To the Dothraki, Podrick was a walking plague, a source of contagion. They didn't dare kill him for fear of contracting greyscale, so the helpless horselords simply drove him away.
When Podrick returned to Meereen, he recounted his ordeal to Lancelot.
"So, they really intend to breach the walls? We can't let them do that. Tonight, we raid their camp!" Lancelot declared.
He rallied all the Unsullied and the Meereenese soldiers, preparing for a night assault.
However, before they could depart, the Green Grace sent someone to stop Lancelot, informing them that the raid was unnecessary—Meereen's crisis had been averted.
"What? The horselords have left? Why?" Lancelot asked.
"The Green Grace says she saw a corpse—a horse corpse rotting on the earth. She believes this signifies a great plague among the horselords!" the Blue Grace explained.
Lancelot and his men held off on the night raid but sent scouts to investigate.
By daybreak, the soldiers returned with a report.
"The Dothraki warriors have all withdrawn."
"Wonderful! Meereen is saved!" Soldiers and Great Masters alike celebrated with joy.
Lancelot returned to the Temple of the Graces to question the Green Grace.
"Why did Khal Drogo retreat? Did they really catch a plague?"
The Green Grace sat upon her high stone seat, the statue of the Harpy towering above her.
Lancelot took the opportunity to check her stats.
Name: Galazza Galare
Identity: Green Grace of the Temple of the Graces
Class: Priestess, Prophet
Strength: 2
Speed: 2
Intelligence: 30
Spirit: 60
Magic: 60
Talent: Prophecy (Can see future events with her green eyes; abilities similar to a Greenseer but less powerful.)
Her magic is indeed stronger than Melisandre's. As expected of the Green Grace. Her counterpart should be Benerro, the High Priest of the Lord of Light. Melisandre's level is still a bit lower, Lancelot thought.
"I saw someone riding a pale mare enter their camp. Then the Dothraki horses began to sicken, rotting from the inside out until they became bleached bones," the Green Grace said.
"Who rode the pale mare?" Lancelot asked.
"One of their own."
"One of their own? A horselord?"
"Turmoil has arisen within their ranks. That is what spared Meereen from the flames of war. As for the specifics, I saw no more. My green eyes are not all-seeing."
What Lancelot and the others didn't know was that Khal Drogo's retreat wasn't due to a plague, but because something had happened at their holy city, Vaes Dothrak.
Almost all the Khals were rushing back. A momentous event concerning the fate of all Dothraki had occurred.
---
Lancelot and his company lingered in Meereen for three more days before beginning their return journey.
When Lancelot left, all the nobles of Meereen came to the city gates to see him off.
"Ser Lancelot, we hope to continue cooperating with you and House Lannister in the future," Bostan said.
"Of course, steady streams flow long! Although Westeros prohibits the slave trade, your other products are quite popular with us!" Lancelot replied.
Setting out from Meereen, Lancelot led his people across the vast grasslands.
After another month of travel, around noon, the sun was scorching the earth. Lancelot and his group pitched tents to shield themselves from the glare.
Everyone rested inside the tents while the horses were left in the open.
Lancelot was lightly dozing when he heard his horse, Wuzhui, neighing.
He rushed out to look and saw a pride of lions surrounding their camp.
The Unsullied immediately grabbed their weapons and formed a counter-encirclement around the lions.
The pride wasn't large: only one male, three females, and three cubs.
What was astonishing was the male lion—it was massive, and its fur was a rare white.
On the grasslands, white was the most conspicuous color. White animals usually couldn't survive because they couldn't hide to hunt. That this male lion had grown to adulthood and established a pride was a testament to his strength.
"Ser Lancelot, this is the Hrakkar you were looking for. It is said that even among the Dothraki, only a few dare to hunt a Hrakkar," Melisandre said, approaching Lancelot in her red robes.
"Since I've run into a Hrakkar, I can't let it go! Everyone, stay still. Let me tame him personally," Lancelot ordered.
He slowly approached the Hrakkar. The lion's golden eyes fixed on Lancelot, the tiny creature before him. To the lion, Lancelot was prey barely larger than a gazelle.
Just as the Hrakkar extended its claws, Lancelot used his Skinchanger ability, projecting his consciousness into the beast.
Instantly, the lion froze, standing stock-still like a wooden statue.
The sensation was bizarre for Lancelot. His consciousness hadn't fully transferred into the animal as before; instead, half remained in his human body and half entered the Hrakkar. He perceived the world through two perspectives simultaneously.
He tried to control both bodies at once, but it was difficult. Lancelot's human body took a few steps and toppled forward, while the Hrakkar tried to roll over but couldn't get back up.
"Ser Lancelot, what is he doing?" Many Lannister soldiers watched with bewildered expressions.
"He is attempting to tame this beast. Do not attack them; wait for Ser Lancelot to succeed," Melisandre instructed.
After about half an hour, Lancelot finally learned how to coordinate both bodies.
Lancelot mounted the Hrakkar. Using the lion's kingly authority, he let out a low growl. The lionesses and cubs immediately crouched on the ground in submission.
The male lion was truly the king of beasts.
When Lancelot fully withdrew his consciousness, the Hrakkar had become very affectionate toward him, rubbing against him like a giant house cat.
"Now, let's take you to King's Landing. I'll open the eyes of Jaime, Tyrion, and Joffrey," Lancelot said.
They resumed their journey, now with several lion companions.
However, since lions require meat, Lancelot had to take them hunting on the grasslands every few days.
Through these hunts, Lancelot indirectly participated in the kill and the feeding via the Hrakkar's body. Tasting the fresh blood of prey and eating raw flesh made Lancelot feel a few degrees wilder.
---
Once they entered the territory of the Free Cities, they had to buy meat for the lions, as wild game was scarce.
The lions initially turned their noses up at the lean butchered meat, but by the second feeding, they realized its benefits.
Every lion began to bulk up, especially the Hrakkar, which grew to the size of a cow.
When they reached Pentos, Lancelot and his group were denied entry because of the lions.
"We are from Westeros, across the Narrow Sea! You can't do this. At least give us a ship to get home!" Podrick argued.
"Apologies, knight from across the sea. The city is holding a sacrificial ceremony. We lost another war against Braavos. The Prince is to be executed, and a new Prince chosen. No disturbances are allowed in the city right now," the guard explained.
Lancelot stepped forward. "I am a friend of Magister Illyrio. Call him here; we need to talk."
"You are a friend of the Magister? Are you a noble in Westeros too?" The soldier looked at Lancelot with deep suspicion. No matter how he looked at it, Lancelot didn't seem like a noble. What kind of noble rode a lion across the continent?
"Just tell him the name 'Varys'."
An hour later, Illyrio arrived outside the city walls and met Lancelot.
"Are you one of Varys's... little birds? But you seem a bit... old?" Illyrio remarked, looking at Lancelot's youthful face.
Lancelot was not yet thirteen, and Varys's little birds were typically much younger children.
"I am Lancelot Lannister, Magister. Lord Varys is a friend of mine in King's Landing! He mentioned you are also his friend. Since we are all friends, lend me a few ships to return to King's Landing!" Lancelot said.
Illyrio looked at Lancelot in surprise.
"So, you are the Lion Knight, Lancelot—the one knighted by Robert at such a young age."