The first thing Leo understood about Westeros was simple:
This world owed him nothing… and it would kill him fast if he slipped.
No safety nets.
No hospitals.
No civilization for miles.
The North was a hostile, endless maze of pines, snow, predators, and desperate people.
He wasn't a hero. He wasn't a soft-hearted modern guy dropped into a fantasy world.
Leo was a survivor.
A predator.
And this land would learn to fear him.
THE WILDERNESS BECOMES HIS TRAINING GROUND
For the entire first month, Leo vanished into the deep woods.
He trained like a machine:
Sprinting through knee-deep snow
Climbing frozen cliffs
Sharpening combat instincts
Practicing knife-work until the blades hummed
Forcing his body to adapt to the terrain
The Super Soldier Serum coursing through him kept the cold from killing him.
He could feel it—he wasn't immune, but hypothermia came slower, frostbite delayed, shivering weaker.
Enough to survive.
Enough to hunt.
Enough to move like a ghost in this frozen world.
HUNTING THE FREE FOLK
He searched the forests for Wildling tracks.
And he found them—sloppy trails, trampled snow, bone fires, thin smoke lines.
At each camp he struck fast.
Silent.
Efficient.
Ruthless.
He killed the ones who attacked him, stole their gold, furs, weapons, and food.
He didn't pretend they were innocent.
Most of them would've killed him for sport.
And he had no intention of letting anyone get close enough to skin him alive like they tried in Game of Thrones.
Dragonfare, the System called it.
The same logic: survive or die screaming.
By day 20, he'd hit seven Wildling camps.
He had coin.
He had pelts.
He had weapons.
And more importantly—
He had information.
LEARNING THE LAND
Through interrogation, intimidation, and observation, he pieced together his location.
The rivers.
The treelines.
The slope of the distant hills.
The gap between two mountains.
Everything painted one picture:
He was living in the forests surrounding Winterfell.
Not too close—maybe two to three days on foot—but close enough that patrols or hunters could have stumbled across him.
But no one did.
His tracks were covered.
His base was hidden.
His scent and heat were faint because the cold muted everything.
And the Serum made him quiet, controlled, efficient.
THE NORTH IN HIS MIND
From the people he questioned—Wildlings, deserters, and wanderers—he built a mental map:
Major Northern Houses Nearby
House Stark — Winterfell, the regional center
House Bolton — The Dreadfort, to the east
House Umber — Last Hearth, north-east
House Karstark — Karhold, north-east
House Mormont — Deep in the west forests, Bear Island across the water
Threat Level
The Starks weren't a threat yet—but getting captured by them would ruin everything.
The Boltons were sadists; he would kill them without hesitation if they got in his way.
Wildling tribes were scattered, starving, dangerous.
Deserters from the Night's Watch wandered the woods like rabid dogs.
The White Walkers? Not yet. Maybe whispers. Maybe scouts. But still far north.
Enough enemies to keep him sharp.
Enough space to grow.
THE INFORMATION NETWORK
Leo never trusted people.
But he understood value.
He didn't torture the young Wildling scouts he captured.
He didn't kill their elders if they surrendered.
Instead, he offered something they never expected from a lone killer:
A deal.
Food.
Furs.
A safe fire for one night.
A direction to avoid being hunted.
In return?
Rumors.
Movements of camps.
Talk of deserters.
Changes in the forest.
Tracks of large groups heading south.
A small network.
Not loyal—fearful.
Obedient.
Useful.
Knowledge was power.
And he collected it like gold.
THE NAME THAT BURNED IN HIS MIND
Walder Frey.
"Old bastard had a chance to kill the Starks," Leo muttered while skinning a deer.
"And he will again."
Not yet.
He wasn't ready.
He needed time, strength, resources, and a plan.
But one day…
Walder Frey would die screaming.
Leo promised himself that.
END OF THE FIRST MONTH
Leo's checklist:
✔ Stronger
✔ Armed
✔ Fed
✔ Hidden base established
✔ Map of the area
✔ Knowledge of Northern houses
✔ Information network
✔ Raided multiple Wildling camps
✔ Near Winterfell
✔ Cold-resistant thanks to the Serum
✔ Growing reputation as a shadow in the woods
He looked south.
Sooner or later, he'd have to step out of the forest.
But not yet.
Not until he was strong enough to kill anyone who tried to stop him.