Melisandre's presence certainly added a splash of color to Lancelot's journey.
along the way, she took charge of teaching Lancelot High Valyrian, Dothraki, and the ancient tongue of Asshai.
Lancelot shared the Grimoires of Pyromancy, Hydromancy, and Shadowbinding he had obtained with her.
"Ser Lancelot, I can teach you some low-tier fire magic and shadow magic, but I cannot touch any water magic. I am, after all, a priestess of the Lord of Light."
Melisandre's words made Lancelot overjoyed. Finally, he could learn magic, even if it was just the basics.
Taking advantage of the opportunity, Lancelot checked her stats.
> Name: Melisandre
> Identity: Priestess of the Lord of Light
> Class: Priestess, Pyromancer, Shadowbinder, Prophet
> Strength: 8
> Speed: 9
> Intelligence: 25
> Spirit: 40
> Mana: 45
> Talent: Shadow Assassin. Can use King's Blood to birth a Shadow Assassin that kills without a trace.
"She has so many classes! Although her Strength and Speed aren't up to the peak human limit, her Spirit and Mana are ridiculously high. And that Shadow Assassin talent... killing without a trace is practically broken."
Lancelot suddenly felt a pang of regret. Why didn't I check Benerro's stats at the Temple of the Lord of Light? His Mana must be even higher than Melisandre's—likely at a demigod level.
Although it was too late now, Lancelot resolved to check Benerro's stats when they returned to Volantis.
"Thank you, Melisandre. I want to start with fire magic. Is the simplest spell the Fireball?" Lancelot asked.
Melisandre shook her head.
"For fire magic, a Fireball is considered a high-tier spell. The low-tier magic is the 'Spark.' It allows you to conjure a cluster of sparks to ignite firewood or wild grass."
Lancelot was a bit disappointed. He seemed to have forgotten that A Song of Ice and Fire is a low-magic world. Although there are various gods, as the priests of the Lord of Light claim, the others are false idols; the only true god is the Lord of Light.
Therefore, not everyone in this world could just run around throwing fireballs.
"Melisandre, please teach me the Spark spell!" Lancelot looked into her ruby-like eyes.
The following days were a simple routine: learn magic, travel, rest at night.
Three months after departing Volantis, Lancelot and his group finally arrived at the Valyrian peninsula. Although they hadn't formally reached Oros yet, they could already see the red clouds in the sky ahead that never dispersed.
"Melisandre, it's been five hundred years since the Fourteen Flames stopped erupting. Why does the weather here still look like the apocalypse?"
Melisandre looked toward the ruins of Valyria with wary eyes.
"There are terrors lurking in there. I can sense a powerful magical force—much stronger than me, and much stronger than Benerro. Ser Lancelot, it is best not to cross the Smoking Sea. Just search for what you need on this side, where the land connects."
"Understood! Thanks for the warning!"
Lancelot's Mana wasn't as high as Melisandre's, so he couldn't sense the distant threat, but he, too, felt that there was something ominous within the Smoking Sea.
"Podrick, call everyone to gather here."
Podrick quickly assembled the one hundred Lannister soldiers.
"Our destination is the coastal mainland near the Smoking Sea. I won't ask anyone to enter the Smoking Sea itself, so please rest easy on that," Lancelot explained first, visibly relaxing the soldiers.
"Next, we will split into ten groups of ten to search the ruins of the cities. If anyone finds any treasure, I am willing to buy it from you for half its weight in gold. Once we return to King's Landing, I will exchange it for cash."
Even when pirates looted, it wasn't 'finders keepers'; everything had to be handed over to the captain for distribution. Often, a crew member's share wasn't worth a tenth of the treasure they actually found.
Lancelot offering half the value in gold was incredibly generous.
The ten groups set off on ten different routes.
Lancelot and Melisandre joined Podrick's group.
They walked all the way to the seaside.
The sea here had been land five hundred years ago. After the volcanic eruptions, half the peninsula had been shattered and flooded by the ocean.
"The fog over the Smoking Sea isn't just water vapor. Don't get too close!" Lancelot warned.
"Ser Lancelot, is the smoke poisonous?" Podrick asked. He forgot to address Lancelot as 'President.' This was his first time seeing such fog; he was shaken. Though not black, the fog was so dense that one couldn't see ten feet ahead.
Lancelot nodded. He had read several books from the Citadel about the Smoking Sea. They stated that the fog contained massive amounts of unknown toxins, which were a primary cause of Greyscale.
Furthermore, on the islands within, there were many people who had contracted Greyscale but hadn't died yet—the Stone Men. They were extremely dangerous and contagious. Most of them came from Volantis.
Although Volantis had inherited the largest share of the Valyrian Empire's legacy, its proximity to Valyria meant it suffered greatly from Greyscale. Every year, they shipped boatloads of the infected here to wait for death.
"Search along the coastline for the ruins of Oros. There should be traces of House Constantine's castle nearby. That is our destination."
The map Lancelot had received from Baelon Waters at the nursing home clearly listed the power rankings of the forty dragonlord families and their locations at the time.
House Targaryen was ranked twenty-eighth. They were considered lower-middle tier.
Although the Valyrian Freehold claimed that the forty dragonlord families ruled the empire together, only fourteen families held true power. Each of these fourteen families owned one of the volcanoes—the very same Fourteen Flames that later erupted.
The other families were stationed elsewhere.
House Constantine was ranked seventeenth. Their estate was closest to the mainland, right next to Oros.
Lancelot held a compass in his hand, but it was spinning wildly. Some powerful force here was interfering with it.
Following Melisandre's lead, they arrived in front of a ruin. It was clear this had once been a majestic city, but now it was nothing but rubble.
"I can sense it. Somewhere inside, there is the power of fire... and the power of evil." Melisandre crouched down, pressing her right palm against the ground.
"What is this power of fire you speak of? A dragon? Or dragon eggs? Could there still be a living dragon here? Impossible... could a dragon live for five hundred years?" Lancelot asked in disbelief.
Balerion the Black Dread only lived for two hundred years, and Vhagar for one hundred and eighty.
"The source of the fire power might not be a dragon. It could be Fire Wyrms. According to the speculation of our priesthood, dragons were bred by the Valyrians by crossbreeding Fire Wyrms and Wyverns," Melisandre said.
"The Valyrians knew how to crossbreed species? Were they horse breeders before?" Lancelot asked.
"You are correct. The Valyrians used to be like the Dothraki—nomadic herders. The difference is that the Dothraki tamed horses, while the Valyrians tamed dragons," Melisandre added.
"Then where did they learn magic?"
Hearing this question, Melisandre frowned.
"Benerro said it might have been the ancient priests of the Lord of Light who taught them magic. However, that record exists only in rumors; the Temple of R'hllor has no surviving documents to prove it."