Just as Lancelot was about to head back after watching a beast-fighting exhibition, he was intercepted by several Blue Graces from the Temple of the Graces.
"Warrior from afar, the Green Grace invites you to the temple for a discussion."
Lancelot looked at them and asked, "Who sent you?"
"The Green Grace received a divine oracle instructing us to find you."
"A divine oracle, huh!" Lancelot rubbed his chin. It sounded unreliable, but he decided to check it out anyway.
Accompanied by Melisandre, Lancelot arrived at the Temple of the Graces and met the Green Grace they spoke of.
Her eyes were green, somewhat similar to the Lannister emerald green, but she appeared very old, perhaps over eighty. A veil covered most of her face, revealing only a pair of wise green eyes to the onlookers.
"Warrior from afar! A crisis is approaching. Meereen faces destruction, and you are the only one who can save it!" the Green Grace announced.
"Your Grace, may I ask what exactly this crisis is? As a member of the clergy, you shouldn't be spreading unnecessary panic," Lancelot replied.
"Men riding pitch-black horses are coming to Meereen. Their iron hooves threaten to trample this city flat."
"Dothraki?" Lancelot asked.
The Dothraki did occasionally come to Slaver's Bay to extort tribute, but usually, they would leave after receiving some wealth. Historically, they had never actually besieged a city, primarily because they were a cavalry force and didn't build siege engines like ladders or rams.
"Correct. Their leader is a powerful Khal who wishes to conquer Meereen to prove his strength."
"And what do you want me to do?" Lancelot asked.
"Save Meereen!"
"I am a guest, an outsider, a VIP! And you want to use my strength? Do you really think I would agree?" Lancelot looked at her with amusement.
"You will, because the gods have given me the answer! And you will receive a corresponding reward! I believe you will be satisfied with it!" the Green Grace said.
"What reward?" Lancelot asked.
"Alchemy!" she replied.
He had to admit, that reward genuinely tempted him. Although House Lannister sat on a mountain of gold, the mines would eventually run dry. When the gold was gone, the Lannisters would plummet, becoming less than even a second-rate house.
"Can I verify beforehand if this alchemy you speak of is real?" Lancelot asked.
"You may!"
The Green Grace had a scroll brought to Lancelot. He didn't take it but gestured for Melisandre to inspect it.
Melisandre opened the scroll, her beautiful eyes scanning the contents. It didn't seem fake; at least, with her knowledge, she couldn't spot any flaws.
"Your attendant seems to be a priestess of the Lord of Light; she should be able to discern its authenticity!"
"It is real!" Melisandre whispered in Lancelot's ear.
"Once the deed is done, this is yours," the Green Grace said.
"I need the cooperation of the Great Masters of Meereen. Whatever I ask them to do, they must do," Lancelot stated.
"Agreed. I will notify them."
Only then did Lancelot agree to help Meereen survive this crisis.
---
After leaving the Temple, Lancelot immediately met with the noble representatives of Meereen, who had already been briefed by the Green Grace.
"Ser Lancelot, Meereen has business dealings with House Lannister. We ask that you please lend us a hand," said a tall Great Master.
His name was long and complicated; Lancelot only remembered it as something like Bostan.
"Gather all the soybeans and black beans in the city and roast them. I have a great use for them!" This was Lancelot's first order.
"Why? Shouldn't we inspect the city defenses first? And your thousand Unsullied—they must help us defend the walls!" said another Great Master named Kars.
"I will help you defend the city, don't worry! Trust me, it won't go wrong."
Seeing Lancelot so confident, the others decided to trust him.
A few days later, a massive Khalasar indeed arrived outside Meereen. Tens of thousands of cavalrymen spread out like ants across the plain.
On the city walls, Lancelot and the Great Masters looked at the opposing force, sucking in a breath of cold air.
"That is Khal Drogo's Khalasar. It is currently the strongest among them, though he has not yet united all the Dothraki," someone identified the tribe.
"Khal Drogo! So it is him!"
Using a Myrish spyglass, Lancelot spotted the man riding a pitch-black stallion. His braid was longer than anyone else's, and he was the tallest among them. Lancelot estimated that even if he wasn't eight feet tall like the Mountain, he was at least seven feet like Dunk the Tall.
Khal Drogo rode up to the walls with his bloodriders and had his slave translator shout to the people on the ramparts.
"Hand over half the city's treasure, and we will not attack. Otherwise, Meereen will be destroyed. You have one night to consider."
Drogo then led his men to set up camp half a mile away.
"Half the wealth! Their appetite is too big."
"Absolutely impossible. Meereen will never bow to backward barbarians."
"One night, huh!" Lancelot mused. He had an idea he wanted to test out.
"Ser Lancelot, do you have a plan?" Bostan asked. The other Great Masters turned their eyes to him as well.
Lancelot looked at them with amusement. These slavers only knew how to make money, party, and enjoy life. They had no sense of preparedness. Whenever war came, they either paid tribute or hired mercenaries. They always relied on outsiders, unlike the lords of Westeros who maintained their own armies, ready to fight at a moment's notice.
"My lords, no need to panic. It's just Drogo, a mere barbarian! The Dothraki are ignorant, backward, mannerless, savage, and cruel. How could such an army defeat our elite forces?" Lancelot declared.
---
By nightfall, the Great Masters were still anxiously waiting for Lancelot to make a move.
But Lancelot was eating and drinking as usual, joking and laughing with his Lannister soldiers.
Even Podrick and the others were nervous.
"Captain! Aren't we going to do something?" Podrick asked.
"What time is it?" Lancelot asked.
"The Hour of the Wolf!"
"Good. Time to move!"
Lancelot led a hundred Unsullied quietly out of the city. Each of them carried two straw men on their backs.
When Lancelot and his group reached a spot about two hundred meters from the Dothraki camp, they set down the straw men.
"Go into the nearby woods and drive all the animals out. Make sure they run toward the enemy camp," Lancelot ordered.
A soldier nicknamed "Rat" led a group of Unsullied to execute the order.
Soon after, animals from the forest—large and small—stampeded toward Khal Drogo's camp, ruining their evening feast.
"Damn it! This must be the work of those wretched Meereenese! Blood of my blood, let me take men to smash their gates!" shouted Qotho, the cruelest of Drogo's bloodriders.
"Blood of my blood, the Meereenese must have a purpose for this. Let me take men to scout first!" said Cohollo. He was older than Drogo and had once saved Drogo's life, so he was highly respected in the Khalasar.
Khal Drogo nodded.
Cohollo led a few riders out to scout, but they hadn't gone far when they saw figures holding long spears and wearing Unsullied uniforms in the distance.
"It's the Unsullied! Be careful!" Cohollo immediately ordered a halt.
The Unsullied were the only infantry known to defeat Dothraki cavalry. Cohollo dared not advance rashly and chose to return to inform Khal Drogo.
"What? The Unsullied are nearby? Do not engage them in close combat! Shoot them all down with arrows! Do not spare the arrows!"
At Khal Drogo's command, the Dothraki began raining arrows toward the "Unsullied." That night, they fired over half of their supply—nearly a hundred and fifty thousand arrows stuck into the ground outside Meereen.
However, because it was night and the Dothraki were not adept at night fighting, they did not rashly advance to check the enemy casualties.