Aldric gazed at the fortified manor ahead. "So this is the Costa estate? It's much closer than I imagined."
Edrick, Jon's deputy from the battle at the manor and a seasoned rider, nodded. "It is, Lightbringer. Though if you take the long way past the River-Hammer, it adds a few miles to the trek."
"I'll see the forge tomorrow on our return," Aldric said. "The master of the house has opened his gates for us. We shouldn't keep him waiting."
Edrick grunted, his eyes fixed on the battlements. He still harbored a grudge from the previous battle when Charles Costa had barred his gates while the Sunwalkers bled for him. "If only he'd been this welcoming the last time we were here."
Aldric understood the man's bitterness, but the long game required a cooler head. "Patience, Edrick. Justice will have its day. For now, keep your fire banked. Let me do the talking."
"As you command," Edrick replied.
The walls of the Costa manor were still mottled with dried blood from the Brave Companions' failed siege. The dirt and stone ramps the sellswords had tried to build had been cleared away, the earth returned to the pits from which it was dug. Outside the walls, the fields were shorn bare—nothing but stubble remained. The hay had clearly been hauled inside to serve as winter fodder.
As Aldric's company approached, their banner of the twelve-pointed sun snapping in the wind, Ser Charles Costa and his heir, Ser Will, stood waiting at the gate with a dozen men-at-arms.
By the standards of Westerosi etiquette, if the Costas truly respected Aldric, they would have sent an escort to the border of their lands to conduct him to the gates. By waiting at the door, Ser Charles was subtly signaling that he viewed this "Lightbringer" as a commoner playing at lordship.
Charles stepped forward as Aldric dismounted. "Lightbringer! Your presence brings a rare luster to our humble halls. It is an honor to host you."
Aldric took the knight's hand in a firm grip, a wide, practiced smile on his face. "The moment I returned, I heard that you and Jon Snow had become friends through fire and blood. I could not wait to pay my respects. As they say in my homeland: a good neighbor is worth more than a distant king. I hope we can continue to watch over one another."
Charles's expression twitched slightly at the mention of Jon Snow—a reminder of his own cowardice. He quickly pivoted, pulling his son forward. "Lightbringer, this is my son, Will."
Will bowed low, hand over his heart. "An honor, Lightbringer."
Aldric did not return the bow. Instead, he looked at the youth with a sudden, heavy solemnity. "Ser Will. Kneel. Receive the blessing of Anshe."
Will froze, glancing at his father. Charles was confused, but he didn't believe Aldric would strike his heir in front of thirty witnesses. "Do as he says," Charles whispered.
Will sank to one knee. Aldric raised his right hand toward the sun and placed his left gently on the boy's head. "Great Anshe, source of the Seven, grant this brave youth a body of iron and a heart of light."
As Aldric spoke, a faint, silvery shimmer appeared above Will's head. Aldric's voice deepened into a rhythmic chant: "Let the shadows of sickness and fatigue flee from his presence!"
A pulse of brilliant white light flared from Aldric's palm, rivaling the afternoon sun. Behind him, the Sunwalkers dropped to one knee in silent prayer, and the Costa guards, caught in the spiritual gravity of the moment, followed suit.
Will gasped, his fists clenching. "Father... I feel... the strength in my veins!"
Charles wiped a bead of sweat from his brow. "Will has done nothing to deserve such a gift, Lightbringer. I am... humbled."
Aldric smiled thinly. "Think nothing of it. In my land, we say neighbors are like the lips and the teeth—when the lips are gone, the teeth grow cold. I am happy to ensure the teeth of House Costa remain strong."
The man talks too much, Charles thought, but he knew he had lost this opening skirmish. He had tried to slight Aldric with a cold welcome, but Aldric had countered by granting his son a "miracle" in front of his own men. The "Lightbringer" had effectively seized the moral high ground.
Inside the manor, the reality of the war was visible. Makeshift hovels lined the inner walls, filled with gaunt women and children. They huddled in the shadows as the golden-armored party passed, their eyes full of a hollow, hungry caution.
"Your people, Ser Charles?" Aldric asked.
"Aye. I brought them in to keep them from Hoat's butchers," Charles replied.
"They look as though they haven't eaten in an age," Aldric noted, his brow furrowed.
Charles sighed. "When they fled, their stores stayed in the villages. The Mummers burned what they didn't steal. If I hadn't opened the gates, they'd be crow-feed by now."
"A lord who loves his people," Aldric mused. "Commendable."
Charles offered a modest smile. "I swore an oath before the Seven to protect the weak. I have never shirked it."
They reached the solar in the stone blockhouse. Servants brought a pitcher of ale and four cups. The room was cleared of all but Charles, Will, Aldric, and Edrick.
"Lightbringer," Charles began, pouring the ale. "I carry a heavy guilt for my retreat during the last fray. I did not realize the strength of your men. Had I known, I would have stood with Jon Snow until the Stranger took us both. I hoped to apologize to him today, but since he is not here, I hope you will carry my words to him."
Aldric nodded gravely. "Jon told me everything. From your position, with the Mummers at your door and the safety of your entire line on your shoulders, a cautious retreat was the only logical choice."
Charles's eyes brightened. "You truly are wise, Lightbringer. You see through the fog of war like the sun itself."
Beside him, Edrick felt a surge of nausea. To hear cowardice and betrayal recast as "logical caution" was a bitter pill. He understood now why Aldric had told him to keep his mouth shut.
Charles reached into a cabinet and produced a small wooden box. He pushed it across the table. "A token of my gratitude for the aid your men provided."
Aldric opened it. Five gold dragons gleamed in the dim light. He snapped the lid shut and pushed it back. "Ser Charles, gold cannot be eaten. I have hundreds of refugees at St. Maur's. I would rather trade this gold for grain, if your granaries can spare it."
Charles frowned. "The Northmen and the Westermen have picked this land clean. But... for you, I will have my steward prepare a wagon of equal value. You may take it when you leave."
He leaned in, his voice dropping. "Tell me, Lightbringer—I have not heard your name in the songs. Are you from the Starry Sept in Oldtown? Only such a holy place could produce a warrior with your... talents."
"I am from the Kingdom of Seres, across the Narrow Sea," Aldric replied. "I am here by the will of Anshe and the Seven to save the broken."
Aldric spent a few minutes explaining the Solar Core—the unity of the Seven within the Sun. He even performed a small "Rainbow-Flash," leaving Charles in a state of awed silence.
As the atmosphere turned from tense to "friendly," Charles began to share the local politics. The eastern shore of the Gods Eye was a vacuum. Since Lady Whent had abandoned Harrenhal, the petty lords and landed knights were leaderless. Theoretically, they owed fealty to the Tullys, but the Tullys had "rebelled" against King Joffrey to follow the Young Wolf.
"Many of us are unhappy with Riverrun," Charles whispered. "Catelyn Stark kidnapped Tyrion Lannister without proof and started this fire. Why should we burn for her pride? We took Tywin's gold through the Mummers to keep our lands safe. But the Mummers... they are not men. They took the gold as allies and returned as Bolton's hounds to reclaim it. They've slaughtered half the houses along the shore already."
Aldric considered this. "Why not unite? You all served House Whent."
Charles shook his head. "We were peers. Equals. Equals do not follow one another; they bicker and feud. Without a power to crush the dissent, there can be no alliance. A league needs a leader, and no one here has the strength to claim the title."
Aldric recognized the logic. In his world, the hegemons of old rose by being the strongest among the weak.
"I see your point," Aldric said. "But I am a stranger to the Whent vassals."
Charles leaned forward, his eyes burning with a sudden, sharp ambition. "That doesn't matter. The men ruling the eastern shore now are fools and weaklings. If you, the Lightbringer, give me your support... I believe I could claim the leadership of such a league."
Aldric stared at the knight. You dog, he thought. You want to use my light to build yourself a kingdom.
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