Viserys was grateful that the leader of the Rhoynar was nothing like Baelor.
If even a small number of them had been like Baelor, his conquest of Gohor would have taken years rather than months.
As it was, Baelor had already been reduced to nothing more than a stable hand for the Elder.
Even while cleaning the Elder's horses, he never forgot to worry about his fellow countrymen.
The stables were in the southwest corner of the estate, a place rarely visited by anyone, which gave Baelor a chance to speak privately with his friend, Greylish, and ask about news from outside.
"So you're saying the Elders have ordered the villagers not to build that city wall for the Targaryen king?" Baelor asked, a trace of joy in his voice.
It seemed that everything he had done had been worth it.
"Yes. Elder Terno is very strict. He said if anyone dares to work on that wall again, he'll have them hanged."
The word "hanged" made Baelor's heart lurch. The punishment sounded far too severe.
Still, harsh or not, the important thing now was to start planting grain. If the Elders reduced taxes and opened the granaries, there might be no need for anyone to starve.
"How is my mother doing?" Baelor asked.
Greylish's expression darkened.
Not long after Baelor left home, Ruchel had deliberately provoked a conflict with his younger sister. In the end, Ruchel had extorted a large sum of money from Baelor's mother.
Unable to repay the debt, the mother and her two daughters had gone into hiding. Greylish had found them a refuge in the northern mountains, where they were safe for now.
But he didn't know how to tell Baelor.
Greylish might not have known the saying, "Those who bring firewood for the people should not be left to freeze in the snow," but he knew that once Baelor learned what had happened, he would lose control of his emotions.
And Baelor was a clever man—he sensed at once that something was wrong.
"What happened? Tell me!"
Before Greylish could answer, a furious voice rang out behind them.
"Baelor! You worthless wretch! You're not in the stables—where the hell have you gone? Get over here, now!"
The voice was filled with a terrible rage, the kind that seemed ready to tear someone apart just to vent its fury.
Hearing the steward's voice, Baelor didn't dare delay. He ran toward the stables.
"I just stepped away for a moment," Baelor explained, but Ruchel showed no mercy.
The calm, self-assured expression he usually wore was gone, replaced with impatience and violence. The hand holding his riding whip trembled from the force of his grip.
When he saw Baelor, he shouted, "Get over here!"
Baelor bent at the waist and approached. His simple but clean clothes hung loosely on his thin frame like a stalk of hemp.
Without warning, the whip came down like a scythe.
Crack—crack—
Two vivid red welts appeared across Baelor's face and shoulder.
"If I come to the stables again and don't see you, I'll skin you alive!"
Baelor endured the burning pain, bowing his head and apologizing again and again.
"Yes, sir. I understand, sir," he said. Within moments, his lips had gone pale from the pain.
"Now, go prepare the Elder's horse. You have one quarter of an hour—go!" Ruchel snapped.
Viserys, meanwhile, was already leading his army into Terno's territory. According to reports, his forces were at least twice the size of Terno's.
No one had expected Viserys to launch an attack without warning.
Terno now intended to summon the water mages for aid.
It would take at least ten days to a fortnight for the other Elders' armies to assemble. Terno was placing all his hopes of resisting the Targaryens on that group of mages.
Baelor quickly readied the horse's tack. When he turned to find Greylish again, his friend was gone.
Among the Rhoynar, water mages held high status. They spent their days studying water magic, free from any labor or production work. Even their living quarters were cleaned for them.
Terno and Ruchel made their way to a wooden domed building.
After the doorkeeper passed on the message, a tall man in a black robe with a golden sunburst embroidered on his chest emerged.
Two attendants followed him, each bearing a smaller sunburst on their chests.
Seeing the leader, Terno hurried forward politely.
"Lord Fenric, a Targaryen from Westeros intends to invade Rhoynar lands. I beg you to gather your people and protect our kin!"
"That little Targaryen king? How many men does he have?" Fenric asked seriously.
"Five thousand."
"Have you sought help from the other Elders?"
"Yes. They will return to aid us soon."
Knowing that he should be able to hold off five thousand, Fenric relaxed slightly.
"Understood. Please arrange for ships to take us to the middle of the reservoir."
"Rest assured, I have already done so."
Terno's lands contained two large man-made reservoirs, dug long before the fall of Gohor.
Even after over a thousand years, they still served their purpose. Any army attacking Terno's territory would have to pass between these two reservoirs.
For the water mages to unleash large-scale mist magic, they needed to be near abundant water sources.
They decided to make their stand on the narrow road between the reservoirs.
Fenric signaled to his attendants.
Soon the wind chimes inside the wooden hall rang sharply. Within a quarter hour, over a hundred water mages with golden sunbursts on their chests had gathered.
The size of each emblem varied—some were as large as a fist, others as small as an eye—signifying their rank and power.
Looking at the assembled mages, Terno's unease vanished.
These mages had been sent by other Rhoynar Elders to support him. Nearly half of all the water mages in the Gohor region were here.
Against any army under ten thousand, they could blanket the battlefield in thick mist.
As an Elder, Terno knew the power of this magic well—it could blind the enemy completely, leaving them like lambs for the slaughter. Worse still, the inability to even see their foe would crush their morale.
This was the foundation of the Rhoynar's strength in Gohor.
"Elder, this time we'll make that little Targaryen king taste real suffering," Ruchel said, clenching his fists in excitement as he gazed at the mages.
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