Silk Street, inside one of the city's high-end establishments.
Night had fallen. Robert had one arm wrapped around a half-dressed beauty and the other raising a cup to Leo. A second woman of the same trade sat pressed against Leo's side, laughing and drinking right along with them.
Seven or eight years of corporate ladder-climbing back on Earth had taught Leo plenty about conversation and reading a room, even if he'd never been big on sucking up to the bosses. He and Robert had spent the whole afternoon knocking back drinks and talking like they'd known each other for years.
Robert felt the same. Age difference be damned—they got along like old drinking buddies.
"Can't keep up with you anymore!" Robert belched and pushed himself to his feet. "If I drink one more cup I'll be no good to these lovely ladies tonight."
He hooked an arm around the waist of the girl beside him, grabbed another by the hand, and shot Leo a drunken grin. "That's it for the feast! Time for me to have a much deeper conversation with these beauties. You should do the same—don't waste a night like this! Ha ha ha!"
Still laughing, Robert headed for the next room with two women on his arms and two more trailing behind. His two Kingsguard shadows followed him out.
Leo shook his head with a wry smile.
He'd always known Robert was a king who drowned himself in wine and women. Still, he never thought he'd end up getting invited by the king himself to help keep the local brothel in business.
At least it proved their relationship had taken another step forward.
Robert disappeared through the doorway. Leo glanced at the two women now sliding their hands over his chest and thighs.
"My lord… let's go have that deep conversation," one purred, already tugging at his belt. "I've been waiting all night."
"You're the youngest and best-looking client I've ever had," the other whispered, fingers drifting lower. "If it wasn't for work I'd never get a chance with a man like you… We can start right here if you want."
Leo's body reacted exactly as expected—little Leo was wide awake and ready to charge.
"Stop!" he said quickly.
No way was he failing this particular test.
He stood up, straightened his clothes, and looked over at Varyn, who had stood guard in the corner the entire time.
"Varyn, these two are yours. I'm stepping outside for some air."
He practically fled the perfumed room and stepped into the quiet courtyard.
Truth was, he wasn't against spending time with beautiful women. He was just… cautious.
These were professionals. In a world where medicine was basically medieval guesswork, one wrong night could leave him with something no amount of game-system healing would fix. He had no interest in dying young from some medieval STD.
Laughing and drinking with the king was one thing. Actually sleeping with the working girls? Hard pass.
Out in the courtyard Leo pulled a cup of pearl milk tea from his bag—fresh from the vendor NPC on his Grand Expedition Yak. Two gold and sixty silver for five cups. Fifty-two silver a pop. Insanely expensive for most people.
For a guy sitting on millions in game gold who could farm Westerosi silver like it was nothing, it was basically pocket change.
He sat on a stone bench, sipped the sweet drink, and stared up at the moon, thoughts drifting.
Almost a month in this world already. He'd found his footing, built a solid relationship with the king, and carved out a place for himself.
But the road ahead… what the hell was he supposed to do with it?
Sit back and watch the plot he already knew play out step by step? Or start changing things—save the people worth saving?
The second he meddled, the butterfly effect would kick in and he'd lose his biggest advantage: knowing the future. No one could predict what would happen after that.
But if he just let it all unfold… watched good people die because he refused to lift a finger… then what was the point of coming here at all?
If this were a web novel, the readers would roast him alive.
Lost in thought, Leo heard footsteps behind him.
The courtyard was huge and mostly empty—everyone else was inside enjoying themselves. No one else would be out here staring at the moon.
He turned.
A short, staggering figure emerged from the shadows.
Even from a distance, the height gave him away instantly.
When the man stepped into the moonlight, Leo's suspicion was confirmed: Tyrion Lannister. The Imp. Third son of Lord Tywin, brother to Cersei and Jaime.
Tyrion was a dwarf—short, thick legs, oversized head, heavy brow, and mismatched eyes, one black, one green. People called him the Imp or Halfman behind his back.
But being born a Lannister meant he'd lived long enough to drink in places like this. Any other family would have smothered or drowned a child like him at birth.
The Imp wobbled into the corner of the courtyard, yanked open his breeches, and started pissing without a care. He glanced over at Leo. "Apologies… couldn't hold it… hic!"
Leo didn't blink. Public urination was standard operating procedure in this world. Poor folk did it anywhere. It was half the reason King's Landing smelled like an open sewer.
Tyrion finished, laced up, and staggered over. He climbed onto the stone bench and studied Leo.
"I know you," he slurred. "You're that foreigner… Ser Neo, right?"
Leo smiled. "And I know you—Ser Tyrion of House Lannister. I've heard plenty about you. Never thought we'd meet for the first time in a place like this."
To anyone who'd watched the show, Tyrion was impossible to dislike. Small man, massive shadow.
The words "heard plenty" sounded like genuine respect to Leo.
To Tyrion they sounded like the usual mockery.
He gave a small, self-mocking smile. "I figured you'd use a different name for me. That's usually what people mean when they say they've 'heard plenty.'"
"After all… everyone does."