The guards around the manor relaxed after confirming Terno's identity.
Still, judging from his condition, they had a strong sense that war might soon be upon them.
As for Terno, he forced the chaotic thoughts out of his head. He knew very well that he was here to seek aid, and so he could not afford to show even the slightest disrespect.
He glanced back at Baelor.
The man looked broken, his clothes reduced to strips of bloody rags after the lashings he had received along the road.
"Put this on!" Terno pulled a cloak from the carriage and tossed it at Baelor as if he were casting scraps to a beggar.
The floggings had long since left Baelor's upper body covered in blood.
Terno did not feel the least bit of sympathy, nor did he regret what he had done. His only concern was that having a servant in such a state was unsightly.
"Thank you, thank you, Elder."
Baelor picked the garment off the ground with a blank expression.
It was made of expensive fabric, its edges even trimmed with lace from Myr.
Once, he would have been overjoyed to wear something so fine.
But now, it was nothing more than cloth to cover his body.
After putting it on, Baelor followed Terno up to the gates of Lothan's manor, where they were met by a girl of about fourteen.
She was small and slight, her black hair tied into a loose ponytail that had a natural wave to it.
Her black eyes were bright and expressive, framed by lashes so long they reminded one of a young mare.
On her back she carried a small round shield and a spear, and soft deerskin boots were laced around her feet. The combination gave her an air of striking spirit.
For a moment, Terno lost himself staring at her.
Then he quickly regained his senses. This was Jona, Lothan's granddaughter, and his chosen heir. He dared not entertain any thoughts he should not.
He stepped forward urgently.
"Jona, quickly! Take me to Elder Lothan!"
"Elder Terno! What has happened?"
Noticing Terno's disheveled, almost wolfish appearance, and catching the foul stench of sweat that clung to him, Jona instinctively stepped back.
Her reaction left Terno a little embarrassed. He forced a stiff reply:
"We can talk as we walk."
Baelor stayed back with the carriage, while Terno followed Jona deeper into the estate.
Lothan was the High Elder of the Loenna in the Gohor region.
Within the council of elders, his authority was nearly absolute.
In truth, his voice should have been even stronger.
All of his sons had been gifted water mages, each with great promise. But they had all perished in the ruins of another Loenna city—Nasarion.
With no sons left, he had no choice but to name his fourteen-year-old granddaughter Jona as his heir.
Guided by her, Terno walked the stone-paved path to the great hall of Lothan's manor.
The massive doors were carved with the blazing sigil of the Sun, a great golden eye staring unblinking at the approaching visitors.
As they walked, Jona listened to Terno's hurried tale. When he finally fell silent, she summed it up with a single sentence:
"So… you abandoned your army and ran to save yourself?"
"Seeking aid cannot be called running! Seeking aid—how could that be running?!"
Terno's face flushed red, veins standing out on his forehead as he stammered excuses about "preserving himself" and "not letting his people's sacrifice be in vain."
Had there been others nearby, his words would surely have sparked laughter.
But Jona looked at him with open disdain.
Quickening her steps, she reached the foot of the stairs and called up:
"Grandfather! Jorel! Elder Terno is here—he abandoned the army and has come begging for reinforcements!"
The little girl's bluntness nearly made Terno's nose twist with fury.
Soon, footsteps creaked upon the wooden stairs.
An old man appeared, lean and frail of frame, yet with eyes that shone with piercing brightness.
His beard, pure white without a trace of gray, spilled down across his chest.
Upon his breast gleamed the sigil of the Sun, embroidered in golden thread—smaller than the one on the gates, but far finer and richer.
This was Lothan, High Elder of the Loenna.
Behind him followed a young woman whose chest also bore a small sun sigil, no larger than an eye. She looked no older than seventeen or eighteen, her features strikingly similar to Jona's, though with more mature beauty.
Her name was Jorel, Jona's elder sister.
At last, Terno stood before Lothan. His heart surged with relief, and he hurried forward.
"Elder Lothan, please! Summon our people at once—we must defend our homeland!"
He spoke with righteous fervor, as if he had never cursed Baelor or cast him down like an animal.
"Slowly now," Lothan answered, his voice calm but commanding. "Over a hundred water mages could not withstand this Targaryen king?"
It was clear from Terno's state that those water mages had all been lost.
Another might have cried, 'You owe me my mages back!'
But Lothan's words carried only the weight of a leader who sought to understand a failure.
"Our water-mists were broken by the Targaryen king," Terno replied hastily. "They used wildfire—wildfire!"
Lothan's brow furrowed. He knew well that wildfire could counter mist-magic.
But the quality of wildfire needed to break such spells was very high indeed.
If the enemy had truly shattered their magic with wildfire, it meant this Targaryen king commanded a fire mage of remarkable skill.
With confirmation given, Lothan did not hesitate.
Their greatest advantage—the water-mists—was gone.
The Loenna had no choice but to prepare a full mobilization.
"Jorel."
"Yes, Grandfather."
"Send word to Elder Gafas and Elder Tina. Demand reinforcements at the highest level."
"As you command, Grandfather."
"Jona."
"Yes, Grandfather!"
"Gather the soldiers at once. Order every commoner to take up arms and prepare to defend the Upper Rhoyne River!"
"Yes, Grandfather!"
Compared to her calm elder sister, Jona was visibly excited.
Her spear had only pierced hares before—she had never even slain a deer.
But soon she would have her chance to fight the Valyrians, like the Prince of Nasarion who had stood against them to the very end.
Watching Lothan deliver his commands with such steady authority, Terno let out a long breath of relief.
By his estimation, the other elders together could raise close to ten thousand soldiers.
Surely that would be enough to drive the young king from their lands.
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