The palace of Illyrio Mopatis glowed with the light of a hundred lanterns. Silk banners fluttered above the courtyard, and long tables groaned under the weight of roasted boar, spiced fish, and sugared fruits. The laughter of Pentoshi merchants mingled with the guttural tones of Dothraki horselords, a strange and uneasy harmony.
Leonidas entered with his phalanx at his back. Twelve bronze-clad Spartans, silent as statues, marched in lockstep. The sound of their sandals on the marble drew every gaze. Whispers rippled through the hall: Who are they? What soldiers dress in bronze and crimson? Are they mercenaries? Kingsguard?
Viserys strutted beside them, smug. He hadn't summoned Leonidas or his warriors, yet their presence gave him an air of importance. "See how they stare?" he hissed under his breath. "They already know the dragon has returned."
Leonidas said nothing. His eyes scanned the crowd like a hawk surveying a battlefield. His System whispered in his mind:
> [Danger Analysis: 14 concealed weapons detected. Probability of assassination attempt: 27%.]
He shifted his shield on his arm. The message was clear: vigilance.
At the head table, Daenerys sat draped in pale silk, a silver tiara gleaming against her hair. She looked small beneath the vaulted ceiling, yet her presence caught Leonidas more than the grandeur of the feast. She forced a smile when Viserys leaned close, but her eyes darted often to Leonidas, as if to anchor herself.
The feast began with Illyrio's booming voice. "Honored guests! Tonight, we welcome riders from the great Khal Drogo's khalasar, and celebrate the blood of old Valyria, here among us."
The crowd cheered. Drums beat. Dothraki horselords drank deep from golden cups, their braids heavy with bells.
Leonidas saw him then—Drogo. The khal sat apart, his long black braid spilling down his chest, his muscles gleaming with oil. He was young, fierce, every inch a predator at rest. His dark eyes moved across the tables until they found Daenerys.
Leonidas tensed.
The System pulsed.
> [Hidden Quest: "The Stallion Who Mounts the World." Condition: Prevent Daenerys' spirit from breaking.]
The khal's gaze lingered on her too long, possessive, weighing her like a prize mare. Leonidas' hand curled on his spear.
A bloodrider approached, swaggering toward the Spartans. He sneered at their armor, their silence, and reached out to shove one aside.
The Spartan did not move. His shield did.
CRACK.
The bloodrider staggered back, nose spurting blood. The hall fell silent for a heartbeat. Then the Dothraki roared, half in outrage, half in amusement.
Drogo tilted his head, curious. His lips curved, not in anger, but in interest.
Leonidas finally spoke, voice calm, carrying across the feast.
"Stand down."
His Spartan obeyed, returning to formation. Not a twitch of expression betrayed them.
Illyrio chuckled nervously, rising from his seat. "Ah, warriors will test warriors. A small misunderstanding, no insult meant!"
Drogo's dark eyes lingered on Leonidas. For the briefest moment, predator recognized predator. Then he drank from his cup, dismissing the matter.
The feast resumed, though tension hummed in the air.
Later, as Daenerys was led away, she glanced back once. Her violet eyes met Leonidas'. For the first time that night, her smile was real—small, fragile, but real.
The System chimed softly.
> [Bond Strengthened: Daenerys Targaryen – Trust +20]
[Reward: Spartan Phalanx Expansion – +6 Units Unlocked.]
Leonidas looked at the new warriors materializing in the shadows beyond the courtyard, shields gleaming in the torchlight. His army was growing.
And the game of thrones had only just begun.