Chapter 16: Tournament of the Hand
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For a long moment no one said anything, yet Tyrion and Tywin's guards seemed a little nervous from how Geralt spoke towards Lord Lannister. The stern eyed man stared down at the Witcher, yet Geralt didn't so much as blink from that sharp intimidating gaze. Yet after tense moment, Tywin gave small scowl or perhaps a smirk, Geralt wasn't certain considering how well the man kept such a composed temperament.
"Bold as the rumors say. I've heard how you speak out of line at times, even towards King Robert…" Tywin remarked.
"Bad habit from home." The Witcher answered back in dry sarcasm. "Had to deal with a lot of troublesome nobility over the years and the King is the type I disagree with the most."
"At least you're honest, a virtue few have here in King's Landing." Tywin was silent for a moment, thinking to himself before speaking again. "You are a curious visitor Geralt, one who may be worth my time considering."
Geralt didn't respond, though his passive look hinted he didn't like the noble's tone or choice of words. Tywin most likely didn't care yet did not comment on the Witcher's lack of a reaction. However, the sudden heavy stomp and clank of heavy horse armor could be heard coming up from behind Tywin's mounted guards. The Lannister men shifted their horses aside to reveal who approached the group. It was a giant of a man who rode atop an equally large horse, the biggest Geralt had ever since in all of his traveling. The war horse carried its massive rider who was decked in heavy iron armor with a barreled helm covering his head. On the right side of the saddle was a claymore, which would be considered oversize if not specially forged for this giant of a warrior. It wasn't hard for the Witcher to understand just who this heavy warrior was.
"Ah Gregor. Glad you caught up with us." Tywin casually greeted the iron knight.
The Mountain only have a muffled grunt from under his helmet, which turned just slightly to look over at Tyrion and Bronn before settling on Geralt. While the Witcher couldn't clearly see the man's face or eyes, he felt an intense aggression coming off from him.
"So…that's him?" Gregor suddenly remarked. "You're the one who's been trouble for my brother? Heh…you seem a bit small even for a pest."
"Gregor Clegane. Heard quite a lot about you." The Witcher tone was cold and intimidating despite its calm manner. "Surprised you evem care about Sandor."
"I don't." The man growled, the sound intensified with his helmet echoing it. "Yet I have a reputation maintain…one that I don't plan to let you or Sandor drag down…"
"Enough!" Tywin spoke up before anyone else. "You'll keep your temper in line over these next few days Gregor. Last tournament you caused enough unwanted trouble on and off the field. Step out of line and I will have you sent back to your holdings."
Gregor glanced at Tywin, making Geralt wonder if he'd snap back at his Lord or even lash out. However he'd give a frustrated grunt before forcing his war house about, heading off no doubt to his tent.
"You sure it's safe having him take part in the tournament?" Geralt questioned.
"The King requested for him so it is his duty to participate."
"Right…because a rapist and child murderer is worthy of fighting alongside knights." The expected dry sarcasm showed, yet there was no amusement in mentioning Gregor's 'achievements'. Tywin was silent, yet those sharp eyes hinted the man's curiosity over the Witcher's open hate towards his champion. "Best rest up Lord Lannister. The event will be starting in a few hours." With a short bow, Geralt turned to head towards his tent while Tyrion moved up to speak with his father as he'd slowly ride off to his own encampment.
...
Once within his tent, Geralt unslung his sword from his back, stretching a bit as the stress of practice shifted off his shoulders. He was frustrated with his encounter with Tywin, mainly because of how much the man reminded him of the Emperor, however he knew he needed to keep those memories in check. If anything he was surprised Tywin had been so formal with him despite his sharp words and wit.
"Heh…Emhry would have given some cold threats at the least." He said with a small chuckle, remembering the tense encounters he had with the Emperor of Nilfgaard. However he stop his mutterings as he heard footsteps nearing his tent before Tyrion and Brann quickly entered. "I'd ask you'd knock first…yet that require a door."
"Amusing." Tyrion said before sighing. "I swear Geralt, I thought I have authority issues, yet you seem to be picking fights with every knight or lord you disagree with. However father seemed more impressed by your upfront behavior, even if he didn't show it."
"I'm more impressed you had the balls to talk back to the Mountain. Heard a lot about the man…thought a lot of it was crap…yet seeing the guy you can tell he's natural born killer." Bronn remarked. "Guess nothing does faze you."
"If you only knew." Geralt muttered with a small smirk, making sellsword give a questioning look for a moment. "No need to worry. I don't plan to make an enemy of Lord Tywin…although Gregor already sees me as one."
"Nearly every warrior you've met has been like that towards you." Tyrion chuckled as he'd move for one of the empty chairs opposite of the Witcher. "Overall I can say if anyone can match up to the Mountain it be you or perhaps the Hound if he has the will to face him. Most of the nobility are betting against you mainly because they underestimate your skill."
"Not surprising. They always do with anyone not noble born."
"Which is why I'm counting on you. I put half of my personal fortune towards you making it through the Melee and then the follow up matches. If you win we'll easily triple in earnings."
"Double for me." Bronn chuckled. "So you best not fuck up Geralt otherwise you'll have to deal with me unless Gregor is he doesn't kill you first." Thankful the sellswords tone was friendly enough to not make his words sound like a threat…or at least Geralt hoped so.
Before anyone could say anything else there was the sudden blaring fanfare of horns in the distance. Geralt, Tyrion and Bronn headed outside of the tent to see the pages and knights were hurrying towards main road leading into the tourney grounds, no doubt to look presentable to their King and the royal court. The group decided to follow along yet hanged back to not get any unwanted attention. Soon they could see the waving flags of House Baratheon, a yellow banner with a black stag rearing upward. Half of the King's Guard were leading the royal march, the front rider being an older yet fit gentleman with short white hair and beard. He did remember seeing the man often talking and training with the King's Guard, who overall respected and obeyed his command.
"Ser Barristan Selmy." Tyrion muttered to Geralt. "Lord Commander of the King's Guard and most honored of the order. His skill and chivalry was considered second only to Arthur Dayne, although many feel age has dulled his fighting prowess."
For a while Geralt studied the man, noting the calm way the Lord Commander nodded and softly smiled to knights who greeted him. However at the same time those sharp blue eyes were alert as for a moment the aged man noticed Geralt standing in the back of the gathered knights. However Selmy gave a small nod to the Witcher as he'd continue riding on, yet that short moment was all Geralt needed to know that the King's Guard leader was far from retiring.
"No…far from it." He muttered, making Tyrion give an odd look.
"Perhaps. Jaime has only praise and respect for the man considering Selmy trained him. No doubt grooming my brother to replace him when age takes him."
Geralt simply nodded as his attention was on Jaime who rode close alongside his mentor. He was dressed in his fine golden King's Guard armor which was polished to a blinding gleam. While he had that smug looking look on his face, Geralt could tell the Lannister was tense from his posture. Obviously the coming games had him eager to take part, yet he seemed more serious than usual.
The Witcher's attention shifted on to King Robert who followed behind his royal guard, drawing up cheers from the knights as he gave a quite booming laugh and waved to them, being the most lively the Witcher had ever seen outside of his drunken bouts during feasts. If anything Robert seemed like a proper king for the moment as the man took the time to even ride up to a few knights and lords he knew, shaking hands and quietly speaking to them.
Following close behind Robert was Eddard who had a small smile seeing his friend so active after so many weeks. Lord Stark would notice Geralt off to the side, giving a small nod to the Witcher as he'd continue leading the royal parade along. More members of the Small Council followed, the three being Renly, Petyr and Grand Maester Pycelle. Renly much like his brother was active going up to greet the knights yet Littlefinger kept to himself, only chatting with a few minor lords who he no doubt had connections and dealings with. Pycelle was the slowest of the group, the old man seeming more focused on trying to stay on his saddle then pander to the nobility.
Behind them rode Joffrey who had a smug grin seeing the gathered warriors greeting them. No doubt the prince's ego was being stoked, even if the attention was directed at his father rather than him. Sandor was following close behind the prince, dressed in full armor and his famous hound helmet which hid his face away, although considering how he didn't so much as glance to the crowd he seemed to have no interest acknowledging the knights.
Lastly was a red and gold painted carriage which had its windows panels opened up for the Queen Cersei, her younger children and Sansa to greet the knights. The Queen had a coy calmness with how she smiled and waved to the men while Sansa seemed nervous yet giddy seeing the knights. It was a nice to see the young lady enjoy a moment from all the stories she had heard, having brave knights fawning for her attention. Indeed he did notice a few of the younger men muttered and nodding to her, showing that the fair northern maiden was catch interest. Two other blond haired children peeked out the window, a boy and girl who Geralt had seen a few times at the Red Keep yet hadn't greeted. From what he knew these were Cersei's and Robert's younger children, Joffrey's siblings. He guessed Cersei was being quite protective of them considering he rarely had seen them away from her. Arya was also in the carriage, dressed in a mix of a dress and outdoors clothes she often wore. She looked casually over the crowd, seeming bored from no doubt having to spend an hour listening to her sister and Cersei chattering away. Geralt would wave to catch her attention, making the young girl's dull gaze snap to attention. She'd grin and wave back, her mood instantly improved seeing him.
The royal party headed for the royal stand, Robert being the first to reach his comfortable seat at the top space, with Cersei sitting beside him. Their children followed up, taking seats around their parents while the Hound stood behind Joffrey, silently guarding the royal family. Everyone else took any seat they wished, although the Starks all sat alongside each other with Eddard sitting between his daughters, most likely to prevent bickering between them. Lord Baelish and Pycelle sat behind Starks while Lord Renly sat back left of Baelish, no doubt to chat with him without intruding on the Starks space.
Not long after the group was seated, the knights and servants returned to their duties to prepare for the opening ceremonies. From the road though the commoners became to enter the tourney grounds, being directed by the City Watch to the stands and open space where they could sit. The city folk were quite excited from how they chattered, yet behaved well enough. A few did cheer and call out to Robert who'd chuckled and wave back, showing that his popularity wasn't exaggerated. Course from Geralt's experience everyone loved a war hero, even one who had long fallen out of his prime like Robert.
"Time for me to get to work." Tyrion muttered as he patted Geralt on the back. "You best ready yourself for the opening ceremony. Should be starting soon once the common folk have settled in."
The Witcher simply nodded in response as he watched the dwarf hurry off with Bronn following after him. Returning to his tent, Geralt took the time to double check his swords, deciding having his silver blade as a backup won't hurt. He doubted he'd need it, yet it was habit to carry it in more combative situations. However he did linger when it came to the Dragon Fang dagger. He didn't trust in leaving it at the Red Keep or his tent, not wanting some agent to steal it away. In the end, he strapped the blade to his hip, guessing it be safest with him and could become handy in a pitch.
Soon a signal horn was blown, the call for the contests of the tourney to gather up. Geralt was quick to follow the call as he and the many other knights and warriors began to line up before the stands. The Witcher avoided standing too close to the Mountain who stood in the center of the lineup. One warrior that stood out beside the Mountain was a bald older fellow dressed in red scarlet robes with chainmail under it along with plated leggings and boots. He was the fattest of the gathered warriors and most relaxed considering the cheery grin he had.
"Thoros of Myr." A young male voice spoke up, getting Geralt's attention to his right. Beside him was a young man with long curly brown hair and fair tan colored eyes. He was dressed in the most lavished armor Geralt has seen yet, gleaming steel plate stylized with jeweled flowers on breastplate and shoulders. Even the silvery white cloak had white roses weaved into it, making it a very extravagant piece from considering. "An odd looking man for sure, yet appearances can be deceiving."
"Heard he's a mad man brawler who favors swinging a flaming sword into battles." Geralt commented. "Yet you…hmm…guessing from flowers and fine armor you're from Highgarden. A Tyrell?"
"Heh, you've guessed correct my friend." The young knight chuckled before holding out a gauntleted hand which Geralt shook. "Loras Tyrell, third born of Mace Tyrell."
"Geralt of Rivia. Adviser and bodyguard for Lord Stark, the Hand of the King." He answered back. "I've heard a bit about you in my studies. Quite renown for your jousting prowess from what I've learned."
"My skills as a knight are the pride of my House for sure. Highgarden may not have a proud history of warriors like the Starks or of leading armies like the Lannister's yet we have always been renowned for our chivalry and elegance." Loras answered back. "I can say I've heard a bit of you since arriving to King's Landing. The white haired stranger from beyond even Essos, a man who faced the Hound fearlessly. If anything it's rare for an outsider to get such praise and trust-"
However a horns interrupted the young knight, making both him and Geralt snap their attention to the royal stand as Robert stood up from his seat. The large man gaze drifted the gathered men before speaking deeply out. "All of you are the finest knights and champions the Seven Kingdoms has to offer. From the old and veteran to the young and gifted. Battle is what you live for and even in times of peace it has its uses." His hand gestured out to the other stands where the commoners cheered, the lined warriors all turning to face them. "Today you fight for them. To remind them that when war comes you'll be there to protect them." A broad grin crossed the King's face. "So show us your fighting spirit! Give us a grand show of your prowess!"
The men clapped, a few cheered at the King's short yet inspiring speech. Geralt had to admit he didn't expect one from the man, making him wonder if Eddard had pressured Robert to be proactive during the tournament. He may have well wrote the speech considering, yet he wouldn't put that credit aside just yet.
Once Robert had sat down, Eddard shifted to stand from his seat, making everyone quiet down. "As our good King has said, it is an honor for you all to come so far for these next few days. Indeed, we've had a long peace, twenty years of it which we are thankful for every single day." He'd pause for a moment as the crowds gave short cheers and mutters of agreement. "This tournament is meant to honor me for becoming our King's Hand. Yet I feel it is unjust to have it so…"
The statement drew a few confused looks, especially from Robert who shifted forward in his seat. Cersei and Baelish had curious looks, wondering what Lord Stark was getting at.
"I dedicate this tournament not in my honor but to you." He'd gesture to the gathered warriors yet also to the commoners crowded across the field. "To the men who dutifully protect us and to the honest folk who strive hard in life." The declaration drew a joyous cheer from the commoners, yet Eddard continued to speak. "For the duration of the games, fresh food and fine drink will be freely given. It is time the people enjoy the rewards of peace and prosperity for these fruitful years of unity."
Already the commoners seemed eager to take up on Ned's generosity as people stood up from where they sat. At this point Tyrion would step out from the nearby tents, moving to the center of the field to draw everyone's attention. Already the citizens were muttering when they saw the dwarf, taking note of his fine clothes and golden hair as mutterings of 'Lannister' and 'imp' silently echoed through the air. Tyrion however didn't let the whispers get to him as he'd give a formal smile and short bow. "Ladies…Gentlemen…I know you are all eager to enjoy Lord Stark's generous offer, yet as Master of the Tourney it is my duty that we keep things orderly." Soon city watch filed around, seeming ready to direct the crowds to some nearby tents. "The Watch will show you to the tents were you can get food and drink. However I ask that you don't take long since the first event will be beginning shortly, the archery competition. We have some fine competitors from across and beyond the Kingdoms, so this is something you will not want to miss.
The masses seemed quite surprised by the dwarf's polite and friendly manners as he'd give an order to one of the guard captains, who'd begin leading the eager commoners to the food tents. Soon people were enjoying fresh meat, bread, pastries and ale as any early lunch. Geralt was surprised with how organized the people were, half expected a bit of brawling or hording, yet they seemed to respect the nobles for this unique kindness.
"Now then good knights and warriors. May I ask all except those taking part in archery to leave the field?"
The men dispersed from the line, moving to the sidelines of the field, returning to their tents or even taking an empty seat among the royal stands. Geralt moved for the stands, noticing how Ned had Arya holding a seat for him set between them. "Talk to you later Ser Loras. Try to relax while you can."
"Heh I plan to. Until next time Ser Geralt." The youthful knight gave a respectful bow before moving for his tent, yet for a moment paused to wave at the royal stand. The Witcher glance across the seats, noticing Renly having a small smile as he'd wave back to the young Tyrell before he continue towards his tent.
Geralt guessed the two were friends, yet didn't think too much on the matter as he'd walk through the royal stands and towards the Stark's seats. Moving up the steps, he'd noticed Tywin had joined with his family, having changed out of his armor to a plain yet fine nobleman's outfit. Sitting close by Cersei, the two quietly speaking, although pausing a bit when they noticed him. Geralt didn't react as he'd move along, slipping by towards the Stark's
Sansa gave a small nod to him as he shifted pass her while Arya shifted from her seat to an empty one just next to her so Geralt could sit next to her father.
"Quite the speech you made there. Took quite a few people by surprising." Geralt remarked once he sat down.
"Had a lot of free time to think over and prepare it." Ned chuckled. "Have to make a good impression with the commoners, assure them I'll be a just Hand of the King. Besides after this tournament I doubt there will be any as large as this for many years."
Geralt nodded in agreement. "Going to be hard keeping Robert in line considering his habits. Did you convince him to do that little opening speech?"
"He did that himself. Perhaps he realizes he needs take active role if he wants me to follow any requests…I guess you can say it's a step towards compromise between us."
"And that compromise is involving dealing with Daenery's?" Geralt said in a hushed voice.
Ned's expression hardened slightly. "As I said…steps to compromise." He was silent, hinting that topic was finished. "Point is this is meant to be a day promoting peace and unity, even if it is shaky at times. You know how important that is."
Geralt thought back to his home, of how the Northern Realms had crumbled into bickering and senseless wars, leaving them weak for Nilfgaard. If anything the Seven Kingdoms had become far more successful, even if he could see the cracks and divides. "I do." He simply muttered before feeling Arya tug at his arm.
"Look, the Im- I mean Lord Tyrion is going to speak again." She quickly whispered.
The dwarf once more walked onto the field, everyone quieting down after a moment. Looking about between the different stands and crowds, Tyrion gave a small charming smile before speaking. "Now that everyone is settled in, I think it's time we get this tournament started."
On que, ten men armed with bows and quivers marched out onto the field. One of men was King's Guard member, a broad and muscular man, who had changed out of his plate armor for near golden tanned leather while the rest of the men were a more plain mix. A few were rather plain, seeming more like hunters or infantry bowmen. However one man did stand out to even the fine dressed King's Guard, a dark skinned man who reminded Geralt of a Zerrikanian. He was dressed in a yellow leather and half scale armor with a colorful green and red feathered cape. Even his bow was more ornate then the others, being made of a light green wood and having artistic carvings along it.
"Ten of the finest archers in the land. While the art of jousting and melee are honorable skills to master, to perfect the art of marksmanship requires much more." The dwarf paced about the lined archers. "I'm certain most could shoot clearly say…twenty so paces. Yet what at fifty and beyond? These men have the keen eye and discipline to hit their targets in the most stressful of situations and thus puts them in a whole league of their own." He'd gesture to the far end of the field. "The contest is simple. Scoring based on distance and target. The final three will then take part in a special challenge of skill and a final scoring to determine the winning champion!"
The crowd clapped and muttered eagerly as Tyrion directed the archers down to the shooting field, each man choosing a target and distance before they began shooting. For the next hour, Tyrion gave casual commentary, giving grand praise for good shots and light hearted jests to mishaps which drew amused chuckles. Geralt casually watched, only noting the King's Guard and the feather caped man who were both quite skilled, yet as the other archers were picked off, one young freckled man with light brown hair had ended up among the final three.
"Very interesting. I give you our top three archers!" Tyrion approached the King's Guard knight, patting the strong man on the arm. "Balon Swann, stalwart and dutiful knight in service to the King!"
He'd move onto feathered caped archer. "Jalabhar Xho, prince of Red Flower Vale and rightful heir to the exotic Summer Isles." The dark skinned man bowed, seeming pleased with the respect Tyrion showed.
"And lastly we have…" He'd pause as he'd quickly speak to the freckled archer for a moment. "Anguy…the archer! Bowman of the Dornish Marches!" Seemed the dwarf had be a little creative giving the common born man an interesting title in comparison to his competitors.
"These men will shoot from the farthest distance at one hundred paces! Whoever scores the most will win the prize of ten thousand gold dragons! A small fortune indeed." Balon kept a calm look, while Xho had a serious look show on his face. Anguy lightly licked his lips eagerly, no doubt imagining the luxuries he could buy with such wealth.
"However I promised a special challenge for them. There is no prize for winning it, only to show their skills even further." Tyrion paused for a moment, building up tension. "Now…what if I told you that I met a man who could block an arrow?" For a moment no one spoke, a few chuckles filling the air, yet Tyrion shrugged. "Ah right…I'm certain many of our knights could block an arrow with a shield, yet what of batting it out of the air with his blade?" A few more chuckles filled the air, yet curious mutterings mixed in as well. "You see, when I was visited the far north months ago and in my travels was ambushed by raiders, Wildlings who had snuck into our lands." Boos followed, curses and insults sent to the savages. "My companions and I did not see them at first. An archer tried to pick me off from the shadows, an arrow aimed for my skull. However much to my own shock, one man lunged into action, slapping the missile out of the air and to strike harmlessly to the ground."
Already Geralt knew it was his moment now as he'd shift in his seat, glancing to Arya and whispering. "Watch closely, you may learn something." She had a confused look before he'd get up from his seat and moving to leave the stands, giving a small nod to Ned who seemed curious on what was about to happen.
"You may doubt my story, call it simply a tall tale or lie…yet it is true for the man who saved me is right there!" He'd point to Geralt just as he left the stand, drawing hundreds of gazes towards him as he'd stroll out onto the field. "I give you Geralt of Rivia, a traveler from distant lands beyond even Essos! He is a Witcher, a member of an ancient order of warrior monks who are protectors of the road and slayer of fierce beasts that trouble the land." By now Geralt reached the trio of archers, shaking hands and formally greeting them.
"I hope Tyrion isn't jesting Ser Geralt. I'd rather not put an arrow in you." Balon remarked in a concerned manner.
"Trust the man white cloak. There is something about him…yes…I can tell this will be interesting." Xho muttered, with a small grin.
"Eh…if he gets shot up then it his own fault." Anguy said dismissively. "Bet you ten crowns I'll put an arrow into his knee."
No one remarked on the young commoner's rude words, although Geralt's sharp eyes had the archer shift nervously when he glanced right at him.
A page holding a bundle of arrows approached the group, handing them five arrows each, which on closer inspection were dulled down to be blunted. "Training arrows? Heh guess they don't want any accidents." Anguy remarked as he'd tapped a finger at one of the arrow tips.
"Still leave a bruise maybe a cracked rib on a direct hit." Balon muttered before Tyrion spoke out again.
"Now, may I ask the archers to please stand by the targets? We will be shooting at sixty so paces, far enough to make this fair." Tyrion directed, which the men obeyed, each man taking a spot between the targets. "The rule are simple. Your goal is to hit Ser Geralt with what arrows you have. You may take turns or even fire together. Challenge the Witcher however you see fit."
Geralt stood in the men's firing line, smoothly drawing his fine steel blade and shifting into a defensive stance. For a moment Balon and Xho were hesitant, yet Anguy smirked as he'd suddenly draw his bow.
"I'll make this quick!"
The arrow went flying, sailing through the air, barely trackable for the bare human eye. Thankful Geralt's eyes weren't human as they easily followed the speedy arc of the arrow. With lightening quick reflexes, his blade swung through the air, the crack of it hitting the missile just being heard. For a moment there was silence as Anguy squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out what just happened.
Geralt shifted as he'd pick up the arrow he had just knocked out of the arrow, holding it up for the young man and crowd to see who gasped in shock before throwing it aside.
"W-What…No…no fucking way?!" Anguy growled out in disbelief before he'd readied another shot.
Xho drew his bow back as well as both of them fired after each other. Geralt's blade twisted and turned about, blocking Anguy's second shot, yet angling for a deflection this time. He was quickly to parry away Xho's arrow into the ground, yet as Anguy readied his third arrow, the man paused as he heard a thud to the target beside him, were his second arrow had just landed into. Soon Balon joined in, yet even with the three men firing at him the Witcher continued to block and deflect their arrows. More and more of their shots were being redirected, landing into the targets set beside the three men. The crowd was already cheering and wooting, support mixed towards the archers and Geralt.
However the men soon ran out of shots, much to Anguy's frustration as he cursed under his breath. The Witcher took a deep breath as he calm himself, adrenaline pumping through his body from the tense challenge. Sheathing his sword, he'd see the three men looking to the targets, realizing nearly half of their shots had been reflected back towards them.
Tyrion stepped back onto the field, a quite smug grin on his face. "Believe me now? I doubt you will find any other man in the world who can accomplish this!"
Cheers filled the air, the people openly amazed by the impossible feat. Geralt glanced to the royal stands to see Arya was cheering eagerly while Ned had an amazed yet impressed look on his face as he clapped along. Sansa and Cersei looked baffled, unsure what they had just seen before their very eye. Lord Baelish seemed oddly nervous as Renly was muttering something with an amused smirk on his face. King Robert and Joffrey was on their feet, a wide grins on their faces as they clapped and cheered loudly. Tywin though remained seated, clapping respectful yet his face hinted that he was impressed at the amazing display of skill.
"You will see more of Geralt here during the Melee. For this is a man who battled a dozen Wildlings singlehandedly without getting so much of a scratch! Let's not be too distracted though, we have a competition to finish and a joust to follow up afterwards!"
The trio of archers approached Geralt, although Anguy didn't speak with the Witcher as he seemed too frustrated and disbelieving over what happened.
"You are far from an ordinary warrior Witcher." Xho chuckled. "I cannot explain it…yet I never imagined a man to send a marksman arrow back at him."
"Thankfully not right at us." Balon remarked. "Just how in the hells did you do it?"
"Trade secret and a lot of practice. Trust me, I've taken my share of arrows to the side over the years mastering that move." Geralt answered back. "Yet I can say you're all skilled archers and you shouldn't let this discourage you."
"No…if anything this encourages me!" Xho smirked. "I will have to hone my skill more if I am to best someone like you."
"Hopefully you won't met anyone else like me…" The words had the two feel a bit nervous, wondering just how dangerous Geralt truly was. However the Witcher gave a short bow to them both before returning to the royal stands.
"Archers! Let us begin the final test! One hundred paces please." Tyrion spoke out as they'd resume the competition.
Reaching his seat, Geralt sighed as he sat down before Arya quickly spoke up. "That…I…it was just like your dueled with Syrio's! I mean…more of how quickly you moved."
"I can say I'm at a loss for words Geralt." Ned chuckled, shaking his head. "If I didn't know you I'd claim you used some kind of trick, yet considering how fast you are I can only imagine you pulling off such a feat."
"Prefer only using that technique only when it's needed. A lot less risky when I can just dodge a shot." Geralt remarked back before glancing to Arya. "And I know what you're thinking…no I'm not going to teach you that move. Far too dangerous for you."
The girl sighed before nodding, yet seemed to understand the Witcher's reasons. Everyone's attention focused back to the competition as the three archers took difficult shots at their targets from quite the far distance. Despite the frustration Anguy had shown, the young man seemed more driven then distracted as he landed bullseye after bullseye, outmatching his opponents.
"It seems we have a winner! In an impressive show of skill, I proclaim Anguy of the Dorn Marshes archery champion!" The dwarf shook hands with the young man whose scowl was now a grin as the dwarf chatted with him before handling him a sizable purse of gold. It was certain Anguy was going to be paying a long visit to the Street of Silk to waste away his prize money. He'd give a small wave to the crowd and hurry off the field, disappearing into the nearby crowd of tents.
"A fine show yes? However I feel our other knights deserve some attention…so let us begin the joust!" On his declaration, horns trumpeted as from the two ends of the jousting field the different knights from before filed out. It was quite the display as each rider was dressed uniquely from Gregor's gruff yet effective iron plate, Jaimie's shining golden royal armor and Lora's artistic silvery steel. All of them carried the flag of their House or other heraldry in a small parade before the crowds.
"This will be interesting." Geralt muttered to Ned who nodded in agreement. He'd have to pay close attention to each knight, since he'd be facing them in the Melee tomorrow, that they didn't get too badly injured during the jousting.
…
For the next few hours the knights jousted across the field in a grand show of skill, entertaining the commoners and nobility alike. Geralt took the time to relax, casually chatting with Ned and his daughters, sharing a bit of commentary with his combat experience on how well the men preformed on the field. While he never jousted, he understood the rules and skill required to properly compete. The first half of the jousting was normal enough, with a few injuries yet nothing serious. Four riders so far stood out from the most being the Clegane brothers, Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell. They seemingly outmatched everyone with the Cleganes often using their brute strength to dismount others in a single while Jaime and Loras put more finesse to their technique.
However things got grim quickly with Clegane's second match with the Mountain going against the late Jon Arryn's former squire, Hugh of the Vale. The joust started off normally as the men made their first charge, both missing the other's shield. However the second charge ended with a hit this time as Gregor made a sudden lunge at the upper right corner of the man's shield. The lance shattered against it, the resounding crack drawing gasps as both riders passed, yet Hugh lost balance on his saddle. A few people stood up to see what was wrong, Geralt becoming among them as his sharp eyes quickly noting the man's wound.
A massive splitter was stuck in the man's throat, thick blood oozing around it and while more was filling into his mouth. Hugh's struggled to breathe as he began choking on his own blood, a gory sound gasping from his gasping lips as he tried to cling to life. Glancing to the Starks he saw pure shock on Arya's and Sansa's faces as they helplessly watched a man die before them. Eddard had a grim look, as he noticed his children's horrified looks, making him gently hold Sansa's hand as he muttered something to her.
"Why…why doesn't someone help him?" Arya muttered as Hugh garbled on what air he had left, soon becoming still.
"There was nothing that could be done." Geralt muttered, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder as she glanced away from the dead knight as pages hurried out to drag his corpse away. "I'm sorry you had to see something like that."
Arya was silent, only nodding back as she seemed to calm herself after the sudden shock.
The Witcher glanced back to the field, noting how the Mountain rode along as if nothing had happened. No one dared stop or challenge him, too fearful after that gruesome scene.
"As cruel as his reputation says." Littlefinger muttered, leaning in to speak with Geralt and Ned. "Always a death comes by his hand during a tourney, as if he needs one just to sate himself."
"He's a brute yes…but not a stupid as he seems." Geralt answered back, drawing a questioning look from Baelish. "He knew what he was doing. The way he targeted Hugh's shield meant any broken lance would have pierced the man's neck since the armor is more exposed on that side. Was at least a fifty fitty chance."
"You're that certain?" Ned asked, yet he'd note how Geralt tapped the side of his head to remind the Lord of his cat like eyes.
"It was a calculated move. Murder by mishap."
Baelish had a small grin on his face, impressed by the Witcher's deduction. "Tell me Geralt, have you ever wondered why the Clengane brothers hate each other so? You'd think the two be well bonded for their love for battle."
Geralt didn't answer at first, yet he'd shrug. "Fine…I'm curious to know."
"Can say few know the truth of the Clengane siblings divide only that it traces back to their childhood. Sandor was little more than six when it happened while his older brother was busy honing his skill for violence. One day Gregor comes home to find his brother playing his a wooden knight, his knight. So without a word he grabs young Sandor by the neck and shoves his face into the burning coals of the fireplace, melting half his brother's face without so much of a care."
For a moment the Witcher couldn't help but imagine that scene as he'd glance at Sandor who currently stood by the royal family. While the man had his hound helm visor, he could thatthat Sandor knew his brother had intentionally killed Hugh. He could imagine the mixed feelings the Hound felt for the Mountain, the fear yet anger for having his childhood ruined and his face forever scarred by that fire.
"Sounds like a monster…" Geralt muttered Gregor rode off for his tent, yet already the Witcher felt a pent of fierceness stirring within him. It had been too long since he killed a monster…
…
The rest of the jousting tournament went along normally as Gregor, Sandor, Jaime and Loras came out as the finalists. The first round between Jaime and Sandor was quite an exciting one as the Hound held nothing back against the Lannister knight. Jaime however fought boldly against the brutal warrior, doing faster charges and risky lunges with his lance. In the end though while neither dismounted the other, Sandor scored just slightly better than Jaime, leading to his victory.
"So much for the King Slayer." Arya muttered, having expected the Lannister to have won.
"A lot more aspects to a joust then a duel. Bad luck can make the best rider loose despite all their experience." Geralt remarked back. "Any battle can change in such a way, which is why you must always be aware and adaptive on a moment's notice."
The girl nodded before looking back to the jousting field as the last semi-final match began. Ser Loras rode by the royal stands, passing before the Starks. Nearing the Witcher, he'd catch on odd scent from the man's horse, one that was a bit familiar although he didn't question it just yet. The young knight had been doing so every match, always offering a white rose to one of the young ladies or maidens in a charming display for the crowds. This time though he had a red rose in hand as he'd stop before Sansa, offering it out to her with a charming smile. For a moment the girl seemed stunned, a small blush on her face before she accepted the rose.
"Thank you Ser Loras." She sounded a bit flustered, almost making Geralt wonder if the girl would faint from the chivalrous gesture.
With his gift give, Loras gave a small bow yet for a moment his gaze drifted upward along the stands before riding up to be alongside Gregor. Glancing back, Geralt noted how Renly watched Loras, almost a concerned look on his face as the handsome young man was dwarfed by the imposing Mountain. After a moment Robert nodded to both to begin their joust, yet Gregor's horse neighed and snouted, making the large man struggle a bit to direct his warhorse to his side of the field.
"Quite the riled up horse." Ned muttered.
"It's because of Loras mount." Geralt answered back. "It's a mare, a strange choice for jousting. Not as strong or durable as a steed. Yet it has a musk about it…it's in heat."
"Keen observation Witcher or rather a sharp nose." Littlefinger chuckled. "A lot of gold is on line for these final few matches. An underhanded move, yet a smart one.
Everyone became silent as both men had taken up their lances and Loras donned extravagant styled helmet. Geralt could hear Sansa muttering to her father, clinging to his arm as she seemed worried for the knight although Ned was quick to assure her. He had to agree with Lord Stark since so far Loras skill easily matched up against Gregor's cunning brutality. Soon the trumpet was sounded and both men charged, going at full speed at the start. However Gregor's warhorse was unfocused as the giant of a man struggled to keep the powerful animal under control, leaving him exposed for Loras lance. A direct hit was made at the center Mountain's shield, strong enough to make the weapon shatter and roughly stagger the iron clad knight.
Between the force of the blow and Gregor's own weight, he and his horse tumbled to the side as the man fell onto the jousting barrier, crushing the wood as if they were made of twigs. Gasps and cheers filled the air as Loras rode up before the royal stand, bowing low to Robert who clapped eagerly. However Geralt's attention was on the Mountain who was quick to stand up, throwing his helmet off in anger to reveal his face at last. He was rather gruff looking as expect, having large head and short cut hair in a classic soldiery styling.
"Sword!" He yelled out, making a page hurry off for his tent. Despite his cry, no one else noticing, being too distracted by Loras.
"Ned…" Geralt warned, tensing up as he knew something was wrong.
The page returned, carrying the Mountain's massive sheathed blade which the man quickly drew out. With a roar Gregor swung his blade down at his steed's neck, slicing cleaning through thick muscle and bone as he decapitated the horse with one blow. All cheering stopped as a few horrified yells escaped from the crowds, making Loras turn about to see the shocking scene…and the Mountain rushing in at him. The young knight was quick to get his jousting shield up, blocking the massive sword yet bashing him off the side of his horse and fall roughly to the sandy ground. Despite the dazing fall, Loras was quick to roll onto his back and grasp the shield in both hands, blocking another blow which nearly split the shield apart.
At this point instinct kicked in for Geralt as he stood up, ignoring Ned who spoke out to him. Quickly he rushed out of the stands, steel sword drawn as he'd get between the Mountain and Loras. "Leave him-" He started as he grasp his sword in both hands, block the next incoming attack. However another sword clashed with Gregor's massive blade, making Geralt glance to the side as he realize Sandor had stepped in as well.
"-be?" Both muttered, a bit surprise at how the other hand blindly rushed in to Loras defense. For a moment both men were distracted, yet snapped to attention with Gregor growled out, pulling his sword back from their locked blades, swinging his sword horizontal at their chests. Both dodged back to avoid the long reach of the large weapon before lunging to counter attack. The air rang with steel striking steel as Gregor struggled to fight back against the two skilled warriors. Geralt couldn't deny that the Mountain was insanely strong as every blow he blocked stressed his arms. He remembered why he was taught to avoid blocking a monster's blows since such attacks were too powerful to defend against safely, even with his enhanced strength. The clash went out for a few moments, adrenaline driving them all on to fight more fiercely. Small chants and cheers came from the commoners, calling out 'Wolf' and 'Hound' as the Mountain perhaps for the first time in his life faced real equals.
"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" Robert roared out, enough to make even Geralt glance towards him.
The booming command suddenly made Sandor stop in mid-swing as he suddenly dropped to one knee before the royal stand, sword braced into the sand. Gregor however didn't stop himself as he swung downward at his brother, sword aimed for the Hound's neck. For a moment Sandor glanced up, realizing his fatal mistake as the sword neared only for it to be stopped as Geralt's sword blocked it. Growling, the Witcher shoved back with all his might, the massive man stagger a few steps away with a surprised look at the sudden burst of strength. Hateful eyes met the Witcher who gave a death stare, one that would make anyone else flinch in fear yet for the Mountain he didn't so much as blink.
"Leave." Geralt muttered as Gregor threw his blade into the sand, growling in anger as he'd glance between the two men and Robert who scowled back in anger. He'd march off the field for the tents despite the city guard stood in his way, although the men seemed ready to piss themselves considering the shaky looks they had.
"Let him go!" Robert ordered, making the men quickly step aside. Considering their looks of relief, they seemed thankful for the King's quick order.
Geralt sighed as he catched his breath, calming down as he'd sheath his sword while Gregor shifted to stand. The Witcher saw Loras get up, the young knight having crawled away to escape the clash between the three warriors. He seemed winded yet uninjured as he'd stand before both men, glancing between them with a thankful look on his face.
"I owe you my life Sers." His tone was deeply respectful despite the few words said, making both Sandor and Geralt glance oddly about as if expecting some real knights to be behind them.
"I'm no Ser." Geralt and Sandor both said, much like the moment the two had locked blades with Gregor. Both looked at each other, annoyance showing on the Hound's face as he seemed ready to snap some insult at the Witcher.
"Please…I know you two have a rivalry, yet you've just showed you can put that aside when needed." Loras quickly pleaded before turning to face the crowd. "However I can honor you both! I give Sandor Clegane honor and prize of the joust and Geralt of Riva the favor of House Tyrell. Let their bravery be praised this day!" Grasping an arm from both of them, he raise them up high into the air as the crowd cheering loudly for the two gruff heroes. Sandor glanced aside, seeming embarrassed with the praise while Geralt felt out of place being in the limelight. After a long moment of cheering, Loras let go of their arms, giving Sandor a chance hurry away as he seemed eager to escape the crowds' attention.
"That was unneeded…even if it was honorable of you." Geralt muttered to Loras.
"Yet it is the right thing to do. If anything I'm embarrassed I let that brute surprise me so…"
"I'll admit I'm impressed you were able to block such blows. You're a lot tougher then you look."
"I did say before appearances can be deceiving." The young knight jested as he'd pat the Witcher on the back before two pages hurried forward to check up on him. "Yet I meant what I said Geralt. If you ever need it, House Tyrell will glad aid you however it can." He'd quickly chat to his page, assuring the boy that he was alright as he'd be head for his tent.
By this point Tyrion would hurry out onto the jousting field, looking at Geralt in a quite dumbfounded manner. "First your face the Hound, then you blindly clash with the Mountain. You really must be brave or stupid…" He muttered, although a joking grin crossed his face. "Either way you amaze me once more Geralt." Turning to the crowd, he spoke up to them. "An unforeseen turn of events! While Ser Loras and Sandor were to joust, it seems the honorable Tyrell had conceded the prize to the Hound. We have seen an historic event my friends, a true show of courage and chivalry!" By now Geralt hurried off the field while Tyrion gave his grand speech, a fitting distraction to slip away back to his tent.
…
He could hear the crowd cheering on a bit more as it seemed Tyrion had some side events going, no doubt mock duels or jousting feats to make up for the last match being canceled. Taking the time to change out of his armor and set his sword's aside, he'd hear Ned speak up the tent entrance.
"May I come in?"
Geralt didn't answer at first, yet gave a sigh. "Of course Lord Stark…" He muttered before Eddard entered.
"You know that was crazy what you did. The Hound I can understand yet Gregor…"
"Yes I know. I'm most likely going to hear that for weeks." The Witcher grumbled as he'd move over to one of the cabinets the tent had, storing a mix of bottles ales and wines. He carelessly picked one bottle and two cups, filling them up before fitting down at the table. "Just instinct to rush in like that. Wasn't going to let the Mountain kill anyone else today."
"Sandor seemed to have had it under control." Ned remarked as he moved for an empty seat, picking up his cup of wine before drinking it. "Always thought the Hound was fearful of his brother, yet the fierceness he showed proved otherwise."
"He would have been too slow. Loras would have been cleaved before he reached him." Geralt plainly argued.
"Even so, you've definitely shown Tywin, Robert…hells half the nobility of Westeros what your capable of. Forget rumors from months back, people are realizing that you're far above even the best known warriors of our time…"
"I can only hold back so much Ned. Decades of experience is hard to keep in check when a monster like him is attacking." He'd take a deep drink from his cup, sighing as he'd shake his head. "Doesn't matter. I understand your concern but I can handle whatever new intrigue or challenges came come up."
Ned chuckled nervously. "That what worries me. You handle this so casually. I'd be a stressful wreak in your shoes."
"If you live as long as me, you'll find little will surprise you…well it shouldn't." The Witcher smirked a bit. "Worries and jests aside, I think we need to talk about the Lannister's. Lord Tywin's arriving complicates things."
Eddard nodded in agreement. "He's not a man to be taking lightly. Cunning, manipulative and controlling in every degree. After you left the field he was quick to ask me about you, having heard of how we found you in the far North. I could tell he doesn't buy the story of you being beyond Essos."
"I'll even admit it's a weak excuse. Course, just saying I fell through a hole in the sky from another world wouldn't be any better though."
"True…I can only warn you be careful with what you share about yourself. He can find faults and weaknesses in others better than most."
Geralt simply nodded as he'd refill his cup, taking a deep drink from it. "Do you think he is involved with our investigation? Connected to Jon Arryn and the attack on Brann?"
"With Arryn I'm unsure yet with Brann I know he wasn't involve. If he knew he'd most likely turn whoever did it just to win my favor and trust…which he'd earn considering."
"Wouldn't go that far…"
"Maybe…yet I'll admit Geralt I'm tired of snooping and hiding this. I'd like nothing more than to up front with Robert on what we know and confront the Lannister's or all of the royal court if it meant getting the truth!" Ned remarked back sternly. "You may find this normal yet for me…"
"I know Ned. If anything I'd like nothing more than to have done this all on my own, yet that has long past." Geralt calmly stated. "I know we're close to a break through…and it all comes down to whatever Arryn saw in Gendry."
"The boy has that much importance?"
"Considering someone with a lot of influence and wealth has securing his future…yes. Yet there must be something more that Arryn noticed. You didn't find anything new over the last few days have you?"
Ned paused, thinking for a bit. "I did question Grand Maester Pycelle on Jon's death. Should have questioned the Maester sooner since he had quite a few hidden details to share." He'd pause, taking a deep breath. "Jon didn't die to natural causes but to poison. Tears of Lys, a quite rare and deadly poison that is very hard to trace."
"Is that why the details of it are so recent?"
"Pycelle claims so. He had taken…samples from Jon when he examined him before and after his passing. I'd like to hope the Maester's words are true."
"Hm…maybe I'll pay him a visit this evening. Haven't had much of a chance to speak with him since arriving to the city. Here at the tournament I'll be able to be a bit more discrete."
"Be mindful still." Ned warned before finishing his drink. "There is going to be a lot of eyes on you for the next few days. I'm certain tomorrow the crowds will be doubled just to see the Melee." Eddard stood up from his seat before moving to leave. "I'd wish you luck for tomorrow…yet I know better. I have a feeling that despite the odds you will win."
Geralt smirked at the man's serious show of confidence, giving a small nod of thanks back before Eddard left the tent. Finishing the second cup of wine, Geralt stood up and stretched a bit before moving to the entrance flap of the tent. Peeking outside he could see things had calmed down outside as the commoners were busy filing out of the tournament grounds and returning to the city. The mix of entertainment and free meals had the masses quite happy as everyone was directed back to the main road leading to King's Landing. However he could see that around his tent there was a small group of knights and nobles milling around, acting casual chatting about yet always glancing toward his abode.
"Right…rather avoid that." He'd shift back inside and the Dragon Fang as he'd move to the very back of the tent, cutting a short opening low to the ground, enough for him to couch through. Squeezing through the opening, he'd keep to the shadows the setting sun cast as he'd quickly walk around the back ends of the tents.
"Now then…the Maester's…" It take forever to check every tent and in turn draw attention to him. He'd be still as he'd take a deep breath and focus his senses, mainly his hearing. The many echoing sounds of chattering voices, laughing, clanging armor and neighing horses became nearly deafening, yet he'd shut out the loader noises as he looked for one certain sound. Soon he detected it, the ratter of chains coming from a smaller tent set close by to the King's royal pavilion. "Found you."
Sneaking between the tents, he'd avoid the main pathways as he'd reach the Grand Maester's private tent. When the coast was clear, he'd slip inside without anyone noticing. In tent while small was packed with a mix of alchemical and medical supplies. No doubt much of this were for emergencies during the tournament or for any dire needs for the King. Geralt noticed the old man busy at one of the work tables, working some mixing apparatus and muttering to himself, perhaps some formula. Oddly the man's posture was different from before, the old man standing up straight and quite strongly as he worked.
"Grand Maester?"
Speaking up had the man give a small startled gasp, his stance shifting to a more slumped and shaky. The old man turned about, grasping something close to his robes yet relaxed when he saw the Witcher. "By the S-Seven Geralt! You should know better than sneak up on your elders like that…"
The remark was a bit amusing since Geralt knew very well he was the eldest in between the two of them. "I apologize for surprising you and for not having a proper discuss since I arrived here."
"Ah…n-no worries. You no doubt have many duties very L-Lord Stark. My own tasks have kept me quite busy as well…experiments, medical needs and so on…" He'd mutter onward. "I've gotten Ravens from the Maesters of the North. Luwin and Aemon. Both have praised your quite scholarly knowledge…claim it's that of a Maester's even."
Geralt shrugged as he'd pace around the tent, examining a few herbal samples and potions, recognizing most of them as he looked about. "Witcher's are more than just warriors. Need to be knowledgeable on a lot of subjects such history, alchemy and magical theory."
"Interesting. Yet while I'd enjoy d-debating and sharing knowledge, I feel you're here on a more important manner."
Geralt nodded as he'd face the old man, the calm cat like eye's having the Maester shift nervously. "It's about Jon Arryn. Ned told me you learned he was poisoned with a rare mixture."
"Oh…I…yes. Tears of Lys. Foul mixture indeed with some h-horrible yet subtitle symptoms." He'd shuffle to a nearby book, flipping through it and gesturing for the Witcher to come look. "The substance is a clear and tasteless fluid which one digested eats away at the stomach and bowels. Often d-deaths caused by it are attributed to natural sickness or a-age, unless proper tests are done."
"Tests that you preformed yes?"
"Of course! I consider myself an expert when it comes to err…poison. Many Maesters are against the study yet in service of the K-King it is needed."
"Understandable. I know a good my share of toxic mixtures as well." Geralt remarked back. "So does that mean the Red Keep as a poison storage?"
"I…well…yes." Pycelle nervously muttered. "You do understand poisons in the very small dosages can counter act certain illness and other poisons. Also with the uhh…samples I can better identify what poisons maybe involved if any…incidents happen."
Geralt nodded, the Maester's explanation logical enough so far. "I take only you have access to this dangerous storage?"
"Of course! I have the only key and knowledge to working the cabinet as well. Many of the mixtures are very reactive and proper handling is needed. If anyone among the court required access, they'd need to inform me and be have their request safely v-verified. I keep a very detailed log t-to ensure no wrong doing happens."
"Right…so how did Jon Arryn get poisoned then? Did you have the Tears in supply?"
"Of course not! The Tears is far too potent even in the smallest of doses for any medical needs. I have no idea how Lord Arryn was poisoned…no doubt someone outside the court."
However Pycelle's reaction was too quick and defensive. Either the man was over exaggerating or he was hiding something. "Are you certain about that?" Geralt shifted his left hand up, fingers quickly flexing into the Axii Sign. He hoped the Sign was strong enough as the old man blinked, a dizzy look crossing his eyes.
"I…perhaps we did get a small supply. It was an exotic gift from Essos…err…a trader or guest I think." The Maester muttered. "Should have poured it away…dangerous…even more when it was taken…"
Geralt gave an odd look at that last few words shared. "Taken? You mean stolen. When did this happen?"
However the Sign seemed to be wearing off as Pycelle shook his head and blinked rapidly. "Uhhh…light headed suddenly. What do you mean stolen…did I say something odd?" He seemed confused, yet was becoming more alert.
The Witcher was tempted to try Axii again, yet he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk since using the Sign multiple times on an individual in a short period made it easier to resist, along with the fact the magic was weak as it is. However before he could decide, he'd hear soft footsteps outside and the brushing of a long dress across the grass as someone entered the tent.
"Never mind. It was nothing Grand Maester…excuse me." Geralt turned to leave, feeling he'd question Pycelle later back at the Red Keep.
"Oh…uhh…very well." The old man sighed, shifting to sip something from a cup, giving a refreshed aside as the drink cleared his senses.
As Geralt neared the tent flap, he'd stop as Cersei stepped through, the woman pausing as she saw him. "Ser Geralt. I didn't expect you to be here." She calmly stated, being formal yet on guard in tone.
"Had to visit the Grand Maester on a personal matter. Herbs for my own potions." He simply yet politely answered back before bowing slightly to her. "I should return to my tent. Tomorrow will be a busy day after all." As he shifted to move pass her, he could feel her sharp gaze at his back as he'd step outside and move around the tent. However he didn't move on just yet as he linger by the tent, listening closely as Cersei approaching Pycelle.
"My Queen…what brings you in at this hour?"
"I need the usual medication Grand Maester…twice the dosage this time." The woman calmly stated.
"Double? That is much…yet I have enough in stock. Is that wise though...surely the King-"
"Robert does not need to worry on the matter. He is more…active of late and I'd rather not have any unwanted mishaps."
"Uhh…as you wish…" There was the soft clatter of vials as Pycelle seemed to find what was requested. "Remember. Small doses with drink. Take some before any uhh…love making or on a daily basis if signs of life stir within you. Overdosing could be…risky with the chance of infertility."
"I know the risks." Cersei was silent for a moment as she'd shift for the flap out of the tent. "Remember…not a word to Robert…"
Geralt stepped to the shadows as Cersei moved along, returning to the royal tents. Once she was out of sight, Geralt slipped away through the maze of tents and returned to his own, entering through the back opening he had made. Once alone, he'd give a small sigh as he'd think over what he had just overheard. It seemed Cersei was taking some mixture for pregnancy, mainly to prevent it and for quite a while from his understanding.
"Curious…" He muttered as he'd pace around the tent, packing away Dragon Fang with the rest of his gear in the nearby chest before doing to the comfortable cot set nearby. Already he a theory creeped into his head, something that seemed so obvious yet to crazy to be.
"What if they aren't his children?"
The implication was troubling…very troubling. However he couldn't let that distract him just yet as he'd take a deep breath, relaxing himself on the cot as he closed his eyes. He still have the Melee tomorrow and he was certain everyone taking part was going to be ganging up against him. Of course he had no plans holding back against such imposing odds. It was about time he cut loose for once…
…
Notice: Even in the middle of a tournament intrigue continues to play out! I hope this long chapter makes up for the minor delay and at least gets everyone pumped up for the Melee next chapter. I realized the other events and characters needed attention so the grand battle ahead can be played out properly. Anyway my birthday is this weekend, so things will be a bit slow, however I promise all this waiting will be worth it as Geralt truly shows Westeros what he is capable of.