Lancelot and a hundred Lannister soldiers, disguised as mercenaries, marched along the Valyrian Road.
However, after seven days of travel, Lancelot decided they needed to get off the main road. The highway was too crowded, and too many people were casting curious glances at their newly formed "Lionheart Company."
Many observers were already connecting the dots, suspecting them to be associated with House Lannister of Westeros. They guessed that this was perhaps a group of outcasts, or a mercenary band formed by Lannisters who didn't answer to Casterly Rock.
"Starting tomorrow, we take the small paths. We'll hole up during the day and march by night!" Lancelot announced to the Lionheart members at a supply point.
"The Captain really looks out for his subordinates!" Podrick remarked.
Privately, Podrick assumed Lancelot made the call because the days were too hot and marching under the sun would lead to heatstroke. The nights were much cooler, and they could navigate by the stars.
For the next month, they found shady spots or pitched tents during the day to hide from the scorching sun. A few men stood sentry while the rest slept to conserve their energy. At night, they force-marched, which also minimized their chances of encountering enemies.
Under Lancelot's leadership, relying on a compass and sextant, the Lionheart Company finally arrived in Volantine territory.
Their food and water—and most importantly, their rum—had run dry. They needed to resupply in bulk.
Lancelot left ninety men at their camp and took ten soldiers into a small town near Volantis: Selhorys.
If they were to follow the Rhoyne downriver to its mouth, they would reach Volantis, the "First Daughter" of the Valyrian Freehold and the most powerful of the nine Free Cities.
But Lancelot's destination wasn't Volantis; it was the Ruins of Valyria.
Unlike other adventurers who sought to explore the ruins, most of whom set sail via the Summer Sea to enter the Smoking Sea—only to get lost forever—Lancelot chose a different approach. He was going to reach the ruins by land.
According to his map, among the forty Dragonlord families, there was one whose territory lay in Oros, north of the Smoking Sea. That was Lancelot's target.
After entering Selhorys, Lancelot sent nine of his men to purchase supplies, while he took Podrick to a tavern to gather information.
"Two guests, what can I get you? We have wine from the Arbor, chilled ale from the North, and Summer Red from Dorne," a silver-haired barmaid asked.
"Two chilled ales, thanks," Lancelot ordered.
"Ser Lancelot!" Podrick piped up.
Lancelot cut him off immediately. "Remember, call me 'Captain' while we're out here!"
Podrick corrected himself instantly. "Captain, there are so many people with silver hair here! Are they all descendants of Valyria?"
Lancelot nodded.
As the first colony of the Valyrian Freehold, Volantis had been under their rule for over five thousand years. Many people here carried the blood of the Dragonlords. The rulers of Volantis—those who lived behind the Black Walls—could trace their lineage back to bloodlines that were arguably purer and nobler than even House Targaryen.
Lancelot and Podrick downed three rounds of ale, but the only news they gathered was that war was brewing in the Disputed Lands again. The fragile alliance between Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh had crumbled.
"They say Malaquo of the Tiger Party is preparing to lead troops personally to cooperate with Lys and take the Disputed Lands," a soldier with tiger stripes tattooed on his cheeks said. He had heard the rumor from his squad leader.
The Tiger Cloaks were making moves; it seemed war was inevitable.
"Impossible. The Tigers only hold one seat; the other two belong to the Elephants! They'll never agree to war!" argued a middle-aged man with black skin and silver hair, looking like a mix between a Summer Islander and a Valyrian.
Listening to their debate about the Disputed Lands, Lancelot stayed silent but took mental notes.
If war broke out in the Disputed Lands, the Stepstones would be dragged into the conflict. For the kingdoms of Westeros, aside from the North, this would severely impact maritime trade interests.
Lancelot realized he wouldn't get much more out of them; they were simply too far from Westeros to have relevant news.
Just as Lancelot and Podrick left the tavern to regroup with the others, a group of monks in red robes surrounded them.
"You are followers of R'hllor. What do you want?" Lancelot quietly unsheathed the dagger Tyrion had given him, just in case.
Podrick hefted two large axes, stepping in front of Lancelot.
"Do not misunderstand, warrior from Westeros. Our High Priest, Benerro, wishes to see you!" one of the Red Priests said.
"Benerro, the High Priest of R'hllor, wants to see me? Why?" Lancelot asked, confused.
"You are the one the High Priest saw in the flames. We are here to invite you to the Temple of the Lord of Light."
Lancelot had no choice but to follow them to the Temple of R'hllor.
He had to admit, the Temple of the Lord of Light in Volantis was the most massive temple he had ever seen—three times larger than the Great Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.
Lancelot also noticed many of the temple's private soldiers. They wore red cloaks and had flaming torches emblazoned on their backs. Slender towers spiraled upward, twisting around each other like frozen fire trying to touch the sky.
Crossing a skybridge, Lancelot entered the massive central tower and met Benerro.
Benerro was a tall, gaunt man with prominent features and skin as white as milk. However, his face, chin, and bald head were covered in flame tattoos.
Surrounding Benerro were many priests in red robes like him, though of lower status. Lancelot even spotted Melisandre among them.
She hasn't contacted Stannis yet? Lancelot wondered. But when he left King's Landing, Stannis was still there. Perhaps in this timeline, their paths wouldn't cross.
"Warrior from Westeros, welcome. I am a servant of R'hllor," Benerro said in Valyrian.
Lancelot could only catch a few words, so his expression grew awkward.
Seeing Lancelot's struggle, Melisandre stepped forward to translate.
"Please, what business do you have with me? I find it hard to believe a servant of R'hllor would stop preaching just to spend time entertaining me unless it was worth it," Lancelot said.
"I know what you seek! And I have something here that you want. I can give it to you," Benerro replied.
"What is it?" Lancelot asked.
Melisandre approached Lancelot, holding a longsword in her hands.
"Once you see this sword, you will understand," she said.
"Is this... Brightroar, the lost sword of House Lannister?" Lancelot stared at the roaring lion carved into the hilt.
"This sword has changed hands many times, eventually finding its way to the Lord of Light. One could say it is destiny, just as our meeting was preordained by the Lord of Light!" Benerro proclaimed.
"A Valyrian steel sword is worth a kingdom in gold. How much do you want for it?" Lancelot asked.
Benerro shook his head.
"I do not want gold. I only want you to believe in the Lord of Light."
This time, it was Lancelot who shook his head.
"I am a knight anointed by the Seven. I cannot violate my faith and honor."
"The Seven are false gods. Before the one true god, the Lord of Light, they are worth nothing. We do not need you to tarnish your reputation; we only require that you hold faith in the Lord of Light. I will send a priestess to accompany you. She will be at your disposal. Melisandre, from now on, Lancelot is your master," Benerro declared.
Melisandre nodded and stood behind Lancelot.
"Whatever you intend to do next, she will aid you, Ser Lancelot."
---
After leaving the Temple of R'hllor, Lancelot reunited with the rest of the Lionheart Company.
"Captain, are you alright? We heard the Red Priests took you away and we were just about to mount a rescue!" one of the members said.
"I'm fine. They just invited us over to make friends. They weren't trying to harm me. And even if they were, I could have just pulled a 'Temple Run'," Lancelot joked. "Let's keep moving toward the Valyrian Ruins. Melisandre will be joining us. By the way, she's a priestess of the Lord of Light."
Although the men were curious about the sudden addition of a woman—and such a beautiful one at that—no one asked too many questions.
Lancelot and his group continued their march toward the Valyrian Ruins. This time, they could take the main Valyrian Road, as the stretch from Volantis toward Meereen was rarely traveled, meaning they were unlikely to encounter any danger.