She smirked.
    "Of course," said Jasmine. She reached into her pocket and the Stormgun just happened to slide off her shoulder.
    Beside her, Mary Schumacher scrabbled in the pouches of her dispatch rider utility belt. "Gosh. I know I have it here… hang on…"
    Jasmine caught the Stormgun as it fell, pivoted forward and drove the muzzle into the first Security Worker's paunch. He croaked and buckled.
    A reverse lunge and the butt slammed into the cigarette-roller's abdomen.
    "…got it!" Schumacher held up her card triumphantly then saw the unconscious workers. Her eyes widened. "Gosh!"
    Jasmine cocked her head at Sergeant Hawkins. "These two look like they've been drinking on duty."
    The veteran tutted. "Very serious, Field Marshal. You and you – take these morons to the lockup."
    Jasmine chambered a slug, returned the Stormgun to her shoulder and nodded. Her guards threw open the doors. Leaving her people behind, she strode into the Council Chamber and into the combined glares of the three Generals.
    It was the same casual hatred she'd faced when they put her on trial, but this time an empty chair awaited her at the head of the table. Jasmine slid into it and yearned for her Tank Commander's station. She flipped open her notebook. "I won't apologise for being late – there are things to do, and I've been doing them."
    Hamilton glared at her. "You called the emergency meeting. I was busy-"
    "-at a vital Consciousness Raising session with your Post Office Security Workers," completed Jasmine. Hamilton had been spending a lot of time with his enforcers. Evidently he hadn't noticed anything strange on his way from the Royal Castle. She smiled at him. Complacent dog-fucker .
    "I have some proposals," said Hamilton.
    "As have I," said Ibis-Bear. "Though Artillery is my formal remit, I am the acknowledged expert on the hidden spiritual life of…" She lowered her voice. "… these times. I think we need to build a relationship with the local Earth Priestess covens…"
    "I will read them all with interest," cut in Jasmine. "But given aerial reconnaissance reports of an Imperial army at Middleburgh, there are urgent changes to be made:
    "Item: The best shots to be formed into sharp-shooter units.
    "Item: Post Office to conscript local craftsmen and oversee wood and hide cladding of all tanks – apparently the anomaly doesn't affect non-metallic materials.
    "Item: Each Tank battalion to be paired with an Infantry one to create an Armoured Brigade."
    General Woodsman