The next morning Leo rode out with Varyn and the three remaining armored sellswords. They rounded up some horses and oxen from the bandit cave, loaded the heavy crates and wine barrels, the bandits' stored food, and everything else worth taking, then headed back to camp.
Varyn and the three had already piled the dead bandits and the traitorous sellswords together and burned the bodies to ash. With Leo's quiet nod they had stripped the corpses first; whatever valuables they found went straight into the four men's pockets.
They also pulled a single gold coin off Griff's body and handed it back to Leo. It was the same coin Leo had given the guide. Griff had obviously murdered the man in secret and taken it.
On the ride back Leo sat atop his swift white stallion, turning the gold coin over in his fingers, mind churning.
Money really does twist men.
The whole damn mess—bandits attacking, Griff's betrayal, the guide's death—every drop of blood came down to greed for gold.
Or maybe just plain human nature.
If lowborn scum acted like that, how much worse were the actual lords and kings of Westeros?
In the game of thrones every named player, willing or not, ended up in the same deadly scramble for power. Most met sudden, ugly ends.
Leo knew that once he reached King's Landing he would have to play the game too.
He had foreknowledge of the story, but his presence would change things. He had to stay razor-sharp. One wrong step could mean total ruin.
Just like last night. Without Varyn's loyalty and that lucky shout, he might have woken up with a knife in his throat.
He could always skip King's Landing and stay clear of the storm.
But that would end even worse. A foreigner with no allies would be eaten alive.
Besides, what kind of transmigrator with a system and a dragon would hide forever? People would laugh him into the grave.
No. His plan was set: reach King's Landing, find a strong patron, and become a real Westerosi lord.
Then grow slow and quiet while he figured out how to make peace with Onyxia.
When the War of the Five Kings tore the realm apart, he would raise his banner, use Onyxia as his trump card, and seize the greatest possible power—maybe even the Iron Throne itself.
That was the road Leo meant to walk.
…
Lost in those thoughts, he finally reached camp.
The two sellswords and farmers left behind listened wide-eyed while Varyn told them what had happened in the bandit cave. When they saw the heavy crates and barrels being unloaded, their jaws dropped. They could only imagine how much treasure was inside.
But not one of them showed a trace of greed. Griff's fate was still fresh. They kept their heads down and mouths shut, perfectly happy to collect the fat daily wage Leo had promised.
That night, after supper, Leo gathered Varyn and the remaining five sellswords.
"You all know I'm a foreigner who lost contact with my own men after landing in Westeros. I need to build a loyal crew from scratch.
"Later I plan to compete in the king's tourney and earn myself a noble title here in the Seven Kingdoms. I intend to become a proper lord of Westeros. Stick with me and you won't just get steady, honorable work—you might even become knights one day, or minor lords."
"What do you say?"
Their eyes lit up with excitement as they glanced at each other.
Varyn, sharp as ever, dropped to one knee first. He drew his sword, raised it overhead with both hands, and spoke.
"Lord Neo! I, Varyn Storm, swear by the Seven: from this day forward my sword is yours. I will guard your life with my own and cut down any enemy before you. Even if blades pierce my chest, I will never take a single step back!"
"Very good." Leo took the sword and rested the flat of the blade on Varyn's shoulder.
"I, Neo Presto, swear by the gods and the honor of my house: I accept your oath. You shall always have a place at my hearth and share meat and wine at my table. As second son of Duke Ni Shiming Presto, I grant you the title of knight."
Varyn's whole body shook. He looked up, stunned. "My lord… this… I am not worthy…"
Leo smiled and pulled him to his feet. "No false modesty. You proved your loyalty and honor when Griff betrayed me. This is what you deserve."
The other five sellswords watched with open envy.
One by one they drew their swords, knelt, and swore their loyalty.
Leo accepted their oaths with a satisfied smile.
He did not knight the other five—they hadn't earned it yet. Knighting Varyn was also meant to light a fire under them.
He had already seen Varyn's true character. For a common sellsword and a bastard, the man had real honor and a sense of duty. That was why he had stepped between Leo and Griff's blade.
In this world some men valued honor more than life itself. Others cared only for profit and had no bottom line.
Varyn clearly belonged to the first group.
That was exactly why Leo wanted him as a sworn man.
"Alright. You are now my sworn retainers, men of House Presto. I will not treat you poorly."
Leo pulled out the same handful of gold coins he had used earlier and handed them to Varyn.
"Take two for yourself. Give one to each of the others. Keep the rest. You're in charge of our daily expenses from now on. If you run low, come to me."
The men grinned like kids on nameday and swore their thanks and loyalty all over again.
"Good. Get a solid night's rest. We ride for King's Landing at first light."
"Yes, my lord!"