The White Wolf of Westeros

by DrakeCross

The Wild Hunt is defeated and Ciri steps beyond to face the source of the White Frost. However something goes wrong and Geralt risks himself as he follows her, ending up in the land of Westeros. Dealing with new intrigue and politics, he will have to decide who he can trust while trying to save his adopted daughter...along with the lives of both worlds!

20. S1-E19: The King's Hunt

Chapter 19: The King's Hunt

…

Morning seemed to arrive earlier then usually, which Geralt blamed more on perception than anything else. Forcing himself out of his cot, he groaned a bit as the lingering soreness from yesterday kicked in, even though the Swallow had done its job healing his durable body. A quick stretch eased some of the pain away before he'd change into his Witcher armor and begin the process of packing everything up for the return to the Red Keep. Outside he could hear the knights and servants working on preparing to leave, since many would long rides back to their holds, although he was sure a good third would stay at King's Landing to mingle in court politics. Already he wondered if anyone he knew would remain, yet he wouldn't know for sure until later in the day.

Walking out of his tent, he carried off his heavy packs to the nearby stable stands were Roach stood by. Thinking back, he remembered leaving the horse out at the Melee field, so he guessed a squire had brought her back. Of course could be that Roach returned on her own, since the horse had an odd happen of showing up even in the most distant of places. He didn't question it in this case as he slung the bags over the saddle before mounting up and guiding Roach forward, however instead of hurrying for the main road back to the city, he took a detour to the Stark's tent.

As he neared it, he saw Eddard was busy directing his servants with packing everything up while his daughters were waiting close by, seeming quite sleepy having to be up earlier than usual. Arya though snapped to attention when she saw the Witcher, giving an excited grin as he nudged her sister before running towards Geralt.

"Geralt! Are you doing alright after the fight yesterday? I mean…father told me you were fine, and we shouldn't bother you…even though we wanted you over for dinner." The girl remarked quickly.

"Slow down Arya. Chatter that fast and you'll faint." Geralt chuckled.

"Sorry. Just…you beat the Mountain and the King Slay- I mean Ser Jaime. It was so hard to keep up on the last fight, it was amazing how fast you moved at the very end! Jaime was able to match up somehow despite all the odds."

By now Eddard would approach the two, giving a small laugh as he ruffled the girl's hair a bit. "Best remember it well. I doubt you'll ever see a duel as grand as that. Anyway get you pony ready, we'll be heading out soon. You can pester him with questions at your next lesson."

Arya sighed before nodded in agreement. Giving a small wave to Geralt, she hurried off back towards her sister who was already being helped up onto her own horse by a servant. Eddard watched his daughters for a moment before glancing back at the Witcher, a more serious look in his eyes.

"Did Davos tell you everything?"

Geralt simply nodded back as an answer.

"Won't be certain about my theory until this evening. If it is, then the situation in the capital is much more dire then I originally thought."

"We've made it this far. Besides, your authority as the Hand should give us an edge."

"I hope so…because if our influence isn't enough then force will be our only option."

Geralt smirked a bit despite the grim matter. "Thankfully you have me if that comes around."

"Which I'm grateful of. For now, try to relax and build up your favor with Robert. He told me about his plans going out on the hunt which may be a blessing for us." Glancing to his daughters, he gave a soft smile before giving a sigh. "I'll see you back at the Keep, Geralt."

"Take care Ned." The Witcher turn Roach about as he'd ride out ahead, weaving through the maze of tents as he reached the main road. If anything he wanted to get back early to question a certain Maester before the Red Keep was crowded up once more. There was still a few more questions left and this time he wouldn't have anyone intruding like before.

…

The ride though King's Landing was quite active as it seemed like a mob of people were constantly pestering him. Already the news of his victory at the Melee and defeating the two most renowned warriors of the country had spread around. At times he'd hear someone yell out 'Witcher' or 'White Wolf' before a few cheers and friendly laughs followed up. It was odd to hear really, being more use to the spiteful remarks from back home instead of received respect and awe from the commoners.

Hurrying along before he got too much attention, he arrived at the Red Keep's gates and was let inside by the guards. Taking Roach to the stables, he'd grab his packs off the saddle before heading into the Keep from a side entrance, working his way to the guest quarters and his room. Once there, he'd quickly check his storage chest closely to ensure everything from his crafting materials and bombs were accounted for, knowing very well the risks of any of these items being stolen. It was a long process, yet it seemed nothing was missing after a detailed search. With that matter cleared, he gathered a few herbs and vials before going to the nearby worktable he had set up to begin making some fresh Swallow. After using up a dose yesterday, he wanted to make sure he was fully stocked for any emergencies. Perhaps it was a bit over cautious, but such steps had saved his life many times. It only took a few minutes considering the simplicity of the potion, which he packed away in the chest along with his silver blade.

"Now then…to visit the Maester." He muttered to himself before leaving the room, ensuring it was locked up securely.

From what he learned, the Maester laboratory was in the lower parts of the Red Keep, close to the cellars and the dungeons. It was a winding walk to the depths of the Keep, following familiar smells of alchemy oils and dusty parchment that hinted the air. Arriving at a sturdy doorway, he'd hear shuffling and the rattle of chains as Pycelle was no doubt busy working about in the next room. Giving a strong knock at the door, there'd be a small surprise gasp before the old man spoke out.

"Who is it?"

"It's Geralt, Grand Maester. I'm here to ask some more questions." He spoke out through the door.

There was a long pause before the Witcher heard the man approach the door and undo quite a number of locks to open it up. Once the door swung open, Geralt stepped through while Pycelle backed away, going down a small number of steps that lead down into the laboratory work space. It was an impressive set up, having top quality alchemical devices and a wide mix of crafting tools.

"Eh…I thought we already finished our questioning Witcher." The Maester muttered as he returned to an alembic which was connected to a retort, carefully monitoring the flow of fluids and the temperature from a nearby flame. "Ah and…congratulations on your victory at the Melee. An uhh…impressive display indeed. You at least gave the uh…other Maesters a chance to practice their m-medical skills, especially in Gregor's case."

"I take he needed some special treatment?"

"Obviously! Man may be f-freakishly strong, but even he…uhh…has limits. The muscle damage alone required serious surgery to mend. Very experimental work considering the lack of...living cases. Time will tell if the work is successful though."

"Enlightening. However I'd prefer we stay on topic." Geralt paced around the lab, eyeing a few dried insect and plant samples in pressed displays. "Few days back I asked you about Jon Arryn's death. You confirmed his passing wasn't natural but from a rare poison."

"Ah yes…I remember that much. Tears of Lys." The Maester said with a small nod.

"You mentioned that some of it was missing before. Care to explain?"

The mention had a confused look cross the old man's face, no doubt his memory on that matter being muddled because of the Axii Sign forcing him to speak. "Odd. I can't say I remember mentioning that."

"Well you did…unless you claim otherwise." The Witcher's yellow eyes stared at the man in a judging manner, making the Maester shift nervously.

"Of c-course not! Look the matter is very troubling…if news got out of s-such a poison being loose in the Keep, there would have been a panic."

"That is understandable but doesn't change the fact Jon died because of it. Surely you have suspects, someone who asked about the Tears or knew about them."

Pycelle was silent as he'd think for a long moment. "Lord Baelish would know because any royal gifts such as the Tears would be cataloged in the treasury records. The Queen and King obvious k-know of it too. Lord Jon also knew of it, even asked to have the poison…d-deposed of for safety reasons."

"Ironic. Anyone else?'

The Maester paused, before giving an odd look. "I do remember one strange visitor. Jon Arryn's wife visited at least once. Friendly if skittish woman really."

"His wife?" Admittedly Geralt hadn't heard much of the woman, except she was Catelyn's sister and now the current ruler of the Eyrie now that her husband was dead. "Let me guess, she asked about poisons."

"Indeed. Claim she was worried her son ate something bad, some herb in the garden one day. She went on and on about it, asking if anything I had could be a cause. I guess at one point I mentioned the Tears, yet the conversation was a while back."

"So let's say she did steal it…how would she do it?"

"Eh…most likely with her husband's key. The Hand of the King has access to poisons, of course after clearing the matter with me. I didn't get a chance to inform Jon Arryn of the theft before his rapid decline in health. Man could barely think clearly under the f-fever he had."

"Yet he didn't report his key missing?"

"None. Again…uhh…many uncertainties."

"Indeed. So then if his wife…uhh…what is her name?"

"Lady Lysa, Ser."

"What happened to Lysa during those last few weeks?"

"Ah…I can't say for sure. I only know she left right after his death, taking her umm…only son, Robin, with her. Woman was very protective of the boy."

"Was anyone close to here? Anyone among the royalty or servants"

"The closest be Queen Cersei I'd think. The two c-chatted at times, over what I know little of."

Geralt sighed, wondering how he'd get any answers from the Queen considering her new found dislike towards him. He'd have to be careful with her, considering she may very well have had a hand in Jon's passing, considering her fear about the investigation. "Very well. Thank you for your time Maester." He'd give a short nod before moving to leave the lab.

"Of course…take care of yourself Ser Geralt." The Maester muttered, yet as the Witcher left he did notice the old man's calculating look just as he passed through the door. He had a feeling the old man was far more cunning then how he appeared. For now though, he decided to return to the upper floors to see if anyone else had returned from the tournament grounds.

…

Geralt headed to the main dining hall, hoping to get some food and run into anyone from the tourney. Entering the hall he'd quickly hear a familiar booming voice speaking out, making him glance around to see Thoros sitting at a table with Loras, chatting over a late breakfast. The young knight seemed a bit intimidated by the priest considering his nervous look, though their conversation seemed friendly enough.

"Come on, stop acting so meek boy! Have a little pride you faced against Jaime and survived the Mountain." The Red Priest chuckled.

"I know that, yet it feels lowly that I'm renowned for surviving such battles. I'd prefer to remembered for win them instead." The young knight muttered back.

"Winning isn't everything Ser Loras." Geralt added as he'd move to an empty seat, drawing a surprised and friendly looks from both men. Picking out a bit of bread and cooked beef, the Witcher took a few bites before continuing to speak. "From what I heard you at least matched up well against Jaime. Considering what he's capable, I'm impressed you lasted that long against him."

"Heh, I'll accept that praise from you Witcher." Loras chuckled. "Wish I had just a fraction of your experience though. Perhaps I would have bested him."

"That battle was indeed grand!" Thoros laughed out. "Young vs the old. Natural talent against aged experience. Kingslayer may be a cocky young man, but I think your duel knocked a little sense into him. Time and trials will tamper him into a flawless warrior for sure."

Geralt nodded in agreement. "So I'm curious, why are you still around Loras? Thought you'd be returning to Highgarden."

"A mix of personal and political reasons mainly. After all, still chances for new alliances to be made at the Red Keep."

"Of course." Geralt did remember that Loras and Renly seemed to be close, no doubt one reason for the Tyrell remaining in the capital. "What about you Thoros? Planning on roaming across the Kingdoms soon?"

"Nah…plan to stay as long as you are."

"Really? Why is that?"

"Why? Because of fate! Yesterday was proof of that with the Lord of Light's blessing!"

"Surely you're jesting Thoros. I'll admit the flaming sword was a neat trick, even more considering it wasn't wildfire." Loras remarked.

"Was no trick! It was real faith being proven right there! It was like what my visions showed…well…vaguely."

Geralt was indeed curious about what had happened, considering that fire was indeed magically summoned if his medallion's vibrating was proof enough. "Maybe…so this vision you had. Can you do it again?"

"It's not something I just do. There has to be a…timing to it all." The priest muttered. "Yet I check the flames every night now, trying to gleam another vision. So far I know that you are the focus of them, showing that you're key to the Lord's plans."

The Witcher didn't remark at the priest's claim, not fully agreeing of a 'god' pulling the strings. Still he couldn't deny there was some power stirring in the man, be it his own will or something beyond. "Well if you get any visions just tell me. I'm at least curious to know."

"Of course! May be hope yet that you'll see the Lord's light just yet!"

Loras sighed, seeming baffled by all of this. "As interesting as this may be, I feel I must excuse myself. I need to check up on someone." The young knight got up from his seat and walk out of the hall, leaving Geralt with Thoros.

"Have to say I should be moving on as well. Need to see if the King and Queen has returned by now." Geralt remarked to Thoros

"Should be soon. They were just about finished packing when we headed off." The red priest answered back. "I know Robert invited you on a hunt. Been on my fair share and can say the man is quite the talented one despite his lack of fitness. Maybe he'll show you a trick or two."

"I'll be observant. Take care for now Thoros." Geralt moved to get out of his seat before heading for the exit that lead towards the main entrance to the keep and throne room, expecting he may run into the royal family there.

"You too Witcher!" Thoros chuckled out before he'd quickly continued finishing breakfast.

…

Arriving at the entrance hall, Geralt slowed his pace when he heard the voice of Joffrey echoing ahead, seeming to be speaking with someone. Hanging back by an archway, he could see the blond haired prince was speaking to Sandor who seemed quite groggy eyed, no doubt from a long night drinking by his disheveled look. It seemed the prince was quite annoyed towards the tall warrior with how he spoke.

"Hound! Can you explain to me why you arrived here so late? For a bodyguard you seem to be slacking of late, leaving the job for the Gold Cloaks." The boy grumbled.

Sandor looked at the boy, his eyes having a dull look to them. "Got caught up in the festivities sire."

"More like mellowing. I heard how you hid away with half a cast of ale to yourself, dull yourself over your defeat at the Melee.." Joffrey sneered a bit. "No doubt angry you lost your chance for revenge? The White Wolf made quick work of the Mountain after all…"

Already Geralt could see Sandor tensing, one armored hand clenching as his hanged over state made his patience quite thin to Joffrey's insults. It seemed like he was about to strike at the boy, so the Witcher stepped forward into view, making Sandor relax his grip as Joffrey's attention focused on Geralt.

"Ah the hero of the Melee, the fierce White Wolf! You made my name day tourney seem childish with how you bested nearly half the competition, even outmatching my uncle. I hope one day you two will have a rematch, perhaps on my royal coronation."

"May not be staying in Westeros that long sire, still a generous offer."

Joffrey sighed in a hint of frustration. "Quite the shame." Yet before the prince could say anything else, more footsteps could be heard as others entered the hall through the main doors. Everyone glanced over to see Cersei, dressed in a lavish red and gold trimmed dress with her younger son and daughter following close beside her. When she saw the Witcher there was a hint of surprise at first before those eyes narrowed sharply, distain showing for a short moment. Following close behind her was one of the King's Guard and two city watch, her escorts from the tourney grounds.

Still he'd give a short respectful bow to her. "Good morning your majesty." Glancing to her children at her side, he gave a small smile to them. "And to you as well lord and lady."

The kids giggled and muttered at his friendly greeting, although Cersei seemed to keep herself close to them as if to ward away the Witcher. "You are here earlier than expected Ser Geralt."

"Wanted to return as soon as possible before the streets go crowded. Have earned quite the reputation after yesterday, which does draw unwanted attention." Pausing though, he'd continue to speak. "The tournament aside though, there is a certain matter I wish to question you about Jon Arryn's wife, Lady Lysa."

There was a curious and cautious look in Cersei's eyes at the mention of the other woman. "I take this involves her husband's death?"

"She's become a prime suspect after I questioned Grand Maester Pycelle. Considering what I've learned and the fact she left the Keep soon after her husband's death, a quite suspicious move considering. He told me you and she chatted often, so perhaps you can shed a little light about her during that time."

Cersei was silent as she'd look to her children who'd approach Joffrey, the prince seeming to be chatting with his younger brother, seeming to be telling a grand story from how he gestured about. The King's Guard and the Gold Cloaks stood by dutiful, watching the children while the Hound stepped aside, leaning against a nearby pillar to rest a bit.

"Ser Trant." The gold armored knight looked at the queen. "Would you escort Tommen and Myrcella to the tutor's room? I have a small matter to discuss with Ser Geralt."

"As you wish your grace." The gruff knight answered back with a short bow, organizing the children together who'd wave goodbye to their mother as they'd be led away.

The queen's gaze shifted to her eldest son, who'd see the silent command in her sharp eyes. Glancing away, he'd give a nod to both her and the Witcher before muttering something to the Hound. Both hurried off as well, heading down the corridor leading to the dining hall to get an early lunch.

With a gesture, Cersei lead the way down a side hall that took a more scenic route through the Red Keep, mainly along an open hallway with a fine view of the vast gardens and the sea. Of course the two guards followed them, hanging back to not overhear while watch the two closely.

"Lysa and I didn't talk as often as you've heard." The queen muttered to the Witcher as they strolled along. "Always it was about family…both of ours. Lysa long has had a troubling history of baring stillborns which is why she was so protective of her son Robert, being her only living son. He is sickly boy, yet deeply cared for by both is parents. Jon however planned to have him sent off to be a lord's ward, begin a more proactive training and gain firsthand experience, hoping it would improve the boy's health."

"Not uncommon. It is meant to be a show of trust and alliance to do so." Geralt remarked.

"Indeed. Jon had chosen my father to care for his son, a fitting choice since both men held the highest respect for each other. However Lysa was shocked at the news, being quick to approach me and begging that I convince my father to refuse, even though there be little I could do to dissuade him."

"She was that hysteric?"

"The woman was paranoid really. I'm surprised she shared such personal thoughts with me…perhaps it was out of desperation or some faint affinity for us being mothers."

"Do you think she'd go as far as to poison her own husband?" He'd question before the woman stopped, turning to face out at the beautiful sea.

For a while Cersei didn't answer as she'd leaned against the carved stone railing, making Geralt wonder if she was trying to ignore him. "Tell me…how far would you go to protect your child? I know you have an adopted daughter, the one who you are looking for." Glancing at him, a small smirk hinted her lips as he saw the serious look hinting his yellow eyes. "How far would you go to protect her, even if it meant hurting others?"

"If needed. I've fought and killed those who'd threaten Ciri or myself, but never went as far to harm innocents."

"Yet in the end someone will get caught up or the lines between enemy and innocent become blur. As a man who's seen much of the world you must understand that at least." She'd pause, letting those words sink in while Geralt kept that calm if intimidating stare at her. "I do believe Lysa could have poisoned her husband just to keep her son at her side, the only place she considers safe."

"May have to ask your husband to call her to the court for questioning." He'd shift back, seeming to be done talking with her. "Thank you for your time your grace."

"Of course Geralt, anything to help you find the truth." She answered back formally.

As he moved away to head back down the hall, he paused as a thought came to mind. He still had some suspicions about the queen, mainly relating to her children after what he had overheard between her and Pycelle. It was risky to do this considering what she had said to her father, yet perhaps a little pressure would give some clues.

"One other thing…you're children really have quite the resemblance." He suddenly remarked, his tone casual towards her.

While her back was toward him, he'd notice her form tense lightly, the hand on the stone railing gripping it tightly for a short moment. "In what way do you mean?" She'd muttered back, her voice having a cold demanding tone to it.

"They all seem to take after you. Gold hair and such. Joffrey though has his father's fierce spirit, something that he should discipline more considering his aggressive behavior."

Cersei paused for a long moment, yet Geralt could see how her nails lightly scrapped along the stone in a growing sign of anger. "He is my son and I'll continue to rise him as I see fit." She calmly stated.

"Of course. I didn't mean to imply your grace." The Witcher gave a small bow. "Anyway I've taken enough of your time…farewell." He'd continue on his way, looking back to see the woman shaking a bit where she stood in a mix of fear and rage. There was no doubt now, Cersei was guarding something about her children just like Jon Arryn had suspected. It all came down to children, Gendry and whatever hunch Ned had.

"Still a lot of daylight ahead…better wait till nightfall." He'd head for his room, feeling a few hours of extra sleep would be a good way to pass the time before meeting with the Hand of the King.

...

Geralt crept through the Red Keep as night had settled in, leaving the corridors empty except for the odd guard patrolling around. While he had no worry of getting into trouble with the Watch, he preferred to be discreet with meeting Eddard. Soon he'd reach the doors that lead to the Hand's Tower, the private quarters and study for Lord Stark. A pair of northern guards, men brought along from Winterfell watched the doors, both giving respectful nods to the Witcher as he'd pass by.

The first floor seemed to be a mix of lodge and small dining area for private gatherings. More Northerners were sitting or standing about, at least over half a dozen from Geralt's count. By the spiral stairway leading up, Geralt recognized Jory, the Stark's captain of the guard. He hadn't seen much of the man since moving into the Red Keep, though he knew the captain was a dutiful and loyal individual.

"Evening Geralt. Lord Eddard is expecting you on the top floor." He'd gesture to the stairs taking the lead leading upward.

"A lot of security. What's going on?"

"A precaution. Lord Stark will explain."

They'd pass the second floor which seemed to be guest area, having a small sitting place which had a hallway leading out to smaller rooms. One guard was sitting back in one chair, seeming to be keeping an eye on the separate room doors. "Eddard's daughters have been moved in here for now. Sansa was frustrated at first, but she had settled down. Still, we're being mindful of their safety." Jory remarked.

The third floor was much like the last, yet it only had one separate room. Geralt guessed this was Ned's bedchambers. Soon they'd reach the top floor, the study which like the last two had an antechamber that lead into the secured office. Jory knocked at the door in a certain pattern before someone within spoke out. The captain of the guard opened the door for the Witcher, revealing Stark's office. It was much like the study in Winterfell, although a bit bigger and having a balcony that gave a fine view of the ocean and King's Landing. Behind the massive oaken desk sat Eddard, who was busy writing up a letter, one of many that was piling up. Finishing the letter, Ned sighed as he'd set his quill down before glancing up at Jory and Geralt, a tired and serious look in his eyes.

"Thank you Jory. You can go now." Eddard muttered.

The captain nodded as he'd turn to leave, closing the heavy door behind him, leaving Geralt and Ned alone now.

Neither Geralt nor Ned said anything for the moment as the Northern lord worked on getting the last letter folded and closed with a seal. The Witcher paced around the office, eyeing a few books as he waited.

"So what are you planning Ned? Added guards show you're prepared for trouble…and I can see a few of those letters have a few powerful names on them." Geralt calmly stated.

Ned set the letter on top of the pile before he'd shift up to stand, stepping around the desk. "A backup plan if trouble arises. If what I've deduced is true then we'll need all the support we can get." He'd gesture Geralt to come closer, one hand resting on a thick tome with quite the long title.

"'The Lineages and Histories of the Great Houses of the Seven Kingdoms'. Davos mentioned you found a book that Jon had been researching into."

"Yes. This was buried under a lot of older tomes and records Jon had collected. I think with what strength he had, he deliberately hid it away as some kind of clue." He'd flip open the book where a bookmark was set, the chapter being on the Baratheon family. All across the page it detailed marriages and short descriptions on each member of the family. Throughout it there were small markings and circles made, mainly over the details on male descendants of the Baratheon line. "Take a look."

Geralt studied the book and the markings, yellow eyes scanning page after page, noticing quickly a common quality among the men of the family. "All have black hair. It makes sense…dominate heredity trait" Looking closely he'd even see how past unions with Lannsters continued with the black-haired appearance.

"Exactly. It is the reason why Jon looked into Robert's bastards within King's Landing, to get physical proof of this." Ned remarked. "It means that Joffrey isn't Robert's true son, but a bastard child that Cersei has bared with someone else."

The Witcher paused as he'd shut the book close. "That mean Lord Stannis be next in line unless Gendry or elder son is legitimized by the King's command." He muttered. "So now it comes down to who's the father of Cersei's three children."

"From the look in your eyes I can tell you have some ideas."

"Yes…and if it's true it makes matters a lot worse." The Witcher paced around the desk, gaze set on those sealed letters. "It's Jaime. It's the only logical explanation."

A hint of surprise and shock showed on Ned's face. "That is…a serious claim."

"Yet the most likely. If anything it's quite obvious if you look close enough." His piercing yellow eyes glanced right at Eddard. "They share more than just simple sibling bond. Just the subtle hints during the tourney are proof of that. Besides the children are nearly a splitting image of him and her. Give Joffrey a few more years and I'll bet he'll look a lot like Jaime when he was that young."

Ned took a deep breath, a troubled look showing across his face. "Bad enough to be born as bastards…yet products of incest." He'd pause as he'd rub one hand across his face and down his breaded chin. "If this is true…"

"If Robert learns of this who knows what he'll do. At best he'll disown them and have the Lannister's disgraced. Worse case…kill them all. Start a whole new war with all of the Westernlands."

Ned nodded slowly, a grim look in his eyes. "I know. This is a deception that he will not stand for."

"So how do we handle this? One factor we have to think over is with Lord Tywin himself."

"Why is that?"

"I doubt he knows about Joffrey's or the other children's true parentage. The man values his family's reputation about all else and the act of incest would be damning towards it."

"True, yet he values family just as much. He'll no doubt try to discredit the claims and still defend his children from the King's justice."

Eddard gave a small nervous chuckle. "Seems we're in quite the corner then. A disturbing conspiracy with no simple solution."

Geralt was silent for a long moment, looking at Eddard with a calm gaze. "Ned…you know that if Cersei and Jaime are together, it's logical that he was with her at the tower in Winterfell."

Lord Stark nodded, glace looking down at the table as one hand rapped against the strong wood firmly. The Witcher could sense the building anger from the man as he struggled to keep himself composed. Even Geralt felt a stirring fury too, wondering how Jaime could act so normally in front of them, even during the moments discussing about the boy.

"I know…I'd like nothing more than to make them pay for what happened to my son." He'd take a shaky sigh before looking up. "Yet it will be through proper means…through the law and courts. We have to approach this carefully, else we will have a repeat of the Rebellion like decades ago."

"So any ideas then?"

Ned thought for a moment. "We could approach Cersei. As much as I hate the idea we can blackmail her with the information, give her a chance to flee King's Landing with her family. At the least that will give us time to calm Robert down with the news of her incestuous infidelity without having any senseless bloodshed."

"Ned, that woman's ego and desire for power won't have her back down. If you threaten her like that she will lash out and we both know she has powerful allies to back her up."

"Which is why we will be ready in force to. I have been gathering up my men and trustworthy knights, people who are loyal to the Baratheons and the King. In turn you have allies to look to, men like Thoros and Loras Tyrell who both respect you."

"Thoros be a good choice, he's a friend to the king after all. Yet Loras I don't think we should involve. He may be famous for his prowess, but he seems to have little political standing with him family and here." He'd shake his head though. "Coup like that is too risky. We can easily be seen as the aggressors and be blamed for outright rebellion and treason."

"A fair point..." Ned thought for a moment, an idea coming to mind. "Robert hunt, I know he's invited you to it. You'd be away from the capital and any prying spies. Being that far out will give him time to calm down over this shocking news and you to reason with him."

"Still a gamble."

"Yet his authority would be the swiftest and just way to settle this matter."

For a while Geralt was quiet, thinking over everything. He hated how limited and risky this was becoming. No doubt Ned understood that which was why he was pushing for more official actions."

"Fine I'll do it." He muttered back. "Yet be ready for anything when we do come back."

"I pray that we will be prepared for this. You still have a few days until the hunt, give us time to think over how to handle this. For now we just follow our usual duties…"

The Witcher nodded in agreement. "Then we play our parts." He'd turnabout for the door, feeling there was nothing left to say. For once he felt goodbye wasn't fitting for this moment and it seemed Ned agreed from the look on his face.

"Aye…that we do."

Passing through the heavy door out of the office, it slam shut as events were now set, reaching a point of no return.

…

The next few days Geralt focused on his usual routine throughout the Red Keep. He did spend more time training Arya along with Syrio, honing her dueling skills at double the pace. If anything the girl seemed more focused after the tournament, wanting to accomplish the same feats the Witcher had done. Again she shared the same spirit Ciri had, which in turned improved his own mood with the difficult times coming ahead.

Soon the day of the hunt arrived and Geralt made sure to prepare himself. He knew they'd be heading off to the Kingswood, a vast forest to the south which was used as the royal hunting grounds. It was within a day's ride, yet from what the page had told him Robert wished to stay within the woods for at least a night and day.

Donning his Witcher armor and swords along his hand crossbow and quiver. He'd pack away a selection of bombs and potions, basic ones for any emergencies. It was good to be more equip beyond just his swords though he hoped he wouldn't have to use his more exotic tools. Fully packed for the trip, he'd make his way for the courtyard where the gathering party would be. Making his way for the main hall, Geralt slowed as he'd see King Robert, Renly and the whole King's Guard leaving out the throne room, Barristan chatting beside his Lord while Jaime followed close behind.

Robert and Renly were both dressed for travel, having traded their more regal clothes for fine sturdy leathers. It was perhaps the first time Geralt had seen the two dressed so normally considering their high positions in the court.

The Jaime seemed to have recovered from his injuries as he stood tall in his golden armor. The right side of his face was healing well, still covered by a bandage with edges of the injury showing smooth scarring. It no doubt take a month to see how it look although Geralt could tell it leave a clear mark in the end.

Approaching the group, everyone's attention shifted to the Witcher, Robert giving a big grin seeing how well armed the man was. "Hah! So is this how you usually look when you go on a hunt?"

"Usually my prey are fiercer then stags and boars." Geralt simply answered back.

"Going to have to tell me more of these 'monsters' you hunt in your country, they must be quite the challenge to require such weapons." Looking to Renly and Barristan, he'd nod for the doors. "Anyway day light is burning. Sun may be low now, yet I want to be in the Kingswood and camp set before midday!"

The group moved out to leave, rest of the King's Guard going their separate ways since their Commander was going to be watching Robert on this occasion. However Geralt quickly noticed Jaime remained behind, making the Witcher stop following after Robert's group.

Looking at the young knight, Geralt remembered that this was the man who had crippled Bran, who put all these events into motion. Despite it all he felt a strange confliction, there was lingering respect that he couldn't deny after their battle days ago. It was frustrating really, but he kept composed as he showed no real emotion on his face as he approached Jaime.

"Doing alright?"

Jaime smirked at the remark, nodding his head as one hand touched his bandaged cheek. "Humbled really. I can say this was the first duel where I truly met my match despite all my plans and efforts."

"You were well prepared, something most don't do when facing a difficult opponent." Geralt answered back. "You pushed he further than most, an accomplishment that you should be proud of."

"Sounds like worthy praise when you put it that way. Guess I can say I was the man who nearly bested the White Wolf."

Geralt couldn't help but chuckle at the man's jesting tone. "At least you'll never forget with that scar. Trust me, I never do with the ones I've earned."

Jaime nodded, an amused smile on his face, though for a moment the Witcher could see an odd hint in the man's eyes. It seemed to be…guilt, just the small way his gaze shifted away from the Witcher. "One day I hope we will battle again. You've given me a lot to think about…" He'd offer one up hand to shake, making Geralt gaze downward.

For a moment the Witcher hesitated from his conflicting emotions. Jaime could tell something was wrong as he noted Geralt stance becoming tense, a questioning look showing on the knight's face. However a booming voice from the grand doorway called out, snapping both men to attention.

"Enough chatting Geralt! Hurry up or I'll have you dragged all the way to the woods!" Robert yelled out.

With the tension broken, Geralt relaxed as he turned away from Jaime to face the doorway to the courtyard. "I best go, rather not frustrate the King so early in the day."

There was still a troubled look on the knight's face as he nod in agreement. "True…keep a close eye on him Witcher." Jaime gave a short respectful nod before stepping away, only to suddenly stop to speak a bit more. "When you return there is something I want to tell you. Something I feel you should know…"

Already the Witcher had an idea what Jaime meant, but didn't say anything back as he let the Lannister march off down one hallway. Taking a low breath to calm himself, Geralt headed out to the courtyard were everyone else was waiting. There was a small group of servants, Lancel being among them, were set on wagon packed with camping and hunting supplies, along with a couple guards for added protection. Nearby, Roach was being handled by a squire who handed the reins to the Witcher so he could mount up. Robert glanced over the gathering party before gesturing towards the gates.

"Forward! To the King's Gate to the south. Guards make sure the morning crowd doesn't slow us down. Want to give the people a good show without them hindering us."

The ride through the city went by smoothly as the royal hunting party with only a small crowd paying much attention to them. Robert kept the group going, waving to a few people who called out to him while the guards kept anyone from getting in the way. At times though someone spoke out for Renly and Geralt, more often his nick name the White Wolf. Renly would give a charming smile to those who called for his attention, although the Witcher wasn't as active as he'd give a small nod or glance to the onlookers.

Soon they reached the King's Gate which was the simplest looking of the city entrances when compared to the others, making him guess it was one of the original gateways into the city. The party continued southward, crossing a wide stone bridge of the King's Road that stretched over the wide Blackwater Rush. Robert would be chatting with his younger brother for a while, giving a deep chuckle as Renly gave an annoyed look before slowing his horse to stop riding alongside the King.

"Sibling differences I take?" Geralt questioned as he neared Renly.

"More of his boasting nature. It's tiring to keep hearing him praise about his accomplishments during the Rebellion and all his hunts. If anything it's a bit sad…"

"Him clinging to the glory days. I've seen it before. Still he seems to have kept peace well enough despite the debt that has built up behind the scenes."

Renly nodded. "He and I may have different views on many matters when it comes to running the country. I give advice and in turn hope he uses it. I only wish Joffrey won't be next in line though…if anything the traditional line of succession is outdated."

"That is a bold thought to share." Geralt remarked, curious at what the young noble was saying.

"You're not an ordinary individual Geralt, you are far more open minded then most. Surely you agree that a leader should be chosen by merit and favored by the small folk? Too often have we handed the role of ruler to a madman or warmonger, only because they were born to the founding family. Aerys is such an example, a decent king in the early years before madness ruined him."

"All fair points and one I agree. However I doubt such a change will happen anytime soon time."

"Perhaps, yet your approval give me confidence at the least." Renly chuckled. "Many respect you for martial prowess, yet Lord Stark and I see the greater value in your common sense and wisdom."

"Flattering compliments sire."

"You're welcome."

By now the Kingswood was in sight, a vast stretch of dense woodlands that was unlike anything Geralt had seen back home. While Velen had plenty of forest, it was often split apart by roads, swamps and the destruction of war. If monsters existed in this world he was certain these woods would be prime grounds of such creatures to live and breed in, secluded considering how unpopulated the region was around the wide forest. It be an hour of riding until the party reached the woods and half an hour until they had traveled deep enough.

"Far enough! Men, set the camp off the side of the road while the rest of us begin our hunt. Get the skinning table set up first before everything else." Robert ordered as he came to a stop, getting off his horse and handing it off to a servant.

Everyone else did the same, dismounting and letting the servants get the horses safely tied up nearby in a grassy area. Geralt stretched a bit as he'd watch the camp quickly get set up as the cart was unloaded before focusing on the rest of the royal party.

Already Robert and Renly was handed boar spears before the King spoke out. "Let's see what we can catch today. Witcher, I'd like you at my side, want to see your famous tracking skills up close."

Geralt guessed Ned must have shared the story of how he deduced the events of the dead direwolf and stag. "As you wish your grace." Moving up Lancel offer up a board spear to him, shaking his head as he refused the weapon.

The group began their march away from the camp, taking a side trail leading deeper into the woods. Geralt was close beside Robert while Renly followed just behind, while Barristan and Lancel was at the back, carrying extra supplies for everyone.

"So Geralt, tell me about the beasts you hunt, these monsters you slay."

"Can say most aren't like your usual beasts sire. One of the fiercest creatures has always been a chort or their larger cousins the fiends."

"What are they like?"

Geralt paused to think for a moment before answering. "Imagine a beast the size rivaling carriage with the thick muscular body that could crush a bear. Claws on the front end and solid hooves on the back. Head is like a goat or warped stag often with the accustomed horns for the type. Oddest feature is a third eye that many claim can hypnotize others, although it's just superstition."

Robert gaze quite the puzzled look before grinning and chuckling. "Heh, if such beasts exist back home I can see why they trained men like you. Sounds a lot like the things rumor live in Essos really." The man sighed as he'd shake his head a bit. "Wish I could have gone off to see such things...be a thrill to hunt a creature like that!"

"I'd be hesitant on that sire. Seen even a juvenile chort kill half of an experienced hunting party before they took it down."

"Well lucky I'm no ordinary hunter." Robert jested back. "You do live the life Geralt, traveling across the world, hunting and fighting along the way. If war had never happened I'd probably have done the same."

Lancel suddenly moved up to the two with a heavy waterskin, speaking up to just interrupt. "Wine your grace?"

"Aye. Always good to have a drink early in the hunt." The man chuckled as he took a deep drink from it before offering some to Geralt.

The Witcher didn't refuse, if anything he needed something to help relax during the trek. Taking a sip, he recognized the taste of the drink being the same strong wine Robert had shared back at his tent during the tournament. Handing the skin back, Lancel retreat back to the back of the line before Robert spoke up.

"Slow down…think I see something."

Indeed there was marking in the dirt, large and rough tracks fitting of a big boar. Already Geralt crouched down as he focused his sharp eyes to the ground, noting how the trail started off from the dense underbrush before scrapping a tree as a territorial mark before heading down the trail.

"Big one. At least a grand old boar, maybe eight or ten years in age." Geralt muttered.

"Quite the prime age." Renly remarked as he stepped closer. "Going to have to be mindful with tracking it."

"Heh, boars this age have no fear. If we get close enough the boar will come to us instead of run." Robert chuckled eagerly, hefting up his spear. "Let's keep going. Can't have gone too far."

The group resumed the match with Geralt taking more of a lead, his cat like eyes keeping track of the boar's trail. Robert was quiet for a while, watching the Witcher closely.

"Anyway I miss the simpler times Geralt. Enemies were right in front of you, vicious and bloody inviting you to face them. Nothing like today…"

"Sounds exhilarating." Renly remarked back offhandedly.

"Exhilarating yes! Not like those balls and masquerades you like to throw!" Robert gave a deep chuckle of amusement, although his brother's sour expression was quite the opposite. Lancel again moved forward, offering the wineskin again to Robert who took a short drink with a pleased sigh. "So Geralt, enjoyed any Northerner or Riverland women yet?"

"Haven't had the time sire." The Witcher muttered back dismissively.

"Heh, back in my day we had a little right of manhood were you had to fuck one girl from each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We used to call it making the eight!"

"Those must have been some lucky girls…" Renly remarked back, hinting mockery in his tone.

Robert seemed to ignore his brother's tone though. "You ever make the eight Barristan?"

Geralt couldn't help but glance back as the Lord Commander seemed stoic as ever with the calm expression on his face. "I don't believe so your grace." He answered back formally.

Again the king laughed out loudly at the commander's reply. "Ah those were the days."

Suddenly Renly had a look of frustration cross his face as he suddenly spoke up. "Which days exactly?

He firmly planted the end of his spear into the ground, making everyone behind him come to a sudden stop. Robert turned to look at his younger brother, a stern look showing in his eyes. "The one were one half of Westeros fought the other and millions died? Or before that when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that when dragons burned whole cities to the ground!?"

Everyone seemed taken aback at Renly's words, even Geralt as the young noble and Robert had a tense stare down. The King gripped his boar spear tightly before speaking back. "Easy boy…you may be my brother but you're speaking to your king."

Renly seemed ready to snap back, showing tell this was only going to get worse. "Sires. Hate to break up the family feud, but something is close." The Witcher spoke up, silencing the younger noble before their spat got out of hand.

There was a long pause, Robert seeming to forget the argument as his attention returned to the hunt. Lancel seemed oddly nervous as he glanced about before moving towards Robert. "Ah…more wine before-"

"The King has had enough to drink." Geralt muttered back. "Save it for after the kill."

The Witcher expected the King to argue back yet the man remained silent. Perhaps the small lesson on the day of the Melee had left an impression with the ruler. "Big…something big is lurking."

Indeed there was a heavy rustling nearby and a deep squealing grunts that grew louder each time. Geralt moved one hand behind his back, gripping his crossbow while Renly and Robert took positions facing different directions. Barristan had a tense look in his eyes as he gripped his sword, that same alertness before the Melee showing once more.

Suddenly there was a fierce squeal as a massive boar, the biggest even Geralt had seen charged out from the thick brush. It rivaled the size of the Mountain in bulk and length, along with having massive gnarled tusks that could gore muscle and rip leather with ease. Lancel yelped out in shock as he leaped aside into the bushes, while Robert and Renly turned about, spears aimed low in a bracing stance.

"Come on you old pig!" Robert growled out while Barristan and Geralt dodged aside, knowing the boar spears be more effective than their swords. The boar blindly rushed into the two spears, Renly's being knocked aside by the thrashing head, nicking across the boar's muscular neck while staggering the young man away. The king however had his spear drive into the beast's chest, the spear sinking deep into thick muscle and flesh.

Despite the deep wound the boar was unyielding as it struggle and push forward, making Robert slide back as he put all his heavy weight against the beast. The rough terrain made it hard for the large man to keep his footing as a thick overgrown root had him tumble back, cursing out as he landed roughly onto his back. With the spear still stuck in, the boar squealed as it rushed at Robert, who quickly drew out a large hunting knife to defend himself.

At this point Geralt acted as he drew and fired his crossbow in one fluid move, the bolt flying right into the beast's left eye. The overgrown animal squealed in pain as it was blinded, disrupting its charge as it turned away from Robert. Renly had recovered as he gave a yell, stabbing into the boar's side, slowing the animal even more as he twisted the spear about. The boar thrashed about, trying to get at Renly who was barely keeping his own footing.

Robert took this chance to pull himself up and lunge at the boar, giving a fierce battle cry as he grabbed at one of gnarled tusks, showing a shocking burst of strength as he yanked the beast's head about. With a roar he drove his knife into the boar's skull. It was a lethal wound, but the mindless beast seemed dead set on trying to take the King down with it. Geralt fired another shot at the gashed wound Renly had left earlier across the neck, piercing through the thick fur and hide. The boar recoiling in pain, giving Robert the chance to stab again and twist the knife about. The boar give a mournful groan before it at last slumped down dead at last. Robert shuffled back panting, leaving his knife embedded in the boar's skull while everyone gathered up around the massive beast.

For a long moment no one said anything as they glanced between each other and the slain beast, until Robert gave a deep laugh and victorious cry. "Hah! I still got it. Haven't stared death in the eye for so long…" Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his sweaty face and gruff beard as before glancing at Renly. "Renly…you're damn soft at times but you saved my ass there. Consider us even over that argument, just don't do that again." His gaze then shifted to Geralt. "Thank as well. Damn good shot going for the eye and neck. Seems you are full of tricks Witcher."

Renly shook his head, smirking a bit as he seemed a bit amused with his brother's remark. Whatever tension that had built up from their earlier argument was gone for the moment. "Fine…even then." He muttered, taking a deep sigh as he catched his breath.

"Crazy of you to grapple a boar like that, much less with one hand." Geralt remarked. "Guess you got some fire left in you sire."

"Heh, under a layer of fat and sagging muscle." The Robert chuckled as he stepped up to yank his knife out of the boar's skull with a bit of effort. "Either I need to thin down or hang up the spear. Been any slower that thing would have gored my guts out."

"It was a close call your grace." Barristan remarked. "I feel I should have intervened at the least."

"Bah don't worry yourself Barristan. Your job is to fight off assassins, not old boars." By now Lancel would peek out from his hiding spot, quickly being noticed by Robert. "And you boy. Best hope you got strong arms and a sturdy back because you'll be helping drag this thing all the way back to camp."

Geralt couldn't help but smirk in amusement as the squire give such a troubled look from the order, although he nodded his head as he'd rejoin the group. "As you wish sire…" He offered up the wineskin which the King snatched up before taking a deep gulp from, giving a pleased sigh as he savored the drink and his victorious kill.

…

The walk back to camp took twice as long as the group struggled to drag the giant boar back. Even with Geralt helping out, the sheer bulk of the animal was just too difficult to heft about. Renly was sent ahead to get more men, who arrived when the group was half way there. Soon everyone was back in the camp and the boar set on a massive table in a large tent to be skinned and chopped up.

Geralt took the time to get some water after the long trek before check up on Robert, thinking this may be the best chance to talk privately with the man. Entering the main tent, the Witcher found Robert already cutting his knife deeply into the boar as he'd carefully work on gutting the creature while Lancel stood by with a wooden bucket to collect the gory entrails.

"Mind the bladder boy. That thing's burst and you'll stick of boar piss for a week." Robert warned has he handed over the bloody sack to the squire, who seemed pale with the gross details. The King's attention shifted to Geralt when he stepped in, giving a big welcoming smile to the Witcher. "Come to help Witcher? If anything Lancel here looks like he'll need a bucket for his own guts."

"A-Amusing your grace." The squire muttered, seeming a bit green with nausea as he careful deposed of the foul organ.

Robert sighed and shook his head. "If a gutted pig has you this sick, you'll never have the balls to slice a man in a real battle. Get those guts thrown out and gather up some water, going to need plenty to cleaning up here."

"But the nearest stream is…"

"Far off…which means you best get moving then!"

Lancel quickly nodded before he hurried off, nearly fumbling with the gut filled bucket as he left the tent. Geralt stepped up beside the skinning table as Robert continued his knife work, grunting and cursing as the hide was held tightly together by the dense muscle.

"Think you're being a bit too tough on the squire?" Geralt questioned.

"Have to be. Show him being a…ugh…knight isn't as simple as it looks. Need's to understand there is hard work and commitment to matter how lowly the task is." Robert muttered back between cuts.

"Fair point." For a while the Witcher just silently watched the King cut away at the boar body before speaking. "Hide tougher than it looks."

"Heh, should have scrounged up a valyrian steel knife from the vault…guh!" The knife got stuck in the thick muscle which forced him to roughly yank it out.

"Have a dagger, though it's not really meant for this kind of work." Geralt reached to his hip, holding up the sheathed curved blade.

When Robert glanced at it, then did a double take, a hint of recognition showing in his eyes. "Where did you get that?" He questioned sharply.

"So you have seen this weapon before?"

"Aye. I won it a month before our trip to Winterfell during Joffrey's naming day tourney. Lord Baelish betted it."

"Huh…guess he wasn't lying on that detail." The Witcher remarked lowly.

Robert's expression became more stern. "Again where did you get that dagger?" He demanded.

"Guess even Eddard didn't tell you yet. This dagger was in the hands of some vagrant hired to murder Bran back in Winterfell. The man nearly killed the boy and Lady Stark with it."

Confusion and shock now hinted the King's eyes. "What? How can that be? I gave that thing to Joffrey day after his naming day…boy treasured that dagger over everything else."

"So you admit Joffrey was the last owner of the dagger?"

"Aye. Now care to explain how some lowly assassin got hold of it?"

"If anything you just told me who gave it to him."

Robert growled lowly, making Barristan tense slightly in the tent corner. "Watch yourself Geralt. You saved my life back there yet that doesn't give you the right to say such things about my family!"

"I'm stating what the clues tell me sire."

"What you're imply is that my son tried to kill my best friend's own child."

"Because it's damn obvious. I know the Starks have plenty of enemies, but do you really think any of them are this clumsy?" Geralt countered back. "Hiring a desperate criminal and arming him with a traceable weapon like this? Only a child would be foolish enough to do something like this."

The explanation had Robert pause, glancing between Geralt and the dagger. "Why then? Joffrey didn't even talk with the boy…has no reason to want him dead."

"True. Yet the he doesn't think reasonable like most kids his age." The Witcher countered back. "Think back to the days after Bran's fall. I remember a few people say you claimed the boy was better off dead considering he was crippled."

Again the King was silent, seeming to be thinking back to all those months. "I…may have said such things. Drink made me loose tongued with my thoughts."

"Thoughts that Joffrey may have overheard. You may not show much attention to the boy, but he listens closely to everything you say. Overall he didn't do it out of a cruel intent, only out of a lack of common sense."

"I don't want to believe it…" Robert muttered in a low voice.

At this point Geralt could tell there was conflict in the man's mind, as if he had some knowledge that something was deeply wrong with Joffrey. This seemed like the right moment to give the full truth.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but there is more troubling news to share."

Robert slam his fist against the table in showing frustration. "Damn it Geralt! I came out here to escape the stresses of court, not be drown in more intrigue!"

"Trust me, Lord Stark and I hate it just as much, but this is a matter that wasn't safe to speak at the Red Keep. It involves Jon Arryn's death and his activities beforehand. Mainly-" However Geralt paused, head tilting as he swore he heard something odd outside, a pained grunt that seemed out of place.

"Mainly what Witcher? Come on out with it!" Robert cursed, seeming not to realize something was wrong.

Barristan seemed to notice as well as he paced to the tent flap to glance outside as the servants seemed to speaking out in shock. At that point the old knight looked back at Geralt and his King, a dead serious look in his eyes. "Sire, take cover now!"

Robert was confused yet Geralt didn't hesitate as his sharp ears heard the whishing sound coming from above. Grabbing hold of King, he dragged him down low just as arrows pierce through the tent top and sunk into the ground where they had just stood. Shocked and pained cries followed outside as the servants and guards were picked off by unseen archers. Barristan reached behind himself as he drew out a light heater shield. It was small enough to conceal onto his back and under his white cape without hindering his movement. He raised it over head to ward off more falling arrows before rolling forward under the table, armor hardly hindering him.

"Bloody hells is going on!?" Robert cursed as more arrows struck the table, the half-skinned boar and heavy wood shielding the three.

A few moment later the small rain of arrows stopped, as outside there low wailing cries of whoever had survived the barrage yet was wounded. For a long while the three men were silent, Geralt being the first to slowly crawl out from cover and towards the tent flap to peak out. Outside the guards and servants were strewn around the campgrounds, dead or dying from what he could tell. Scanning the area, he couldn't see Renly, making him worry something had happened to him.

"Hello!" A male voice, an aged voice yelled out from the woods. "Robert? Glorious King Robert? Are you dead yet?"

Geralt glanced back at the table, seeing the King have a fierce look of anger across his face. However Barristan was muttering something to him, no doubt trying to calm him down.

"Either your dead or hiding…either way it doesn't matter. I do know that Lord Commander Barristan and Ser Geralt though must surely be alive. I doubt two legends of the court would simply die in such a simple ambush."

Neither man answered back, knowing better then to reveal their position to their unseen attackers.

After a long pause, the man continued to speak. "This is dull. If Robert is alive then hear this…Lord Viserys and Lady Daenerys sends their regards. The Targaryens never forget and always repay in fire and blood."

A look of shock then pure rage crossed Robert's face, the man giving a low growl of fury as he heard those words. Indeed Geralt was just as surprised but didn't let that distract him as he could hear heavy footsteps approaching, at least a dozen from what he could tell. Already the Witcher tensed as he'd brace one hand to the ground while the other reached for his steel sword, ready to lunge up and attack when an enemy was in sight. Already he was having doubts on who these men really were and their motives for attacking. Whoever they were they were numerous and well trained along with lacking any restraint on whoever got hurt or killed.

Barristan was prepared as well as he shifted out from cover, drawing his own sword and holding up his shield. Already Geralt knew that the Lord Commander had no plans on holding back, since those eyes had a look of pure focus in them. "Your grace, leave this to us." The older knight calmly stated.

"No…" Robert muttered as he staggered out of cover. "I'm not going to hide! For once I have an enemy out in the open…inviting me to face them like so many years before!" He glanced about, cursing since there were no spare swords on hand, except the hunting and skinning tools on the table. Grabbing a hatchet, Robert glance between the Witcher and the Lord Commander. "Don't care if these are pretenders or some thick-headed loyalists…no one attacks the King and gets away with it!"

"I get that you want to fight them, but we are outnumbered and surrounded. You're safety comes before everything else." The footsteps neared, the sound of blades being drawn being heard. A few pained cries followed as the men were finishing off the injured as they made their way towards the tent. "Barristan, you need to get the King into the woods. In the camp we're too exposed to archers. I'll draw their attention while you get Robert to cover."

"I don't plan on running off Witcher." Robert growled before a sudden shock of realization hit him. "Oh gods…Renly…he was out there."

Even Geralt had nearly forgotten about the younger Baratheon, making him curse lowly. "I'll try to find him. Maybe he got to cover or was able to escape."

"Let us hope." Barristan muttered. "Time is up…they approach."

…

At that moment everyone moved, Geralt lunging out as the first ambusher neared the tent flap. The man was gruff and plain looking, dressed in leather and chainmail fitting for infantry or a sellsword. A look of complete surprise crossed his face as the Witcher moved so inhumanly fast along with the fact Geralt's steel blade had just cut right through his unprotected neck.

"By the Seven!" One of the other men yelled out in shock as their companion was instantly beheaded, leaving an opening for Geralt to rush in. The two other raiders could barely get their swords up to block the powerful blows the Witcher dealt, making them stagger about from the sheer force. Geralt took advantage of their weak guard as he sliced across one man's chest, rending his simple armor like it was paper. The other tried to lash out with an armored back hand, the Witcher simply side stepping and counter attacked, leading to howling cries and an arm flying through the air.

Geralt's attention shifted to Barristan and Robert as they rushed in the opposite direction, making a break for the dense woods. The Lord Commander cut through any raider with ease, parrying blows with his shield before following up with a lethal stab or slash, even taking a head off one attacker. Age seemingly hadn't slowed or weakened him in the slightest from what the Witcher could tell.

Robert bellowed out threats and curses, following close behind Barristan and watching his flank, even though the knight needed no help. Still the King yelled as he swung his hatchet about at one raider who rushed in, catching the man by surprise as hesplit the man's head with a deep cleave. "Hah! Gods I've missed this!" Robert laughed out, picking up the dead man's mace before continuing to follow beside Barristan, heading to the north side of camp.

"Don't just stand there! Shoot them!" It was the same voice who had delivered the speech from before, no doubt the ambush party leader. Geralt could just see some men in the west tree line, shortbows at the ready to shoot at Robert and Barristan.

With the archers in view, Geralt armed his bomb and threw it out at the camp edge, aimed to hit as many of the men as possible.

Soon there was a loud bang followed by a blindly flash then the pained cries of the raiders. "GUH! My eyes…ears…" One howled as everyone clutched at their faces, dazed from the explosion. Even while helpless Geralt showed no mercy as he'd lunge in, blade spinning and turning as he'd dice a bloody path through the raiders. Already he had counted at least eleven men so far between those he and Barristan had faced, although he wasn't sure if there was more where the knight was heading. Eight more raiders charged in from the woods, yet when they saw their slaughtered companions they gave pause, espcally when Geralt's yellow gaze fell on them.

"How in the hells?!" One muttered. "He's just one man."

"Yah…one who beat the Mountain and the Kingslayer."

"Don't believe that crap."

"I do because I saw it!"

"All of you done talking?" Already Geralt paced closer, spinning his blade in one hand to flick off fresh blood. "Surrender and live or resist and join your friends. The choice is simple."

One of the men at the back of the group suddenly turned to run off, the others glance back to watch him disappear into the brush. The rest shifted back, on guard and fearful as the Witcher neared. Seemed they were too thick headed to know they were outmatched.

"Gave you a chance." He muttered before one of the leading men yelled and charged, sword overhead which left him exposed. The man didn't stand a chance as he had enchanted steel pierce right through his gut and split through his spine, making him go limp in an instant. He did not pause as he withdrew his blade, body twisting about to dodge two raiders to attacked from the front and right side.

Three of the men tried to surround him, attacking from all sides wildly to try and overwhelm him. Compared to the knights from the tourney they were lacking in skill and tactics. One attack he parried before cleaving across the shoulder and chest, then turning about to slice through another raider's belly when he tried an overhead attack. His stance shifted low to dodge one attack from behind, blade sweeping upward to slash from man hip to chin in one move. All three tumbled over dead, leaving the remaining three gawking in pure horror.

"Yield! Gods we yield!" One yelled as he tossed down his sword, the other two doing the same.

"Smart." Geralt muttered before he noticed someone behind the pleading men and some trees, a figure dressed in some worn red robes. Suddenly the figure tossed something at them which tumbled to land between the Witcher and the men. The thick smell of powder and smoke was all the warning Geralt needed as the bomb's fuse quickly burned through.

"What the-?" One sellsword muttered in confusion before burning shrapnel shredded his gawking face.

The fierce explosion blew the three raiders into pieces as fire and metal flew about. It took all of Geralt's honed reflexes to dodge away along with flex his fingers to make the Quen Sign, hoping it shield him from the blast. He just hoped the Sign wasn't too weakened, else one side of his body would be mutilated by the bomb. The magic shield thankfully held, flaring as it absorbed the blast which flung him hard into a tree. The rough blow and landing winded him, though he quickly recovered and grabbed his dropped sword, ready for another attack.

Panting, he see the figure was gone, having disappeared during the chaos of the blast. Already he wondered who would use such a rare and deadly weapon, since bombs were limited to only a few knowledgeable groups in this world. Whoever it was they had nearly killed him if it weren't for his Witcher abilities.

For now though it seemed the raiders had been wiped out or retreated. He returned to the camp, needing to find Renly and see if anyone had survived the initial ambush. Pacing around the camp, he examined a few of the slain servants and guards, finding them all dead by arrows or stabs to the back. The horses were also gone, either spooked off from the fighting or let loose by the raiders to make sure no one could make a quick escape. Checking one of the raiders, he recognized they had a House emblem on the arm or shoulder, a red three headed dragon, the symbol of the Targaryen's.

"Crudely done." He muttered before yanking armor pierce off, touching the emblem to find the paint for it was just fresh. "Recent too." He stopped speaking when he heard movement behind him, making him tense up and raise his sword. Moving closer to the supply wagon, he heard someone mutter from under it as he approached. "Is someone still alive?"

"Ugh…I am…" The familiar voice of Renly spoke out as the young noble crawled out of hiding, bruised and dirtied from what seemed to have been a rough fall.

Geralt relaxed, lowering his sword as he examined Renly more closely. "What happened? We heard the attack yet didn't see what happened."

"Archers. Seemed like over a dozen considering how many arrows flew." Renly muttered as he glanced around the camp. "Just…one of the guards saved me. Pushed me down under the cart before an arrow got him in the side." By now he noticed dismembered limbs of the men Geralt had killed, face paling at the gruesome sight. "Where's Robert? Did they hurt him?"

"He and Barristan fled the camp. I just hope I took care of most of the ambushers so they could escape safely." Picking up a sword, he offered it to Renly who took it, though he seemed too shaken to be good in a fight. "We should go, try to find Robert before any more trouble comes."

"Right…right…" Renly nodded in agreement as he followed the Witcher through the camp.

Approaching the northern edge of the camp, they soon found a small trail of slain ambushers, no doubt Barristan's work considering the lethal cuts and stabs across their bodies. He focused his senses to pick out the two men's trail, following along for a few long minutes. Soon Geralt could hear low voices, mainly Robert who was gave a low pained curse.

"I was careless damn it. Thought I hit him hard enough." He hissed out.

"Happens to the best of us sire. You've suffered worse than this." Barristan remarked back.

"Aye…I have."

Geralt and Renly rounded a large grouping of trees to see the two men, Robert sitting back against one with a hand grasping at his belly, blood soaking over the cloth and leather. When the King saw his younger brother, he smirked with a thankful look hinting his eyes.

"Again you're surprising me more and more brother. First the boar now arrows…tougher than you look."

Renly shook his head, a grim look on his face. "An odd time to praise Robert. The servants dead and you're injured…"

"Bah this is…mgh…nothing. Just stings…ugh…a little."

Geralt gestured for Barristan to move aside as he crouched down, moving the King's arm aside. "Deep stab wound. Going to need more then bandages for this. How did this happen?"

"Bashed one man in the head as we were retreating. Must have been tougher then he looked, or my arm's gotten that weak. Was just able to gut me before I cracked his head open properly…" Robert muttered.

"One wound is all it takes to end a life. May have reached your liver…or what's left of it."

"Heh…amusing Witcher." Robert grunted weakly.

The Witcher shifted away, looking to Barristan with a serious look. "I can stop the bleeding, but for every hour we delay the worse his condition will become."

Suddenly there be a familiar voice of Lancel called out back in the direction of the camp. "Your grace! W-Witcher! Is anyone out there?"

"The bloody boy. Guess that little trip to the stream saved his hide." Robert grunted.

"Quiet your grace." Geralt remarked back before looking to Renly and Barristan. "Need to get back to camp and get him onto the cart. He's too injured to ride on a horse safely, even if we had one for him." Geralt looked to Renly and Barristan, nodding for them to help Robert up onto his feet.

"Going to take twice as long to return to the capital on foot, even longer if we have to pull the cart ourselves." Barristan quickly stated.

"Have a plan for that. Let's just get back." Already Geralt was taking the lead, while Barristan and Renly carried Robert. Soon he saw Lancel wandering through the woods, a worried look on his young face as he glanced about. "Everything alright squire?"

The boy flinched when he saw the Witcher, only relaxing when he noticed the rest of the group. "I just returned and…everyone…"

"Dead, I know. Self-proclaimed followers of the Targaryen's attacked us."

"Bastards…" Robert muttered before giving winced grunt of pain, silencing him.

"Overall you're lucky Lancel. Stayed a few minutes longer and you may have been riddled with arrows."

The squire seemed pale for a moment, nodding in agreement. "Ah…r-right sir."

The whole group returned to the camp and headed for the supply cart which they clear off to lay Robert down on after getting some blankets to make things more comfortable. With that done Geralt whistled loudly out and after a few moments there be some movement coming to the south until Roach walked out from the forest.

"Where did…" Renly started.

"A one of a kind loyalty. You'd be surprise how far Roach has traveled to aid me." Geralt answered casually back as he'd guide the horse to the cart front, getting the mare strapped up to carry the wounded King back to the city. "May not be used to carts but she'll manage."

"Guh…the boar…throw the boar in beside me." Robert grumbled.

"Brother it's just a damn pig." Renly argued back as he'd climb in to sit beside the King. "We'll have a party of guards to come back for it."

"Nah…meat be bad by then. Fucking criminals…kill my men and rob me of my hunting prize." However he quickly become quiet, seeming too tired to argue any further.

Lancel got up to the front of the cart to guide the horse forward while Gerlat and Barristan followed on foot to keep watch along the road if any more ambushers lurked about. Soon they were back on the King's Road and heading northward for the capital. After a while though the Witcher glanced to the Lord Comannder, feeling it was time he spoke his mind after the attack."

"The Targaryens didn't plan this." He said in a hushed voice.

"And I'd agree." Barristan answered back.

"Not surprised really, but care to explain your reasons?"

"There is simply no one in Westeros who has any loyalty left to that family. They are all either dead, exiled to the corners of the world or have long lost their faith to the Targaryen line."

"This was a set up. A ruse to kill the King…maybe us included."

"Yet who?"

"Have some ideas…not sure if I should share them…"

At that moment the old man had a sharp look in his eyes. "Witcher I understand your secrecy yet keeping the truth from me doesn't help anyone."

"Maybe so…but you are a man who puts honor and loyalty to the royal family above all else considering what you let the last king do. How can I be sure you won't repeat past mistakes?"

Barristan was silent, his gaze showed a hint of anger and guilt at the Witcher's words. "I have always put duty before all else…it is all I've ever believed in when it came to knighthood." Taking a deep sigh, he calmed himself. "Yet in this case the King's life is in danger and I know the threat is within the court itself."

"It is. Jon Arryn was close to a conspiracy that would affected the future of Iron Throne. Led to him being killed for looking too far."

"How far does this go?"

"To the top…the queen herself."

"You can't be serious…"

"I wish I wasn't." Geralt sighed, wishing he had told Robert sooner before the attack. Right now he knew he needed strong allies like Barristan on his side, honest men that he knew he could rely on. "Cersei's children…their not Robert's…"

…

The lone sellsword paused to catch his breath, glancing back to see that white-haired man hadn't chased after him. "Shit…everything has gone to hell…" He muttered to himself as he'd continue along through the woods, heading to the gathering point the boss had planned. "The old man fucked up…said this be damn simple!" He arriveed at a small clearing that overlook the nearby King's Road, the woods offering perfect cover to not be noticed. This was how the group had tracked the King's approach along with seeing how much protection he had as well. Really they were just back up while their so called 'man-on-the-inside' tried a more subtler means of getting at the king. "That boy fucked up. How hard is it to get a man like that drunk!?"

A sudden branch snapping made him gasp in shock before turning about, short sword out. "Put that down sellsword." A deep voice calmly mutter, words thick with a foreign accent that the mercenary knew was Dothraki. From the dense brush an imposing man dressed in a mix of boiled dark leather and light fur clothing. The simple choice of armor showed off the man's more foreign traits, such as his copper dark skin and dense muscular body. At his back was a large scythe-like blade, an Arakh, the recognizable blade of the Dothraki raiders. The most striking feature of the Dothraki though was the large scar that went up the left side of his face, going across the eye which was a dull pale color unlike the deep blue of the other. His short cut black hair also lacked the braid all Dothraki warriors had, a hint that this one had committed a serious dishonor in the past.

"Where's the old man copper skin?" The sellsword growled, keeping his weapon up despite that warning.

Despite the man's insult the Dothraki gave a small shrug before nodding back into the woods. "Tying up any loose ends."

The simple answer had the man lower his blade and sheath it, pacing around nervously. "I knew that old knight and foreigner was good…but never thought they could take on so many at once." He muttered to himself, still shocked at how fast that Witcher had moved.

"It shows that we shouldn't have relied on amateurs." An aged voice spoke out, smooth and well spoken. Moving into view to stand beside the Dothraki was the old man who the sellsword believed was nearing sixty. His face was thin and pale skinned with the chin having a well-kept dark goatee. Those deep green eyes stared calmly at the man, seeming hardly worried despite the complications that had happened. He wore a faded red robes over his slim figure, pouches and bottled mixtures strapped around his waist for easy access. Crowning the top of his thinning dark-haired head was a red cap, completing the recognizable outfit the Alchemists of King's Landing wore. "The priority was Robert. If you had focused more of your men during his escape, we could have ensured his death."

"What do you mean ensure? Also did any of my men survive?"

The old man didn't answer immediately as he paced towards the ridge, looking over the road. "One of the men got lucky and wounded the King. It could prove lethal, but there is no guarantee." He paused in thought, lightly stroking his goatee. "As for your men they are all dead. I killed the last few myself."

"YOU WHAT!?" The sellsword raised his short sword up in anger, rushing at the old man who seemed unfazed at being attacked. The Dothraki though reacted quicker as he lunged forward to grab the man's sword arm, gripping it tightly and twisting at the wrist to disarm the sellsword. "Ugh! You bastards! I should have known…dealing with scum like you!"

"Heh, considering you were willing to kill the King for money. I think we know who is the real scum here." The Dothraki chuckled, keeping the struggling sellsword in an arm lock.

"Ugh…and you two are no different?"

"Your men were a loose end. I couldn't risk having them talk and expose us…or the employer just yet." At this point the alchemist turned to face him, a thin smile hinting his lips. "You fight for coin, but us we fight for an ideal." He stopped to stand before the mercenary, tugging on a red leather glove before reaching into one pouch at the hip. "Really if I had wanted Robert dead I'd had blown up his tent. Loud and messy, but effective. However the employer wanted us to pin it on the Targaryens, which was where your group came in."

"So what was the point then? You did this to send a fucking message?!"

"In a manner of speaking. However I won't bore you with the details…since it won't concern to you." He withdrew his hand from the pouch, a fine white powder just drifting away between his fingers. "Ogatto, please get the man on his knees."

The Dothraki grinned before one strong leg struck the back of the sellsword, who grunted out as he forced down into the requested position.

"Thank you."

"You're making a mistake old man! You kill me and you'll have the Brave Companions hunting you down!" The man threatened, though panic hinted his words.

Despite the name of one of the most vicious mercenary companies in the known world, the alchemist gave an amused smirk. "I'm not worried. If anything I expect them too…and you'll no doubt tell them yourself." With that he tossed the powder into the man's face, catching him by surprise as it also caught into his open eyes.

A shocked gasp escaped from him, eyes rapidly blinking and narrowing in they began red with irritation. That redness spread along his skin, which made him hiss out as the skin started to flake off. "Ughh…w-what the fuck did y-you do!?" His eyes were red, tearing up as he also started to cough. "Its…shit it's burning! My eyes…AGHH!" He started to thrash about, Ogatto letting him go as he rubbed at his face, trying to scratch away the pain even as his skin was being peeled off while doing so.

"Hmm…curious. Need to balance out the mixtures used. The reaction is too violent…" The alchemist muttered, moving away from the crying man as he fell onto his back, grasping at his face. Calmly, he'd take out a black notebook and quickly write something down into it, glancing between the sellsword and his Dothraki companion. "Is our horses set for us?"

Ogatto nodded. "All prepared for the trip to the Riverlands. With the extra supplies and coin, we'll have no trouble." He looked at the sellsword who was trembling in pain, body going into shock. "Will he die Zarin?"

The alchemist shrugged as he closed his book and slipped it back into the leather bag he carried. "Perhaps." Picking out a flask of water, he poured it down onto the man's face, making him gasp out with some relief. "Still with me?"

The sellsword only gave a gasping whimper, face blooded and eyes swollen that they could barely open.

"Good. Now, I want you to go to your commander Vargo Hoat. Tell him that you have crossed paths with the Grims and that Red Cap sends his regards. He'll understand…which means he'll hopefully drag his 'Brave' Companions back to Essos where they belong."

The name had a hint of surprise show on the man's face, fear soon showing as he trembled. He tried to say something, but his swollen lips only let him gasp and mumble senselessly.

"Hah! You nearly made him piss himself Zarin just saying a few names.!" The Dothraki deeply laughed out as he'd follow the old man away from the clearing, leaving the sellsword to his fate. They soon reached their horses tied up close by, getting them loose and mounting up for the ride ahead. "So, not worried that our employer will be angry about this? She'll not be pleased if Robert survived."

"It matters little." Zarin said with a shrug as they followed a trail, taking a more secluded northwestern route through the King's Wood. "Let the nobles in King's Landing scramble with their games. Those that are required will be in their proper places. When events fall into motion we'll be the ones who are prepared."

"Does that mean we're getting the whole group together?"

The alchemist nodded. "The Grims been preparing for this time for twenty years." Gripping the reins, he urged his horse to start off into a gallop, making Ogatto hurry after. "For me…I've been waiting all my life…"

…