Lancelot's group continued eastward. After another month of travel, they finally arrived at the northernmost city of Slaver's Bay: Meereen.
Meereen, along with Yunkai and Astapor, was once part of the Old Empire of Ghis. The Ghiscari Empire was ultimately defeated by the Valyrian Freehold in five great wars.
The silver-haired, purple-eyed Dragonlords burned nearly all the territories of the Old Ghis Empire to the ground with their dragons.
However, the three cities of Slaver's Bay were spared due to their distance, though they eventually became colonies of Valyria.
Now, the official language of these three cities was a bastardized dialect of High Valyrian.
Upon entering Meereen, Lancelot distributed a large sum of money to each of the Lannister soldiers, telling them to go drink and find women.
They had followed him all this way and endured much hardship; it was time they enjoyed themselves.
Slaves in Meereen were famously cheap, and they were specifically trained as bed slaves. The best among them were masters of the "Nine Arts of Spring Cries" and thirty-six different positions.
"Thank you, Ser Lancelot! Brothers, let's enjoy ourselves tonight!"
Almost all the Lannister soldiers rushed toward the brothels immediately. They had been holding back for far too long.
"Why aren't you going, Podrick?" Lancelot asked, looking at his squire who remained standing there.
"I am your squire, Ser. You might need me at any moment!" Podrick replied.
"I don't need you right now. Go relax. Find yourself a few gentle big sisters! Don't worry about the cost!"
Lancelot tossed him a pouch of gold coins.
Gold was welcome everywhere. The local currency in Slaver's Bay, "honors," were lightweight copper coins mixed with iron and weren't worth much. A single gold coin could be exchanged for a mountain of copper, enough to live like a king here for a long time.
"Ser Lancelot, I have made contact with them! Please, follow me!" Melisandre approached Lancelot.
She had gone ahead to contact buyers.
Lancelot had decided to sell the treasures brought back from the Valyrian ruins and use the proceeds to buy Unsullied.
If you find treasure and return home with a cart full of gold, you're likely to be robbed. If you return home with an army, you'll be very safe.
Meereen, Yunkai, and Astapor operated under a system of slavery, unlike the feudal system of Westeros.
Influenced heavily by Valyria, their culture, religion, and aesthetics all leaned toward Valyrian styles.
The treasures Lancelot had obtained might not fetch a high price in Westeros, but here, they certainly would.
Lancelot followed Melisandre to the home of a "Great Master."
The Great Masters, Wise Masters, and Good Masters were titles used by the slavers of the Bay. They did not allow slaves to address them by name, nor did they use the Westerosi title of "Lord."
"Honored warrior from another continent, your priestess says you obtained many fine things from the ruins of Valyria and wish to sell them?"
A middle-aged man in his forties with curly hair and luxurious robes asked. Behind him stood a dozen slave soldiers for protection, along with a female slave translator who looked only thirteen or fourteen.
"That is correct. It is unsafe to travel back with so much treasure. Please tell him I am sincere in my desire to trade," Lancelot said to the translator.
She spoke to her master in the bastard Valyrian dialect. Lancelot had only learned formal High Valyrian, so he truly couldn't understand this local patois. He simply maintained a polite smile.
The Great Master nodded, a smile appearing on his face. He then spoke.
"What do you wish to trade for?"
The slave girl translated.
"Master asks, what do you wish to trade for?"
"Unsullied!" Lancelot said.
She translated this for the Great Master.
"Unsullied are expensive, and we never sell them individually. The minimum purchase is one hundred at a time," the Great Master replied.
Lancelot nodded after hearing the translation.
"The items I brought are worth tens of thousands of gold pieces. Enough to buy a thousand Unsullied, with coin to spare."
"Master, he says he wants to buy one thousand Unsullied."
"Ah, one thousand? That is a substantial deal. I do not have that many Unsullied on hand. Tell him to wait; I can speak to friends in Astapor," the Great Master said.
Hearing that he needed to wait, Lancelot agreed, as he wasn't in a rush to return.
For the next few days, Lancelot stayed at the Great Master's estate, treated to fine food and drink.
The Lannister soldiers lived it up, spending all the money Lancelot had given them—except for one exception: Podrick Payne.
Not only had Podrick not spent a single coin Lancelot gave him, but he had actually returned with a large sum of money earned from the prostitutes.
This shocked the other soldiers, who crowded around him to ask how he did it.
Podrick answered honestly.
"First they asked me to undress, then they undressed themselves. Many of them hugged me and kissed my body. They... ate my 'public rations' one by one, and finally, after getting their fill, they fell asleep."
"When they woke up, they looked at me like I was a delicious meal. They wouldn't let me leave and even gave me their own money to spend."
"I really couldn't handle it anymore, so I ran back," Podrick said, looking a little traumatized.
"You are a legend! Podrick! Others may be pimps, but you are the God of Rods."
Lancelot was also incredibly curious about Podrick's unique talent, so he checked his stats.
> Name: Podrick Payne
> Class: Squire
> Identity: Squire to Ser Lancelot
> Strength: 9
> Speed: 9
> Intelligence: 9
> Spirit: 9
> Mana: 2
> Talent: The Golden Spear. A capability that infatuates women; they will willingly serve you and even give you money.
Lancelot finally understood why Tyrion had given Podrick to him as a squire. Podrick had probably been freeloading in Tyrion's brothels for so long that he was costing Tyrion a fortune.
Far away in King's Landing, Tyrion Lannister suddenly sneezed.
"Who's talking bad about me?" He rubbed his nose.
"Lord Tyrion, the weather has turned cold recently. Please take care of your health!"
An old man in the nursing home said.
Since Lancelot left, he had entrusted the care of the orphanage and nursing home entirely to Tyrion.
Tyrion was more than happy to do it, as it kept him away from Cersei.
He enjoyed showing off his knowledge to the children, as his intellect was the only thing that made him feel superior.
The elderly were also willing to share their stories with Tyrion.
The wisdom of the old often felt more useful to Tyrion than empty reading.
"It is still the Long Summer; how can it be cold? It must be my dear sister cursing me behind my back!" Tyrion said.
"Lord Tyrion, although we are outsiders, we still wish to remind you of the importance of family unity. Look at House Targaryen—they were powerful, possessed dragons, yet during the Dance of the Dragons, they lost several dragons and royals, and their prestige was swept away."
Hearing the old man's words, Tyrion smiled bitterly.
"I also want to maintain family unity... provided I wasn't a dwarf."
Another old man, missing an ear, looked at Tyrion.
"My Lord, I know a folk remedy that can make a person grow taller even after childhood. Would you like to try it?"
"Oh? A remedy? What kind of remedy?" Tyrion asked.
"Grind dragon bone into powder, boil it with milk until it becomes a thick porridge, and eat it. If you persist for a month, you can grow taller."
Tyrion was intrigued. There were dragon bones in King's Landing! But he still harbored doubts.
"Are there any side effects? Do the maesters of the Citadel know of this secret recipe?"
"I used to be a pyromancer and often used this recipe to treat people. However, dragon bone is rare, so if you cannot consume it in large quantities, the effect is poor!"
After returning from the nursing home, Tyrion couldn't stop thinking about the dragon bone. He was satisfied with his intellect, knowing he was smarter than both Cersei and Jaime.
But he was completely dissatisfied with his height.
Being a dwarf was sometimes worse than being a bastard!