Chapter XIV: A Letter to Braavos

"To the illustrious magister and our beloved cousin Terro Volentin, the most respectful and grateful greetings sends Moredo Lornel. Let it be known that from the sumptuous Palace of Truth we have now arrived in the lands of Pentos, under the most valiant escort of King Baelor's warriors, led by the incomparable Ser Jonos Edgerton.

We have passed through the Highlands of the Andals and Ser Jonos has been given hospitality in the house of one of their warlords. I have not been privy to their discussions, nor has the valiant knight seen fit to make their discussions known to myself.

From what little I have seen and heard, I can say this much: the warlords in the hills have gathered all in the village of this warlord Qarlon, and he has been sent forth to treat with the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and has thus joined our warband alongside most of his companions. I can only assume that the Andals wish to gather their brigand bands and join the war against Pentos. For plunder and cattle or for more loftier ambitions, I cannot say. But "Ser" Qarlon has not sought fit to call himself king of their lot, so his desires must not grow so high as conquest.

I am far away from the comfort of our palazzo in Braavos and am now forced to spend my nights under a tent and share my meals from the rations of Ser Jonos' soldiers.

Ser Jonos is a young man and quite devoted to the king. He is one of the three knights leading this troop, the other two going by the quite ferocious monikers of Stone-Crusher and Tree-Breaker. And if you take a look at those two giants amongst men, you will be tempted to believe they are more than capable of performing those deeds.

Ser Jonos is a man both experienced in battle and with a honed mind. We have conversed extensively about the war, about his deeds in Dorne, but also about the king's steeds and matters of their holy faith, of astrology and poetry. He has spoken to me of his brother, a maester turned septon, who is of the belief that one the seasons were of a uniform length, unchanging. I would be most pleased if you were to inform your factor in Oldtown to acquire a copy of his book, if possible, which, I am told, goes by the name of "The Measure of the Days."

Ser Jonos has told me of another of his brothers, a merchant by the name of Damon, now among the Westerosi envoys to our illustrious city. I must urge you to invite him into your house, so he might show good will to him. His father is among the dignitaries of the court, as Master of the Horse, and another of his brother serves in the treasury, and Ser Jonos is surely to rise high in the king's esteem.

Although I have never been before a great rider, I have, at Ser Jonos' instruction, grown skilled in the matter. It is a sad state that I would not be able to make use of it among the canals of the city. On the matter of horseflesh, Ser Jonos, may be able, with the king's approval, to allow me the purchase of a fine Dornish sand steed to be used for breeding at your stables outside the city. I would urge you not to balk at the price, for his foals would be worth even his weight in silver. According to the Dornish they never tire, and are able to run a day, a night and another day. They are smaller than warhorses, and as such could not bear a weight of armour, but we do not have, or have no use of armoured knight in our employ, so it is no ill to us.

Ser Jonos has one for his own mount, a steed dark as starless night and with a mane red like a flame, chosen from the royal herd itself, He rides it as if he were a centaur, the man and horse melding into one will. He has named it Black Brother, in jest of the men of the Night's Watch and he has joked that the horse has never obeyed his supposed oath of celibacy. He holds it as a dear friend, though he had to break his unruly spirit afore he first rode it.

The king's late brother has acquired the sand steeds for his herd as prizes of war, for the Dornish would not part lightly with them. It is said they love their steeds equal to their children, a knight even stabling them in his very own hall.

Ser Jonos's men are, as I have been told, from the blood of the First Men of Westeros, though they leave in the Crownlands. They live in half-wild places and are, by consequence, the same as their land. The two hundred men are light cavalry, called hobelars, wearing gambesons of padded leather, a few among them chainmail and each bearing sword, dagger, and lance to war. They are as such more suited for the kind of campaign the Iron Throne wishes to wage than their fabled knights.

These men hold fiercely to their own will and accept their knightly captains only because they were proven in war. Even so, the two Sers Colman have had to deal with insubordination among them. Said dealing involved taking the man by his coat and throwing him into the air from one to another, until the poor man lost his meal.

We have come on the road across an estate of a Pentoshi magister, and Ser Jonos has given leave to his men to share in the plunder that the rest of the army must assuredly partook in. The magister was not at home, nor his family. It fell upon its steward to stand and watch its ruination. Ser Jonos leads his men with an iron hand, for the raping and pillaging has resumed only at pillaging.

Ser Jonos was almost struck down by one of dozen Unsullied that were kept at the manse, yet such an encounter fazed him not. He did not pray to their warrior god before slaying them, but to their god of death. I have told him of our Braavosi saying, "Valar Morghulis", and that the Stranger is but one side to the Many-Faced God and the knight elaborated on his house words. Their words and war cry are "Steadfast in unsteadiness" but they are the short version of it. According to Ser Jonos, these are their words in full: "As restless as the wind and still as a stream, Steadfast in unsteadiness, We rejoice only in death, For then we contemplate the face of God." Ser Jonos, unlike many warriors, has an inclination for mysticism, and signs and portents. His loyalty to his king is half owed to his oath and half to the tales of his saintly deeds that have spread.

I have heard that he decreed the seventh day to be one of rest, that he returned from death the two sons of Prince Aegon. But the men are a superstitious lot, prone to believing and spreading all manner of folk-tales. At night, at their campsites, they speak of creatures named squishers, which they described to be human in appearance, with large heads, and scales instead of hair, with webbing between their fingers and toes, and rows of green, needle-like teeth They are damp and smelling of fish and are said to steal children by night and eat them – which shows their existence to be but a lie to put unruly children to sleep. Their appearance seems similar to what sailors have told of the people of the Thousand Islands, far in the East.

Every slave has had his chain struck and was given the offer to follow our band to the king, an offer that all were glad to accept, fearful of Pentos' reprisal. I know not if this is the custom in all the estates of slaveholders, but the slaves were kept in miserly condition. They were men without hope afore we met them. During the day they were worked to blood and sweat and whipped hard and often, for their overseers were particularly cruel, even more that is usual among them. Between the two Colmans, their doom was swiftly dealt, and I must confess some morbid joy when I saw one of them rip the head off a particularly unremorseful one.

At night the slaves were kept chained together and kept in an underground prison, without light, for fear of revolt or flight, or simply because of the tyranny of their overseers. They laid at night on straw, kept in darkness absolute, in small cells, so that they might not plot against their masters. One hopes that the domestic slaves were kept in kinder quarters, but the master has taken all of them to Pentos.

If the gods are good, we are not to face much trouble on our way to the king. Once I have arrived, I shall write again and send a courier to you. I pray we shall meet again before the year is passed, and report before the Sealord and then await at your pleasure. I have acquired, as my share of the plunder (a pleasant and unexpected pleasure) some trivial trinkets, which I have sent to you, as gifts for the children.

May the gods keep you,

Your humble servant, Moredo Lornel"