Leo's plan was simple.
Stick to the original idea: keep the dragon completely hidden for now. Start as an ordinary noble, climb the ladder one rung at a time, win the respect of the other lords—including King Robert—and slowly build real power. Once the War of the Five Kings kicked off, he'd be ready to grab the biggest slice of the pie.
If he could somehow win Onyxia over in the next few years, even better.
Worst case, he could use his foreknowledge of the plot like every other transmigrator and back Daenerys across the Narrow Sea. Marry the Dragon Queen and still end up on top of the world.
For right now, he'd use the flashy Seventh Legion plate on his back and the millions of gold in his bag to sell the "exotic eastern noble" story hard.
He also needed to grind levels. Every level-up boosted his stats and skills. With luck he'd eventually unlock every warrior ability in the book.
This was a world where strength ruled. Good combat skills could save his life when things turned ugly.
That was exactly why he'd put on that show at the inn the night before.
A lone noble with no retainers? Not happening. Drop a little coin, recruit some muscle, and get moving.
There was one more reason.
According to the third bandit, King Robert was throwing a tourney in King's Landing in two months to celebrate his son Joffrey's nameday.
Leo saw it as the perfect opening—a chance to rub shoulders with the realm's top players.
But to make any impression at a tourney like that, he needed real fighting ability. Something that would make the king and every lord in attendance sit up and take notice.
So he was going to wipe out a bandit gang in the Kingswood.
The terrified third bandit had spilled everything. The three of them belonged to a crew of thirty-odd outlaws hiding in the forest. They made their living jumping fat travelers on the road. Leo planned to hire some men, set a trap, and clear the whole group out. Easy experience, maybe two more levels.
That decision had been made on the ride to the inn.
Clearing bandits might put him back in danger, but skipping it meant no experience and no way to get stronger.
It was also perfect live-fire training. Without real combat experience, the next serious fight could end a lot worse.
After dinner and a quick look through the system, Leo had gone to bed still wearing his full armor, sword clutched in his arms, and slept like the dead.
The night passed without incident.
When he woke, the sky was already bright. He checked his gear and the single hair he'd stuck across the door latch as a cheap alarm—nothing had been touched. Only then did he breathe easy.
Down in the common room, Varyn was already waiting. Scattered around the tables were a dozen or so sellswords.
"Good morning, m'lord!"
Varyn stood the second he saw Leo coming down the stairs and hurried over with his report. The rest of the room turned to watch. In the morning light, Leo's armor practically glowed. Most faces showed clear anticipation.
Working for a lord this generous was going to pay well.
Including Varyn himself, he'd rounded up twenty-one armed sellswords and eighteen farmers looking to earn some silver.
It was the opposite of what Leo had expected—more fighters, fewer laborers. Still, twenty-one armed men was plenty.
"M'lord, the crew's all here. What's the job?"
So far Leo hadn't told anyone what they'd actually be doing. Varyn wanted details.
"Simple. King Robert's about to hold a tourney in King's Landing, right? I want to see it. But the road from here isn't safe—I already ran into bandits once. That's why I'm hiring protection to get me there."
That was it?
The sellswords grinned. Sounded like easy money—just escorting a rich kid down a short stretch of road.
A couple—Griff and his buddies—looked faintly contemptuous. In their eyes the little lord was a coward, paying a small fortune for dozens of guards on such a safe route.
Clearly still shaken from his earlier run-in.
Even Varyn thought Leo was overdoing it. Did it really take this many men just to reach King's Landing?
Anyone listening would think he was planning to clear out a bandit camp.
"When do we leave, m'lord?"
"No rush."
Leo waved him off, sat down, and crooked a finger at the innkeeper. The man scurried over, all smiles.
"What can I do for you, m'lord?"
"Same as yesterday—feed every man I hired. Good food, plenty of ale. We travel better on full stomachs."
"Understood, m'lord!"
The innkeeper beamed at the promise of more business.
"And…" Leo paused. "Get me a couple of wagons. Load them with vegetables, pork, ale—whatever you can find. Some for the road, the rest we can sell once we reach King's Landing. Also—"
"Find me a few sturdy wooden crates. I've got a use for them. Varyn, go with the innkeeper and make it happen."
Varyn didn't understand why, but he nodded and followed the innkeeper out.
The rest of the men heard they were getting another free meal and broke into cheers, loudly praising Leo's generosity.
Soon baskets of bread, pots of stew, and mugs of ale were flying out from the kitchen. The common room turned loud and cheerful again as everyone dug in.
Leo sat alone at his table, quietly sipping the mint honey tea he'd pulled from his bag.
A short while later Varyn returned driving a wagon. Several large wooden crates sat in the back.
"M'lord, the innkeeper's still out buying the vegetables and pork. I brought the crates first."
Leo stepped into the yard and inspected them.
"Well done."
He pointed at the farmers squatting nearby, also part of his new crew.
"You lot—take these crates and fill them. Stones, dirt, whatever. Pack them heavy. The heavier the better."