By noon everything was ready. Leo's crew rolled out of the riverside inn and headed down the Kingsroad toward King's Landing.
The group split in two.
Leo took the lead with the five sellswords in chainmail plus the eighteen farmers. They drove three wagons loaded with vegetables, food, and ale, moving slow up front.
The rest of the sellswords—including Griff—rode under Varyn's command. They stayed on horseback about two miles behind.
By now the men understood why Leo had hired them and why he'd ordered those crates packed with stones and dirt.
His plan was simple: use himself as bait. On the surface they were just hauling three wagons of produce to King's Landing. In reality the crates were supposed to look like treasure, luring the bandit crew out of the Kingswood for a robbery. Then the trailing sellswords would charge in and wipe the whole gang out.
"Stupid plan," Griff drawled from his saddle. "Any crew that's lasted years in the Kingswood without getting wiped out has eyes and ears everywhere. That riverside inn is busy as hell—those bandits already know every damn thing this young lord's been doing."
"Making a huge show of hiring all these sellswords and laborers, then thinking a couple crates of rocks and dirt will draw them out? Kid's dreaming."
Varyn, riding beside him, had his own doubts when Leo spelled the plan out in front of everyone. He didn't think it would work either.
He especially wanted to object when Leo said he'd be the bait himself, but Leo shut him down and told him he had it handled. Out of loyalty to his employer, Varyn kept quiet.
Still, he figured all the noise Leo was making meant the bandits would definitely hear about it. If they didn't take the bait, there'd be no ambush. Lord Neo would stay safe. That was good enough.
"Heh, the kid's naivety works for us," one of Griff's buddies chuckled. "Bandits don't bite, we just stroll along easy and pocket the fat pay. What's not to like?"
Griff burst out laughing. "Exactly! Might be the easiest, cushiest job we've ever taken."
Varyn just hoped it worked out that way. As long as Lord Neo stayed safe.
The five sellswords riding with Leo felt the same.
In their eyes a young noble like him was all talk—no real experience. If he actually wanted to set a trap he should've had the crates loaded in secret, made it look mysterious. Not have farmers packing stones right out in the open inn yard for everyone to see.
But hey, it worked out fine for them. Easy trip, big payday.
Leo himself rode a tall, powerful stallion, looking completely at ease.
The horse was one of the human racial mounts he'd summoned from his stable—a swift white stallion. Massive, pure white, no markings, decked out in gleaming barding that made it look majestic as hell.
Thanks to the game's riding bonuses, whenever Leo mounted any horse he felt perfectly in sync with it. He could control the animal effortlessly and pull off the kind of advanced maneuvers you only saw in stories.
His ornate Seventh Legion plate looked heavy and cumbersome, but to him it felt as light as regular clothes—no weight, no drag.
The Grand Marshal's longsword at his hip swung just as easy. He'd even tried bigger two-handed weapons from his collection; they balanced perfectly, never felt heavy.
Just another perk of being a game character, he figured.
Flashy armor, warhorse, and a face handsome enough to make men jealous—everyone around him couldn't help thinking the same thing: Yeah, that's what a real noble lord's son looks like. It made them all feel a little small.
The convoy rolled along quietly for over an hour. Then Leo suddenly raised his hand and called a halt.
"We'll camp here! Pick it up again tomorrow."
"My lord?" one sellsword asked, confused. "Sun's still high. We could easily go a few more hours."
"You heard me. I'm tired. Camp here."
Leo pointed to an open grassy spot off the road. "Set up over there."
The sellswords traded looks but obeyed. He was the one paying.
They got the farmers pitching camp. One man who could mimic bird calls sent the signal back to the rear group.
"What the hell? We've barely gone anywhere and he wants to camp already?"
The rear heard the distant calls, confirmed the prearranged signal, and started griping.
"Shut up and do your jobs," Varyn snapped. "Take your watch rotations and stay sharp."
Griff and his crew just smirked. "What's there to complain about? Longer he drags this out, the more pay we collect. Let him waste all the time he wants."
"Yeah! Hell, let it take forever—we'll eat his food forever too! Haha!"
The sellswords joked among themselves.
Varyn watched and felt more worried about Lord Neo than ever.
Up front, Leo didn't know what was happening behind him. While the others set up camp he took two sellswords and the wagon with the "treasure" crates and headed deeper into the woods.
Soon the two men frowned. Dried black bloodstains dotted the ground ahead. A fight had clearly happened here.
This was exactly where Leo had killed the three bandits. The blood was from that fight.
The bodies? Long gone. Forest scavengers had probably finished them off overnight.
"My lord?" one sellsword said, voice tight at the sight of the blood.
"Don't worry. Unload the crates and dump every stone and clump of dirt. Then get out of the woods and wait where you can't see me."
Dump the stones and dirt?
What the hell is this lord on about now?
The two sellswords shared a helpless look and did exactly what he said.
Once they were completely out of sight and Leo could no longer see them, he pulled an iron shovel from his bag—an ordinary long-handled tool that had dropped from a farmer in Tirisfal Glades back in the game.
"I went through all this trouble just to hook you bastards," Leo muttered. He found a good hidden spot and started digging, then refilled the crates with fresh stones and dirt.
A while later, sweating lightly, Leo had the crates full again and locked tight. He took a gold coin from his bag and tossed it into the hole he'd just dug.
"Alright, you can come back now!"
Leo shouted toward the treeline.