Lancelot led the army out. Accompanying him were several Knights of the Round Table: Ser Kevan—Lancelot's great-uncle—Yohn Royce and his son Robar, and the Tyrell brothers, Garlan and Loras.
Their first stop was the Vale, since the Blackfish, Brynden Tully, was still there. Grand Maester Pycelle had already sent a letter ahead, inviting Brynden to join the Knights of the Round Table.
Additionally, Lancelot wanted to see if the wildlings in the Vale could identify the writing on the giant horn.
After marching for seven days, Lancelot's army reached the Mountains of the Moon. These mountains were teeming with hidden wildlings; even Jon Arryn used to require a large escort of knights to travel through here.
However, Lancelot was leading a massive army today, so there was no need to worry.
"The clansmen have been a plague on the Vale for thousands of years. I request that Ser Lancelot help the Vale eliminate this hidden threat," Yohn Royce said, riding up to Lancelot.
"Eliminate the threat? Do you mean kill them all?" Lancelot asked.
"Or make them subjects under the Vale's lords. Register them in a census, have them farm the land, and pay taxes in grain," Yohn Royce suggested.
"Let's go. Lead the way. I want to talk to them," Lancelot said.
"What? General Lancelot, are you going alone? That's too dangerous!" Robar Royce exclaimed.
"It's the only way to convince them of our sincerity. Who knows the path to the clan settlements?" Lancelot asked.
"I can lead the way, General Lancelot!" A figure in a gray cloak stepped forward, pulling back the hood to reveal her face and long hair.
She had black hair and black eyes. While not classically beautiful, her face was full of vibrant energy.
"Who are you?" Lancelot asked.
"I'm Mya Stone, a bastard of the Vale," she replied.
"Ah, it's you," Lancelot said. He recognized her identity immediately—King Robert's daughter, born during his time as Jon Arryn's ward.
"Alright, girl. Lead the way," Lancelot said.
The two of them walked into the Mountains of the Moon. Of course, they weren't entirely alone—Hrakkar was with them. Lancelot certainly wasn't going to walk into a wildling den without any protection.
The Mountains of the Moon were home to many clans living in tribes. They didn't have to face the threat of White Walkers here, and the Knights of the Vale couldn't effectively root them out. So, the Vale clansmen lived quite freely, occasionally robbing passersby whenever they felt like it.
When Lancelot, the girl, and the lion reached the depths of the mountains, eyes were already watching them from the cliffs.
"General Lancelot! How did you rise from being a bastard to your current position?" Mya Stone asked.
"Luck," Lancelot replied. It was indeed luck that Robert had restored his status.
"I wish I could restore my father's surname too. My last name isn't simple. Can you guess it, General Lancelot?" She looked at him with a smile.
"House Baratheon," Lancelot said calmly.
"What! How did you know?" Mya Stone stepped back in shock, stepping on a loose rock and losing her balance.
Lancelot grabbed her hand and pulled her back upright.
"Your identity isn't a secret. King Robert has many illegitimate children. Edric Storm in the Stormlands is one of them. He's living quite well at Storm's End right now," Lancelot explained.
As they spoke, wildlings appeared from all sides, surrounding them.
"Where are you people from?" the leader asked. He wore a necklace of three human skulls and looked particularly vicious.
"I am the Young Master of the Lion Tribe, here to meet my friends from the Vale!" Lancelot announced.
"Lion Tribe? Which Lion Tribe? Is there such a tribe?" The wildlings began whispering among themselves.
"Of course there is. I even brought the tribe's Sacred Beast. Look!"
Hrakkar let out a roar and charged forward, standing protectively in front of Lancelot and emitting a low growl.
The Vale clansmen stared at a lion larger than an elephant. It had bull horns, dragon wings, a snake's tail, and a scorpion's stinger.
It was too bizarre! The wildlings raised their weapons, pointing them at Hrakkar.
"Easy, everyone, easy! Don't make any sudden moves, okay? Hrakkar has a pretty good temper; he usually doesn't eat people," Lancelot said.
"Young Master of the Lion Tribe, come with us deep into the mountains to meet our elders," said the wildling with the skull necklace. He led Lancelot further into the range.
Along the way, Lancelot saw wildlings from various tribes. Some had burn marks on their bodies, likely members of the Burned Men.
They burned their own body parts to prove their courage—the more vital the burned part, the braver they were considered.
Lancelot thought that if The Hound ever found himself out of a job, he could come here and easily become a chief.
Lancelot was brought before the clan elders. Although called wildlings, the clansmen of the Vale were pure-blooded First Men, just like the Free Folk beyond the Wall. They had simply ceased to advance socially, stagnating and eventually reverting to a primitive tribal state.
The First Men were once very prosperous. They had defeated the Children of the Forest, the Giants, and other creatures, spreading their bloodline across Westeros. However, when the Andals invaded, the First Men were beaten back step by step.
Lancelot watched as the man with the skull necklace spoke to several elderly clansmen. They all turned to look at Lancelot.
"Young Master of the Lion Tribe, what brings you to our Mountains of the Moon?" asked an elder with half his face burned off.
"I've come to ask you about an object."
Lancelot took the massive horn from Hrakkar's back.
"This is a relic of the First Men, covered in their ancient script. Could you help me translate it?" Lancelot asked.
"I can offer you grain in exchange. As you know, winter is coming. Aside from the North, the Vale is the coldest place. Without enough food, you won't survive this winter," he continued.
"Bring the horn here. Let us see it," said a one-eyed elder.
Lancelot handed the horn over.
"This is indeed the script of the First Men, no mistake. But the content written here is taboo. Ordinary people must not be near it. Everyone back away one mile!" shouted an elder missing an ear. He had once been captured by another tribe and had his ear cut off, though he later killed the man who did it.
The clansmen retreated, leaving only the elders and Lancelot in the clearing. Mya Stone was also asked to leave.