A month later, a Great Master from Astapor arrived in Meereen. Lancelot hadn't traveled to Astapor personally because the Meereenese Great Master mentioned his Astapori friend happened to be visiting Meereen on business, so they could conduct the transaction there.
In the Great Master's manse, Lancelot met the Astapori lord.
"Warrior from Westeros, my friend tells me you ventured into the ruins of Valyria, returned alive, and brought back unimaginable treasures."
Through the translator, Lancelot understood his meaning and restated his desire for the trade.
"The trade can proceed. Payment on delivery." The Great Master held an eagle-headed scepter, a token of authority. Whoever held it was the master of the Unsullied.
Lancelot ordered the Lannister soldiers behind him to bring out ten large chests filled with ancient Valyrian copper coins, rubies, sapphires, and various diamonds.
"Ancient currency, indeed!" The Great Master from Astapor was very satisfied. He happily concluded the deal with Lancelot.
After both sides verified the number of Unsullied and the value of Lancelot's goods, the exchange was made.
Lancelot now held the eagle-headed scepter, and standing before him were one thousand Unsullied.
They were all slaves, because slaves were cheap. And easiest to train.
When training, the Unsullied knew no fatigue and no pain; they knew only obedience. They were perfect slaves, nearly akin to robots.
Raised from childhood, the Unsullied mastered the use of the spear, shield, and short sword. Although not skilled archers, they could shield their master from arrows.
"You are now my men. One thousand of you. You should have your own commanders among you. For every hundred men, there should be a centurion. Let the ten centurions step forward," Lancelot called out.
Quickly, ten Unsullied marched out and stood before Lancelot. They lined up from left to right.
They weren't necessarily the tallest or heaviest, but they were leaders.
"Do you have names?" Lancelot asked.
"Master, we name ourselves after vermin," said the first Unsullied on the left.
"Tell me. What are your names? From left to right, speak up."
"Master, this one is called Fly."
"Master, this one is called Mosquito."
"Master, this one is called Vole."
...
"Master, this one is called Pheasant," said the last Unsullied.
"Very well. I have memorized the names of all ten of you. From now on, you will continue to serve as centurions, managing your hundred men in my service! Soon, I will cross the Dothraki Sea. We may encounter Dothraki riders, so be prepared."
"Podrick, ensure they have three full meals a day. I will not have them training or fighting on empty stomachs."
"Yes, Ser!"
Podrick had become famous in Meereen's brothels recently. Many brothel owners had actually banned him because he was bad for business—the girls were paying him.
Lancelot decided to leave in three days. He still needed to buy horses and wagons, but those were minor matters he left to Podrick.
Meanwhile, Lancelot accepted an invitation from the Great Masters to visit their fighting pits.
The fighting pits of Meereen resembled ancient Roman coliseums.
In his past life, Lancelot had watched shows like Spartacus and seen gladiators kill each other on screen.
But witnessing it with his own eyes, he realized that TV definitely censored too much gore. Otherwise, it would never have passed inspection.
Lancelot arrived just in time. Today, he would witness a beast fight: ten gladiators against a beast from Sothoryos.
The beast was massive, over thirty feet long—a wyvern. However, its wings had been clipped.
"Ser Lancelot, do you know how the Dragonlords of Valyria bred dragons?" the Great Master beside him asked.
Lancelot shook his head.
"They were originally nomadic herders. Later, they discovered Fire Wyrms at the foot of the volcanoes—reptiles similar to giant snakes. Because they lived near the volcanoes for so long, they learned to breathe fire."
"Later, they captured wyverns from the isle of Sothoryos and used magic to breed the two species, creating the dragons we know."
Listening to him, the story sounded similar to what Benerro had said in Volantis.
"Then where did they learn magic?" Lancelot asked.
"Those shameless Valyrians learned magic from us! But in the end, they used that magic to create dragons and invade us."
Hearing this, Lancelot gave Melisandre a strange look. She had mentioned that Red Priests taught magic to the Valyrians. But according to the Meereenese, it was the ancient mages of the Ghiscari Empire who taught the nomadic Valyrians how to use magic.
"The Lord of Light has no believers in Slaver's Bay, nor any temples. They have their own Temple of the Graces," Melisandre noted.
"Correct. We Ghiscari worship our own gods. Every Temple of the Graces has a Green Grace," the Great Master said.
The Green Grace was the highest-ranking priestess in the Temple of the Graces. Below her were the Blue Graces, Red Graces, White Graces, and so on.
However, since they worshiped the Harpy—a female deity—one class of their priestesses were sacred prostitutes. They used their bodies to bring relaxation to believers, helping them forget their worries.
If this practice were brought to Westeros, it would certainly be boycotted. The Citadel, the Faith, and the Crown would unite to ban such "sacred prostitution."
"This Green Grace... can she prophecy? Can she do things ordinary people cannot?" Lancelot asked.
"She can see the future and give us warnings!" the Great Master replied.
"Then I must visit her before I leave."
"Melisandre, you two can have a magical duel. Let's see whose prophecies are more accurate," Lancelot teased, looking at her.
"The Lord of Light possesses power everywhere!" Melisandre retorted.
"Even in the North?" Lancelot asked.
"The North... The Lord of Light naturally has power in the North, but he lacks believers there," she said.
Lancelot suddenly recalled a rumor and wanted to ask Melisandre about it.
"Melisandre, I heard that the son of the Lord of Light, Azor Ahai, was friends with Brandon the Builder. They were from the same era. Brandon built the Wall, and Azor Ahai led the First Men to defeat the Long Night. Was Azor Ahai also a Northerner?"
"I have never heard Benerro speak of this! I only know that Azor Ahai is the son of the Lord of Light. You may call him the Son of Light."
"If Azor Ahai really knew Brandon Stark, and they ended the last Long Night together, does that imply that the Old Gods worshipped by the Northerners might actually be the Lord of Light?"
Lancelot put forward a bold hypothesis.
"I do not know!" Melisandre said.
Although trained from childhood to be a servant of the Lord of Light, her education had always been vague about the specific origins of the Lord of Light and Azor Ahai.
Currently, believers of R'hllor were mainly found in the nine Free Cities, with Volantis as the center. Slaver's Bay had no R'hllor worship.
In Westeros, south of the Neck, people worshipped the Seven. The North worshipped the Old Gods.
The Seven were seven aspects of one god, possessing distinct images. But the Old Gods had no names and no images. They were like "dust in the light"—present in every beam of sunlight, every speck of dust, everywhere.
And light was the Lord of Light, the Red God. Shadows were servants of the light; only where there is light can there be shadows.
Just as Lancelot and Melisandre were discussing theology, the Green Grace in Meereen's largest Temple of the Graces received an oracle.
"Bring the warrior from the distant land! I have words to convey to him!"
Galazza Galare was over eighty years old. It had been thirty years since she became the Green Grace, and this was only the fifth time she had heard an oracle.
She immediately summoned the lower priestesses and ordered them to invite the foreign warrior to the temple.
"The man is a lion, with golden hair and green eyes! At this moment, he is with Grazdan zo Galare in the fighting pits," she said, her green eyes seemingly piercing through space to see Lancelot and his companions.