Chapter 18: Old Wolf and Young Lion
…
Geralt and Jaime quickly closed the distance between each other, weapons raised for the incoming clash. The Witcher had to admit the young knight was fast even with all that armor on, making him note that Jaime wouldn't be as predictable when it came to his movement like Gregor. Reaching striking distance, Geralt at first seemed ready for a lunging stab, only it was a feint for his real opening attack. Suddenly he'd twist about redirecting his momentum as he'd step around to the right side of Jaime to bypass his strong shield.
Normally such a deception would catch most opponents off-guard considering the speed behind the attack. Seemingly, Jaime reacted as he too turn with his shield up to block that incoming slash while swinging his own sword as well. Once more Geralt was caught off guard by Jaime's speed, as he'd barely had enough time to lean away from that sweeping blade. Jaime didn't relent though as he followed up with a shield blow, the strong metal bashing across Witcher's chest and shoving him backward roughly.
Despite the blow Geralt kept his footing and shifted away to catch his breath, while Jaime stayed back, guard up for any sudden counters. For a moment the two just had a stare down, those few seconds of battle already having them strategizing over their next moves. In the background though yells and cheers from the crowds filled the air after seeing that lightening quick clash.
Slowly both men circled about, closely watching each other's stance and weapons positions, trying to figure out what move the other do next. Geralt right then knew Jaime had planned well for this battle. For one that shield was the biggest threat toward him, since unlike the ones the other knights had used, this one was doubly reinforced. He doubted his blade could break through all that plating and toughened wood behind it.
Suddenly Jaime charged forward, shield forward in a charge before turning at Geralt's right side. The Witcher was on the move, trying to keep some distance from that shield yet Jaime's blade slowed him down. For a while the two began to trade blows, back pedaling and lunging for the attack, directions shifting constantly to gain a more favorable position. Every so often they'd trade glancing blows. A nicked cut at an exposed angle, an armored punch or for the Witcher's annoyance a forceful strike by that shield. Neither was gaining an edge, though as time passed Geralt started to realize Jaime was getting his movement pattern down, reacting faster and avoiding any other feints. Already he knew his usual approach wasn't going to work at this rate.
The two rushed in at the same time, blades locking to stop each other while that shield swung in for Geralt's face. His left armored arm raised up, the toughened bracer blocking the blow even if the force made him grunt in pain. It took all of his arm strength just to keep that shield and sword back. The Witcher would suddenly strike out though with his right knee the steeled plating on his leggings drawing a winded grunt from Jaime and forcing the knight back. He was stunned for only a moment, giving Geralt time to back off and catch his breath.
Neither said anything, giving no jests or insults as they stood by, doing a short stretch after that clash. Right now Geralt was thinking over his choices…all of them requiring a Sign just to break such perfect defense. That made him realize just how much he relied on his magical skills to overcome such odds. No…he had to win by sword skill alone. At that moment he understood what he had to do as he'd glance at Jaime's shield, a small smirk hinting his lips. The young knight had a questioning look but said nothing as he'd raise up his guard, expecting the Witcher to do an opening attack.
By now their short pause ended as Geralt took the first step forward, going directly at Jaime at first before suddenly weaving to the left, lashing out at the knight's shield. Jaime guarded the quick attack before turning about to face the Witcher, trying to force him back with his blade or shoved away the shield. Geralt kept up the attack, starting to spin and twist rapidly as he used the whirl technique. It left his defenses low, while forcing Jaime fully onto defense to ward off the fury of blows.
Jaime held his ground, having a tense look showing from under that helmet as his shield arm lowered more and more. Geralt's gambit had been right, even though the shield could block his attacks, constant blows rattled through his arm, straining the limb constantly. Soon, Jaime was forced back one step then another as rapid strikes kept going, chipping and denting the metal facing of the shield which it held strong still. Geralt was starting to feel the stress of maintaining the whirl for so long, even with adrenaline driving him on. Overall it was a test of endurance between the two.
Suddenly the constant attacks stopped as Geralt twist about for a round-house kick. Putting all his strength and momentum forward as he aimed at the center of the shield, just over where Jaime's arm was braced. The young knight gave a gasp of pain as the stress snapped through him, making his arm reel back as his strong defense was broken. Shock showed in Jaime's eyes as the Witcher lunged in, sword stabbing out at the knight's right side, the sharp blade piercing through the fine golden armor with little difficultly.
A shocked grunt escaped from Jaime as weapon just pierce the skin, yet he'd slash out with his sword to force Geralt away. The Witcher relaxed his fighting stance slightly as Jaime caught his breath, glancing down at shallow wound before giving a chuckle. "Heh…been a long time since I saw my own blood."
"Can stop right now." Geralt calmly stated. "I've drawn first blood, so there be no shame in yielding."
"You'd be right." Jaime chuckled, seeming hardly fazed by his light injuries. "What gave you the idea to attack so recklessly?"
"Thoros."
"Ah…make sense. He tactics while simple, are effective at times." The young knight suddenly removed the heater shield, dropping it with a sigh before he'd stretch his arm, flexing his grip to make sure there was no issues. "However I'm not yielding. This battle has only gotten started." The man shifted his stance, gripping his blade in both hands. "So long as I can hold a sword, I will not give up willingly."
"Stubborn…" Geralt muttered, expected nothing less from the talented young man. For a moment he debated how to begin their next round of dueling. Already he learned a lot from their first round but noticed Jaime's style had changed just from how his stance shifted and the way he gripped his sword. Meanwhile the young knight understood his moves, leaving him at a disadvantage. He half expected Jaime to charge in while he strategize, yet the knight didn't. Perhaps it was his sense of honor or perhaps he wanted the Witcher to make the opening attack so he could counter it. A realization hit him as he knew that he needed to fight in a manner no one had seen him do.
Geralt shifted his left hand to his back, reaching for his silver blade. If anything what he was about to do was reckless. "In that case its time you face my silver blade as well." The gleaming sword was draw out from its sheath before the Witcher spun in about in his grip. Vesemir never approved of the duel-wield style, said it was too flashy and pointless from his point of view and only good for short sudden attacks. Geralt only used it for finisher moves or facing groups, though he felt in this case the rarely seen style would give him an edge.
Jaime reacted oddly seeing the two swords, his stance seeming to falter for a short moment. His eyes betrayed a hint of shocked recognition as he watched Geralt pace forward, swords swinging and spinning about in his hands in a quite intimidating display. Soon though that gaze became tense, a hint of excitement now showing. "Yes…you are exactly like him." Jaime muttered before reaching back, drawing a side weapon he had on his belt, a long dirk by the looks of it. "Been preparing for this day for years. It's time I put this plan to the test." Again he shifted his stance, sword forward and dirk back at his side, a proper duelist stance.
The Witcher was curious, unsure of what Jaime meant or the plan he seeming had. That alone had him even more on guard as both men circled each other. The crowd seemed restless with all this delaying, unknowing at just how tense this short standoff was. Either by chance or reaction both stepped in at the same times to attack.
Geralt did a short leap as he spun both blades about in a deadly arc, forcing Jaime to back step while he had his own weapons wards away those quick swords. The Witcher was constantly flowing into another sweeping attack, swords moving in a slashing cross pattern or in one direction for powerful duel blows. However Jaime was matching up as he'd block and parry about, putting that dirk to good use. It was a cunning replacement for his lowered defense and was a far more deadly weapon than the discarded shield.
A good few minutes passed as the two battled, their styles being equally matched as before. Every so often they'd trade blows, from Geralt's steel blade cutting at the front of Jaime's armor or the young knight's dirk just getting a short stab at the Witcher's side. That white cloak Jaime wore was ripped up and his armor was being rent apart by those sharp blades chipping at it. They weren't pulling their attacks now, too driven to win this duel. All their injuries were minor, yet they were building up as the two fought more aggressively and the prolonged fight began tire them. Geralt was use to drawn out battles, thinking back to a battle against a unique Fiend called Morvudd, who he fought for nearly half a day in its hidden den. Of course in that fight he had half a dozen potions prepared and his defensive Signs to aid him.
Jaime was starting to slow down and was focusing more on evading attacks instead of parrying. His gaze kept that determined fierceness, showing that he was unweaving despite the growing odds.
"Give up Jaime. You've fought well but you can't outlast me." Geralt warned as he'd ready both swords for his next attack. He'd gave a fierce yell as he'd charge in again, barrowing from Thoros to be more intimidating. Jaime stood his ground as one sword slashed down overhead while the other stabbed forward, forcing the knight to use his long sword to block the high strike and the dirk to parry the stab. Instead of backing off to attack for another angle, Geralt pressed in, shoulder tackling into Jaime.
"What-!?"
Jaime didn't get another word out as the Witcher's armored knee drove into his gut, knocking the wind out of the knight. There was one thing that Geralt had realized with Jaime, he didn't understand that in a true battle, rougher and lowly tactics were allowed. Thoros had been a reminder of that. Geralt had been too distracted by formal battles and practice fights. Even during the Melee he knew he had been refraining from more brutish moves when they would have made certain moments easier.
"Like I said…no mercy!" He'd growl as he'd side step to the right and attack at Jaime's side, landing a solid blow which cut through the gold plating and along the skin.
Despite the stunning blow Jaime turn away and gave a broad slash with his sword, Geralt blocked it with one blade before stepped forward again for another stab. The short distance gave Jaime little room for him to parry with his dirk. He'd drop the weapon before his armored hand grasped at Geralt's wrist, just stopping the blade by mere inches. It was now as struggle as the two were locked in a grapple, their long swords trapped in a clash, while Jaime struggled to keep the silver blade from him.
Once again though Geralt did the unexpected as his head arched back before he lashed out in a headbutt, striking at Jaime's full helm. It hurt like hell striking metal and his vision blared from the tense pain in his skull. Even blood trailed down his forehead from an open gash. The blow though staggered Jaime and shifted his helmet about, partly blinding him as the knight moved his free hand to tug the helm off his head. Gasping, he'd stare at Geralt as both quickly recovered from the head blow.
"A low move…" He growled in a hint of anger.
"Call it improvising." Geralt muttered back, giving a small smirk. "That is how a real fight goes…perhaps you've forgotten that."
Jaime gripped his sword tightly, holding it in both hands as he'd take a strong stance. "Enough. Let us end this now…"
"Yes…lets!"
The Witcher had Jaime exposed right then. With that helmet off, it be easier to end this battle in a moment's notice. Geralt quickly closed the distance, blades outward at his sides while Jaime stood there on guard, prepared for a reaction strike. At the last moment Geralt put his inhuman speed forward for just a moment, outmatching Jaime's honed reactions by little more than milliseconds. Jaime still slashed out only for the silver sword to parry it aside then direct it down to the ground, pinning it into the earth. The steel blade swung downward for his neck, ready to press at Jaime's throat and forcing him to submit.
Instead blood and a pained cry filled the air. Gasps escaped from the watching knights and crowds, everyone surprised at what had just happened, even Geralt having a shocked look replace his fierce expression. At that last moment Jaime had struggled forward, leaning in just enough for that blade to slice across the left side of his face. The deep cut went from his brow, down the cheek to his jaw, narrowing missing going across his eye. The Lannister gave shaky breaths and grunts of pain as blood trailed down his head.
"NO!" A woman's voice screamed out over sounds of the crowd, making Geralt look to the royal stands to see Queen Cersei standing up from her seat, only being kept back as one of the King's Guard held her back. She'd struggle and yell out orders, though it was too hard to make out her words among all the noise. Lord Tywin was also standing, trying to get a better look at what had happened. He seemed tense over what was happening but remained quite calm unlike his daughter.
Suddenly Geralt felt a hand grasp at his right wrist. His attention returned to Jaime who took deep steady breaths, still seemingly having the will to fight on despite the painful wound. Slowly he'd force that arm away and off to the side while he's struggle up to stand up to look Geralt in the eyes. For a moment he seemed ready to say something before someone else interrupted him.
"Enough! This fight has gone on long enough!" Tyrion yelled as his horse came to a quick stop beside them. Two city watch were right behind the dwarf along with four squires who already had a stretcher and basic medical supplies on hand. "I will not have you two kill each other over petty pride! Look at yourselves!"
For a moment the tension faded as both men looked at each other, blood and dirt coated their armor, showing how long they had been battling. Indeed the ache of fighting for at least two hours creeped in, a realization of just how long the Melee had been. Slowly Jaime's grasp weakened before slipping away, the man staggered back as he'd at last let go of his sword still pinned to the ground. For a moment Jaime swayed on his feet, breathing deeply while blood dripped heavily down his cheek and chin. His gaze seemed distant for a moment as he seemed ready to topple.
"Hey!" Geralt dropped his silver blade as his hand grabbed the knight at the shoulder, supporting him up as he was about to lose balance. "Stay awake! Just hold out a bit longer."
Those words seemed to snap the Lannister to attention, making him glance at Geralt's face even as blood coated onto his left eye. He'd just nod, knowing he had to stay strong for the crowds.
"Good people…both common and noble! The Melee is finished and we have our champion!" Tyrion spoke up loudly. "In a grand clash between Jaime Lannister of the King's Guard and Geralt of Rivia…I proclaim the Witcher the victor!"
The masses cheered out, chants for Geralt and Witcher filling the air. Jaime gripped Geralt's arm holding it upward with what strength he had, catching the Witcher off guard. If anything he felt awkward at this moment, never thinking he'd be winner of a royal tournament. Glancing to Jaime, the man gave a short nod before the knight let go of his arm, again slumping as the injuries and exhaustion took its toll. Geralt shifted to support Jaime up a bit longer as the squires hurried over to lead the knight away, Jaime shaking his head to refuse being carried out on a stretcher. The squires would support Jaime up as he'd stagger off the field for the Maester tent.
Despite how no words were shared, a deep respect was shared in that short moment. The Witcher couldn't deny he had met a formable match, even if it was limited to just pure swordsmanship. However, he was snapped out of his thoughts as Tyrion rode up to him, giving a prod at his shoulder.
"Don't pass out yourself Geralt. You seemed lost for a moment."
"No…just thinking."
"Try to look lively at least until you return to your tent. If anything you could do with a care with those cuts."
Geralt shrugged. "This is minor to what I've had, yet thanks for the concern. I can treat myself." He'd pick up his blades, cleaning them off with a rag before sheathed in. The whole time the crowd cheered on, even though he was too tired to pander to them.
"Please everyone! Your champion is wary and needs his well-deserved rest! Sadly, we will have to skip ceremony for this occasion. For now please, go enjoy the fair grounds for rest of the day." Tyrion declared, settling the crowd as they'd begin to file out from the stands.
Giving a thankful nod to the dwarf, Geralt hurried across the field for the tents, no one stopping him although a few knights gave respectful nods and short goodbyes to him. Even the nearby commoners gave him some space, looks of wonder showing as they watched the man who bested the Mountain and the King Slayer. Already the Witcher had a feeling plenty of songs and grand tales were going to spread around over night
...
The walk back was a blur to him as he'd arrive at his tent, slinging his blades off his back before going to the storage chest. Opening it, he'd grab a Swallow potion and gulp it down, giving a deep sigh as the potent mixture coursed through his body, dulling the pain as it began the steady process of mending him.
Removing his armor and bloodied cut up clothes, changing into a pair of fresh pants before collecting some water and rags to clean himself up. Wiping off blood, sweat and dirt, he'd pause as he heard someone nearing his tent before continued.
"May I enter Geralt?" Lord Baelish spoke out behind the tent flap.
There was silence for a moment. "Fine…come in."
Littlefinger entered the tent, his gaze quickly set on the Witcher as he'd see the many scars that covered his body. Claw marks, bite prints, sword cuts and stab wounds marred his pale skin, a brutal physical history of Geralt's dangerous life style.
"I'm no man of warfare…yet can't imagine how anyone would endure so many wounds." Petyr muttered.
"Always been a survivor." Geralt answered back as he'd get a dry rag to finish cleaning himself off. "Can say Ser Jaime pushed me for the first time in months."
"It was indeed a fantastic duel between you two, along of course toppling the infamous Mountain. You've accomplished more then what most men would ever believe."
"I take you were doubtful of my success?"
"To a degree. Rumor and claim can only go so far. I can say I lost at least one bet I made…not a serious lost considering my other winnings."
Geralt sighed as he'd toss the last rag aside. "And the point? I take you didn't come here to have a friendly chat over your betting habits."
"True…I wished to inform you that Lady Stark has been safely escorted out of the city. My agents reported this to me not long after the Melee ended."
"Good. Glad that is one matter taken care of. Anything else?"
Baelish paced around the tent, gaze looking to the swords set nearby. "I am curious about your investigations as well. Have you confronted Tyrion yet?"
"Yes." Geralt simply answered
"And?"
"He claims to have never won the dagger." The Witcher grabbed the sheathed weapon, holding it up for emphasis. "Said he saw you handing it off to King Robert after his son's naming day tournament."
"An interesting story."
"You deny it?"
"I think you're being too trusting to the dwarf's answers."
Geralt's gaze narrowed at how Baelish avoided a straight answer. "I can say I trust him more then you."
Petyr chuckled at the Witcher's answer, giving a small shrug in response. "True, but have you never considered that Tyrion maybe using you for his own ends? Using that trust to mislead you?"
Suddenly Littlefinger was shoved up to one of the posts supporting the tent, Geralt's hand at his neck much like Ned's had been outside the brothel. A shocked look showed on Petyr's face as he'd gasp out, grasping at the Witcher's strong grip.
"You know…Lord Stark was right about you. You're a funny man." Geralt muttered coldly. "Why so focused on putting suspicion on Tyrion? Some grudge between you."
"Ugh…no…you're misunderstanding!" Baelish gasped out.
"Really now?" He'd lift the man a foot off the ground, making Petyr struggle more. "Because misleading me would be an unwise choice. After what you saw today you'd know that by now." Suddenly, he'd let go, dropping the lord down onto his knees. "Now the truth."
Taking a few shaky breaths, Baelish nodded as he'd stand up and straighten himself. He did well to hide his shaken look on his face after taking a moment to calm himself. "I'll admit, Tyrion and I have had a rivalry at times. However my reasons were for the King's wellbeing…"
"Wellbeing?"
"If you had learned immediately about Robert's ownership of the dagger, you may have reacted hastily at least from my point of view. We have only known each other for a short while and after seeing your first encounter with the King during the Small Council…it was obvious he and you don't see eye to eye."
Geralt had to admit the man had a fair point, even if it was grudgingly. "So why the false story on Tyrion?"
"Because he'd tell the truth, one that you'd know for certain was true. Again I am sorry for misleading on the matter, I had to be sure you'd approach things in a reasonable matter."
Despite the man's answer, Geralt didn't fully buy the whole being tested claim. However he didn't speak openly against it, although his sharp eyes no doubt showed the distrust he felt. "So then…you betted the dagger to Robert, which he won. I doubt though he'd hire an assassin to kill his best friend's son, much less in a clumsy manner."
"Yet a lot of people close to him would no doubt have access to it. What if the King had gifted it to a friend or someone within the family?"
"Does thin out the list…" Already he was thinking over possible suspects and possible motives.
Cersei didn't seem the type to be gifted a dagger and was far from foolish enough to give it to an assassin, even if Bran may have seen her cheating with someone else. Jaime was a fitting choice, but he and Robert don't seem to be friends, being more of a professional level between King and royal guard. Neither of Robert's brothers where at Winterfell and they don't seem to have a good bond with their eldest brother. That left only one individual…one that be foolish enough to set up the assassination.
"Going to need to talk to the King before I decide on anything."
Petyr seemed to realize Geralt had some kind of revelation yet didn't question the Witcher on the matter. "That maybe simple considering. The King may very well invite you for dinner tonight…that is if the queen allows it."
Already Geralt remembered that horrible cry she had made when she had thought her brother had been cut down. "Guess he'll send someone for me if that happens."
"I'd be on my guard if I were you. If you didn't have everyone's attention before you will now after your grand victory. Watch yourself among the nobility."
"I can handle myself."
"Heh…I have no doubts about that." The man paced for the tent flap out, stopping just before it. "Is there anything else I can do for you though? Perhaps there is something I can do to help."
Geralt didn't answer at first, not wanting to openly ask help from the smug nobleman. "Just keep an ear to the ground for anything odd. Maybe you can keep me informed of Gregor if he somehow recovers quickly and tries anything."
"Simple enough. Ah right…should see Tyrion later as well once things settle down. After all you do have your reward to pick up." Giving a short bow, Petyr moved to leave. "Enjoy your evening Ser Geralt."
Watching the man step out, he'd sigh in annoyance. "Slippery bastard…" It was like dealing with sneaky manners of Dijkstra and the politic bullshit of Shilard. Deep down he knew the man was helping for his own ends, yet what he wasn't certain. Despite the distrust he was an ally Eddard if things in court took a bad turn. Already all the worrying tired him, as if the soreness of battle wasn't enough. Getting a blanket to lay on the ground, he'd shift down to meditate, wanting to at least quickly pass the time until the evening when Tyrion and other others would be finished with their duties.
Taking a deep breath, he'd calm himself and close his eyes as he entered his trance, enjoying what short peace he had for the rest of the day.
…
"Ser Geralt?"
A young male voice snapped the Witcher out of his deep meditation, making him open his yellow cat like eyes to see who disturbed him. He'd quickly recognize it was Robert's squire, the Lannister boy who seemed a bit short witted at times. Seeing Geralt's gaze had the squire flinch, no doubt finding those eyes a bit unsettling up close.
"Yes?"
"Uhh…I have a message from Lord Tywin Lannister. He wishes to speak with you on some important matters."
Geralt didn't answer, only staring at the squire with an unblinking gaze before giving a small sigh. He guessed Tywin would have arranged a meeting, even more considering the outcome of the Melee. While it was tempting to simply refuse, he guessed it was best to not annoy the powerful noble. Besides, he felt Tywin could give him new leads or insight into his investigation.
"Very well." Geralt shifted up to stand, stretching a bit to loosen up. "Lead the way."
The Lannister squire nodded as he'd turnabout and head outside, the Witcher following close behind. Outside the noises of the tourney festivities quickly surrounded the two as they'd stroll through the private camp grounds with the laughter, chatter and music from the fairgrounds filling the air. It seemed everyone was enjoying the last free food and drink Lord Stark had offered up, a last call for merriment for the night.
"Everyone has been talking about you're victory sir." The Lannister squire suddenly remarked. "I saw the whole Melee…it was astounding really. They're already working on some songs for you, the commoners I mean."
"The bold heroic type or dark and brooding? That's how most songs on Witchers go." Geralt asked, dry sarcasm hinted in his words.
"Why dark and brooding? Your countrymen must have an odd view about you." The squire questioned, obviously not getting the Witcher's jest.
"Never mind. Anyway are we close?"
"Ah…right! Just here sir." The squire pointed out a red and gold trimmed tent, an obvious sign of it being Lord Tywin's encampment. Besides the entrance were two of the lord's honor guard who were dressed in quite fine and unique styled armor. Approaching the entrance, they'd suddenly bar the way with their spears, making the squire gulp nervously. They'd look at the squire then Geralt, a hint of respect showing as they nodded to him.
"Ser Geralt. We're sorry but you will need to wait for a while. Queen Cersei is busy speaking with her father privately." One of the guard's remarked.
"No worries. I can wait." Looking to the squire, he'd continue to speak. "Anyway thank you for guiding the way. Uh…what was your name again?" Thinking about it, no one ever spoke the Lannister's first name at all.
"Lancel ser."
"Try to relax a bit this evening. Not often anyone can enjoy a tourney feast after all."
The young man nodded, giving a thankful grin. "You're right ser. After all it may be me who'll win his own joust or melee someday." Seemed the squire had quite the ambition hidden away.
"One step at a time. Anyway go on." Geralt warned before the squire nodded and hurried off into the maze of tents. The Witcher's attention focused back to Tywin's tent, curious at what he and his daughter were discussing. The guards seemed focused on watching the main entrance, not paying too much attention to him while they idly chattered. He saw this as a good opportunity to eavesdrop, if he could get close enough for his sharp hearing to catch in. Pacing around the side of the tent discretely, he'd hone his senses as he'd shut out the many other noises. With some effort, he'd soon could pick out Cersei's and Tywin's voice.
"He's dangerous!" The queen remarked sharply, seeming to be in a heated argument with her father.
"Most men like him are…you're point being?" Tywin calmly questioned.
"My point? He scarred Jaime and he's been trouncing across all of King's Landing looking for something for the last few weeks. Always he's been constantly speaking between Lord Stark and Tyrion. They are planning something…scheming…"
"Or you are being paranoid." Tywin muttered sternly. "Firstly, has Jaime even complained about his injury? I take he's being given the best care."
Cersei paused before answering. "The Maesters say he's injuries are minor, though the wound on his face will have scarring. He…hasn't complained about that news."
"So there. If he isn't bothered then neither will I. He understands the risks any battle brings and if anything a scar is a blessing to the crippling Gregor received."
For a moment it sounded as if the queen gave a low hiss of anger. "What happened to all that talk of family pride? Some foreign stranger wounds your favored son and you simply let him by."
"If you are so eager to avenge Jaime's honor then you may gladly pick up a sword and challenge Ser Geralt." Tywin snapped back, leaving Cersei silent now. "You're emotions are blinding you Cersei. Do not underestimate the man, he's a calculating professional, not some short sighted sellsword. He understands how the intrigues of the court, maybe even better then you if he has you this concerned."
"It is about Jon Arryn's passing. From what I've learned he has been prying deeper into the previous Hand's death."
"Which we had nothing to do with…if anything learning the truth would be desired. Jon was a valuable member of the Court. He managed the Kingdoms well and organized your position as queen. With his questionable passing, Lord Stark has plenty of reason to suspect us and in turn the Witcher as well. Acting rashly won't help our case of innocence."
"What if he frames us or-"
"He won't."
"Again you are so certain."
"Because I am. Just one look at the man I could tell he is someone who puts truth before all else." There'd be a tense pause before he'd continue to speak. "Now if there is nothing else you will leave."
Cersei was silent, making Geralt wonder if she'd snap back at her father for his blunt dismissal. However she'd gave a low sigh before hurrying for the way out. Keeping hidden, he'd see her hurry off and out of sight, giving him a chance to step out of hiding.
"Curious…" It seemed Tywin and Cersei didn't see eye to eye, along with the fact the lord was just as interested in knowing the truth about the late Hand's passing.
Approaching the guards, they'd move their spears to unbar the way into the large tent. The main space felt more suited for wartime, having hanging banners of the rearing roaring lion of the Lannister's along with a large table set in the center of the space with a large map of the Seven Kingdoms set on top of it. At the head seat sat Lord Tywin, the older lord dressed still in fine plain clothes for the evening. Those calm judging eyes focused in on the Witcher, that same gaze Emhyr always gave.
"I apologize for the wait Geralt. Family matters with my daughter." The man simply stated as the Witcher pulled up a seat a few spots away from Tywin.
"Must be quite important for you to have invited me so suddenly and dismiss the queen." The Witcher questioned.
"A formality really. Your success in the Melee earned my respect and interest, something that isn't easily earned."
"No hard feelings over Gregor or Jaime?"
"Gregor…he is one our strongest and most loyal warriors who served well during the Rebellion. If he had a sense of self control and respect he'd be the perfect knight, yet such qualities are rare for those with his history." Tyrion paused for a moment, seeming to ponder a bit before continuing. "Few would dare face Gregor like you have and they usual have a reason. You though fought and bested him with ease, fearless despite his reputation."
"Because I've killed a dozen 'Mountains' back home. Only difference is that he has the title of knight to excuse his crimes." The Witcher simply stated.
"His actions during the end of the Rebellion did…complicate matters. The Martells of Dorne have long demanded retribution for years for the killing Elia during the sacking of the capital. I never ordered or accepted the death of her or her children, even if Robert agreed to a degree. What is done is done…as can be said now."
Geralt decided not to argue on mortally about Gregor since it seemed Tywin knew just how much of a monster the Clegane was. "So what is his condition anyway?"
"Stable, however his injuries will be long term. When he woke up in the middle of getting his leg stitched together, he went into a rage. Nearly strangled a Maester and crushed a squire's skull as they tried to restrain him. Took half a dozen men and enough sedative to drop an ox to calm him. Overall the Maesters doubt he will heal properly considering the precise wounds and the stress he put on them. He'll be lucky to walk and wield a sword properly again."
The Witcher didn't respond, having nothing to say on the matter, his calm gaze hinted that the cold satisfaction knowing Gregor's fate. "And Jaime?"
"Well enough. A few days and he'll be at full condition, although he'll have scarred from the slash along the face. A small price to pay for experience."
"He's a gifted swordsman. Been a long time since anyone has pushed me that far in a fight."
A hint of pride showed in Tywin's eyes, yet the man kept that calm demeanor well enough. "Jaime is the pride of my House, even if his potential is being wasted guarding kings. One day Robert will see fit to dismiss him and let him take his proper place leading Casterly Rock."
"Seems odd you want him to take up lordship. Your family already is in line to becoming Westeros's rulers after all."
"True…yet I'll not have our legacy limited to that. I've worked long and hard to get my family to the position of power it is in now and I expect my children to take their rightful places as well."
He was just like Emhyr in mind set. That sense of his choices being the right ones and how everyone needed to obey them. If anything Tywin's aspirations were very much the same as the emperor's, to create a dynasty of power that his bloodline would dominate. "Fascinating as this is, I feel you didn't invite me here to share family history Lord Tywin."
"No but it is to make a point." The man stated quite sternly. "The matter is you're an oddity, someone will skills to outmatch the greatest knights in the land and having a sharp if blunt cunning within the court, all while being common born. I thought it was simply rumors, yet you've easily proven otherwise. Many see you as a threat and others a tool for their own ends. I question if you know who considers you as such."
Geralt was silent for a long moment, knowing well what Tywin was trying to do. "And what do you consider me then? A threat or 'tool' as you say."
"A possible ally." He'd simply answer back, catching Geralt a bit off guard.
"That suddenly? I've heard many things about you Lord Tywin, easily trusting isn't one of them."
"For this I feel an exception can be made. As I said before Geralt you have the rare quality of being truly honest which I respect. You speak what you believe and let no one dissuade you, be it men like Gregor or even King Robert."
For a moment the Witcher thought over Tywin's words, his yellow eyes glaring for a moment. "Then let me be honest with you now. The answer is no. I'm not someone you can hire or convince to join your 'side'. You may have claim to respect me, for me I value trust as well, which you haven't earned. After all I've taken my time to learn of your history and past…a long history of betrayals considering."
Tywin silently listened, Geralt could tell his words had struck a nerve with him. "So do you think trustworthiness and honor is enough? Eddard's father and brother followed those beliefs and died because of it. Lord Stark has that same mind set which will drag you down."
"I've heard that many times Lord Tywin…hasn't killed me yet." A small smirk hinted his lips as he'd shift to stand up. "For now though I think it's time I left. This has been an insightful conversation though."
"Indeed." Tywin muttered, giving that cold look to the Witcher. "I do wish you fortune in learning the truth of Jon Arryn…and the misfortune to young Bran Stark, the attempt on his life is troubling news."
What surprised Geralt on that mention was Tywin's knowledge of it. Few knew of the assassination attempt beyond the Stark family and the few involved in the investigation. For a moment he looked at Tywin, realizing the man was far more informed then he originally thought. Already he questioned if he learned of this somehow through family agents…or if someone involved in the case had leaked the news.
"Goodnight Lord Lannister." With that he'd leave the large tent, eager to escape the cold judging gaze of Tywin. It was for certain though, he already disliked the man greatly and knew that out of all the nobles in King's Landing he was by far the most dangerous one about.
…
The walk back to tent was short since Geralt ignored anyone who tried to get in his way. A few nobles or stray commoners did greet him, though the serious look on his face was enough to dissuade them away. Already the Witcher was thinking over all the conversation he had overheard between Tywin and Cersei along with his chat with the noble. All it did was cement his distrust towards both the Lannister patriarch and the queen, who both seemed focused on the political game happening in the shadows. It seemed obvious neither truly knew who was behind Jon Arryn's death, but they were obviously working towards a power grab with his passing. Yet what or how was the real question.
Entering his tent, he'd snap out of his thoughts when he saw someone pacing around the table, making Geralt tense for a moment before recognizing who it was. "Davos?"
The sea captain glanced to Geralt before giving a big friendly grin and stepped forward for a quick hand shake. "Congratulations on the victory Geralt. Gods it was a battle of a lifetime seeing you take down the Mountain and the King Slayer. I'm sorry I couldn't speak to you sooner, just you ran off so quickly after the Melee. I assumed you needed the rest."
"What about Lord Eddard?"
"He's retired for the night along with his daughters. Shared a fine dinner with all three, can say the girls are quite the unique pair…if quite contrasting. Arya won't stop remarking about every move you pulled out in detail. Girl has a sharp eye and mind to have noticed everything from so far."
"A bit of natural talent I think. She's proven that after just a few sword lessons." Geralt remarked in agreement. "Still, why the late visit? I'd imagine you'd be back in the city and to your ship."
"Aye you'd think that…however the matter at hand is very political." Glancing a bit, he'd lean in to mutter. "Uh…there isn't anyone over hearing us is there?"
For a moment Geralt paused as he'd slowly pace around the tent, his hone senses listening for anyone lurking just outside. Once he did a full circle, he'd nod which made Davos relax before he'd speak again in a low voice.
"I'll admit Geralt. I have deceived you for a while."
"Deceived me on what?"
"My reason being here. It's beyond just trading and gathering ship supplies but spying. How well do you know about Lord Stannis, Robert's brother?"
"Only that he's the Master of Ships and what you've shared with me. Seems like he was a very upstanding if overly seriously lord from what I can tell. I know he left quite suddenly just days after Jon died."
"That be true. Despite rumors though, he's one of the most honest and dutiful men I've met in my life." Davos took a deep breath now, collecting himself. "Stannis left for Dragonstone because he knew Jon was close to finding the truth about the Lannisters, mainly that behind Queen Cersei."
"What truth?"
"Her children…he believed they weren't truly Robert's."
"So you mean he believed them to be bastards? That is a serious claim towards Lady Cersei to cheat and purposefully set those children up as false heirs. The problem is proving that."
"Which was why Stannis believed Jon Arryn was killed! The former Hand was close to having such evidence, enough that would have even Robert believe such claims. Stannis never learned what this proof was before fleeing to his Keep, which is why I've been visiting so often to try and find some trail to pick up on."
"Which I happened to be on…clever."
Davos nodded. "I was making plans to contact you when I learned you served for Lord Eddard, yet fate decided we'd met on different terms."
"So I take you've shared this information with Eddard was well?"
"Of course! If anything the news seemed to trouble him as he seemed to realize something. Mentioned something about a tome dedicated to the lineages of the great houses. Perhaps there was some clue in it that he recognized."
"Maybe. I'll have to ask him about it once we return to the keep." Geralt paused to think for a moment, wondering how to approach this. "If what you say is true then all that leaves is learning who the royal children's true father is."
"Stannis wasn't too certain himself. Again much of this search was done on Jon's part."
"What if they are wrong though? If anything I can see Stannis making such a claim just to discredit his brother's children and deny Joffrey his rightful place to the throne."
Davos had a bit of a baffled look at the suggestion. "Stannis would never grab for power in such an underhanded way. This man has struggled hard for all his life to get to where he is, even when he was denied the credit he was due for the blood and effort given. While he did demand to be recognized for his actions and birthright, he'd never stoop so low to steal for such power."
It was quite the impassioned speech and from the way Davos kept that unweaving look showed the captain meant every word.
"And I believe you. Again I'm just looking at this from all angles because if we make a mistake we'll have a lot of people being blamed and branded as traitors."
"With truth comes its risks." Davos sighed.
"Indeed. For now though just keep your Lord informed while Eddard and I focus on this matter. If something new does come up you'll be the first to know."
"Thank you. I value you're trust deeply Geralt."
Again they shook hands before the sea captain stepped back, giving a small yawn and stretch. "Secrets aside…I feel it's time I head back. Ugh…a long ride back to the ship that is for sure."
"Roads should be lit by this hours, so I'm sure you'll have no trouble. Still, watch yourself out there Seaworth."
"I will. You be mindful yourself." Turning to leave though, he'd nearly bump into a portly man dressed in tanned leather and a sizable head cap which covered most of his upper head, some courtier by the looks of it. "Ah! Apologies!"
"None needed sire. My mistake of rushing in unannounced." The man answered back formally.
Davos nodded, seeming in a hurry as he'd leave the tent with a short parting wave back to the Witcher. Geralt's attention though was set on the courtier who'd approach him.
"I have an important message from King Robert himself. He deeply apologizes for not being able to invite you for a private dinner tonight because of…complications. Thus he has requested you come with him on a royal hunt in three days' time."
"A hunt? Surprised he'd organize one so soon after the games." Geralt questioned "Care to explain that…Varys."
At that point the 'courtier' glanced up, an amused smile hinting his thin lips as the Master of Whispers better shared his face. Indeed he had put on some make up to disguise his soft features, yet Geralt's sharp eyes could see through it all.
"Impressive. What gave me away?"
"The perfume you have on. Same stuff you wore at the Small Council meeting. Very distinct scent considering."
"Nose is as sharp as your wit and eyes Witcher. As expected of a man of your many surprising talents." The spy master complimented, giving a cheer grin as well.
"So what brings you here? Doubt you played dress up just to watch the tourney without being hassled."
"This disguise has always been useful blending into such events. Let's me get by and overhear anything…suspicious that warrant my attention."
"Such as between me and Davos?"
"And Lord Tywin. I must say you walked a fine line speaking so openly with him, while not being too hostile." The added remark drew some surprise to the Witcher, questioning how the man got close enough to overhear. However he decided to not ask, feeling he'd just get a half answer on the matter.
"So then…what do you plan to do? Do you deem me a threat suddenly?"
"Not yet, although you've complicated matters through your victory at the Melee. By now it's obvious you're quite the deadly warrior, a literal one-man army from my point of view."
Geralt crossed his arms, a hint of annoyance on his face. "Getting to a point yet? If not, then I'd like you to leave…"
"It's about the claims Davos shared with you. In truth I've been following up on such rumors as well."
"Really now? So what do you believe in then?"
"Only that things in court and across the Seven Kingdoms will become quite chaotic, a situation I'd greatly wish to avoid." He'd turn to leave the tent, stopping at the flap. "Your answers are much closer than you think Geralt. Both you and Lord Stark have been looking too broadly. Sometimes the most complex answer is simply the one in front of you."
"Right…vague clues…my favorite spy trick." Geralt muttered as Varys slipped out of the tent. Only a few moments later did the bald man's head peek in quickly.
"Also I wasn't lying about King Robert's invitation. Hope your hunting skills are up to par." With a small polite smile, Varys slipped out of view once more, at last leaving the Witcher alone.
Geralt gave a deep sigh as he'd sit at his cot, eyes closing as he'd think deeply over the news and the spymaster's words. Already he was beginning to see a connection to it all. All it came down to King Robert himself giving the final pieces he needed to be certain and for Eddard to find whatever shocking link he had realized. If anything the invitation to the hunt was the perfect opportunity to privately question the King without being overheard and while he was in good spirits.
"All comes down to one point…" Geralt muttered to himself before glancing at the locked chest where Dragon Flag was tucked away. If the person he believed had owned the dagger back in Winterfell was who he thought it was, then things were only going to escalate no matter what. For now he'd relax on the cot, giving a sigh as the stressful day had taken its toll as he'd drift to sleep.
…
Many miles to the north west, a hard week's ride from King's Landing, the sound of digging tools and tired voices filled the air. On a tall bare hill famously known as High Heart, worn laborers heaved damp earth up around the center of large white wood stumps, the only remaining hints of the great weirwood grove that had crowned this hill. They were creating a wide deep pit, that could be easily be considered a pond if filled with water. Nearby, a large hut had been build or more of reconstructed considering the owner's demands.
Weavess spied on her slaves through the blinds of the window, knowing very well that most would parish within the week. It didn't matter, for in death their flesh would be of use for the coming rite, giving their lowly lives some last purpose. When she had sensed this place, she had been quick to halt her work on the tapestry and focus on using what weak willed followers she had to move to this sacred hill. She had communed with the dormant power, the ancient natural energy that was here. Such old history she had learned, giving her at last insight of this world's forgotten history and the foolish beings that tended these long-fallen trees.
"Oh how weak the Children were. Fearful and cowardly…having so much power in their grasp yet lacking will to use it." She chuckled to herself as she paced about the tapestry room, gazing at her beautiful work. Indeed the piece depicting the crones was nearly complete, the labor having been long yet worthwhile. "Yet I have the will. Yes…the time draws near when the dawn of flame breaks. With it the world with take's its first breath for a new age. From that we will be together against sisters…" Mournfully she'd caress the tapestry, touching the fine material with such care unfitting for such a clawed limb.
Outside there'd be more coughing then gasping as one of the labors suddenly collapsed, the fellow workers keeping back as he fell over twitching before being still. Everyone paused, hesitant at first before two labors picked up the dead worker and dragged him to the hut, laying it before the doorway. Once they had hurried off, the hag's gnarled hand yanked the corpse quickly inside, followed by the sickening crack of bone and the gory smack of bloody flesh being stripped away.
…