"I need men who'll fight for me and strong backs for the heavy work. Anyone with balls can step up and earn some real coin!"
"Sellswords with your own gear get six silver coins a day. Farmers willing to fight get two. Pure laborers—no combat—half a silver a day."
"Job runs three to five days. Good work gets bonuses. I only need twenty to thirty men total. Show up, do well, and I might keep you on long-term."
The common room exploded with cheers.
"M'lord, could we speak in private?"
Varyn cut in again, his face tight with something complicated.
Leo nodded, stood, and walked outside. Varyn shot Griff a look and followed.
They stopped under a tree a good twenty-five feet from the inn.
"M'lord, I'll be blunt," Varyn said. "Griff's a sly, greedy bastard. You can't trust him."
Leo didn't look surprised.
He'd already pegged the bearded man the second he bragged about serving in one of those Essos companies. Anyone who'd watched Game of Thrones knew the Brave Companions—Bloody Mummers—were nothing but cutthroats, exiles, and sadistic freaks.
Leo had zero respect for the guy. He was just curious why Varyn was sticking his neck out with the warning.
"Plus, we all caught your accent—you're not from around here," Varyn went on. "Griff hit you with ten silver stags a day because he figured you didn't know local rates. Two or three coins is already generous for men like us."
"And those silver pieces you're carrying? They're bigger and finer than regular stags. Two a day would already be damn good pay. You're offering way too much. I didn't want to call it out in front of everyone and kill their chance, but I couldn't watch you get fleeced either…"
Leo studied Varyn again.
Kid had some spine.
Truth was, Leo had no clue about local prices. He'd tossed out a World of Warcraft silver coin just to test if the game money would even pass here. To his surprise, it worked—and the buying power was insane.
With millions of gold sitting in his bag, he was richer than any lord in Westeros.
…Once he sorted out a proper noble identity, anyway.
He'd already planned to haggle Griff down to six silver. Turns out he was still overpaying.
But Varyn coming clean like this? The man was honest. Worth trusting.
"You read and write?" Leo asked. "Can you keep accounts?"
Varyn blinked, thrown off, then his eyes lit up. "Yes, m'lord! I learned some as a boy."
"Good."
Leo flipped him a gold coin. "You're my temporary commander and quartermaster now. Round up twenty to thirty men—fighters, laborers, and a few wagons. We move out first light tomorrow. Every expense goes in the books. Run short on coin, come straight to me."
"Understood, m'lord! Should I lower the wages to something more reasonable?"
"No need. When Neo Presto gives his word, it's iron. I don't break it."
"As you command, m'lord!" Varyn bowed slightly. "From today, Varyn Storm serves you—Lord Neo Presto. If I may ask… where are you from? Or could you tell me a little about your house? It'll help me introduce you properly."
Leo nodded.
"I hail from a land far to the east—farther than even Asshai-by-the-Shadow. A great empire called the Great Tang. My father is Duke Ni Shiming. He rules lands larger than any of the Seven Kingdoms combined. Our house is ancient and noble, thousands of years old."
"As the second son, I can't inherit his titles or domains. So I set out with several thousand elite troops and wealth beyond counting to seek adventure across the world. We ran into a storm at sea. I lost contact with my men and servants and washed up here alone. That's the short of it."
Out here in the world, you make your own identity.
The second Leo realized he was in Westeros, he'd started building a backstory that fit. A name that sounded right—Neo was close enough to his own and had that Matrix edge. Presto came straight from Onyxia's human alias back in Stormwind. Since he'd need her help to climb in this world, it made sense to use the name.
The rest—second son of a powerful duke, thousands of crack troops, lost at sea—was pure crafted bullshit.
It painted him as a stranded but extremely well-connected young noble.
Perfect for recruiting.
"Alright, let's head back in."
Leo caught the spark of excitement on Varyn's face, gave a satisfied nod, and turned toward the inn.
Varyn stood there a moment longer, face priceless.
A duke's second son? Thousands of elite soldiers and untold riches? This really was a big shot.
Stick with him and maybe—maybe—he could finally escape the miserable life of a wandering sellsword. Hell, he might even become a lord himself one day.
He glanced down at the coin in his palm. His eyes widened. It was a beautifully crafted gold piece, larger and finer than any gold dragon he'd ever seen.
Looked like he'd bet on the right man.
Varyn hurried after Leo. The moment the two stepped back into the common room, every eye in the place locked onto them again.