Chapter 20: In the Name of King Robert…
…
The next few hours were tense as the survivors of the hunting party hurried back to King's Landing, going as fast as the simple cart could go without hurting the injured Robert. Geralt spent most the trip back quietly speaking with Barristan, sharing every details he had learned about Jon Arryn, the truth of Cersei's children and the assassination attempt on Bran. The Lord Commander of the King's Guard had a more troubled look for each piece of information the Witcher shared. By the time everything was told, they were already nearing the city's southern gates.
"You know what this means if you're right." Barristan muttered in a low voice.
"I do." Geralt answered back calmly. "If the truth is revealed it could lead into another war, one that can be just as big as the Rebellion decades back."
"Yet in being silent will put a false line on the throne…either in due time or through untimely means." The knight finished. His gaze was set on Robert who was asleep at the moment, his body covered over with blankets and cloaks to hide from the passing commoners. However plenty of gazes did drift to the group, considering Geralt stood out easily, yet no one seemed to suspect the dire situation taking place.
"Do you really think the Queen could have planned this?"
"She has everything to gain from King Robert's death. Her position in the court with be strengthened and Joffrey will be her puppet on the Iron Throne…if he can be controlled."
"Yet the risks…"
"Ego and power does that. It was a risky move to make an attempt on the King's life, even more with both of us at this side." Already he wondered if that was a dual purpose, to kill anyone who could threaten the Lannisters.
"So what now? I swear by the Seven I won't share what you have told me, but I question what you expect of me."
"I expect nothing from you. Only that you do the right then when the time comes." Geralt simply answered back as the city gate was in sight. "Right now let's focus on saving the King's life. I feel it be best that you speak with the guards and organize a quick route to the Red Keep. I'll guard Robert and focus on getting his injury tended to."
"It is my duty to guard him…" Barristan started.
"Yet you know city better than me and can better organize the Watch. You forget that you can do more than swing a sword Barristan."
In the end the old knight sighed and nodded, unable to argue with the logic behind the Witcher's words. "Very well. I'm counting on you Geralt." He'd hurry to the gate and quickly speak to the captain on watch, gesturing about as he gave a long set of orders. Soon the guards were off, heading into the city streets to alert the rest of the Watch along with direct civilians and travelers aside.
The captain approached the group, giving a short bow before speaking. "Ser Geralt and Lord Renly! Please move forward! The main streets are being cleared open, so make haste."
"Thank you captain. I'll see you promoted for this." Renly remarked back with a small nod while Geralt moved up to the front of the cart and sitting beside Lancel, taking the reins from the squire.
"Let me take over. Speed is needed, and I can handle Roach better." He explained, Lancel nodded in understanding. "Come on Roach!" Cracking the reins, the mare huffed as it quickly moved forward, riding through the city gates and up the main street. The way was clear as the city watch had the civilians away from the center of the street. People muttered out as they saw the Witcher driving the cart, curious at what was going on.
"Lord Renly!"
"Witcher!"
"Where's the King? I saw them with the King!"
The comments drifted about as gossip spread, yet Geralt didn't let the yammering distract him as he'd urge Roach onward at a faster pace. They'd quickly reach Fishmonger's Square and then turn onto the Hook, an arching slopped streetway that lead directly to the Red Keep. It was tricky to travel uphill, yet that made it a strong defendable area if the city was being invaded. They'd soon reach the hilltop and the looming Red Keep, arriving at the main gates.
The way was open with the Keep guards standing at the ready to guide the cart in and seal the gates behind them once they rushed through. Circling about the courtyard to near the main doors into the Keep, Geralt would see a small crowd of familiar faces gathered up. All the King's Guard, Lord Stark, Varys, Queen Cersei and Lord Tywin.
Lord Tywin was speaking with Ned, a serious look on his face as the too muttered to each other. Cersei stood by trying to overhear what they were saying, yet snapped her attention towards the cart once it neared. Varys stood by calmly, arms folded into the loose sleeves of his robes, gaze set on the nearing cart with an alert look in his eyes. Once the cart came to a stop, Renly and Geralt were quick to hop off while the King's Guard hurried forward, surrounding their injured King.
"The King has been wounded. Assassins ambushed us after the hunt." Geralt quickly yet calmly stated.
"We know. The messenger was detailed." Jaime muttered, a tense look on his face. "The Grand Maester is ready to tend to the King, let's get him inside quickly!"
The other members of the Guard stepped up, each one carefully lifting Robert from the cart before Jaime directing them inside, taking leadership in Barristan's absence. It showed just how strong the gold armored knights were to heft up the larger man, even more to carry him into the Keep with such speed and care. Cersei would follow behind them into the Keep, her face quite calm and passive despite the dire state of her husband.
Geralt moved to follow them yet Eddard and Tywin were quick to get in his way, already demanding answers.
"These assassins. Who exactly where they?" Tywin calmly demanded.
"Mercenaries disguised a Targaryen loyalists. Their leader, who escaped, claimed they served Daenerys and Viserys." The Witcher took out the leather armor piece, showing the rushed paint work done to make the three headed dragon mark. "The ambushers all died between me, Barristan and their leader who used some kind of bomb, nearly got me with it as well."
Tywin took the armor pierce, examining it closely before handing it to Ned who checked it over as well.
"There is much to discuss on this matter Ser Geralt…" The older noble muttered.
"Indeed, however I should be tending to the King. I may not be a skilled in the medical arts, yet I understand the extent of Robert's injuries and how to get them properly treated."
For a moment Tywin was silent, yet he'd nod in understanding. "Logical reasoning. Do your best to ensure King Robert's survive…an untimely passing will be troubling."
Nodding, Geralt moved to follow after the King's Guard while Eddard tagged along, no doubt wishing to speak privately with the Witcher and keep an eye on his injured friend.
"Did you tell Robert?" He muttered.
"Was about to before the attack. Only got as far as revealing Joffrey as the one behind the attempt on Bran's life." Geralt whispered back.
"Bad luck. This will only complicate things." Ned paused, a tense look in his eyes. "Do you feel she is behind this?"
Both men focused on Cersei as she rounded the next hallway corner, glancing just slightly before she shifted out of view. Geralt could sense a worry from her, it showed in her pose and gaze.
"From what I know she's the prime suspect. Only she'd make such a rash and risky move." Thinking for a moment, he felt a bit of doubt come to him. "Perhaps my remark to her cause this. She panicked and tried to kill me or Robert before the truth was revealed."
Ned nodded in agreement. "It's likely, yet we have nothing but speculation. We will have to wait and adapt to whatever happens."
Soon they'd catch up to the Queen and King's Guard as they entered the royal chambers, setting Robert down onto the massive bed which had been clear off it's more lavish sheets for plain white linen. Pycelle was at the bedside, a large collection of medical tools, salves and herbs set on a table nearby. Once the knights had set Robert down, Geralt moved closer to the Grand Maester who'd shift closer to the panting King, an aged hand checking at the blood soaked bandages.
"Heavy bleeding even with well-set b-bandages. Troubling…" The old man muttered while Geralt examined the gathered supplies.
"Single yet deep stab, may have just reached his liver." Geralt calmly stated. "He's going to need surgery to have a chance to survive."
Pycelle nodded in agreement. "It will be a delicate matter, yet one I am trained for. Still I would be glad for your expertise on the matter, considering your umm…deep knowledge on the human body."
"Sadly my medical skills are limited." Glancing over the collection of bottled salves and mixtures, he already saw a few solutions to aid in the Grand Maester's task.
"What of your own elixirs Ser Geralt? I've heard among the court you have potions that can heal even deep wounds." Cersei suddenly remarked, drawing the Witcher's gaze to her. He should have expected someone to notice his potions and the fact he had recovered so quickly after then intense Melee.
"Out of the question. Even if the King was in his prime, a watered down Swallow could still kill him or send him into a coma."
"Curious…" Pycelle had a sharp look in his eyes at what the Witcher shared while he gathered up his tools, working on removing Robert's leather hunting vest and cutting off his fine cloth shirt to expose the overweight man's chest and wound.
"Just looking at the possibilities Witcher." Cersei calmly stated. "My husband's life is on the line after all."
"Then trust in our judgement. For now I'd recommend you leave us so we can work in peace." He'd turn back to the table of supplies, picking out a few salves which he'd pour into smaller containers, measuring the amounts before mixing them together.
Cersei didn't answer back, only bowing her head slightly in respect before she'd pace out of the room. Jaime watched her leave, an odd worried look showing in his eyes as he seemed to sense something was wrong about his sister.
"Ser Trant will remain to guard the King while we manage the rest of the Keep. Need to make sure no other assassins try to trouble us."
Geralt simply nodded in agreement before handing Pycelle the concoction he had made. "Have the King drink that. Will greatly numb the pain and relax him."
Jaime paused for a moment, seeming wanting to speak some more yet realizing now was not the proper time. "Then we'll take our leave. I wish the best of luck for both you and the Grand Maester." He and the other King's Guard left while Trant, the knight who had escorted Cersei from the tournament remained, standing attentively in one corner.
Pycelle would notice that Eddard moved to take a seat a nearby chair. "My lord…surely it be best if you left as well."
Ned shook his head. "It is my duty as Hand to be at the King's side during this moment. If his recovery is unlikely…I will need to write his last will and commands if he is able. "
The Grand Maester would give a small mumbling before focusing his attention back to Robert, picking up a tray with needle, tread and a scalp. "Very well Lord Stark. This will be a long p-procedure though…so expect to stay for a while." Putting on a pair of fine gloves, he'd lean in as start examining the full extent of the injury and plan the best approach of stitching everything back together.
Geralt stood by to calmly watch once all the sedatives and disinfectant was made. While he trusted in Pycelle's medical skills he didn't trust the man himself considering his ties with the Lannisters, especially with Cersei. At the least under his observant gaze the old man wouldn't try anything that could further threaten Robert's life. Still even he knew the man's chances were slim, yet a chance was better than nothing.
"Going to be a long night indeed…" He muttered to himself.
…
Hours went by as Pycelle tended to Robert, who'd mutter and groan yet seemed stable enough. The dagger had just reached his liver but it was only a grazing wound at the least. The Grand Maester did well to stitch up the wound after clearing out old blood and bile, a messy process considering. After the proper disinfectants and painkillers were added, stitching were done to steal up the stab wound, leaving a large mark behind. Once bandaged up, Pycelle gave a tired sigh as he'd move away from the bed, a visibly tired look in his eyes as he'd take off the bloodied gloves and set the tools back on the table.
"Been years since…since I'd done such a prolonged procedure." He muttered. "While the wound may be mended, the blood loss and internal stress maybe too much for the King."
"Agreed." Geralt simply remarked as the Maester washed his hands from a large bowl of water. "I remember at Oxenfort, a university I visited in the past, they had been working on blood transfusions."
"Transfusions? The Citadel was doing experiments on such things. Study supply of pain numbing mixtures and such. Required very specialized tools and was…questioned to more conservative circles. I had left by the time the research on the matter was struggling to be maintained."
"Transfusion is a key part of how Witchers like me were made, although the overall process has been loss. The researchers at the university were close to a breakthrough that could have saved a lot of lives, yet the war and Radovid's policies blocked such knowledge from being used."
"Err…shame…quite the shame…" Pycelle finished cleaning himself off along with the tools. "While an interesting subject, all we can do now is wait and hope our efforts are enough for the King." Packing away the tools, the Grand Maester shuffled for the door out. "I'll leave Lord Barratheon's under your watchful care Ser Geralt."
The old man left the room, the door slamming heavily against the frame before Geralt gave a worn sigh. He'd glance to where Ned sat, the northerner rested back in his seat, eyes closed in a light sleep. Just approaching him woke Eddard up, eyes alert for a moment before realizing it was the Witcher. Quickly his gaze shifted to Robert, seeing the fresh bandages over his wounded side.
"He lives?"
"For now." Geralt calmly stated. "If his body isn't what it used to be, but he's far tougher then he looks."
Ned smirked at the remark yet it was short lived. "He was known for his endurance back when we were young. Guess a bit of that remains." Standing up, he'd move to the bedside and look at Robert, the sleeping King's face more peaceful then before. "Despite how often we disagree and argue, we're still friends, he and I." Sighing, he'd shake his head a bit. "I wonder…maybe if I had been at his side after the Rebellion…things could have been different."
"What is done is done." Geralt simply stated. "We can predict what could have happened, only figure out the best course ahead. His gaze did shift to Trant who stood on guard, although there was an obvious bored look on the knight's face.
Ned glanced at the knight as well, knowing they had to be careful over what they said with him close by. "You don't have to remain here. If anything I need you to work with Ser Barristan and the King's Guard to learn everything about the attack." Ned muttered in a low voice.
"I bet the Lord Commander already has sent men back to the King's Wood to gather the bodies and look for clues. Doubt they will learn much…corpses don't often tell many secrets."
"Which is why you should be involved, because you can see details others cannot."
"Robert may need my attention…both for his injury and his protection."
"I don't disagree. However the longer you're distracted the chances of finding proof become slimmer. Leave Robert's protection to me and the King's Guard…at least…those I hope we can trust." Ned whispered the last few words, again giving a wary glance to Trant.
Geralt thought over Eddard's words, feeling that leaving the King unguarded was a risk. "You are right though…" He'd mutter back. "As Hand, authority is in your favor with the King injured like this. Use what resources and influence you can to ensure he's safe."
"I plan to."
"One detail to explain, his treatment." The Witcher moved to the nearby table were the mixed medicine was set by. "Make sure that he is given the proper doses. Small cup every six to eight hours to dull the pain. Ensure he has plenty of water as well. Besides that, call me here if he wakes up so I can talk to him over what happened."
"Simple instructions to follow. I'll remember them well and share them with any other caretakers."
"Good. Again, be mindful of the dosage." He'd turn to leave, giving a small nod for Ser Trant. As he reached the door though, Ned spoke up.
"Tell Arya and Sansa I'll be busy for the next few days. Also…please watch them closely."
Geralt simply nodded back before leave the room, making sure to shut the door behind him. Yet before he even could take another step, his sharp ears heard a shuffling down the nearby corner of the hallway, making him glance over to see the colorful robes of Varys.
"Keeping an eye on your King?" The Witcher calmly asked.
"Partly. I was waiting for you really, although if I had known you'd be in there for so long I'd gotten myself a chair." The chubby spymaster answered back, voice soft and formal yet having a sarcastic hint.
Geralt didn't show a hint of amusement at the jest. "So what do you want to talk about?"
Varys gestured down the hall though, not answering at first. "It be best we speak on the move. I'd rather not stay here any longer."
The Witcher didn't argue as he'd follow the spymaster along, heading down a long corridor. "So what is happening outside and within the Keep?"
"Worry really. The commoners fear for the wellbeing of their King while the nobility wonder who will be in line for the throne."
"They assume Joffrey won't claim it immediately?"
"The prince is still young and inexperienced. If Lord Baratheon does die he'd no doubt place Lord Stark as Lord Regent until the boy is of proper age and temperament…unless deemed otherwise."
"Such as the truth of his real parentage? I wonder…how long have you known? You're the one who pressured me to follow Lord Arryn's trail, so it's obvious you must have done a little snooping yourself."
"A bit, yet only to confirm my own suspicions."
"So then why rely on me and Lord Stark to find the truth? If you've known for months already why haven't you told the King?"
"Because you know very well the crisis that break out if he accepted the truth. It be the Rebellion all over again…" He'd pause, gaze shifting as he seemed to think back to those troubling years. "You know that they won't stop. Those who planned the attack on the King will keep trying and they will succeed."
"You are that certain?" He said that more by reaction, since even he knew Cersei's persistent and ambitious nature was reason enough.
"We all must be mindful for Lord Baratheon's safety now, considering the leader of those mercenaries you faced. You're survival is quite astounding really."
Geralt had shared the details about the robed man he had saw to Barristan, who had no doubt informed others as well. "Care to explain who exactly I faced?"
"A wanted criminal from the Rebellion years, a rogue alchemist by the name of Zarin. He was the Alchemist Guild's most innovative student who had mastered Wild Fire within just his first year and had begun work on new creations." Varys calmly explained. "Explosives, poisons and drugs. His constant experimenting was considering extreme by the elder members of the guild, yet Aery's was always fascinated by his work. Late in the war, Zarin wished to create a unit of battle alchemist to bombard infantry, sabotage structures and poison resources. Nothing was out of bounds to him, so long as it lead to victory or furthering his work."
"He'd fit right in with Nilfgaard. A lot of their inventors are just as ruthless." Geralt remarked. "The bomb he used against me was more powerful than anything I've created. Yet I wonder…surely his work would have turned the war around in Aerys favor."
"Which I agree, however the tide of war was too swift and soon Lord Baratheon was besieging King's Landing. I do know that Zarin was working alongside the grandmaster of the alchemists, Rossart, on some secret weapon. Whatever it was though it was never used or lost when Ser Jaime killed the grandmaster along with Aerys."
"Yet Zarin avoided death or imprisonment"
"The man knew Lord Tywin was going to betray Aerys and that his ties with the former king would be the end of him. Ever since his disappearance, a notable bounty has been placed on his head, yet no one has ever claimed it." Pacing slightly, Varys had a thoughtful look cross his face. "For years I thought he felt to Essos to further his studies and hide away, yet it seems he has returned, although for how long I'm not certain."
"You're saying this man is cunning enough to elude even you?"
Varys gaze narrowed slightly at the remark. "My network is vast yet it's not omnipotent. Zarin never leaves any loose ends as you have seen personally."
"I take you have plans on capturing him?"
"Beyond simply renewing his bounty and notifying my informants. I doubt he will make another attempt on the King's life although you'd best watch yourself…that man will never forget someone like you foiling his plans."
"Not a first for me. Still I'll be careful." Geralt paused for the moment. "Right now it matter how we will deal with the enemies before us. More importantly…what do you plan to do?"
For a moment the spymaster didn't speak, giving a soft smile on his face. "To act when it's best suited."
Geralt sighed, tired of hearing that phrase especially from spies like Varys. "So that means no promises then."
"My strong suit is in the shadows, not out in the open like you or Lord Stark. When the time comes you will learn the value of this." The chubby man slipped both hands into his robe sleeves before giving a small bow. "Yet now I feel I've taken enough of your time. You no doubt have other matters to attend to." With that said, Varys turned to leave further down the corridor, disappearing out of sight as he turned one corner.
For a moment Geralt stood there, a tense look in his eyes before he'd give a small sigh. He wish he knew for certain Varys could be trusted, yet so far the Master of Whispers has been more helpful then an hindrance. Still his experience with spies had him on guard, knowing very well how such trust could quickly turn against you.
"Let's hope you don't end up like Dijkstra then…" Geralt muttered to himself before turning down a side passage, feeling it was best he'd check up on Ned's daughters and tell them about what was going on.
…
The Tower of the Hand was just as well guarded as before yet the men were far more alert with the attack on the King. Still, he had no trouble going up to the guest rooms and was pointed to Arya's room on the right side of the hall.
Knocking at the door, Geralt spoke up. "Arya, it's me."
"Come in!" The girl's voice quickly answered back.
Opening the door, he'd see Arya was busy sheathing Needle as he'd tuck it under her bed. Turning about to face the Witcher she gave her ever cheerful smile, although he'd see the worry hinting her wide eyes. "I…Um…was practicing…"
Geralt crossed his arms as the girl admitted what she was doing. "Didn't Syrios and I tell you could only practice during our lessons?"
Arya glanced aside shyly. "I know but he stopped practice suddenly! I mean…a servant came in saying the King was hurt and…he had an odd look in his eyes, sort of like what you have when something serious happens."
The Witcher was silent, already wondering what the duelist was doing right now. Out of all of Robert's foreign guests he was still the most mysterious at least when it came to his past. However he was snapped out of his thoughts when again Arya spoke up.
"So what happened? Is Rob-…I mean the King doing alright? What about father?"
Geralt moved to sit in a nearby chair before he'd answer back. "We were attacked by mercenaries after a hunt. One stabbed the King badly before we killed them all. Lord Baratheon is stable now but…can easily change in the next few days." Sighing, he'd rub one hand along his chin, feeling over the scruff that had regrown over the weeks. "Your father is watching him now. Has to be at his side in case he has any last commands to give..." For a moment he paused, remembering the look on Ned's face as he stared as his wounded friend. "It's hard to manage seeing an old friend hurt like that."
"Even if they always fight and argue?" Arya questioned, head tilted in a curious manner. "Seems odd for friends to do that."
The girl's remark drew a small chuckle from Geralt. "May seem strange, yet I've had such moments with longtime friends, mainly my fellow Witchers. Always have our differences but we'd always support each other in the end. Despite how long your father and the King have been apart, they still have a bond from all those years ago."
"Then I hope he lives! Maybe a loud and lazy King, but he's funny and friendly as well…better than that Joffrey." She'd scoff at the boy's name, eyes rolling slightly. "Sansa rushed off to see him and the Queen, said she wanted to try and comfort them or something."
Geralt didn't answer back at the mention of Joffrey, the Witcher still unsure how they'd deal with the false prince when the time came around. "He's a troubled boy…but many who grow up into royalty are like that. Perhaps Sansa can soften his rude nature…although only time will tell." He answered back, trying to play neutral on the subject.
Arya gave a small shrug, seeming disinterested on the matter. "Are we at least going to have practice tomorrow at least? I don't want to keep cooped up in this room for the next few days!"
The Witcher thought for a moment before he'd give a small nod. "Course. No harm in catch up on your dueling lessons after so long." If anything, she'd be safer at his and Syrio's side then locked up in the tower.
An excited grin crossed Arya's face before she sprung up on top of the bed to give a short bounce over it. "Thank you!"
"Don't be too excited. Think it's time for a test to see what you've learned, so expect to work hard tomorrow."
A more serious look on her face, almost exactly like Ciri when she was around the same age. Quickly she'd drop back down to sit on the bed, seeming a bit embarrassed with overzealous reaction. "I won't let you down."
"Good. The usual time before lunch then. Best try to be early." Shifting to stand up, he'd move for the door out. "Anyway, it is getting late and I have a few other matters to attend to." Yet before he could leave out the door, Arya spoke up suddenly.
"Umm…Geralt? One other thing." She'd pause as he'd glance back at her. "If you see dad later on…tell him I said hi."
"Of course. Be the first thing I'll do." With a small nod he'd leave the room, making sure to shut the door behind him before making his way down the tower. At the bottom he'd see Jory among the other northern guards, giving a small wave to him to get his attention.
"Anything new to report?"
The captain of the guard shook his head as he followed alongside the Witcher, heading out of the tower and into the main keep. "Lord Stark informed me about staying with the King. Having my best men be on watch at the door for added safety."
"Good. We shouldn't let our guard down, even in the Red Keep. Anything else?"
"Lord Tyrion did wish to speak with you. Originally it was about your prize money from the tourney, yet he no doubt has many questions about the assassination attempt."
Geralt had nearly forgotten about the prize money, along with the deal he had made with the dwarf. Tyrion had no doubt been busy ever since the tournament ended. "Know where he would be?"
"His private chambers in the inner keep. I take you know the way."
Nodding, Geralt moved to head down a different corridor while Jory stayed back. "Then I best head there. Keep up a close watch on Lady Cersei and her father, along with any of the knights or guards loyal to them."
"Sound advice Witcher. Stay safe." The captain watched the Witcher hurry off, feeling a hint of amusement at his remark. "If anything you'd have to be a mad man to threaten him." Smirking, he'd head back to the Tower of the Hand, having to organize the men for any sudden orders.
...
It didn't take Geralt long to reach Tyrion's room, although he didn't enter too quickly as he'd pause to listen for a moment, hearing the familiar voices of Tyrion and Bronn inside.
"Why are you so worried Tyrion? Robert lives and safe in his room, while all those assassins have been dealt with." Bronn remarked, chuckling a bit. "Fucking idiots. Think they shit themselves seeing White Hairs and the leader of the King's Guard charging out of that tent?"
"Amusing as that is, you should realize the issues this attack brings…" Tyrion muttered back, tone quite gravely serious. "Whoever did this won't give up, not while the King clings to an inch of his life." Geralt could hear his small feet pacing about, showing just how nervous the dwarf was. At that point the Witcher decided to knock, drawing a quick reaction from the Lannister. "Come in!"
Opening the door, Geralt would see Tyrion standing close by, the dwarf having a tired look in his eyes. Bronn sat at the nearby, which had a few drained bottles of wines set on it, showing just how much the two had been drinking over the last few days. "Rough few days?" Geralt calmly questioned.
Tyrion nodded as he'd move for the table, filling up one cup of wine while picking up a half filled one that was his own. "Been going all over the city gathering up the bets I've made. A few have been…difficult to collect on. Mainly claim the odds were openly in your favor, yet that his noble arrogance for you."
"Course a stern look and the hint of a dagger had them quickly agreeing." Bronn added with a teasing evil grin. "Have to earn my keep after all."
"Of course…although I wonder just how much you did win Tyrion."
The dwarf took a moment to gulp down his drink before a small smirk crossed his face. "One hundred thousand gold dragons. Not bad for a bit of gambling I say."
Indeed, Geralt was impressed with the sum amount, although he wondered how even high nobility had such money to risk away. "So fifty thousand for me, considering our even split."
Tyrion nodded slightly, although the Witcher could tell the dwarf hated parting with half of his winnings. "Lannister always pays his debts as they say." However he'd pause as he'd tap his fingers at the side of his cup. "However there is a small matter about your…winnings from the Melee."
The Witcher gaze quickly became stern at the sudden news. "What do you mean?"
"I don't exactly have the prize money here at the Red Keep. You do know of crown being in debt…it just happens that the money owed to you is from the Iron Bank itself."
"So you mean it's in a deposit all the way in Essos…" He grumbled.
"Securely deposited! The money is all yours and I've made sure to manage all the paperwork…a…small pile of it." Tyrion muttered unamusingly.
"So how exactly do I collect it? Do I have to sail all the way to Bravos and chat with the bankers directly?"
"It be the more assured manner to collect all your coin. However they do have agents in a few major keeps and cities such as here in King's Landing." Tyrion picked up a few papers set nearby, a few being dull legal documents although one page detailed key information on his fortune. "Best keep those papers safe or memorize the details."
Geralt sighed before nodding, guessing this was a minor setback. "Guess it be difficult to carry all that coin and keep it safe." Tucking the papers into one pocket, he'd move over to the chest Tyrion had pointed out earlier to check over the pouches of gold coins within it. He'd check through a few pouches just to be certain, even taking out a hand full of gold coins to closely examine. "Seems like it is all there. At least there is one Lannister I know who'll pay me fairly."
"Amusing as always Geralt." Tyrion chuckled. "I'll admit our partnership has done well for us both…surely we could-"
"Sadly no." The Witcher interrupted. "While I appreciate the offer, I do have my own matters to settle."
"You mean political issues." Tyrion sighed. "Thought you claimed to be one to avoid such trouble."
"Just something I can't avoid getting involved in…not after what has happened today." His gaze did drift to Bronn who quickly knew this was a private matter.
Tyrion stepped around the table, one hand tapping the side of his drinking cup. "You do know you're treading into dangerous ground. I know you and Lord Stark are preparing for something, having organized those loyal so closely along with calling in men loyal to House Baratheon."
"Because if Robert's life is threatened then so can Lord Stark's." Geralt calmly stated. "Besides, the threat is a lot closer then you may think."
"I have no doubts that the conspirers are among us here at the Keep…yet the look on your face tells me you know who they are."
Geralt didn't answer back, feeling it wasn't safe to share the truth with Tyrion. While he was a Lannister, he doubted he was involved with his sister's schemes, yet perhaps knew faintly about them.
The tense silence had Tyrion give out a sigh and bow his head slightly. "I don't intent to stop whatever you and Lord Stark are planning, yet I warn you to be careful. When you play the game of thrones, you win or die. There is no middle ground."
"A saying of your own making?"
"No…my sister's, something she said she shared with Eddard earlier today." He'd pause, gaze calm yet dead serious. "I'm not stupid or blind, I know Cersei has much to gain from the attack on Robert, whether it by her own planning or taking advantage of an unknown threat."
"Sounds like you don't wish to see her accused."
"Of course not. We may…dislike each other but in the end, she is family. I won't defend her if she was behind this, I know better then to let her choices pull myself and the rest of the family down."
Geralt was silent after hearing the dwarf's answer, sensing he meant what he said although with a hint of hesitance. "Not concerned over what may happen to her?"
"No…because in the end I trust you will be jest to even her. You maybe the deadliest man in all of Westeros but you have a better sense of right and mercy then most."
The Witcher nodded as his gaze glanced to the door out, feeling there was little else to say. "Then I'll consider that good favor from you. Trust me Tyrion, I'd rather avoid bloodshed." Setting his cup at the table, he'd move to leave. "If you learn anything, please let me know."
"Of course, Geralt. Be careful out there."
Leaving the room, the Witcher decided it was time to go to his room for the night, the long and stressful day finally getting to him. With a deep sigh, he knew the next few days would be tense ones throughout the city and Red Keep. There were nagging self-doubts, part of him wishing he could ride off with his fortune and focus on Ciri, even if she was well beyond his reach. Yet he'd remember seeing Bran laying across bloody rubble, thrown from that tower by someone he considered a worthy rival. He'd clench one fist, thinking he should track down and confront Jaime right then, but knew letting his emotions get the better of him now be a risk.
"Tomorrow…" He muttered as he reached his room, making sure to double lock his door for the night before going to bed.
…
Arya quickly side stepped as Geralt swung his practice sword at her, shuffling in as he kept the distance between them short. The girl had Needle in hand, focusing on using it for parrying and blocking instead of attacking back. While practice swords were safer, both of her teachers knew Arya needed to understand her personal weapon, so a more involved practice was needed. They also were teaching her how to combat common fighting styles, Geralt using basic sword styles fitting of Westeros while Syrios focused on agile dueling.
"Redirect instead of blocking." Geralt sternly instructed. "Your sword isn't meant for direct strikes and I doubt your arm will handle strong blows too well."
He'd give Arya a moment to catch her breath, the girl seemed a bit baffled at how unfazed the Witcher was keeping up with her agile pace. "I know…but its hard to do when I'm constantly having to move!" She argued.
Suddenly Geralt lunged in, doing a light shove with his forward leg to knock her onto the ground. She'd give a gasp from the fall, giving an annoyed look at first before seeing the Witcher's smirk. "And that's why. Imagine if I had kick or tackled you instead, you'd be dazed and helpless." He explained. "Your size makes you fast and harder to hit, but light and fragile."
He'd offer a hand to help her you, Arya nodding in understand as she'd grasp it to be pulled up. "Guess there is more to fighting then I thought."
"For you and many others its different. You have a lot to learn, but you've done in the last few weeks."
The compliment had Arya grin with pride, making Syrio laugh slightly.
"Don't give her too much praise Geralt. The pride is the bane of even the finest warriors after all." The duelist chuckled. "I think a short break is need for now. A quick lunch would do you some good."
"Well…" She started before her stomach made a small growl, making her glance away a bit in embarrassment from how the duelist smirked. "...Alright maybe your right. Yet you two better not run off while I'm away." Sheathing Needle, she'd set the small blade at the bench before hurrying off, giving a pairing wave to the two before leaving the open hall.
"Does has that classic Northern stubbornness. At the least she knows well when to listen." Syrio remarked as he'd look back at Geralt. "She'll be a fine duelist once she grows up."
"Rather she'd not make a career fighting like you or me." Geralt answered back calmly. "This is about teaching her on how to protect herself, nothing more."
"I…of course." The duelist seemed a bit taken back by the Witcher's set answer and felt it best not to say more on the subject. "Training aside, I feel there is a more pressing matter we should discus."
"About King Robert?"
A more serious look showed in the Braavosi man who nodded in response. "I know things are becoming more dangerous here. Being a guest here does lessen suspension on me and lets me keep an eye on certain matters."
"Such as?"
The duelist paused, pacing a bit before leaning in to whisper. "I caught word among the servants that a certain Lannister of low standing would be leaving today, a squire you may know as Lancel." He'd see a hint of surprise in the Witcher's eyes, drawing a grin from the Syrio. "No doubt it is suspicious that the Lord Baratheon's personal squire suddenly make plan to leave or is at least following the directions of his betters."
"Why didn't you teller me earlier today?" Geralt sternly questioned.
"Because I didn't want to distract you from your promise with the girl, besides the walls have ears in this keep. I can say now be the best time to confront the boy before he disappears."
After a short pause of thought, Geralt nodded in agreement. "Tell Arya then that I was called away on a private matter. Try to keep her distracted for the rest of the day." Already he'd move for the door out, yet he'd stop halfway at the doorway. "Also, Syrio…keep your rapier on hand from now on. Just in case." With his own warning given, he'd hurry away yet notice the thoughtful look the duelist had just as he left.
Moving through the Red Keep at a hasty pace, he'd soon enter the main courtyard and head for the stables. Nearing the main doors, he'd hear a familiar nervous voice before he entered. He'd see Lancel quickly tying the last few bags to his horse's saddle, hands fumbling with the knots.
"Leaving so soon?"
The chilling voice of the Witcher had the Lannister squire gasp, becoming still before glancing over one shoulder to see those fierce cat-like eyes staring back. "I-I was just…setting a mount for a knight who is leaving Ser Geralt." He quickly remarked back.
"Really now? Which knight would that be, maybe a friend of mine."
Lancel's gaze glanced about, muttering a bit to himself as he tried to make an excuse. "Uhh…Ser Loras!"
The Witcher crossed his arms, shaking his head slightly at the answer. "A lie."
"W-What?"
"Loras was planning to stay longer then a few days after the tournament. He told me himself."
"Umm…surely he must have changed p-plans."
Geralt stepped closer, the squire backing up until bumping the back of the horse stall wall. "Seems like a lot of supplies to just get to Highgarden. Road there is quite easy to travel from what I heard…though the route to Casterly Rock is much more difficult."
"Ser your-"
"No more excuses Lancel. I know you had a part in the ambush, considering the timing of the attack was too convenient for you." He'd pause, letting his accusation sink in. "Now tell me the truth…"
"I can't…" He'd mutter, panic in his voice. "If I did they'll-"
"Kill you? I thought Lannisters look out for each other."
"We do but…NO! You misunderstand."
The slip of up with his words was clue enough for Geralt as one hand reached out for the squire's shirt collar, gripping it firmly to stop the him from trying to slip away. "Did Cersei tell order you to signal the assassins and to leave the Red Keep?"
"S-She…she didn't." The boy yelped as his back was slammed against the stall wall roughly. "Alright m-maybe she suggested a few things?"
"Such as?"
Lancel was silent, eye glancing away to avoid Geralt's unblinking gaze. "She…thought it be best that Lord Baratheon enjoy the strong wine again. To…umm…calm his nerves during the hunt."
"The wine…" Geralt remembered it was the same stuff from the tournament, strong enough to even faze him. "Sounds like to get him drunk and dull his reactions. Could have gotten him killed when that boar attacked."
"I didn't wish any harm to the King!"
"No, but Cersei would. Now what about the assassins?"
"I…was told some old friend of the Baratheon's wanted to make a surprise visit. The queen have me a signal whistle and…told me where to use it."
"Where is the whistle?"
"Urg! I…destroyed it…part of orders."
Geralt was silent, annoyed that possible proof was now gone. While Lancel was easy to squeeze information out of, he doubted the squire be a reliable witness, being low standing among the Lannisters. It be easy for them to deny any connection to them or even claim the squire was pressured into giving a false confession.
"So now I must ask, why did you do it?"
Lancel blushed slightly, shifting a bit before Geralt kept him still with his strong arm. "I can't…its personal…"
"Fine then." His free hand moved up, fingers flexing to make the Axii Sign before the young man's eyes. With the spell cast the Lannister relax quickly and a dazed look crossed his eyes. "What did Cersei off you."
"Knighthood and the pleasure of…sharing her bed again." He muttered in a hazy voice. A goofy grin crossed his face at the mention, making Geralt sigh and shake his head in disgust.
Quickly he'd gesture again for Axii. "Change of plans. Cersei needs you to stay and keep an eye for her… it is your duty after all." However, when he finished the spell, a sudden dizziness coursed through him which made him loosen his grip on the squire. Yet the Sign seemed to work as Lancel rubbed his forehead, seeming confused as his memory was now muddled.
"I was? I think so…" Shaking his head, he seemed to snap out of the daze. "Shouldn't be running off. Not now at least!" Quickly he'd move to get his saddle unpacked, losing all focus on Geralt who shifted away unnoticed. Hopefully Lancel wouldn't remember being interrogated at least for a good while.
Quickly leaving the stables, he'd catch his breath as the dizzy feeling faded away. He had felt this way before when he was slowly regaining the use of his Signs years ago after escaping the Wild Hunt, having to draw power from his body rather then his surroundings. "Getting worse." He muttered to himself before heading towards the main hall of the Red Keep, deciding it be best to remain in his quarters until called for. Passing through the hall though, he'd notice the grand door to the throne room open, making him wonder if anything was going on.
He'd near the open doors and look down the long throne room, seeing Lord Tywin speaking Jaime, both standing close to the looming Iron Throne. It seemed like a tense conversation from the tone of it, yet from this distance Geralt couldn't hear what exactly was being discussed. There was still a sense of distrust towards Tywin after their meeting during the tournament, since the man's ambitions made it difficult to predict how he'd react Cersei's schemes and taboo relationship with her brother. For now, he felt proper timing was needing to force the lord to make a choice. Approaching the two, they quickly finished their conversation before Tywin turned to face the Witcher.
"Good day Lord Lannister." Calmly said, bowing his head slightly in formal respect. His gaze shifted to Jaime, yet he didn't greet him.
"Geralt. You continue to impress with your wide range of talents considering how you handled Lord Baratheon's injury. Maester Pycelle was right to praise your intellect." Tywin answered back.
"The Grand Maester did most of the work sire. I simply assisted and advised."
"Even so, the King may have a chance to live because of your efforts both here and out during the hunt. I spoke shortly with the Lord Commander Barristan who recounted your timely reaction in saving both him and the King."
"From what the guards told me they found two dozen raiders slain. Ser Selmy claimed to have killed seven while the King took down three on his own. It seems the other eleven are credited to you."
"Eight actually. The leader of the assassins killed three others with a bomb to try and kill me." Geralt corrected.
"While still an impressive amount, I feel my son focuses on the wrong issue here. We still know nothing of these assassins except that they seem to be locals from what the guards have gathered. Simple sellswords and thugs who came to see the tournament." Tywin quickly added. "They may have the Targaryen mark on their armor, yet it's little more than a crude disguise to mislead us."
"Came to the same conclusion. Yet with no one to question we have nothing to go with."
"Then let's hope the mastermind stops here then." Jaime chuckled, yet neither his father or the Witcher showed any amusement at the jest, making him quickly become quiet.
"For now, we let the Lord Commander and City Watch do their job. It be best that you and the rest of the King's Guard focus on Lord Robert's protection." Geralt remarked to the golden-haired knight.
"Which my son and fellow knights will do dutifully." Tywin added, a stern hint in his voice. "If you will excuse me, I have to attend to official matters. The rest of the nobility needs some assurances with what has happen after all." The older lord moved pass the two to leave the throne room, seeming to have nothing left to say.
For a moment there was silence as Geralt glanced back at Jaime, the knight seeming to relax slightly with his father gone. However, he'd notice the conflicted look Jaime had yesterday morning before leaving on the hunt.
Jaime sighed and shrug. "As always…focused on politics."
Geralt simply nodded back. "That is a matter for him to worry about. Right now, I want to know what you wanted to say to me before I left on the hunt."
Being reminded of that moment, Jaime was silent as he'd pace a bit, moving closer to the looming Iron Throne. His gaze drifted along the tiled floor before the rough metal steps to the bladed seat. "I've been thinking over many things since our fight. Of choices I've made…"
"Choices that have hurt others?"
The calm yet stern tone of the Witcher's voice had the knight glance over, a battle-ready tension showing in his sharp eyes. "What are do you mean?" He calmly questioned.
"Winterfell and Bran Stark."
The blunt statement drew a hint of surprise in Jaime's eyes, something a normal person would have missed yet not the sharp gaze of a Witcher. However, the Lannister knight kept composed yet the respectful look he had soon earlier was replaced by a smugger one. "So, you think I pushed that boy out of that tower? I've done many things Geralt but I'm no child killer."
"You get one chance."
"What?"
"One chance to admit it." Geralt calmly stated, the cold threatening tone enough to make Jaime's confident look disappear. "I know who you were with in that tower and what you were doing. Don't give a damn about it…right now I want you to admit what you did to Bran."
Jaime was tense, right hand at the grip of his sword after what he had just heard. However, he'd see how calm the Witcher was, not even tense or reaching for the blade on his back. For a long moment neither more and seemingly breathed, yet in the end the blond-haired knight relaxed his grip and gave a deep sigh. "Guess I should have expected someone like you to figure it out. Cersei was right about you. Guess she knew an outsider with your cunning would notice." A low amused chuckle escaped from him. "When that boy saw us, we were all startled at first. He lost his grip and I only just reached him before he nearly tumbled down." He'd pause, slowly pacing to circle around Geralt but the Witcher followed along to keep them both facing each other.
"The boy had such a scared look, yet I'm not sure if it was from what he saw or nearly falling. Cersei though…oh she was terrified, kept saying how he 'saw us'. Talked to the boy a bit, complimented his climbing…learned how young he was…then pushed him when his guard was down." He'd gesture his hands out in a showman's manner yet despite the jesting move Geralt saw the way Jaime kept his gaze focused to the ground. "So yes, I did push Bran from that tower. I did it to protect my family and her
Again, silence filled the hall after Jaime finished his confession. Geralt flexed his right hand tensely, trying to keep the building anger in check. He knew Jaime was trying to provoke him and make him be the aggressor, get him blamed for assault. "I did misjudge you Jaime. I thought you were a decant man…overconfident and cocky, yet decent." He coldly muttered. "Right now, I'd love nothing more than to break your legs and make you suffer the same fate you gave to Bran. That be justice in my eyes…yet it wouldn't fix anything."
"How noble of you showing such restraint." The knight's tone was low and mocking, trying to taunt the Witcher on. "So, what now then, we just shake hands and go our separate ways? How can I trust you now after what you've told me?"
"Because I didn't tell your father when I could have. He's a smart man, may very well know but is in denial or doesn't care…at least until it risks crumbling everything he has built." There was another tense pause. "Besides in the end I trust you more than him…
"Heh you have an odd sense then." He'd shake his head in frustration. "I can't deny your logic though and besides…your too damn honest to lie." His hand slipped from the grip of his sword at that point. "You best go now Geralt before I get second thoughts. Rather not doubt myself in making this choice."
"Aye. Yet one last piece of advice, don't trust Cersei."
Jaime stifled back a laugh before the Witcher could finish. "And why is that? Why should I fear betrayal from my own twin?"
"Because I've seen what women like her do to others. She'll use you for a long as possible before throwing you aside. In fact, she already is…just ask Lancel."
However, before anything else could be said, there were sudden hurried footsteps coming from the main hall and moving into the throne room. The page sprinted to the Witcher and knight, stopping to catch his breath, the young man bowed to them both before speaking.
"Ser Geralt…Ser Jaime…the king…he's awake." He gasped out between breaths. "He's requested to speak with you."
"Very well." Geralt glanced at Jaime who remained silent, only nodding in agreement to follow along. The page gave a short bow before moving to lead the way to Robert's room with Witcher and knight close behind.
…
"Gah! What do you mean no wine?!"
Robert's voice was easily heard down the hall as Geralt and Jaime neared the royal bed chamber, a string of grumbling curses soon following. Entering the room itself Pycelle had shifted away from the bed as the King had clumsy swiped an arm at him in frustration while Ned hurried over trying to keep his friend from struggling out of bed.
"Damn it Robert calm down!" He snapped out, making the large man give a low growl of annoyance before obeying.
"I got a damn hole in my side…if a damn bit of drink is going to kill me then I'd prefer dying that way." At this point he'd see Geralt arrive, making a small smirk cross his face. "Well Witcher, not sure if I should curse or thank you for saving my life here."
"Prefer thanks your grace considering you wasted your cursing on Pycelle. He had just as much of a hand in saving you."
The sarcastic remark had the King give a laugh which quickly turned into a grunt as pain went through him. "Fair enough…" He muttered as he'd relax back in bed with a low sigh. "So how long have I been out? Few days or something?"
"About a day." Eddard answered back. "Most thought you wouldn't even wake but they underestimated your tenacity."
Robert smirked with a bit of pride, yet Pycelle spoke up at this point. "It is fortunate, but we shouldn't be too…err…joyful. Your injury was quite serious after all. Infection and blood loss can still bring…umm…unexpected complications."
"I know that well enough." Robert grumbled, seeming annoyed yet understanding of the risks.
"Which is why there are important matters to discuss." Ned added, his tone more serious to his old friend.
The King only simply nodded before glancing back at Pycelle. "So, anything else needed Grand Maester? If not, I'd prefer privacy on official matters."
Pycelle had a small frown cross his face, yet he'd grumble something and nod in agreement. "As you wish your grace." He'd gather up some of his medical supplies before shuffling out of the room.
"And Kingslayer?" Jaime looked attentive as he was spoken by his infamous title. "Know your no massager boy but I feel you'd be best suited telling Cersei of my…partial recovery."
"If you feel that is for the best your grace." Jaime answered back with a small bow before turning to leave. However, he gave a parting sharp look to Geralt as he passed by the Witcher and walked out of the bedroom as well. The Witcher knew it was risky being direct with Jaime, yet he was trying to make a point in doing so.
Focusing back on Robert, Geralt moved closer to the bed while Ned pulled up a chair along with writing board set with fine parchment and quill. It wasn't hard for the Witcher to understand a decree of some kind was about to be written. "Is it proper for me to be here?" He questioned.
"Considering you saved my life twice over and if anything, I trust you more than Pycelle listen in. Man's far too shifty for his age." He'd give a small pained scoff. "Anyway, let's get this over with…" Pausing for a moment to collect his thoughts he'd continue to speak. "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of…" A tired sigh escaped him before shrugging his shoulders. "You know how it goes, fill in the damn titles."
Ned nodded yet couldn't help, but give an amused smirk at his friend's remark.
"I hereby commend Eddard of House Stark…titles titles…to serve as Lord Regent and Protector of the Realm because of my inability to rule. If death comes for me, he is to continue ruling in my stead until my son Joffrey comes of age."
For a moment was tense look hinted Eddard's face as his quill hand paused before continuing. Geralt wondered what Ned had written down since his swift hand movements hinted a different form of wording.
Robert gestured for the writing board which Ned hesitantly handed over along with the quill. The King was quick to simply sign the decree, seeming to trust what Ned had written down. He'd hand the board back, giving a pained grunt before relaxing back on the bed. "Let us hope the later part of that decree doesn't come to pass. Ugh…rather enjoy living a little longer." The King bowed his head a bit before glancing right at Ned. "You'll rule for now. Hate every moment of it, but you'll do it well."
Lord Stark nodded as he'd take the decree off the board and roll it up. "Of course. Right now, you focus on recovering old friend. Injured or not, ruling is your duty still."
"Bah…stop reminding me." Robert grumbled, waving one hand about in annoyance. "If that is so, then I order you to give that decree to the Council immediately. Don't care if you have to drag them all into that blasted room, just get it done."
"As you wish your grace." Lord Stark stood up and gave a short bow out of formally, even when Robert shook his head in tired amusement. The Witcher moved to stand up as well, yet the King spoke up again. "Not you Geralt. Didn't call you here to be just a witness…but to talk as well."
The Witcher shared a short look with Ned who nodded, assuring Geralt that he'd be fine on his own. Ned soon leave the room, closing the door behind him loudly. "Let me guess…you want my professional opinion?"
"On what, how long I got left?" Robert gave his famous deep chuckle which quickly became a pained grunt. "I've had my share of injures and seen more then I can count. Give myself a fifty-fifty as they say."
"Eh, about the same guess I made."
"Heh…like minds think alike." Geralt didn't grin back at the statement, which only made the King smirk smugly before it disappeared. "The attack…I know it wasn't the girl or her bother. Too sloppy…improvised…fake." Sighing, he seemed disappointed. "Wanted a reason to war with them. An excuse. Didn't come when the moment was right."
The remark was surprising for Geralt. "I remember you eager for blood back at the camp. Guess you had some sense win out in the end."
"Ugh, don't push it Witcher, I'm not as stupid as I look." The King snapped back. "I know that you or the King's Guard will find the bastards who planned this."
"I have gotten some leads…some of which you may not believe."
"What like my own wife planning my death?" He'd jest back, yet seeing the Witcher's serious look had him become silent. "Gods…you don't mean…"
"Like I said, I have leads. In the end the Queen as the most to gain after all and it is logical to suspect her."
"I don't believe it. That woman can be cold and distant at times, but that seems far for her."
"Maybe you simply don't know her as well as you think."
For a moment Robert seemed ready to lash out with an insult, yet he'd bite it back and give a sigh. "Aye. I'll admit…twenty years and we feel as apart as our wedding night." He'd rub one hand crossed his bearded face, trying to clear away the wearily look on it. "Wish I hadn't taken the Throne that day. Yet the power…the temptation to rule it all. I thought it give me the freedom to do as I pleased, yet in the end it's been nothing more then a shackle. Trade it all just walk off into that sunset road to anywhere but here."
"Sounds like a fairy tale from how you describe it."
"Perhaps it is…then again you yourself are a living fable. The stranger with a knight's honor and the might to match the nation's finest. Many a man would trade it all to have your life."
"Trust me, it's not worth it." Geralt's cat like eyes looked directly at Robert's gaze and for a moment the King could 'see' the lifetime of struggle the Witcher had fought.
"Maybe…maybe…" The King muttered as he looked away. "Guess we all carry burdens that no one else should have." Slowly his gaze drifted to the nearby table, noticing the wine decanter set on top of it.
"It wouldn't be advised your grace." Geralt warned.
"I know. Yet the pain in my side just won't go away and no matter how much water I've had it doesn't ease the thirst I have."
There was a pause before the Witcher sighed, guessing one drink wouldn't kill the King. Getting up and moving to the table, he'd fill up two cups for them both before returning to the bedside. It was a bad idea, yet having Robert relaxed would be useful. After all he felt it maybe time to reveal the truth about Joffrey not being his truth son…though he felt revealing Jaime as the true father was too risky to share just yet. "One drink and that is it for a week."
"Fair enough. To our health Witcher!" Tipping his cup in a slight toast, both taking a deep drink from their cups. Robert gave a deep satisfied sigh as he finished the last drop, a livelier gleam showing in his eyes. "A fine choice on this one. Unique sweeter taste though." Yet when he looked to Geralt an odd look crossed his face, a mix of shock and confusion. "Gods! Geralt what's with your face?!"
Quickly Geralt glanced at his hands, see the veins under his pale skin suddenly becoming darkened. His heart started to beat faster, painful so since it usually beat at only the fourth of a normal man, only quickening when handling his potions or… "Poison!" He stood quickly up from his chair, knocking it back loudly as he reached at Robert who suddenly tensed up, the larger man breathing becoming shaky as he dropped his cup.
"Witcher…I…" His hand grabbed over his heart, body struggling as whatever poison was coursing through his body.
Geralt could feel it too, like a clawed hand squeezing over his rapidly beating heart, trying to choke the life out of it. Yet his body was adaptive to this as he'd force through the pain. By this point the door opened as the King's Guard from outside hurried in, seeing Geralt gasping for breath while Robert shook on the bed, eyes rolling back.
"Get Pycelle now!" Geralt yelled out as he grabbed at Robert's, forcing the man's chittering jaw open as he tried to force him to puke. He wasn't certain if it was too late or not, yet purging was the best choice he had. He'd growl out as the King bit down on his fingers shoving into his throat, making Robert gag out. Pulling his hand back, Geralt watched as Robert heaving loudly, throwing up his last meal and the wine. Yet it wasn't enough, Robert rolled on the bed as the seizure he was only worsened, his body not fit to handle the shock.
"No no no!" The Witcher tried to keep the King in place, seeing the wound on the side reopen from his struggling. It was hard to keep a man so large still even with his mutant strength, along with the fact that his own body was fighting the poison off. Robert's eyes were wide, fear showing in them as he stared at Geralt before slowly becoming still. He could feel the man's heart become silent, making him growl in anger. "Damn it…not again…happening all again…"
At that point he heard many hurried footsteps, making him turn about to see Barristan and the rest of the King's Guard. The old knight stared at the scene in pure disbelief, stepping closer to gaze at his King's dead eyes. "He's…"
"Murdered." Geralt muttered as he turned to look a Barristan. His yellow eyes were intense, enough to make even the experienced knight recoil from the intimidating glare and sickening dark color hinting the Witcher's veins. "Poison. Not sure what…but it was strong…very strong." The Witcher groaned as again pain surged through his chest before subsiding.
Barristan moved to get Geralt away from the bed while the two other King's Guard moved closer to their fallen ruler, muttering lowly at the sickly sight before them. "How did you survive?"
"Bodily resistance. Decades of building it up…through herbs and potions…" He explained back. "Whatever this was…it was fast acting. Should mean the poison is simple yet potent…no doubt easier to identify."
"Yet who…"
"You know very well who could have planned this." There was a tense growl to the Witcher's words. "Who else could have access to Robert's personal drink and quarters without drawing attention."
The Lord Commander was silent, unsure what to believe at this moment. "Then I pray you are wrong Geralt. Because if it true…"
"I know…it means war…"
…
Notice: Well this has been quite the delayed chapter. Overall happy holidays everyone! It has been a busy month and half for me as the winter season has played out. However, I am now returning to my usual weekly postings since I will have more free time from now on. This was another chatty chapter, but everyone knows well what will come next. Expect the next chapter to come out around News Year, a fitting time for season one's end.
In other News: I have a good few beta readers selected, yet I still like to have more. All you need to do is PM here on FanFic or massage me on my blog at WitcherXGoT at Wordpress. 18 years or older are preferred along with an appropriate level of literacy in English. Good knowledge of Game of Thrones and the Witcher are favored as well.