Morning came slowly to the camp of the Dying Spear Company. The air was cold, the ground dry, and the fires from last night still smoked faintly. Men were already awake, checking weapons and armor. They looked tired, but their movements were careful and focused. Something had changed in the night, and everyone felt it.
He woke inside his small tent. The dragon hatchling slept on his chest, warm and peaceful. During the night, it had crawled closer to him, as if seeking protection. He gently touched the small scales on its head. The creature opened one eye, then closed it again.
The system appeared in front of his eyes:
> [Dragon Bond: 32% — Hatchling trusts you]
[New Ability: Basic Defensive Instinct]
He put the dragon inside his cloak to keep it hidden and stepped outside.
---
Kharis, the commander, stood near a group of spearmen. When he saw the young man, he walked over.
"You felt it too?" Kharis asked.
"Yes," he answered. "Someone was watching us last night."
Kharis nodded. "The Red Wolves."
His voice was hard. "They are not scouts. They are killers. If they come near us, it means trouble."
He thought about the three men he had killed earlier. The egg he had taken. The dragon.
Maybe the Red Wolves were following the same trail.
Kharis put a hand on his shoulder. "Stay sharp. Wolves never stop unless they get what they want."
The young man nodded, but inside his mind other plans were forming.
This mercenary company was weak, unorganized, and unsure. But that also meant opportunity. If he learned how they worked, understood their problems, and solved them, he could rise quickly.
Influence.
Contacts.
Experience.
All of that could lead to something bigger.
A future army.
---
He walked toward the quartermaster, who was sorting through damaged equipment. The man looked annoyed.
"If you want more ingredients for soap," the quartermaster said, "I don't have much left."
The young man placed a small pouch of herbs and animal fat on the table.
"I collected these yesterday."
The quartermaster raised an eyebrow. "You work fast."
"Fast work is profitable," he answered simply.
He began mixing the ingredients, carefully watching the process. The system flickered again:
> [Crafting Skill Improved]
[Soap Making Lv.3 — Faster production]
Soon several mercenaries approached. They whispered among themselves.
"That's him. The fighter."
"He beat three men alone."
"He makes things too. Strange one."
One of the men stepped forward, nervous.
"Do you… take requests? For cleaning supplies? My armor smells like death."
"If you pay," he said.
The man nodded quickly and left.
The quartermaster smirked. "You're making a name for yourself. Men like stories. Stories make them follow."
"Stories can make enemies too," he replied without stopping his work.
---
By midday, he had made ten small bars of soap. Every single one sold within an hour. Mercenaries were rough men, but they understood the value of being clean. Infection killed faster than swords.
With the coins he earned, he bought a sharp dagger. It was not Valyrian steel, but it was good enough for now.
He was returning to his tent when he heard angry shouting on the far side of camp.
"You cheated me!"
"You got what you paid for!"
Two mercenaries were fighting. One had already knocked out a third man, and a fourth was bleeding. Kharis rushed in.
"Stop this!"
But one of the fighters ignored him and attacked again.
Before the blade struck, the young man moved.
He stepped forward, grabbed the attacker's wrist, twisted, and pushed him down. In one smooth motion, he pressed his dagger to the man's throat.
The entire camp froze.
Kharis stared.
"Well… looks like you're more useful than I thought."
The young man let the attacker go. "He would have killed him."
Kharis nodded. "True enough."
The system chimed again:
> [Close Combat Lv.2]
[Reputation +14 — Dying Spear Company]
[New Trait: Leadership Potential]
He inhaled slowly.
Leadership.
The system was beginning to see him not only as a survivor, but as someone capable of commanding others.
A path was opening.
---
That evening, a few mercenaries invited him to sit with them. They offered food and ale. It was a small sign of acceptance, but important.
"So," one asked, "where did you learn to fight like that?"
He smiled politely. "Long story."
"We have time," another said.
He shook his head. "But I prefer not to tell it."
The men laughed, and for the first time, he felt a little of the loneliness fade.
He listened to their stories—lost battles, old scars, broken dreams. They talked loudly, drank too much, and told jokes that made little sense. But they were human. Real. Flawed.
Men that could one day follow him.
After the fires burned low and most of the camp slept, he sat alone with the dragon hatchling. It rested its head on his knee.
"You're growing," he whispered. "And soon… the world will change because of you."
The hatchling tried to breathe fire, but only a puff of ash came out.
It sneezed, and he quietly laughed.
> [Dragon Bond: 40% — Obeys basic commands]
But the quiet did not last.
A loud whistle cut through the night.
He stood immediately.
Shadows moved along the edge of the camp. Kharis shouted orders, and men grabbed spears and shields. Torches lit the darkness.
The Red Wolves.
Not many—six men. A test attack.
Fast, trained, deadly.
The fight lasted minutes.
He ducked a blade, kicked an attacker behind the knee, slammed him into the dirt, and disabled him with a quick strike. Another Wolf leaped at him, but a spearman blocked it just in time.
Kharis roared, "Hold the line!"
Finally, the Wolves retreated, leaving two bodies behind.
The camp cheered. Weakly, but with relief.
Kharis approached him afterward.
"You fought like you knew their moves."
"I guessed," he answered.
"No. You analyzed."
The commander leaned closer. "You're not a simple mercenary. You're something else."
The system appeared again:
> [Influence: Dying Spear Company — 22%]
[New Path Unlocked: Mercenary Leadership]
His heart beat faster.
This world could break him.
Or he could shape it.
He returned to his tent, the dragon warm against his chest. Sleep came slowly, but when it did, he felt calm.
Tomorrow, he would begin to take control.
Step by step.
Coin by coin.
Victory by victory.
Essos was a hard land.
But he was harder.
And one day, the whole continent would know his name.