Geralt strode through the streets of King's Landing. The area Davos Seaworth had left the Witcher at was called Flea Bottom; every city the world over had a Flea Bottom, an area so filled with drunks, reprobates, thieves and murderers that a man would be called a fool to walk unarmed through its streets, although not for very long. The stench was intolerable but nothing he hadn't experienced in Novigrad or Cintra.
The witcher held one hand firmly on the hilt of his dagger as he walked with caution down a narrow street, searching for the purpose of his visit to this strange land he'd found himself a part of. The peasantry of King's Landing held Geralt with wary glances, intimidating and scary men were nothing new in Flea Bottom but as usual Geralt stood out in crowd, his pale skin and white hair garnered hushed whispers from passers-by. It was nothing new to the witcher and so he grabbed a random pedestrian with broken teeth to ask for directions.
"I'm looking for a tavern…"
"There's plenty of taverns around here mister, which one you looking for?"
"One that has a mountain inside?" the witcher asked with a sideways smile. The peasant immediately pissed himself and began to quiver with uncontrolled fear, grabbing at Geralt's hand he pulled desperately as though being held by the witcher was, in itself, a death sentence.
"Mister, you don't want to find that man, I promise you will regret even being in the same room as him!"
"Just tell me where" Geralt said, his grip was like iron and so the scrawny peasant was going nowhere unless he wanted him to. The peasant pointed a shaky finger down the road, the stench of piss piercing Geralt's nose and stinging his eyes almost making him blind.
"The headsman's axe, just past the street of silk!" Geralt let him go and strode in the direction the peasant had directed him.
"How the hell did I manage to get myself into this?" the Witcher mumbled to himself, his mind casting back no less than a week ago, back to that conversation he shared with the would be monarch of this world.
"How would you like to earn your freedom?" Stannis asked. Geralt had played this game before, back with Vilgefortz when he had manipulated the sorcerers on the isle of Thanned into revolt causing a massacre so as to get to Ciri. The Witcher had seen enough of these conversations to know when he was being moved on the board but it did not mean he had to enjoy the play.
"That depends on what it would take to gain it" he said levelling his eyes with the stern monarch. Stannis grimaced, a facial trait Geralt was assuming he was all too familiar with, the grim king did not strike as the sort who laughed a lot, if at all. The lord of Dragonstone took his seat and scratched his beard.
"Gregor Clegane, do you know the name?" Stannis asked as a chill wind blew across the painted table. Geralt looked up at Ser Davos who suddenly began to look very nervous indeed; his gaze passed over the red woman who seemed ill affected by the name.
"Should I?" Geralt asked in all naivety.
"He either has to be a fool, a foreigner or both if he doesn't know who the mountain is your grace" Ser Davos said.
"Well you're going to show him Ser Davos"
"Forgive me your grace but wouldn't my time be better served accompanying you to the north?" Ser Davos's face was a mixture of both hurt and confusion. It was clear he did not understand his king's intentions but his loyalty was undoubtable. The red woman leaned back and gave a lazy look at the old knight, whatever it was that she was thinking she was obviously happy with the outcome.
"This man claims to be a Dragon Slayer, if it's true then the Mountain should prove no challenge whatsoever." Stannis said sternly, "In the morning I set sail for the wall, you will go to King's Landing and take him with you."
"I'm no assassin" Geralt said sombrely.
"Until I release you, you're whatever I say you are!" Stannis replied humourlessly, "I want you to kill Gregor Clegane and bring the head back to Ser Davos"
"I'm no assassin" he repeated, "I kill monsters!"
"Believe me Ser, that's exactly what you'll be doing!"
Geralt pulled himself from his pondering as he reached the end of the Street of silk and saw the tavern he had been looking for. The headsman's axe was a small tavern, the Witcher could tell just from looking at the outside, the other thing he noticed was the bloodstains on the door and the corpse of the dead whore with an obvious knife wound across her throat.
Geralt cracked his neck, stepped over the corpse and through the taverns door. The witcher had seen some nefarious taverns in his time; the bar in Vizima had been bad, he killed three men that night after they had decided to pick a fight with the wrong Rivian, then there had been that tavern with the bounty hunters when he had taken to the road in search of Ciri. All in all it had been an eye opening experience for the bounty hunters, especially after Geralt sliced them to pieces.
The headsman's axe was certainly a debauched cesspit and the folk inhabiting it were certainly a few thousand leagues from any level of decency. Aside from a small selection of loosely dressed whores, who walked about the tavern with a severe sense of fear that hung around them like a bad stench, the tavern was empty but for six men sat at a large table at the rear of the establishment.
They were a grizzled bunch who all wore matching coat of arms; three black dogs on a yellow field. Geralt had seen their sort a hundred times; more cutthroat than soldiers, men possessing slow wits but just enough cunning to keep them alive and a malicious streak that made them dangerous.
He also knew the best way to beat men like that and that was to take away the person who backed them; in this case it was the large man sat at the head of the table.
Geralt strolled up to the bar and leant against it, waiting for the inn keeper to appear. As he waited patiently, he took the time to properly survey his target; the mountain was certainly bigger than average but he could not gauge him entirely, he was definitely broad shouldered and built for purpose, his muscles stood out against his chain mail and his hands practically swallowed the drinking horn he kept draining ale from before refilling.
The inn keeper finally emerged from the cellar and immediately looked as if he was about to fill his britches at the sight of Geralt. Coming around to his side, he quickly approached the Witcher and grabbed a hold of his arm.
"Ser, you can't drink here tonight, those men have demanded the tavern for themselves" he said in a shrill voice stinking of fear.
"Why?" Geralt asked plainly.
"Why? I don't ask why, if the mountain comes in and demands the sole use of the tavern for the night I don't argue, I just pray to the seven that I escape the experience with my life!" the inn keeper replied.
"What happened to the girl by the door?" Geralt asked. The inn keeper looked away as though out of shame, the Witcher could feel his hand shaking against his tunic uncontrollably as the inn keeper began to fidget with his apron almost subconsciously.
"They used her" he said his voice shaking, "then when she started crying that bald one, the one they call Eggon cut her throat, said her sobbing was too loud and told me to get rid of her"
"So you dumped her outside your front door?" Geralt said giving him a contemptible glare.
"I hoped to steer others away for the night, save on more bloodshed" he replied. The witcher nodded before pulling a gold coin from a purse given to him by Ser Davos before entering the capitol, and placed it in the inn keepers shaking hand.
"Get me a drink" Geralt said, "I'm going to solve your problem for you"
"No ser, please don't do anything, just leave please!" the inn keeper begged. Geralt pushed the inn keeper to one side and drew a small dagger from his belt and threw it with precision and accuracy at the back of a chair which seated the one called Eggon.
The inn keeper immediately began to shuffle the few whores in his employ down into the cellar, slamming the door closed after him as he ran for safety.
The Mountains men stood slowly and walked toward the witcher who did not move an inch. Surrounding him they sought to intimidate Geralt simply by their presence, they were all armed and eager to use their weapons to end him.
"Look at this cunt here eh, think you're funny cunt?" Eggon asked, spittle flying from his mouth as he squared up to Geralt who stared down at him contemptibly.
"I'm going to give you one chance" Geralt said in a low voice addressing the rest of them. "All of you can leave now, except this one and the mountain. If you do, you'll live to see your next sunrise"
The small group erupted into howling laughter, Eggon bent double from chortling hysterically, the five other nameless men-at-arms slapped each other on the back and all the while the Mountain sat growling, one hand on his great sword.
"Tell me cunt" Eggon said in an almost friendly manner, "what would happen if they did as you said and left?"
"First I'd cut your heart out" the Witcher said looking up from Eggon and staring Gregor Clegane in the eye from across the bar. "Then I'd hack the Mountains head off and give it to King Stannis"
The Mountains men all drew on Geralt, but he had a trick up his sleeve, slamming his fist into the wood panelled floor, casting the Aard sign, knocking them all unconscious to the ground.
Clegane wasted no time, hurling the table with the great strength in one arm, he rose to his full height and banging his head on the ceiling. Geralt immediately drew his steel Temerian sword, he had more of an advantage on the giant knight than Clegane realised, out in the open where the Mountain could swing he may have proved a severe obstacle for the Witcher, but here in close quarters, Geralt knew exactly how to deal with him.
Clegane struggled to draw his sword as he stalked toward Geralt, losing his temper Clegane swung at him with one of his gigantic hands but Geralt rolled through his legs quickly out of the way. As the Mountain finally drew his sword he gave an almighty swing with his great-sword, burying it deep in the wall behind his target; Clegane kicked out at Geralt, again he rolled out of the way as his opponent put his right boot, knee deep into the plaster.
Immediately Geralt sliced the tendons in Clegane's left knee, sending him screaming to the floor.
"I can't believe this is the man they all feared" Geralt said to no-one particularly. The witcher made sure not to stand too close to the monstrous man, men of his size of course had a long reach and Geralt knew better than to get within arm's length of a man who could crush his skull with his bare hands.
It took Geralt a whole five minutes of hacking away at the Mountains neck to properly severe his head from his shoulders.
Geralt looked over to the men-at-arms he had already felled with Aard, Eggon was beginning to rouse and so the Witcher set about fulfilling his promise. As the balding soldier sat up, the witcher kicked him square in the nose breaking the bone and sending blood flying all down his face. As the now flat nosed soldier began to roll about, Geralt crushed one hand under foot before pinning the other by impaling it to the floor with his sword.
Kneeling over him, the Witcher drew a knife from his belt.
"What are you staring at, cunt!" Eggon screamed before spitting blood in Geralt's face.
"You're sobbing too much" Geralt said as he wiped the blood and spit from his face. "Think I'll shut you up for good"
Ser Davos stood on the prow of the Black Bertha, he had felt uneasy since the moment they had pulled into dock earlier that day. It was not so long ago that he and his ship had been at the vanguard of a full frontal assault right here in Blackwater bay, he was certain that more than one of the dock workers that had come and gone throughout the day recognised the ship, after all sailors had a better memory than most.
"What nonsense" the old smuggler said to himself, "chances are the idiot's already dead by now."
"Ser Davos" came a gruff voice from the dock. Looking over the ships side down at the witcher who strode toward the Black Bertha with purpose, a severed head hanging from his closed fist by a clump of hair. Without saying a word, Geralt threw the mountains head up at Ser Davos, who caught it with both hands. "I take it that's the right man?"
"Yes" Davos said, amazed beyond words. "Yes, it's him."
"Does this mean my end of the bargain is fulfilled?" Geralt asked casually. Davos smiled sideways before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a purse filled with gold coins and threw it to Geralt.
"His grace does not like to see working men go empty handed, he instructed me to give this to you. If you lived."
Geralt opened the purse and found that it was filled with enough money to buy passage to wherever he wanted. It was also enough to loosen a few tongues in the right places, all he needed to do now was find the tongues that needed loosening. The witcher looked up at Davos who had now started giving orders to the crew who now set about the task of getting them out to sea.
"Now that your king has the head he wants, what does he plan on doing with it?"
"That's none of your concern but seeing as you asked, he plans on sending it to Dorne and the court of Prince Doran." Geralt had no idea who he was talking about and even less interest but he nodded and gave the old knight a gentle wave as the ship began to pull away from the dock.
"What about you Dragon Slayer, or should I say, Mountain Slayer, what will you do, now that you have your freedom?"
Geralt said nothing, he simply gave a small salute and walked back toward Fleabottom. Leaving his former patron behind.
