Chapter 15: City of Kings Part 3

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…

Lady Catelyn shifted in her seat, nervously fiddling her hands about on her and focusing her gaze to the large open window in Littlefinger's office. Her gaze shifted to Sir Rodrik who pacing around the room, the old yet experienced master-at-arms seeming restless after leaving Flea Bottom. Yet what had the noblewoman nervous was Geralt himself who was leaned back by the wall near the door, his calm yellow eyes set on her unblinking.

"It isn't needed for you to guard me Geralt. Rodrik is more than capable while we wait for my husband."

Geralt didn't answer, staying silent which was unnerving for the woman.

"I don't understand this treatment. I am thankful Lord Petyr has taken us under his protection…even if I wish we did not have to stay at a brothel."

The Witcher still said nothing. Again Catelyn shifted in her seat uncomfortably.

"My reasons for coming here were just. Ned needed to be warned and shown proof that the Lannister's are behind it all. Jon Aryan's death, Bran's fall and the attempt on his life. I know the Lannisters are behind it!"

"Yet are you willing to bet the lives of your family on that?" Geralt finally answered back, voice calm and serious. "I'll admit the Lannister's are the prime suspects, yet we can rush making accusations." He'd step closer to her, continuing to speak. "If you were so concerned, why not send extra men from the North with the dagger in hand."

"I had to be certain it was delivered and Ned warned!" She quickly answered back.

"Despite the risk of being noticed? If you were spotted you could have tipped off the conspirators who would no doubt plan to counter us or be fearful enough to take more aggressive actions be it towards you, Eddard or your daughters."

Catelyn was silent for a moment, a troubled look on her face. "I thought it was the best choice."

Before anyone could say anything more, there'd be a suddenly yell and grunt outside along with a hushed angry voice. "You're a funny man you know that?!"

Catelyn and Geralt both recognized that voice, yet before the Witcher could move the woman was already at the open window. She'd lean out, giving a small gasp before speaking out. "Ned!"

Geralt was close behind her, looking out to see Lord Stark with one hand around Littlefinger's throat, the man struggling and gasping for breath. The instant Ned saw his wife, the fierce look on his face was gone. The iron grip on Lord Baelish's throat quickly let go as the man hurried into the brothel, Littlefinger following close behind after catching his breath. Yet Geralt did just catch a few words the man muttered.

"…quick tempers and slow minds…" Petyr muttered, a small smirk of amusement just on his lips.

It didn't take long for the two to arrive at the study, Ned rushing in and gazing at Catelyn. For a moment the two stared at each other before hurrying to embrace, sharing a short kiss. They whispered words to each other which Geralt try not to pry on, knowing it be rude to do so. When Littlefinger at last entered, the two would shift away, yet remain close besides each other as they'd faced the Master of Coin.

"As you can see. She is here as I promised." Baelish remarked. "If anything you should thank Geralt for finding her."

Ned glanced at the Witcher, giving a short thankful nod before guiding his wife to the nearby chair once more. "We have a lot to talk about Cat." He said as he'd stand before her.

"I know…" She sighed, seeming calmer now with her husband was with her.

Geralt stepped up, his serious look softening slightly. "Guess we should start with the attack that happened back in Winterfell. Was there anything special about the man who attacked you?"

She'd nod. "It was late at night. Robb and I were with Bran who was still asleep from his fall. The fire bell was run as one of the yard stables was suddenly ablaze. Robb hurried out to help and lead the men, while I stayed with Bran." She'd take a steady breath. "Then the stranger came in. He was dirty, wearing a hooded outfit. He seemed surprised that I was there said 'I wasn't supposed to be here'."

"Interesting…seems like he wasn't planning on killing anyone else." Geralt remarked.

Catelyn continued to speak. "He claimed Bran was already dead and that this was a mercy before he…drew that dagger. I got in his way and we struggled. He tried to kill me yet I…stopped the dagger…" She'd hold up her hands, still bandaged up.

"I'll need to look at those later. I know Luwin no doubt tended to them yet the healing seems to be slow."

"Thank you Geralt." She muttered. "In the end the assassin knocked me aside before Summer attacked and killed him. He was inches from Bran and…" She'd take a deep shaky breath while Ned put a reassuring hand on her shoulder, muttering something to her.

At this point Geralt took the time to examine the infamous dagger up close. Indeed it was a fine weapon in deadly quality and artistic design. His attention did shift to Rodrik who had been quiet for most of the day, making him wonder what was on the Master-of-Arms mind. "Something bothering you?"

The old knight sighed and nodded. "Just this whole matter. I understand Catelyn's drive to find the truth behind Bran's crippling, yet feel coming here was a mistake." He muttered. "I tried to dissuade her at first, but she was committed to coming to the capital. While I wished to stay and guard Bran, I couldn't help Lady Catelyn travel alone."

Geralt knew that Rodrik understood the issues this journey meant, along with how it conflicted with his sense of duty. "Don't be hard on yourself. You did well to keep Lady Catelyn safe and hidden during the long trip here." He assured the knight. "Just be sure to be as dutiful when you're heading back to Winterfell."

"Heh…that will be a journey back for sure. Yet I do feel it maybe a while before we leave the capital. Catelyn hardly slept the whole trip and traveled hard once we were on the road."

Looking at the woman, the exhausted hints showed more. The dark circles hinting under her eyes and her body shook a bit from stress. It surprised him she had hidden this for the last few hours, yet only now during a moment of peace did it show. A bit of guilt was felt for being harsh towards her, yet he felt being serious with her had made his points clear.

Turning to Ned and Catelyn, he'd move up to the woman. "Let me see your hands."

She'd nod as she held them out, letting him unwrap the bandages which were quite new. No doubt Rodrik used what basic training he had to ensure her injury was at least tended. Seeing the cut, the skin was still red and gashes still deep even with the stitching Luwin had done over a month ago.

"Nearly cut to the bone no doubt. Valyrian steel can cut through armor with ease…flesh is like butter for it." He muttered. "Flex your hands. How is your feeling? Any pain or numbness?"

The woman opened and closed her hands, wincing a bit when she tried to close them into fists. "Hurts when I try to do that or grip anything tightly. I can't feel much at the center of the palms."

"Must have cut the muscles badly, no doubt from you grabbing the blade. Will take a long time to fully heal, yet could have some permanent damage. Won't know for a few months."

Catelyn nodded while letting him rewrap the bandages. Ned had a troubled look, a hint of anger showing in his eyes over this news. "Is there any treatments that can help?"

"Constant attention by a Maester would be recommended yet I do have some formula and herbs to make specialized ointments. I'll have some prepared by tomorrow at the least."

"Good. We'll need to find a place for her to stay and rest for a while. It will give us time to plan a quick and discrete way for her and Rodrik to leave the city.

At this point Petyr spoke up. "I'd be glad to accommodate Catelyn for as long as needed. I have more comfortable and secret places for her to stay, away from the prying eyes of the Lannisters." Pausing, he'd think for a moment. "In fact I have a plan of how to get her out of the city."

"Interesting. What do you have in mind?" Geralt questioned.

"In little over a week the tournament in honor of Ned will be hosted. During that time the city and royal guard will be busy with the event's security and keeping the common people in line during it." Littlefinger explained. "The day of the Melee will be the busiest, giving Lady Catelyn the perfect chance to slip out of the city."

Both Ned and Geralt looked to each other, speaking in low voices. "Would it work?" Eddard questioned.

"The Melee is the most popular event from what the rumors say. Fifty of the land's most skilled knights and warriors battling it out will draw a large crowd. Besides they no doubt need the extra men to ensure no foul play happens." Geralt answered back.

Eddard thought for a moment, glancing slightly at Petry who was beside Catelyn, the two sharing a private conversation, yet the noblewoman had quite the thankful look on her face. "Tell me…do you trust him?"

The question was suddenly, yet Geralt could understand why. From the moment Ned and Littlefinger had met there was a quick distrust between them. It was obvious both men loved Catelyn, yet Petyr held a deep affection which the woman seemingly didn't notice. Whatever past the two had seemed to remain to a degree, yet the man had a more romantic longing still for the married woman.

"I don't, yet we have few options. You and he may have differences, yet he does care for your wife's wellbeing. At least take advantage of that."Geralt whispered back.

Ned sighed and nodded before looking to Petyr. "Very well. I'll trust you with taking care of Catelyn until the last day of the tournament."

"I will guard her with my life if need be." Lord Baelish replied with a short nod.

Eddard stepped closer to the lord, a serious look. "You better be willing." He muttered quite threateningly, making Littlefinger pale slightly yet keep that friendly small smile. Ned moved to talk with Catelyn privately for a moment before the two shared a short kiss and embrace. "I'll try to visit you when chance comes. For now rest and be safe." With that, he'd move to leave the room, waiting at the doorway for Geralt.

The Witcher gave a respectful nod to Petyr before moving to Catelyn. "Try to rest Lady Stark. Trust me, we'll find the truth about the Lannisters." He'd move to follow Eddard out of the study, yet noticed the odd look on conflict in Catelyn's eyes before he left.

The two walked down the street until they were far enough from Littlefinger's brothel. Turning down a side alley, Geralt glanced around to make sure no one was lurking around. "I have some new leads to follow up."

"Tell me."

"Lord Baelish claims the dagger was his." Geralt drew the weapon, giving Eddard time to examine the fine dagger. "I find it odd he hasn't requested it back. Maybe he isn't that attached to it or is trying to keep us in his favor."

"The man is materialistic to a degree. How did he come to lose it though?"

"Claims he lost it on a bet with Tyrion Lannister during the tourney for Joffrey's name day. I don't buy his story though."

Ned gave a curious look. "Explain."

"He said Tyrion betted against his brother. I doubt even he would go against family pride on such awager."

"And you're certain of that?"

"I've spent a bit over a month with him, I have a good idea of his personality and character. Still I plan to question him on the matter."

"Good. Anything else?"

"Varys give me a surprise visit a few days back."

"Ah…yes…The Master of Whispers. I can say he did the same for me. Shared some very troubling secrets with me about Arryn."

"He did mentioned your mentor. Claimed everything connected back to him and his actions before his death should be traced back."

"Aye…and I've been doing that." Ned remarked back. "He was looking to records relating to orphans throughout King's Landing, those with certain traits and mothers."

"Let me guess, bastards of Robert's no doubt."

"This has been a habit of his for years, even before the Rebellion." Sighing, Ned rubbed his forehead in a tired manner. "I'm not sure if the Lannister's know of this or care. Either way Arryn had a keen interest in a few older orphans."

"I could check up on them. See if I can get any idea of what he was looking for."

Ned thought for a moment and nodded. "It be fitting. If I went out it would draw attention no doubt." Thinking for a moment, a small realization came to him. "In fact the last recent child is close by. A boy named Gendry lives and works at Tobho Mott's workshop. Since you no doubt plan to see him with the dagger, you can see the young man as well."

"Sounds like a good idea. I'll head over right now." Geralt moved to leave the alley. "Stay watchful Ned."

"As do you Geralt." Eddard muttered as the Witcher left the alley.

…

Geralt took the main route back to Great Sept square, yet before he could head southwest for the Street of Steel, a familiar voice called out to him. "Geralt! By the Sevens man you had me worried there!" Glancing about, he'd see it was Davos who hurried through the crowd. "You bolted as if the devil was at your back. What happened?"

"Noticed someone important. Sorry I ran off like that without a warning."

"Its fine…just don't do that again." The Davos chuckled. "Anyway about that meeting you wanted set up..."

"Have had second thoughts on the idea. I found some new information that has changed my investigation quite a bit." Already Geralt was moving down the long street for the Street of Steel, Davos following along. "Have to pay a visit to a renowned blacksmith to examine this." He'd pat the sheathed assassin dagger, Davos quickly realizing it was no ordinary weapon.

"Curious. Seen plenty of weapons yet that seems like no common blade." He remarked. "Ah I forget though…is it alright if I tag along? I have a feeling of you're going on an important matter, but I'll admit I've always wished to meet the famed Tobho Mott."

Geralt thought for a moment and shrugged. "I see no issue with you tagging along. Just expect me to be busy dealing with some private deals with Mott." He'd lead the way, the sea captain following close along.

Entering the busy Street of Steel, Davos glanced around the man shops and stands with a curious interest. "Never been much of a fighter. Always prefer to do my battles behind the wheel of a ship or through negotiation and trade. Still, can't help but admire such work."

"Indeed."

Soon the two arrived at Mott's store and already Geralt could see Davos was amazed by the lavish building and it quite grand entrance. "Not sure if this is meant to be a manor or a shop."

The Witcher opened the way into the store, revealing the many displays of fine and exotic weapons the master smith had made. Already Davos was quick to go around the room, examining all the different weapons and armor with a curious interest. A young clerk would leave from one of the backrooms, quickly noticing the two yet recognizing the Witcher first.

"Ah! Master Geralt. I take you're here to see Master Mott?" The young man asked.

"Indeed. Have a weapon that I want him to examine."

"Of course. Umm…is the gentlemen there a companion of yours as well?" The clerk asked, pointing to Davos, who glanced over.

"Of course. He just wants to tour the place so…thought I could bring him along."

"That is if it isn't an issue." The trader added in a formal manner.

"Heh, it won't be sir. Please follow me. Master Mott is busy in the forge and tutoring his apprentices." The clerk nodded to a heavy wooden and iron bound door which he unlocked, leading to back yard area of the store. The true work was done here as there were a mix of forges, anvils and other workstations set around with young workmen busy on orders. All of them were focused on their tasks, hardly looking up at the three as they passed by.

"Quite young fellows." Davos remarked.

"And lucky. Mott only selects those he deems worthy to serve here at the forges. Most of them worked on the lesser shops along the Street of Steel or within Flea Bottom. You'd be surprised of the talent hidden away in those slums." The clerk explained. "All who work for him get free board and food as well, however he expects professionalism and dedication to their craft. I've seen plenty of aspiring students leave in just a few weeks at a time."

At the largest forge, Mott could be seen watching a young student, a fit teenager with short black hair pumping the bellows of the forge before shifting a heated piece of metal about within the fiery depths. The master smith was changed into more practical clothes instead of his fine robes, wearing light shirt with a leather apron and pants. "Good…the heat is just right." He muttered to the student who'd get a set of prongs out and pull the glowing metal out, laying it over the anvil. The student got a hammer out and began to shape the metal out, flattening and shaping it before heating it again to repeat the process. After a while though Mott realized that he had guests, making him glance over to Geralt and Davos. "Continue on Gendry. Don't over heat the blade too much else it will lose its shape."

"Of course sir." The teenager remarked before returning to his hammering.

Mott approaching Geralt and Davos, a friendly smile on his face as he and the Witcher shook hands. "Surprised to see me in leathers for once?"

"A bit. Guess silken robes don't work well for soot and smoke." Geralt chuckled back.

"Jests aside what brings you here so suddenly? I can see you've brought a friend…"

Davos gave a short bow. "Davos Seaworth at your service."

"Seaworth…ah yes the name is familiar. May not know the story of every House in the kingdoms, yet few new one appear like yours's especially from such common upbringings." Mott remarked. "How is Lord Stannis doing? Haven't seen him in years."

"Well enough. Actively expanding the fleet as of late, a claimed precaution to the rumors going on in Essos. Besides that he is…well…having issues on matters of faith but that is a personal matter."

The last bit was curious to Geralt yet he didn't pry on it just yet. Religion was usually the last subject on his mind. "Introductions aside I do have something to show you." He'd tug the assassin dagger out, Mott eyes widening seeing the weapon.

"Yes…interesting." Looking to Davos, he gave a small nod to him. "Geralt and I must talk privately. You're free to watch my students and see the forges. Just don't touch anything or disrupt the boys work."

"Of course."

Mott gestured for Geralt to follow him back into the shop and then into his study. With the door locked up, the master smith was quick to move to a table with a large tome set on it. Moving closer, the Witcher read the title of the book. "Blades of Lords: Chronicle of Valyrian Weapons." He remarked.

"A quite limited book. I doubt only a few Keeps and the Maesters of Old Town have other copies." He'd flip through the book, pages after pages having illustrations of valyrian steel weapons and the long histories many had. "Many of these blades predate to the Valyrian Empire. Some have been reforged in the early days of the Seven Kingdoms when the knowledge was not as limited." They'd reach one page that detailed Ice, describing how the weapon was given to the family a hundred years before the Doom destroyed the Valyrian Empire. It was an old blade indeed considering it was recently reached its fourth century since being forged.

"So what about this dagger? What's its story?"

Mott flipped through the pages, passing through many interesting sections until at last he stopped at page with a drawing of the curved ornate dagger. "Interesting…the weapon has gone through many renaming yet is often called the Dragon Fang. What many interest you the most was it came as a pair, as twin daggers."

"Twin daggers? That is curious."

"Indeed. The weapons predate to the Valyrian Empire from what this details. Such daggers were said to be commonplace, often a side arm or a show of office. Of course times change. The book says the daggers were often named after the greatest dragon of the time, yet that is of little importance." The man scanned the page. "Let's see…owned by that House then lost…then resold…stolen then rediscovered…AH! The last dagger was recorded of being gifted to House Baelish of the Fingers a few generations back. It mentions only one dagger though, so I guess it was lost over the centuries."

"Guess this confirms Lord Petyr's story of owning it. Course book will need an update on its ownership and history."

"Heh, doubt we will see a new edition over such a minor weapon. I can say this thing has passed hands more times than most and has quite the grim history of assassinations and murders."

"Often that is the only fame a dagger gets."

"I find it odd they didn't try reforging the weapons. Its steel be far more worthwhile as a short sword if done correctly."

Geralt had an odd idea come to mind. "It there even enough metal to do so? It's a large dagger but…I know reforging often loses some of its mass."

For a moment Mott was silent, glancing away for a moment before speaking. "It is possible. Admittedly the blueprints and materials you brought have given me new theories on valyrian steel. No concrete proof on making more steel, but perhaps given time…" He was silent, seeming unsure. "If I did reforge the dagger and mix it with compounded mix of meteorite ore and…Yes it could work."

"Mott what are you muttering about?"

"An idea. It's a crazy one yet one that tempts me." Sighing he'd shake his head. "As appealing as my theory is, I know this weapon is a piece of evidence in your investigation." He'd hand the dagger back to Geralt who seemed to stare thoughtfully at the curved weapon.

"You'll have to tell me one day. If anything it has me curious." Geralt remarked.

"Heh. One day yes. I need time to think it over…since one mistake will be costly." He'd close the book and sigh. "Daggers and history aside I have made progress on your armor improvements." Gesturing to small drafting desk, he'd point out some sheets of paper which Geralt began shifting through. "What do you think?"

For a while Geralt's yellow eyes scanned the pages, impressed at the detail up into the design, even calculating weight. "Different from what I usual wear but effective." Pausing, he'd glance back at Mott. "How long would you need?"

"Just a week. These improvements have to be carefully done considering the armor's special design. It should be ready before the tournament if that is what you're worried about."

"Good. I'll have it brought in by tomorrow morning and you can begin working on it." Stacking the design papers together, he'd step away from the desk. "Anyway there is one last matter. I'd like to speak to a student of yours, Gendry, the young man you were with earlier."

"Why is that?" Mott's eyes hinted a bit of worry in it for a moment.

"It's about my investigation. I'm following up on what Jon Arryn was doing before he died."

Mott was silent, a serious look hinting his face. "Geralt. You are a good friend but…I ask you not to pry on this matter."

"Why? Because Gendry is most likely one of King Robert's bastard, maybe his oldest?"

The smith glanced aside nervously. "The boy knows nothing of that."

"And I know that. Not trying to present him as the true heir to the Iron Throne or hurt him because of his bloodline. If anything he is better off here in your care. I don't give a damn about succession politics, only finding out why the late Hand had such an interest in him."

"Jon Arryn was…confirming if Gendry had traits of his father. He didn't talk much to the boy, only simple questions of his upbringing in Flea Bottom and how he came under my service. An unknown lord paid for his apprenticeship after his mother passed away. Overall the boy has been a natural working the forges and his been worth twice as much as the costs of taking care of him."

Already Geralt had some ideas on who may have paid for the boy's care. Perhaps Robert had learned of the woman's passing and in turn Gendry's orphaned state. Maybe the boy had drawn guilt from the man and in turn led to him trying to discretely support Gendry. "Interesting…still do you mind if I talk to him for a moment? Just short questions."

Mott sighed, seeming tense on the subject yet nodded. "Fine. But no mentions of the Baratheons or Kings!" He warned before leading Geralt out of his study and back outside. Davos seemed to have remained by Gendry's work station, casually chatting with the teenager who had gotten the blade forged and was now getting the blade wrapped up in insulating cloth for the annealing process. As the two neared Davos could just be overheard.

"Very nice. I can see why Master Mott praises you." Davos complimented, making a small smile cross the boy's face.

"Thank you my lord. I am hoping I'll be able to start my own forge…" His gaze drifted to a bull shaped helm. "I have the artistic talent Master Mott says yet just need to prefer the forging process." When he noticed Geralt and his master nearing, he'd quickly focus back on his work, getting the blade wrapped up and then laid out.

Davos noticed too, giving a small smile. "Ah I didn't bother the boy much sir. He was just finished up."

"No worries both of you." Mott assured them. "Good work though Gendry. We'll sharpen and hardening the blade tomorrow." Looking to Geralt, he'd continue to speak. "However Geralt here wishes to speak with you. Has a few questions to ask."

The boy looked to Geralt, a nervous hint showing when he saw those yellow cat eyes and the scarred face. "I…Of course sir."

Mott nodded before turning to leave, Davos following along. "I'll wait in the shop for you Geralt." Soon the trade and smith were beginning a friendly chat, leaving the Witcher with the young smith.

Geralt strolled into the workshop, glancing over a few tools and armor still needing to be finished. "So you've been living here for a while?"

Gendry nodded. "For over half my life when mother died…so…back when I was six."

The boy looked a few years older considering, yet no doubt the hard work had bulked him up more than most. "Never knew your father."

Gendry shrugged. "Mother never said much about him. Claimed he was a famous warrior from the Rebellion. Ages ago yet…remember how she looked. Sad, angry yet longing."

Geralt was silently for a moment, wondering just how tough life must have been for the woman. "Never wanted to find out about him?"

"No." Gendry muttered, glancing away a bit. "Sorry sir Geralt just…I'd rather not talk of it."

"Fair enough. Sorry to pry on it."

Gendry nodded, seeming to relax now. "Anything else?"

"Yes. A few month back did a nobleman come in for a visit? Someone who personally asked to speak to you."

A hint of curiosity showed in the boy's eyes. "Yes. He was asking pretty much the same questions as you. Why does that matter."

"It's private. Sorry…"

"Ah of course. Not a matter for an apprentice to know." The boy muttered.

"Heh from what I can tell you have the makings of a master about you." Geralt remarked. "Trust me, don't worry yourself about things. Focus on your work and own ambitions."

The simple yet inspiring words had Gendry nod. "A fair point…I'll keep that in mind ser."

"Then take care Gendry." He'd turn to leave, the boy having a thoughtful look on his face before he'd focus on cleaning up the workshop for the day.

…

Geralt said goodbye to Mott before he and Davos left his shop. "Well I can say that was an interesting visit. Another tale to tell my sons back home." The trader chuckled. "Mott mentioned you'll be at the tourney coming soon. Maybe I'll pay and visit, bet a bit on you since he seemed confident in ya."

"Heh now you're sounding like Tyrion. Still I wouldn't mind another friend in the stands."

The two soon reached the Great Sept plaza, ready to go their separate ways now. "Well, time I go back to my ship. Have a few more shipments to get loaded up before heading to Dragonstone then back again for all that leather." He remarked.

"Honest work I say. You take care Davos."

"As do you Geralt. Farewell."

Shaking hands, Davos turned to head down the street leading to the Fishmonger Plaza and for the Blackwater Harbor. Geralt moved to the northeast for the Red Keep, having no trouble along the way or getting inside the hold. When he reached his room though there was a notice on his door.

Geralt, could you please come to the west balcony hall midday tomorrow? I'd like you to meet my new dancing teacher Syrio. He says he knows you and wants you to see the Water Dance.

Arya

"Huh…dancing teacher?" It took a moment to realize what she meant, making him chuckle as he'd take the note off his door. Heading into his room, he'd toss the notice into the fireplace to burn it up before packing away his steel sword and leather clothing, changing into light sleep clothing for the night. "Guess I should check up. Did promise to train her."

…

Having slept into the late morning before getting up, remembering his deal with Mott yesterday. Once changed into his day clothes, he'd gather his Wolf School armor and take the long walk to Mott's shop, getting the armor checked in for the smith. By the time he had all that sorted out and back at the Red Keep, it would already be early midday. All it took was a few questions to find the way to the west hall, a small open hall that had a fine view of the city. Arriving there, he'd heard the clack of wooden swords and shuffling feet, along with Syrio speaking out.

"Keep your footing. Never be still during an attack or being on the defensive!"

Entering the hall, Geralt hanged back to see the First Sword of Bravos at work, the man shifting and stepping about while Arya did her best to match his movements. The two were in the middle of a sparring duel, Arya matching Syrio's foot work quite well yet not flowing with her stabs and strikes like the experienced man. In the end she overextended a strike and the fencer slipped up close, the blunt end of his practice sword pressed at her neck.

"And now your dead again." He chuckled, Arya sighing yet having a small smile before noticing the Witcher.

"Geralt! You got my letter!" She'd hurry over, giving him a surprising hug which caught him off guard. Again he had memories of Ciri doing the same when she was young, making a mix of feelings come to mind.

"Heh didn't think you missed me that much." He remarked once the girl let him go.

"Well you and father have been so busy. Sansa is dull…just talking about that stupid Joffrey and the witch of a queen."

The news of Sansa being around Cersei was interesting news. Thinking about it, he remembered how the girl had been in a hurry last he chatted with her, perhaps going off to meet the woman. "Well I'm here now." His gaze looked to Syrio's who had a friendly grin on his face.

"Pleasure to see you again Geralt. Did you teach the girl beforehand? It seems she has a basics when it comes to the dance."

"More of offhanded learning. She always watched how I trained the soldiers and her brothers back in Winterfell."

"That right! He dueled Robb, Jon and Theon all at once. None of them could even touch him."

"Hmm…I see." The fencer paced around slightly as Geralt walked more into the center of the hall. "I'd like to see for myself though." Kicking up Arya's dropped practice sword, he'd catch it with one hand before throwing it to Geralt. The Witcher didn't even flinch as he catch the weapon by the grip, spinning it about in his grasp. A grin crossed Syrio's lips. "Impressive. Very honed reflexes." The man's stance shifted to be side facing, one hand back at his hip and his sword arm out forward, holding the practice sword in a classic fencing style.

Geralt shifted his stance, sword arm back and left hand forward as he took a sideward stance as well. His footing was light as he stared down at the fencer who had a curious look in his eyes.

"Never seen such a stance." He remarked as he'd slowly pace about, circling the Witcher who'd move counter wise, keeping his distance and facing towards the man.

"Called the Fiery Dancer. Meant for more agile opponents." The Witcher explained. "Amusing how it's similar in name to your own style."

"Heh indeed!" Syrio's tensed, his friendly grin fading and a serious glare showed in his eyes. "Watch closely child. It is rare you see masters put their art to the test!" Arya nodded as she stood a good distance back, an excited look in her eyes as the two men locked gazes.

Soon their side shuffle ended as Syrio's lunged, moving quickly forward for a stab. Geralt was quicker, body turning about, sword arm twisting as he blocked a slash to his side. Both of them kept moving as Syrio's pressed the offense while Geralt focused on dodging or guarding in return. At times the Witcher got enough distance to attack back, going in for a quick stab which the fencer blocked yet only to flow into an upward slash and then a downward. The fencer was on guard now, realizing Geralt's blows had more strength then expected yet rapid in speed.

"Interesting. You steps flow like the Water Dance yet blows have such strength to it. An interesting combination." Syrio's remarked.

"Not getting nervous are you?"

"No…if anything I'm thrilled for a challenge!" Again he stepped forward, stringing a series of quick high and low blows which Geralt blocked. For a good while the two were caught up attacking and counter attacking, avoiding falling into an outright defensive. With them fighting up close, it meant one slick up would leave to a jab to the gut or a smack to the side, yet neither yielded. Geralt's decades of experience and mutant reflex just surpassed the fencer. However even the Witcher's exotic style couldn't get through Syrio's defenses because of his agile step and quick sword work.

Both lost track of time, yet Geralt could see Syrio's slowing, getting tired as he was putting so much effort to just protect himself from the Witcher. At this point the Witcher put forward a more aggressive move, stepping forward as Syrio's have a lightening with stab right at him. Quickly he'd turn and spin about, yet during the movement switch his practice sword into his left hand. By the time Syrio reacted to turn about for a guard for the right, only realize his mistake as Geralt's blade was just at his ribs. If it had been a real blade, the weapon would have sunk right up into the man's heart.

"Dead." Geralt muttered, giving a deep sigh as he'd catch his breath.

Syrio was panting, light sweat on his brow and a surprised look in his eyes. "Amazing indeed…a cunning deception." He chuckled as Geralt shifted back. Both glanced to Arya who stood there gawking, seeming at a loss for words.

"I…how…I couldn't even keep track." She murmured in pure awe.

"Heh that is how the duel is properly done. The final test for mastering the Water Dance is to move across a shallow pool. If one can fight across the surface without rippling it, then it is a true show of mastery." He'd give a small bow to Geralt. "I can say this man has been the first to best me since I've gained my title. A compliment that I doubt I'll ever share again."

"You humble me. If anything you've given me quite the challenge for once." Geralt remarked back respectfully, one hand out to be shaken.

Syrio chuckled, shaking Geralt's hand firmly. "We must do a rematch one day. For now though we have Arya's lesson to tend to." Looking to the girl, he'd toss his practice sword to her, which she caught was ease. "I think Geralt here can help with your sword arm while I your footwork. Hone both and in turn balance yourself."

"I get the idea." Arya agreed. "Just not sure I'll fight like you two though."

"Never said never." Geralt chuckled. "Trust me, you'll find your own style in the end. Everyone does."

"A good advice I say. Now then I need a moment to catch my breath. Why not show Geralt what you have learned so far."

The girl nodded as she'd step up, taking a similar stance as the fencer while Geralt shifted into his own poise. She'd start off with a lunge much like Syrio's which Geralt blocked aside with ease, yet let Arya continue into a flow of slashes and attacks. She was overly aggressive in her moves, swinging to widely or over extending herself whenever she stabbed out. Whenever she did, he'd be quick to attack at her outstretched arm or her exposed side, making Arya give a yelp whenever the practice sword tapped at her.

"Have you sword arm move with you. Be it defense or offense you mustn't simply leave your arm exposed." He explained to her.

Arya nodded as the two kept up their sparring lesson while Syrio stood by, a pleased look on his face as he observed how Geralt taught her. The Witcher took the time to show her the proper steps for different attacks and blocks, taking his time as he'd correct her on how she held her weapon and angled her strikes. Once again they'd do another sparring match, Geralt testing her defenses this time, which she pulled off quite well. Yet as they fought, he'd notice by the entrance way that Ned was standing by, muttering something to Syrio's. For a moment Eddard had a proud look in his eyes as he watched Arya block and counter attack, yet as the fight continued on a hint of worry then fear showed in the man's expression, as if dreading the possible danger that may one day threaten the young girl.

…

The next few days Geralt took his time to begin researching his opponents for the upcoming tournament. The first rule of every Witcher was to understand his enemy, problem was he was facing up against forty nine highly skilled knights. Despite how humans lacked the natural deadliness of monsters, they were always very adaptive and unpredictable.

Sandor for one was one he had to keep an eye on, considering the man wouldn't be holding back against him and already had a good understanding of the Witcher's capabilities. Then there was the Mountain, Gregor Clegane. The man thrived off battle and brutality, using his brute strength over skill. Still the man seemed to have a cruel cunning from what the stories said, showing Geralt shouldn't underestimate him. Jaime's overall seemed to be well-balanced in all form from what he learned. Yet he felt in this event the royal knight was going to take this tourney quite seriously for once.

Geralt's attention did focus on one certain fighter, an odd addition who wasn't even from any House. Thoros of Myr, a Red Priest from Essos, renown for being a usual drinking buddy with King Robert. It seemed odd for a priest to have such a habit, although his faith was very different from most Geralt had heard of. Religion aside, the man was a fierce fighter, having taken part in facing the Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion that happened years back. One trait he often had was lighting his sword with wildfire, a violate alchemy oil that reminded Geralt of some of his own oil and bomb mixtures. Overall the man was a wild card and one he'd have to look out for.

With his research aside, Geralt decided it was time to confront Tyrion with some questioning to learn the full truth about the assassin dagger. With taking the weapon in secret, Geralt headed for Tryion's quarters, yet when passing through the main hall run into the dwarf along with Bronn following along. The dwarf gave a small smile seeing the Witcher before approaching. "Ah Geralt! Been far too long since we spoke. I hope your time at the Keep and seeing the city has gone well."

Geralt nodded. "Peaceful enough. I take you've been busy with the tournament no doubt?"

"Mostly. Food and drink has to be ordered. Entertainment and the like. While Littlefinger may procure the coin, I've been appointed for the management of the tournament and as one of its announcer to give the event more flair." He answered back as the two headed outside to the main courtyard.

"Not sure if I should be excited or dreading how you'll act before the crowd."

"Oh ye of little faith." The dwarf sighed.

"Has a point Tyrion." Bronn added. "May very well stroll out onto half drunk and dressed."

Tyrion rolled his eyes as his two friends jested with him. "Just so you know I am trying to take this tournament seriously. Maybe the last one we have in long while if Lord Stark takes serious management on the spending."

"Funny I thought you'd be happy with your family having pulling the strings with capital in debt."

"As much as domination of the Kingdoms sound, I do look to the long term. After all a good amount of that debt remains to the Iron Bank and if payments are not meant…well…they methods on collecting are not welcoming."

Geralt thought a bit, remembering the Iron Bank from Bravos, being richest organization in the known world. In turn they controlled one of the most powerful mercenary armies as well, the Golden Company who were as Tyrion said their 'debt collectors'. "Seems odd to worry about such a matter."

"That's what separates me from the rest of my family…well except my father. He'd say otherwise yet if you met him you'd agree him and I are more like then my siblings."

"Debt and family aside, there is one important mater I need to talk to you about."

Tyrion had a questioning look, yet nodded in the end. "Very well…Bronn, go enjoy yourself for the evening. See you at the usual place." Taking out a small coin pouch, he'd hand it over to the sellsword who gave an approving grin.

"As you wish. Watch him well Geralt." Bronn chuckled as he headed for the gates out to the city.

Once he had strolled off Tyrion gestured to the side path that lead around the main keep and around to the vast gardens. Walking along for a while, Tyrion lead the Witcher to a secluded sitting area set by a fenced cliff side, ensuring no one could spy on them easily.

"So then. What is it?"

Geralt simply drew out the assassin dagger, the curved blade gleaming in the bright sunlight overhead. Tryion flinched a bit at the sight of the weapon, a quick realization showing in his eyes. "That's the assassin's blade isn't it?" Holding one hand out, Geralt handed it over for the dwarf to examine. "Valyrian and dragon bone. Not sure why a vagrant killer would use such a thing…could sell this for a fortune."

"You don't recognize it?"

"I study my weapons from time to time, yet don't know this one." Glancing up, he had a questioning look in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"

"That dagger use to be Lord Baelish who claims he lost it in a bet with you." Geralt answered back. "On Joffrey's naming day tourney, he says you and him had a bet with the dagger being his offer. He said you betted against your brother who lost the last joust, leading to you winning the blade."

Tyrion was silent, yet a small grin did show across his face. "Heh…so it seems Petyr lied then. You know that I wouldn't-"

"Bet against your own brother? Yah I know. Been around you long enough to be certain on that fact, even told Baelish that." Pausing, he'd give a sigh. "So then…do you have any idea why he would lie to me?"

"Because he's trying to protect Robert no doubt." Tyrion muttered. "Thinking back I remember he had a wager with the King and it was no doubt that weapon. Robert is always interested by such items and no doubt put down a lot of gold towards the bet."

"So you mean Petyr lied to me to protect the King?"

"I'm not implying Robert is behind the assassination on Bran. The man isn't cruel to wish the boy harm or stupid enough to use such a weapon. If anything the dagger may have been gifted to someone among the court or royal family. Who though I cannot say."

"Yet Robert would know…" Geralt calmly stated.

"Yes…but maybe accusing him of providing a murder weapon isn't an appropriate approach. His temperament is bad enough, yet with you I doubt he'll keep himself restrained." Tyrion sighed and thought for a moment. "You need to win some favor back with him and putting on a god show in the tournament will no doubt do so."

"Ah yes…the classic fight for fame method." Geralt remarked in dry sarcasm.

"The man is simple in the end. Show him your fighting skill and honor manners. May very win the attention of the noble born by the end."

"Never had a good track record winning such attention, yet I'll take you word on that."

Tyron gave a small grin. "I've gotten you this far haven't I?" His expression though did turn more serious. "Still you should question Lord Baelish about his lie, learn his reasons for doing so."

"Oh I plan to…" Geralt muttered as he'd take the dagger back from the dwarf. "Already have a good idea on when to talk to him and I'll certainly get an answer."

The way the Witcher spoke had Tyrion nervous a bit. "Just don't cripple him."

Geralt simply shrugged. "So any other details about the tournament I should know about? Special rules or events?"

"Well…for the archery one ideas has come to mind, something that will amazing the masses. After all you can do something I doubt anyone in the known world can…well…maybe in Dorn or somewhere in Essos…but we don't have the coin hiring such talent."

It wasn't hard to figure out what the dwarf was meaning, considering Geralt had put his honed deflection technique to use in saving his life. "So…block a few arrows to wow the crowds? I don't mind being part of completions yet being a sideshow is something I don't enjoy."

"My, they really must treat you like dirt back in your country if you that reluctant." Tyrion muttered. "Yet you know everyone here see's you differently. You're a mystery to many! The stranger with unmatched skill, unshakeable will and strong sense of justice."

Geralt's thoughts drifted back to the night weeks ago, of how Gaunter had claimed he was the 'hero' this world needed. "Fine…guess there can't be much harm in your request." He sighed. "Anything else?"

"Hmm…yes. Your introduction."

"Introduction?"

"You know. The reading of titles and great deeds. Geralt of Rivia is good start yet there needs to be more."

Already the Witcher doubted the dwarf needed to know of his more infamous title as 'Butcher of Blaviken', even if it was falsely given. "Gwynbleidd is a title I was given the elves."

"Are you saying fair ageless beings with pointed ears gave you a title?" The dwarf chuckled in a jesting manner, yet seeing the Witcher's dead serious look had him become silent. "Ah…won't question further on that matter. So Gwyn-blade…Gwybleidd…what does it mean?"

"It's Elder Speech for White Wolf. Think of it as the ancient tongue from where I come from."

"Interesting…anything else?"

"Nothing I that the masses would know or care."

Tyrion thought for a moment, pacing about slowly. "What about the Wildling Slayer? Hmm…no…so violent in tone. Wildling Hunter? Maybe…"

"Rather not glorify that. Not like I actively seek out and kill them." Geralt argued.

"Fine. How about Defender of the North then? Far more neutral and heroic."

"That will do. Anything else you need to ask?"

Again the dwarf was silent, thinking once more before remembering something. "Yes one small detail. A bit personal yet one that I feel is needed…"

Already Geralt had a strange feeling, yet he'd sighed, giving a nod of agreement before hearing Tyrion's request.

…

The last few days quickly went by for Geralt, focusing on training Arya with Syrio's along with preparing himself for the upcoming games. Mott had sent a message saying the armor was finished and he would arrive with it at the tournament grounds. While he believed in the master smith's skills, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous having his gear brought in at the last minute. The Melee wasn't until the second day joust and archery match. It made sense to put the mass battle for one day since it take that long just to sort through so many combatants. At the least he'd have the advantage of not being tired out or injured unlike the ones taking part in the joust.

When the dawn of the tournament came, Geralt made sure to get up early before the rest of the Keep was up and about. He'd rather no tag along on the royal march through the city streets like last time. Grabbing his swords and locking away all his other belongings, he'd head out for the court yard and the stables to get Roach. No one stopped him from leaving as he rode quickly out into the street of King's Landing heading for the south western gate, the Lion Gate as it was named for it's in honor for the Lannister's. He found that odd considering Tywin had sacked the city, leading to a lot of suffering for the commoners who were caught in the chaos.

Leaving the city walls, he'd turn southward through hilly woodland, following a wide trail that ended at a massive clearing. Already a small sea of colorful tents were set up, gathered pages and servants hurrying about to get everything in order. There was one massive stand meant for the nobility and smaller moveable stands set around for the commoners who'd come and watch. Currently the jousting lane was set up with practice targets set up for the early morning knights to ride against. Already a few of the men were about, charging and hitting the shield targets, yet Geralt paid little attention on them for now.

Soon he arrived at his tent, a light blue and white clothed one, which Tyrion had set up for him. The inside was simple since he didn't require much for the tournament, not needing a small armory of weapons like most knights often brought with them. The only furniture here being a simple yet comfortable cot bed, a sturdy chest for storage and a large table with a few chairs for relaxing. Yet at the table was Mott, who had quite the tired look on his face, seeming almost half asleep with the way he was slumped forward. The table had a piece of cloth covering over it, no doubt Geralt's improved armor. Hearing Geralt, the master smith shifted up to look at the Witcher, giving a small chuckle and smile.

"When you said early, I didn't think you meant this early."

Geralt smirked as he approached the table, taking a seat across from the man. "You didn't have to. Could have come later."

"Bah…may not be a morning person yet I felt this is a special occasion." Mott muttered, shifting up to stand from his seat. "Never worked so hard on an order like this. The time limit did put some pressure, yet this should be a masterpiece."

Pulling the cloth off, the Witcher armor was fully revealed. His eyes widened as he looked over the improved armor, quickly noting the changes given to it. The chest piece had been reinforced with dark iron plating along the shoulders, upper front and the collar area. More flexible plate was added to the upper arms for added protection while at the elbows the only forearm area metal bracers had been pieced into the chain and leather, with the left bracer being the Stark one he had been gifted. The gambeson armor under the fitting jacket had been toughed with a well spread pattern of studded fittings, yet felt not one bit heavier or inflexible under his inspection. The pants also had flexible plating on the sides of the leggings with leather strappings securing it to the toughed clothing. As for the boots they hadn't been changed too much yet feeling at the heel and toe of the shoe wear he could feel a bit of metal had been added to each end, no doubt to make kicks and stomps far more painful.

"Very impressive. The plating is well mixed with the leather and chain work." Geralt remarked.

"Thank you. Why not try it on, get a feel for it. I can promise you none of the plating will hamper your flexibility and movement."

The Witcher was quick to slip the armor on, doing a short stretch and flex once everything was fitted. He'd move his arms about, resting his reach front and back before doing the same with his legs. "Damn. Doesn't feel any different. How did you keep the weight the same?"

"Heh a new trade secret Geralt. Be glad you're the rest to wear such fine hybrid armor. In time I plan to make more with the designs you shared, make a simpler and affordable outfit before the next gathering of smiths."

"Guess that is my way of paying back." Geralt chuckled. "Anyway think I should head out and practice a bit with the new armor." Moving to leave the tent, he did stop at exit. "So do you plan to stay and watch the events?"

Mott thought for a moment and shrugged. "I plan to see the Melee at the least, having put a few bets down on you." Smirking, the man nodded. "Overall just do what you do best Witcher. I want to see a few of those stuck up knight meet a real match for once."

The Witcher smirked in amusement. "You'll see soon enough." Leaving the tent, he'd check around nearby until seeing a few practice dummies set nearby. While he prefer a sparring partner, he guessed this would do as he'd draw his steel sword, spinning the blade in his grasp and between hands. Stepping up towards the dump, he'd spring forward in a short leap, body twisting for a short spin before slashing his blade down at the dummy's shoulder. The enchanted steel slice nearly clean through the hard wood and padded leather, yet the Witcher didn't hesitate at all. Pulling his sword back, he'd shift about to the right as if avoiding an attack, sword swinging across the dummy's side before he stepped around to slash against the back.

He'd continue through different forms and attack patterns, although the dummy quickly began to fall apart as his mutant strength and razor sharp sword hacked at it. Being caught up in his practice fight, he nearly didn't hear someone approaching him. Finishing a final swing, the dummy crumbled apart, being little more than tinder after his onslaught. Glancing back, he'd see a few knights and pages staring before they'd glance quickly away to return to their duties.

"A bit eager for a fight aren't we?"

Tyrion step forward from the departing crowd, Bronn following close behind with an amused smirk.

"Damn Geralt. Hate to see what you'd to against a living target." The sell sword chuckled. "Of course I doubt your opponents will just stand by and let you dice them like that."

"Be disappointing if they were all that easy." Geralt bluntly answered back. "Curious you two show up early. Thought you'd arrive with the rest of the royal procession."

"Rather not get tied up by that march. Besides I doubt Cersei would want me seen even on the same street with her." Tyrion replied with a mischievous grin. "Besides, as presenter of the games I should take my job seriously. We have the more powerful and influential people from the Seven Kingdoms here after all."

Suddenly there was the trumpeting of a horn in the distance, quickly getting everyone's attention. The dwarf had a curious look on his face as he'd move around the tents as there was the stomp of horses approaching the tournament dement grounds.

"Strange…the King wasn't supposed to arrive for at least a few more hours." Tyrion muttered as the trio moved to investigate with the rest of the crowd.

"Maybe Robert being more proactive for once." Geralt jested.

However as they joined the crowd by the trail, they'd quickly realize the approaching riders weren't the royal guard, yet dressed in the red and golden colors of the Lannister family. The well armored men marched alongside one older gentlemen wearing similar yet more regal armor. The man had balding white blond hair with an aged yet hardened face. One glance though and Geralt blink in shock, unable to shake how similar the man looked to another he knew…and disliked ever so greatly.

Tyrion had his own look of surprise before it hardened into a more serious glare. "Well…this is unexpected and troubling." He muttered as the man rode towards them, his guard following closely around him to partly surrounding the trio now.

"I have a good idea who this is…the resemblance is clear."

"You'd best not let him hear that." Tyrion warned as the man neared them, his blue eyes having a commanding sternness to them.

For a moment the armored lord said nothing as he coldly looked down on Tyrion, a hint of distain showing in his eyes. The dwarf however kept that calm look, even a small hint of a grin on the corner of his lips to keep a look of confidence. The man's gaze shifted pass Bronn, giving the sellsword no attention as the man focused on Geralt. Like many others those eyes had a judging and calculating towards the Witcher, yet Geralt showed no weakness or fear towards the lord.

At last though Tyrion spoke up to break the unnerving silence. "Hello father. I must say this is a…surprising visit from you."

Tywin was silent for a moment, expression impassive even as he spoke. "Really now? For the first time in months our family is gathered in one place. It be unfitting of me to not visit…even if I detest Robert's senseless games." The man's voice had Geralt tense, unable to believe how it sounded exactly like Emhyr's. "Besides I heard much about this one…Geralt isn't it?" The man's gazed narrowed, curious hint showing across his aged face. "You have an odd look about you. Almost as if you've met me before…"

"Indeed my lord...let's just say you're a near splitting image." The Witcher answered back coldly, making Tyrion pale as he already felt things were about to go from bad to worse.

…

Notice: I thought to give the catspaw dagger some custom history to it, I do hope it's fitting considering the book and show has told little about it. A good reference for Geralt's improved armor is the Grandmaster Wolf Armor, with a few personal touches to it. Been a busy week with the upcoming holidays slowing work along with classes. As usual, share your thoughts on this chapter! Next time…the tournament of the Hand along with so very much awaited battles!