The tourney held for Prince Joffrey's nameday finally came to an end.
Barristan Selmy, the old lion still full of fight, unhorsed the young powerhouse Neo and claimed the championship.
The instant Leo hit the dirt, hundreds of bettors hurled their tickets, flowers, and whatever else they were holding into the lists, groaning in disappointment.
Casual fans saw only the spectacle. The sharp-eyed nobles noticed the details.
Neo wasn't riding his usual dazzling white stallion. A strange mount throws off any rider's timing and balance. Even so, the match went several solid passes, lances snapping one after another before the final tilt decided it.
Keen observers also caught how Leo's movements looked a little stiff when he dismounted, how his steps were unsteady, and how he pulled off his helm looking ready to puke.
Some blamed the brutal group melee the day before—maybe hidden injuries. Others figured he'd simply drunk too much at last night's feast.
None of it changed the result.
Or the outcome of the side bets.
So the crowd split: suspicion, disappointment, excitement, and a few people quietly gloating.
Prince Joffrey was the happiest of all. The second Leo crashed to the ground he shot to his feet, cheering loud for Barristan.
He wasn't actually happy for the old knight. With Robert right there, Joffrey kept it restrained. On the surface he cheered the winner. In truth he was thrilled to watch Neo humiliated in front of the entire kingdom.
Finally, you got what you deserve, Neo.
That was exactly what ran through Joffrey's head.
Robert, who already knew how the match would end, watched stone-faced and gave the victory to Barristan in a flat, short announcement. He still remembered to order men to help Neo up and take him to Grand Maester Pycelle for a check.
Leo wasn't hurt at all.
Two months training under Barristan had built real trust between them. The final unhorsing had been a clean, practiced move they both understood. Leo's system-boosted body—stamina near 16—let him roll with the impact the instant he hit the dirt. Not a scratch.
Even if he had been injured, he sure as hell wasn't letting Pycelle anywhere near him. The wheezing old maester was Tywin Lannister's planted nail in the Red Keep. Between the era's poppy milk and bloodletting "cures," Leo wasn't touching that.
When Leo strolled back into Robert's presence looking perfectly fine, the king exhaled in relief and shot Varys a pointed look that clearly said hurry the hell up with that investigation.
With the tourney over, everyone returned to the Red Keep for the grand closing feast.
Anyone paying attention noticed the security had been quietly cranked up several notches. Kingsguard and gold cloaks patrolled tighter than ever. Every dish from the kitchens went through multiple checks and a taster before it reached the tables under armed watch.
The feast itself stayed loud and merry—laughter, toasts, everyone celebrating the nameday tourney in their own way.
Leo was seated at the table closest to Robert, the picture of royal favor. Lords and knights lined up to toast him. By the end he was "blackout drunk" again and had to be carried back to the Sapphire Inn.
The moment the door of his private courtyard closed, Leo's eyes snapped open clear and sharp. He told Varyn to guard the entrance—no one comes near.
Back inside his bedchamber he opened the system Collections tab and spoke softly.
"Catriona… can you hear me?"
Catriona was the name Onyxia used in her human countess form.
Ever since the night she'd agreed to the three favors and signed the Dragon Blood Contract, she had flown off to explore the world. This was the first time Leo had tried reaching her through the system.
The poisoning attempt had hammered home how alone and vulnerable he really was. One dose of the right toxin and he could be dead before he knew it. He needed to feel safe, and the only one who could give him that right now was the black dragon princess who had crossed worlds with him.
Her voice answered almost immediately inside the system. "What? You finally thought of something for me to do? Wait there—I'm flying back right now."
The speed of her reply and the fact she was ready to drop everything warmed something in Leo's chest.
"No, no, I'm fine! You don't have to come back right now," he said quickly.
Onyxia went quiet for a beat, then the familiar angry roar came through. "Then why the hell are you calling me? Are we that close? If I'd known it was nothing I wouldn't have bothered!"
Leo grinned despite himself; her temper actually made him feel better. "Can't I just want to talk? You sounded pretty worried about me a second ago."
"Who's worried about you?!" The roar stretched out, pure indignation. "Stupid mortal! Watch your tone! I only want to finish those three tasks and be done with this cursed contract. If the binding force wasn't holding me, I'd be happy to watch you drop dead!"
"All right, all right." Leo shook his head. He'd thought their relationship had thawed a little, but she was still as prickly as ever.
"Actually… I did run into trouble. I was just lucky enough to dodge it."
He told her everything—the poisoned horse, the poisoned breakfast, the servant found floating in the Blackwater.
Onyxia listened in silence.
When he finished she sounded impatient. "Why are you making this so complicated? I already promised you three favors. First one: I burn the current king to ash and you take the Iron Throne. Simple."
"These past few days I've been watching. This world is stuck in a low-magic age. No powerful magical creatures, no gods walking around. Ordinary humans are pathetically weak."
"Or maybe the low magic cuts the gods off in whatever higher dimension they live in. Even I can barely use most of my spells. But that doesn't matter. As the Black Dragon Princess, my body and my dragonflame are more than enough to wipe any kingdom off the map—just like the dragons that used to rule this place."
Her voice grew more excited with every word.
"So? How about it?"
"Want to accept my proposal? Let me put you on the Iron Throne."
"Consider it the first favor I owe you."