The two sellswords came jogging at Leo's shout.
On his orders they loaded the crates back onto the wagon and drove it straight back to camp.
Everything looked exactly like nothing had happened.
The two men were still scratching their heads over Leo's weird commands.
That night they sat by the fire, talking low.
"You think… what Lord Neo did this afternoon…?"
"Shh—keep it down. I think I've got it figured out."
"You do?"
"Yeah. If I'm right, those crates are packed with real treasure now."
"What the hell?"
"Shh! Why you jumping like that? Listen, I'll lay it out…"
"First, we both saw the bloodstains on the ground back there. Fight couldn't have been more than two days old. Lord Neo said he and his servants got jumped by bandits, right? I bet that was the exact spot."
"Then remember at the inn—he had those farmers packing crates with stones and dirt right out in the open yard where everybody could see. Who hauls crates of rocks and mud to King's Landing?"
"Finally, sun still high and he suddenly calls camp. Takes just us two into the woods, makes us dump everything, won't let us watch, then we haul those heavy crates back onto the wagon."
"You tell me—is the man bored? Dumped the dirt and packed the crates with dirt again? So now you get what's really inside them?"
The first sellsword looked like he'd solved the whole mystery.
The second one's eyes went wide. "I got it!"
"That spot was where Lord Neo buried his real treasure! When the bandits hit him and his men, he hid the crates in the chaos!"
The first sellsword nodded like a proud teacher. "Smart boy."
"Everything at the riverside inn was pure theater—hiring all those men, bragging he'd wipe out the bandits, then openly packing stones and dirt. Smoke and mirrors. That inn's full of eyes and ears. The Kingswood crew definitely has a spy or two planted there."
"So the bandits heard we've got muscle and the crates are full of junk. They lose interest. We roll through clean with the real gold."
The second sellsword let out a low whistle. "These noble lords really do think ten moves ahead. Those crates felt heavy—who knows how many gold dragons are in there?"
The first sellsword frowned. "None of our business. We're sellswords. We take the coin and do the job."
"Just wondering…"
"Finish eating and let's do a quick patrol. No surprises."
…
They thought they were whispering, but a farmer pretending to sleep a few yards away caught every word.
Late that night, once the whole camp was dead asleep, the farmer slipped past the watch and melted into the trees.
He found the hole Leo had dug and spotted the gold coin glittering in the moonlight.
"A gold dragon?"
He snatched it up, turned it in the light, bit it hard, and grinned when it passed every test.
"Sneaky bastard of a noble. Almost fooled me."
The man smiled wide. He was the spy the local bandit crew kept near the riverside inn.
By day he played the honest farmer. Whenever a rich mark showed up, he sent word. After the robbery the bandits cut him in so he could live easy for a while.
When Varyn started hiring, he volunteered and slipped right into the crew.
Now he stared at a gold coin bigger and finer than any he'd ever seen and his grin split his face.
If those crates were full of coins like this, he and the boys would never have to work again.
He unhooked the small birdcage from his belt, opened the door, and let the bird fly. It would head straight back to the bandit camp—that was the signal a fat target was on the road.
Then he crept back into camp, gold coin clutched tight, and slept like a baby.
None of it made a sound.
And every bit of it was exactly what Leo had planned.
When he killed those three bandits in the woods that first day, he had no backstory, no servants, and a bag full of millions in gold. He needed a story that made sense.
So he built the foreign noble who got robbed right after landing, secretly buried his treasure chests, then had to hire protection to reach King's Landing.
It also gave him the perfect chance to fish for bandits and grind some easy experience.
Of course he wasn't dumb enough to load the real crates with his actual gold. If the bandits came hard and things went sideways, losing chests of gold would sting.
After thinking it through he came up with this layered trap—real and fake mixed together.
If it hooked the bandits and let him farm exp, great. If his guess was wrong and they had no spy at the inn, he could still roll into King's Landing with "treasure" crates and his noble cover would stay rock solid.
The foreign-lord identity was now locked in.
…
Deep in a cave on a Kingswood hill, a bandit lieutenant saw the returning bird and pulled a short piece of straw from its leg. His face lit up and he ran deeper into the cave.
He found the real boss—a big, one-eyed brute.
The one-eyed man took the straw, measured it against a copper star in his palm, and laughed out loud.
"Only five guards? And gold? Perfect. Wake everybody early—full breakfast, then we ride."
The straw was their code. Length meant number of guards; the straw itself meant gold. Most of the crew couldn't read, so this was how they talked.
One bandit who'd been drinking spoke up fast. "Boss, I left the inn at first light. I saw those crates packed with nothing but stones and dirt. They split up—wagons in front, a dozen armed sellswords behind. Looked like they were coming straight for us."
The boss shook his head, completely sure of himself. "You think I missed that? But the kid's whole act is full of holes and weird shit."
"If he was really hunting us he wouldn't pack stones in front of everybody. He'd let us see the money to pull us in. The way he did it just made me curious."
"Now the inside man confirms it. His real plan is to get that gold safely to King's Landing."
"And splitting the group makes it easy. Tomorrow we all move—thirty-plus men, plus the ambush. We'll hit them before they know what's coming."
"Then finish it quick before the rear group can catch up."
"This one's ours."