Oberyn Martell spread a thick parchment map before Euron, tapping his finger on the mark for Braavos.
Euron had originally asked for the plan in a month, but the Red Viper was highly efficient, finishing it in half that time. Perhaps, as he said, he had always planned to travel Essos, just hadn't acted on it.
"We start here, first the Nine Free Cities." His tone was crisp, like a mercenary captain assigning missions. "South-east along the coast, stopping at each city, finally reaching the Basilisk Isles."
His finger traced the route, speaking steadily: "We depart by ship from Braavos, heading east. The first stop is Pentos."
"Leaving Pentos, we must first find a large Khalasar. We will present gifts, and the Khal will allow us to follow as 'guests' to their holy city, crossing the Dothraki Sea. The gifts are on you, naturally, but I will offer ideas. If the gifts are improper, heh, Dothraki arakhs show no mercy."
"Turn southeast along the mountain road into Norvos. Ruled by bearded priests. Food is crude—hard smoked meat, gritty black bread, and murky ale are staples. What can't be missed in Norvos is their runic ironwork, especially daggers—hand-forged by mountain smiths, blades engraved with ancient warding runes, sharp enough to cut shadows and never rusting."
"After Norvos, we turn due east into the Forest of Qohor. Many bandits there. One day isn't enough to cross; we will spend a night in the forest. Be ready to fight bandits. Through the forest lies Qohor. The city is a giant forge; the air always smells of burnt metal and sulfur. Smiths here hold forging secrets passed down for thousands of years, and red priests study blood magic."
"Continuing south, the road narrows, winding deep into the grey mountains of Lorath (Note: Geographically, Lorath is north, route seems slightly stylized or detoured, likely meant moving towards the Rhoyne/Andals then south). Far from trade routes, silence is the language. Locals are silent and hard as their mountains. Lorath is rich in silver stone and mines; stone carving workshops are everywhere. Craftsmen turn cold stone into art of soft curves and sharp edges."
"Turn southwest to enter Lys. A city of extravagance; desire is open trade and life's base color. More pleasure houses than taverns line the streets. Men and women in gauze lean on carved balconies; laughter drips like honey. The air always mixes sweet wine, expensive spices, and intimate musk."
Oberyn Martell smiled brightly: "That is Lys, my favorite city."
---
Euron listened quietly, only raising questions or changes on a few routes. Otherwise, he mostly followed Oberyn's arrangement. Before Oberyn gave the plan, Euron had already thought of dozens of feasible routes; otherwise, he couldn't have decided so quickly.
Besides the plan, extra manpower was needed. Not just warriors; this dangerous journey required all kinds of people.
1. Vittorio Grey
Once a feared Khal on the Dothraki Sea. His roar could make warhorses bow; grass seas made way for his arakh. Fate played a cruel joke—a brutal fall in battle broke his leg and his warrior's spine.
He cut his braid, shaved his head. Now he walked with a limp, unable to ride. A Dothraki who cannot ride is an eagle with broken wings. Losing his Khal status and meaning of life, he left the grassland disheartened, wandering city-states, a shell carrying past glory.
His prestige and strategic eye as a former Khal made Malyo decide to keep him. Though Vittorio could no longer charge into battle, he was the best choice for dealing with Dothraki.
2 & 3. Areo Hotah and Sebastian Fernandez
Two bearded men.
Areo Hotah, Captain of the Guards for House Martell, sent by Prince Doran to "protect" Prince Oberyn. The phrasing annoyed the free-spirited Red Viper, but he couldn't refuse. It was an order and irrefutable concern from his family.
Areo was steady as a mountain, trained by the Bearded Priests of Norvos. His skill with the longaxe was terrifying. Sharp-eyed and vigilant, he was more a moving fortification than a guard.
With him was his friend Sebastian Fernandez, a fellow disciple of the axe. Equally skilled and loyal. Standing together, they were like Dorne's sun and sand—one calm as rock, one fierce as a blade. These "Longaxe Monks" offered powerful combat ability and rock-solid loyalty.
4. Lomas Longstrider
Named for his unusual height and ceaseless steps. A scholar and writer, combat power negligible, but value immeasurable by swords.
He had traveled every corner of the known world, even secret realms unreachable by most. Ruins, isolated cities, forgotten relics—he explored them all. He compiled these experiences into his famous book, Wonders. It was a bible for understanding world wonders, showing deep observation and inexhaustible curiosity. His mind was his strongest weapon, his experience his toughest armor.
Euron remembered Tyrion Lannister was his loyal reader; that book was almost worn out by the Imp.
5. "Sorrowful Man" Castor Daniels
From Qarth, belonging to an ancient, mysterious assassin guild. Known for elegant, deadly actions and a unique "farewell ritual"—whispering "I am so sorry" before the final strike. Different from Faceless Men; they lacked that specific faith, or they wouldn't have come for the high pay.
The Red Viper knew Castor. Euron didn't care about their history.
Euron asked one question: I'm interested in your martial arts. Can you teach me during the journey?
Castor: Silence.
Euron: Double commission.
Castor: Willing to serve.
6. Samuel the Savage
From Sothoryos, a savage from deep within the Green Hell. Massive physique, bones like rocks, muscles like armor. His long arms seemed to belong to an ancient jungle creature.
Currently a mercenary in a small band. His face was like a primitive totem: sloping forehead, heavy jaw, giant square teeth. Rough black hair draped like thorns.
Samuel arrived in a heavy cloak, fully covered, not out of shyness but because he had just slaughtered a Sealord's guard and his lover in a tavern. The death was reportedly gruesome—limbs twisted by inhuman force.
Oberyn's men recruited him for his strength. Euron looked at him coldly. "The journey is long and dangerous. Loyalty is the first quality. How can I be sure you won't stab me in the back?"
Samuel met Euron's gaze without fear, only primitive calm. "My previous company, the 'Stone Crows,' can testify. I never betray companions."
Oberyn nodded; he had checked. Euron smiled. "Welcome aboard!"
7. Edwin Ramirez
From the Basilisk Isles, a former pirate captain with complex temperament. His mustache was always perked up like his uncrushed pride, but his deep eyes hid fear and paranoia.
Months ago, a cruel betrayal changed his life. His trusted crew stabbed him in the back and threw him into the sea. He floated for ten days, surviving on will and luck. He often touched his back subconsciously, eyes oscillating between trust and suspicion.
He rubbed his mustache, voice low with obsession: "I need money, enough money. Your commission is good." He looked past everyone, seemingly seeing the shadowed docks of the Basilisk Isles. "The Basilisk Isles are your last stop, but my starting point. I will go back, find those traitors one by one, slit their throats, take back my ship, and return to my sea."
"The Summer Sea of Sothoryos is a death riddle to others; to me, I can swim three laps with eyes closed. The Basilisk Isles are my home. I am the best guide."
Euron needed someone familiar with Sothoryos. If Edwin didn't lie, he was essential talent.
8. Gwendolyn
A Red Priestess of R'hllor from Asshai. Flames danced in her eyes, seemingly peeking at threads of fate untouchable by mortals.
Euron recruited her not out of faith, but cold curiosity.
He knew of Melisandre's terrifying power from the original story—prophecy, shadow manipulation, life theft. He didn't revere these powers, but ignoring them was fatal stupidity.
He didn't expect to learn these arts, but someone must understand their rules.
Gwendolyn was a firewall. Through her eyes, he would gain insight into light and shadow, guarding against being calculated by similar dark tricks in the future.
Knowledge of the enemy is a weapon.
9. Evelyn the Shadowbinder
Also from the Shadow Lands.
Always masked, covered in heavy dark fabric. Only her dark emerald eyes were visible—eyes sedimented with centuries of secrets, looking at people with inhuman calm and penetration.
Euron was intensely interested in her. He had a greedy curiosity for all rare, dangerous magical powers. Whether R'hllor's fire or the shadowbinder's tricks, they were forms of power worth understanding, dissecting, and mastering.
Oberyn could only shrug.
The Dornish Prince was well-traveled but couldn't understand Euron's obsession with such dark arts. But he said nothing, smiling helplessly—after all, Euron was the one paying. Euron was the boss. And the boss's will was the direction of the voyage.