章 18: Chapter 15: S1-E14: City of Kings - Part 2 1/2
Chapter 14: City of Kings Part 2
…
The mix of knocking at his door and the bright sunlight peeking through the curtains would awaken Geralt, who'd mutter a bit to himself as he'd shift to sit up in bed. "Damn…first time I've overslept." Indeed it had been ages since he had such a comfortable bed, especially after the month of traveling he had done across the Kingdoms. Getting out of bed, he'd head for the door and peek outside to see that it was the male servant from before.
"Good morning sir Geralt." The young man said formally. "I hope I didn't disrupt your rest."
Geralt shook his head. "Not at all, if anything I needed a wakeup call."
"Do you wish for breakfast or require anything for the day?"
Thinking for a moment, he'd nod in response. "Breakfast sounds nice."
"As you wish sir." The servant bowed and hurried off, while Geralt closed the door shut. By now he realized he should secure his room better while he was away. While he wasn't sure if someone would try to spy on him, he didn't want a maid cleaning his room to discover his stash of potions and take a curious sip. Even the less potent mixtures could cripple someone for life if not kill them outright. He'd use the large storage chest set in one corner of the room, a sturdy container with plenty of space. For a good fifteen minutes he'd work on carefully storing his potions and bombs along with the more dangerous and valuable crafting materials he had. By the time he finished, there be a knock at the door and soon the servant entered with a covered platter.
"Here you are sir." The young man set both platter and package on the table before returning to the door. "Anything else."
"Nothing more." Geralt answered back thankfully.
The servant nodded before leaving, letting the Witcher finish packing in peace. Lastly he'd put away half of money into the chest along with his silver blade, feeling it would be unneeded in the city and draw too much attention since it was made of silver. From what he knew, the poor of the city were quite desperate in some places and openly showing wealth could draw trouble, not that he couldn't handle it.
With his valuables locked up, he'd change into a fresh set of clothes for the day, similar to the garb he had changed into since arriving to the warmer southern regions. He'd wear this Stark bracer along with his sturdy Witcher boots along with steel sword in case of any danger out in the city. Fully dressed, his attention focused on the hearty meal on the table, which he took his time eating while studying the city map, planning out his route for the day.
"The smith Eddard mentioned should be a good start. Maybe see if he can do some minor repairs even." He muttered to himself as he finished eating before leaving his room and beginning his trek through the Red Keep. Without a servant, it was a bit tricky to figure his way around, yet he'd find his way to the main court yard and head out the main gates without any issue.
Taking the road down into the main city, the usual bustle soon surrounded him as he'd make his way to the main square before the Grand Sept. It was strange seeing so many people about, the streets far more crowded then even the largest cities back home. Then again such places were struggling from war and conflict last he visited. Moving along, he did get some lingering stares, no doubt from his scars and pale features yet no one lashed out with insults or threats like he was used to. It was odd really, but welcoming in this case.
He'd heard back towards the crafters district, retracing the route the royal caravan had taken before arriving to a side street with an impressive sign naming it 'Street of Steel'. Heading down, the air soon had the think smell of copper, smoke and oil as he passed through a mix of workshops and blacksmith shops. The simpler and cheaper businesses started at the lower half of the street, while the more fancy and expensive were farther back towards the higher slope of the hill the street was built on. He took his time strolling along casually examining the different weapons and armor on display.
"Solid plate! Stop any arrow without a dent!"
"Short swords! Long swords! Heck we even have curved swords from Essos!"
Geralt attention did stop at the sword seller, curious to see what weapons Essos had to offer. The merchant had a stand set before his store, having all sorts of exotic blades. His interest was quick to fall onto a Dothraki arakh which seemed like a mix of a sword and scythe with its curved shape. "Interesting design." He muttered.
"Ah a fine eye sir. Dothraki maybe savages yet they have created an impressive weapon for mounted combat." The merchant remarked.
Picking up the weapon, Geralt weighted in his grasp and gave a slow testing swing to get an idea of how the weapon arc was compared to other blades. "Can see why it's favored on horseback. Perfect for cutting down targets on foot or countering other mounted riders…unless they have spears and lances."
"A keen point sir. Dothraki often fight between each other, the simple villages they raid or the rare war with a Free City at least from what I heard."
"Still, weapon like this be useful against armor, especially steel plating." He'd put the weapon down.
"Such specialized weapons have such flaws. Still if it interests you…"
"Perhaps another time." Waving by, he'd continue on his way while the merchant grumbled in annoyance.
Soon he was reaching the end of the street and at last arrived at the largest building on the whole street. It didn't look like a shop, more of a multistoried house if anything. The entrance was a masterpiece for sure, the door being made of carved weirwood depicting a hunting scene with pieces of ebony detailing and reinforcing the overall door. Beside the doors were two stone knights which at a glance seemed almost life like. Pushing the heavy doors opened, he'd enter the shop itself which was even more breath taking. All around were stands and racks full of the finest weapons and armor the Witcher had seen. Already he was pacing slowly around the main room, closely examining each item as he moved along.
"Damn…some of these crafts outmatch even Hattori's work." Geralt muttered, thinking back to the elven weaponsmith who had crafted his Witcher blades.
"Interested I see?" A male voice spoke up, making Geralt glance to the side to see a gray bearded man dressed in a black velvet coat with fine silver hammers embroidered on the cuffs. Around his neck was a large sapphire set on a heavy chain necklace. With the man nearing him, Geralt felt his medallion vibrate lightly, making him quite curious now.
"Indeed. Your reputation is well received considering." Geralt answered back, offering one hand out for the man to shake firmly.
"Thank you. Tobho Mott at your service. I pride myself on my work, yet just as much credit goes to my workers and apprentices." For a moment the man looked closely at Geralt's face, a curious hint showing when he noticed the Witcher's cat like eyes. However he didn't remark about them or the man's pale features for some reason.
"Quite humble to say such a thing."
"It's a life lesson I learned. Share credit where it is properly due. The lack of such respect was a key reason why I left Qohar so long ago."
"Qohar? Sounds like a Free City to me."
"You'd be right. The City of Sorcerers it is often called, considering the study on the mystical arts and knowledge. You can say my skills are unique to anyone you'll find in all the Seven Kingdoms."
The mention of magic had the Witcher give a curious look. "I take you use with mystic knowledge for your crafting?"
"Heh, that is a trade secret my friend." Mott said with a small sly smile. "Yet I'm sure you didn't come to chatter. No doubt you're here on business."
Geralt nodded. "Indeed." He'd shift his sheathed sword off his back, nodding to the nearby counter which he set it down. "Wanted to have my blade inspected. Been maintaining it well enough, yet prefer an expert's examination."
Mott nodded as he'd look over the fine leather sheath, gaze examining the hilt and cross-guard before drawing the blade. The man's eyes widened as he stared over the fine steel blade, being careful to set it down as if it was a priceless painting. "By the Black Goat…how did you come have such a weapon?" He muttered as he'd quickly have a pair of black gloves taken from his coat, putting them on as he'd begin to trace his fingers over the blades edges and flat. "The metal purity is unlike most blades I've seen." Picking it up again, he'd weight it in both hands. "Very light. It is like Valyrian steel in nearly all aspects."
However as he traced over the blade flat, he'd notice the faint runes just fused into the blade. "Runes? Curious…symbolic or…" He'd mutter something under his breath, making Geralt's medallion shake lightly for a moment as the man seemed to be doing some incantation. Nothing noticeable happened even with the Witcher's sharp gaze watching the man closely. Mott finished his examination, glancing at Geralt with an intense look. "Tell me. Who are you and where did you get this sword."
"It's a long story good sir." Geralt started yet Hott clapped his hands sharply.
Quickly a slim servant girl hurried out from a side room and courtesy to the both. "Prepare the sitting room for us. Brandy and spiced bread." The smith calmly stated.
The girl nodded and hurried off without a word before Hott looked back at the Witcher. "Please, follow me sir…?"
"Geralt. Geralt of Rivia." He'd sheath his sword and carry it along as Hott led him into parlor study. His sharp eyes looked over a few books, finding them quite curious since the topics seemed to involve more magical topics and lore.
"Geralt…can't say I've heard of Rivia though." Mott muttered as he'd sit in an armchair. "All I can say is that you're the most unique guest I've had in a long time." At this point Geralt sat down across from him, setting his sword beside his chair as he'd relaxed back. "How does a cat-eyed man come to own a blade that is so similar to Dawn?"
The Witcher recognized the name Dawn to be the legendary sword of Arthur Dayne, a great sword forged from a fallen star the House had discovered. "Because I had it forged that way. Meteorite ore infused with rare metals. Not sure if this land even has such ores remaining, yet overall this blade is made for Witchers."
"Sounds like a name for a guild…a strange one at that." Mott muttered noting Geralt's wolf medallion. By then the servant girl returned with drinks and fresh bread for the two, setting it down at the table before leaving without a word. "I would like to know more Geralt. You're not like any knight or warrior I've met before…"
For a moment the Witcher didn't answer as he'd glance to the brandy, picking the bottle up and filling both cups. "Not sure if I should tell you. Sort of a personal story." He muttered.
"Then on my honor as a master smith and under the dark gaze of the Black Goat, I swear to guard whatever secrets you share with me. None will hear a word beyond this room." The man said in a calm serious tone, hand raise and fingers set in a gesture of some kind.
Geralt wasn't sure if the man truly had magic about him. At best his power was on a basic level to what he knew, yet it no doubt gave the man an edge with his work. "Very well then…" Picking up his cup, he'd take a drink and give a small sigh downing the strong liquor. "So it lets get to the point. I'm not from here…from this world I mean…"
…
The day went by quickly as Geralt and Mott chatted, the Witcher detailing his full story and history of his kind. The master smith was quiet and respectful, only speaking when he had a simple question ask. He showed no doubt even on the most fantastical elements such as monsters and magic. Perhaps the man did believe in such things, considering the city he had been raised in.
"Amazing…I remembered some lectures back home in Qohor. Theories on worlds beyond the stars." The smith muttered as he set his cup down. "You tale explains everything. Why your sword is made of such exotic and strong material along with the runes strengthening it to an even greater degree." Sighing, he'd lean back in his seat. "Ah I'd trade everything just to see this world of yours and learn its crafting secrets."
"Heh willing to trade that much for knowledge?" Geralt chuckled as he finished his drink.
"In Qohor, sacrifice is everything there. Equivalent exchange if you will."
"Huh…remember some young alchemist back home saying something like that. Can't remember who though." Geralt shrugged. "Sad to say there isn't any boat back home. Still I may have an alternative means to getting what you seek."
"Oh? A trade?"
Geralt nodded. "I have blueprints. Armor and weapons that only a master like yourself can make. I even have materials from home. Meteorite ore, dark steel and dimeritium."
"Quite the offer, yet what would you want in return?"
"You're crafting skills and expertise on a certain matter. My gear maybe good yet they can do with some improvements. I'm taking part in the upcoming tournament and I'm going to need every edge I can get going against full armored knights."
"And the certain matter you mentioned?
"I'm doing an investigation for the Lord Eddard Stark. It's a private matter, yet it involves tracing down the owner of a certain weapon. A Valyrian steel dagger with a dragon bone hilt."
Mott thought for a moment over the description. "That is quite a unique weapons. Valyrian steel weapons are very one of a kind and often related to family Houses or rich individuals. In Essos many treasure hunters brave the ruins of the old empire for lost weapons. Weapons like Ice of House Stark were gifted to the family for showing loyalty to the old Targaryen rulers."
"So that means most weapons can be traced back by their unique design?"
"Exactly. Valyrian steel can be reforged yet it's a complicated process to ensure the metal keeps its unbreakable strength and strong edge. Lucky I'm one of few known individuals on the continent with such skills. I think only a handful of Maesters who have dedicated to the mystic studies and forging can do the process."
"Very interesting. Anyway I'll be sure to have you examine the dagger once it's delivered to me. Besides that I'd like to have my armor and swords worked on."
"As long as you share those blueprints and materials that sounds fair to me. If anything special comes up though I'm sure we can negotiate on any additional costs."
The two firmly shook hands to seal the deal before they'd get out of their seats. "Anyway it has been nice talking with you Mott. I'll be sure to return tomorrow."
"It's been a pleasure Geralt. Until next time."
The master smith escorted the Witcher out of his lavish store and home. Once the heavy doors were closed and locked behind him, Geralt began to long walk back down the Street of Steel. Half the day had just past by chatting with Mott yet he felt he had gained a useful ally. Rubbing one hand over his chin, he'd realize that his beard had grown out quite a lot. He had ignored it because of how long he had been traveling for so long, no doubt giving him a fitting Northerner look.
"Guess a trim is needed if I plan to stay at the Keep." He muttered as he moved along. His next destination was the Street of Silk, guessing it may be a good chance to privately chat with Lord Baelish if he was at his brothel. At the least he planned to visit a barber that he heard had a shop set up on that street, no doubt for customers wanting to look presentable at the many businesses of pleasure. He'd head back to the main city square before the Great Sept then head northward up the Street of Sisters, a long stretch of road which lead between the massive chapel and the ruined Dragon Pit.
Heading towards the ruin, the surroundings had a more lavish quality as the area around the western side of the Dragon Pit hill. From his understand this was the noble district where the richer merchants and nobility lived in. Some homes were built along the hillside, old yet maintained structures that no doubt traced back to King's Landing founding. Yet on the other side of the hill laid the opposite, the packed and dirty slums of Flea Bottom. Because of the hill's shape, all the waste and trash from the west side ended up on the east which was the main reason for the slum's sorry state.
A short search soon led to him finding a barbershop, a small yet welcoming establishment fitting for the district. The owner was an older gentlemen who gave a curious look to Geralt, no doubt because of the pale hair and yellow cat eyes. "My…either my sight is failing me today or you have cat eyes." The man chuckled.
"It isn't. Had these for most of my life after an umm…alchemy experiment." Geralt calmly stated as he'd enter the shop which little more than a small room with a comfortable chair facing a mirror with counter close-by with razors and scissors set across it.
"No doubt an interesting tale, yet one I won't pry into. Overall you seem normal enough to me…ah…eyes and pale features aside." The man pulled the chair back before the mirror. "Though I take you're here for a trim. I can tell you no doubt been traveling for a while and need a little sprucing up."
Geralt nodded as he'd unsling his sword off his back and set it beside the chair before sitting down. "You guessed right. Have an important meeting with one Lord Baelish."
"Ah, the Master of Coin. A charming fellow, always come here to get his hair styled." The barber remarked as he'd get case of shaving cream from a sealed bowl, rubbing it along Geralt bearded chin and cheeks. "I can say my business draws quite the unique costumers. Even have King Robert visit a few times in the early days of his reign."
"Wait you've had the King visit you?" Geralt remarked in surprise as the man got one of the shaving razors.
"I guess my skills are just that good. He's was a good patron, although the Gold Cloaks always breathing down my neck while I work." The barber chuckled as he began to drag the sharp blade along the Witcher's chin. Geralt did tense slightly since when it came to shaving, he always felt a bit vulnerable having a blade so close to his neck. "I worked my way from Flea Bottom, worked for coppers back then. Took a decade to save enough along with a war to…uh…free up business."
"Quite the good fortune you've had then."
"Thank you." The barber be silent for a while as he'd focus on his work, having Geralt's beard halfway shaved.
"So I take you know a lot about your more renown patrons. Maybe you can share a little insight about Lord Baelish."
"Not much to say really. A youthful man full of ambition. I can relate to him well considering how he's risen from a lowly rank to a high member of Small Council." The barber muttered. "Never met a man more cunning when it comes to finance and coin."
"Sounds like quite the business man."
"Indeed. Some of the nobility do look down on him still. Unfair I say." Getting a clean towel, he'd wipe Geralt's face clean of any remaining shaving cream. Once, the Witcher would examine himself in the mirror, rubbing across his smooth face before giving a small nod of approval.
"Smooth shave. Very good."
"Thank you." Setting the razor aside, he'd get a set scissors out before snipping at Geralt's white hair.
"So any advice with dealing with him?"
"If you want his help you'd best make an offer. Man is fair yet he never does anything without wanting something in return." The haircut didn't take too long to finish as the man got a brush to sweep Geralt's shoulders clean of any stray hair.
"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the cut." Getting out of the seat, Geralt quickly paid the man, adding a little extra as a tip for his advice.
"Seven have fortune for you sir." The barber said with a smile before the Witcher left, before then focusing on cleaning the floor of hair.
Geralt continued on has way, having only to travel a bit further until he'd at last reach the high end brothel. The building reminded him of place Dandelion had inherited, although the bard had of course changed the establishment into theater tavern. Baelish's brothel was at least twice as big and lavishly decorated to give it almost a royal appeal to its guests. The lobby had a mix of seats and lodging couches set around for waiting patrons while at the far end of the room there was small counter where a middle aged woman, no doubt the mistress, stood by. She wore a fine corset and long skirt, practical for her managing work, yet appealing to the eyes. Her attention was quickly set on Geralt who she'd give a charming smile.
"Greets white haired one. Lord Baelish has been expecting you." She said in a cheery manner.
"Really? I was really here for an informal meeting." Geralt asked.
"The master always pays attention to what happens here in King's Landing. He knew you'd visit sooner than later." The woman moved around the counter and nodded to a hallway off to the side. "If you'll come this way sir."
Geralt followed along deeper into the brothel, his sharp ears catching muffled moans, pants and giggles becoming for the private rooms set along the hallway. Soon they'd arrive at the main lounging area were the girls and visiting paying patrons could relax in. There was one man chatting with a girl on his lap in one corner, yet overall the ladies were talking among each other or laying around in very…suggestive ways. In fact most of them were in varying states of dress and undress, from young and slim to mature and curvy. Plenty of curious sly gazes settled on him, inviting looks hinting in their eyes as he passed along. He did glance over a few of the whores, yet he'd focus on following the mistress along down another hallway. Arriving at the door to another room, the mistress knocked at the door before a male voice spoke out.
"Come in."
The mistress opened the door for Geralt, letting him step into a fancy study. Littlefinger was sitting behind a desk, shifting through letters and documents, no doubt relating to his businesses or finances of the Kingdoms. The noble was dressed more casually though no less fancy, wearing a dark silver colored robe with a light grey vest and fine dark leather pants. The man had a calculating look in his eyes as he'd glance up at the Witcher, before giving a small welcoming smile.
"Welcome Geralt. I hope your tour of the city has gone well so far."
The Witcher nodded as he moved closer to the desk, resting one hand on one of the chairs set on his side. "Well enough. Been to plenty of cities and capitals over the years, yet King's Landing is quite different."
"Oh? And what makes it so different."
Geralt shrugged. "Has the makings to match up to capital of Nilfgaard, the largest empire where I come from. Yet here…there is an obvious divide."
"A divide you say?"
"It's in every city although here it stands out. I'll admit I won't know fully until I see Flea Bottom. Here though you see the glamor of the rich and noble, yet behind it all is the poor and lowly that brace it all up."
Littlefinger nodded slightly. "It is the fact of life Witcher. The strong step over the weak, yet in turn the strong shield the weak from those that wish harm onto them."
"Right…because all wars waged have for the good of the common man." The Witcher's voice having his signature dry sarcasm to it.
"I'm not one to seek war Geralt. Men like King Robert are the ones who crave it and care not for who lies in their path." The nobleman calmly remarked. "The battles I face are through the exchange of coin and the art of words."
"A poetic way to describe your line of work."
"Yet a fitting one don't you agree?" Littlefinger chuckled. "However I doubt you came here for enlightening chatter. I know you're here on more important matters relating to the Starks." He'd gestured to the chair Geralt was near although the Witcher shook his head.
"Think I'll stand. Been sitting around long enough today."
"As you wish"
Geralt paced a bit around the office study, casually glancing over a few of the books on Lord Baelish's shelves. "Point is your right. I'm helping Lord Stark on a personal matter relating to his second youngest son."
"Yes…Bran Stark. I had heard of the news of his tragic accident and crippling. From what Eddard shared, the boy as at least awaken."
Geralt was surprised Eddard had search such details, yet didn't question Baleish on the matter. "It is, yet I can tell you his fall wasn't an accident. That is one main reason why I've come to King's Landing."
For a moment Littlefinger was silent, one hand lightly brushing over his short well-trimmed beard. "Interesting. That is troubling to hear yet…" A hint of realization showed in his eyes followed by a sly gleam. "It was someone from the royal family wasn't it? It is the only explanation why you'd rush so quickly from the North and to the capital."
Geralt remained silent, impressed that Petyr was so quick to make that deduction. The nobleman knew his answer was correct as he'd move to stand up from his seat.
"You know well who really has the power here in the capital. Robert may act as if he's the unshakable ruler of the land, yet the Lannister's are the ones pulling the strings. Cersei manipulates through the courts as her role as queen while her father Tywin dangles the purse strings over our heads. In time Jaime will no doubt raise to the rank of commander of the King's Guard, furthering their hold. One day Joffrey with Sansa no doubt married as his queen, thus sealing a great dynasty for House Lannister. Overall a flawless take over."
For a moment Geralt didn't answer, thinking over the facts Littlefinger detailed. "It is a cunning plan. No doubt of Lord Tywin's doing. From what I've heard the man is quite the political and military tactician."
"Indeed. I've met the man only a few times yet he takes pride in his family's rise to success."
"Yet in the end you're the one who has been barrowing from him constantly." Geralt quickly added.
Petyr chuckled a bit nervously. "You must understand Geralt. King Robert isn't a man you argue with when it comes to his damns. As I said during the meeting, my duty is to procure the money and use it how the King wishes."
"Even if it weighs down on the country?"
"Geralt, if I refused the King, he'd simply dismiss me and replace with me someone more agreeable. While you may disagree on how I fund the King's…requests, I do my best to soften each loan taken."
"Right…" The Witcher seemed disbelieving with that answer yet didn't press it. "Anyway politics aside, I still plan to find the truth in the end. How I will handle it from there is another matter."
For a moment Littlefinger was silent in thought before nodding. "You play a risky game yet in the end I can tell you're a level headed man, no one to let emotions overcome reason. At the least I'll gladly help, yet this is for Lady Catelyn's sake mainly. I care for her dearly and to know she faced such sorrow pains me deeply."
Geralt felt Baelish was being dramatic with his reasons, yet the way he spoke of Catelyn was indeed quite affectionate. He remember how the man spoke about the woman, seeming to have tried to win her hand in marriage yet failed to do so, having lost a duel from what he knew was Eddard's dead older brother. Obviously despite the brother's death, Eddard took his place in wedding Lady Catelyn.
"So then what can you do to help? I take you have plenty of connections throughout King's Landing."
"More than that. I have eyes and ears across the many other regions and even Essos. Only Varys has a stronger web of agents then I do."
Geralt crossed his arms, giving an odd look to the man. "Strange that the King financer has such a network of spies."
"I must be quickly informed about what happens around the Kingdoms. If anything I am sharing quite the personal information on how I work to you Witcher."
"Fair enough…" The Witcher muttered with a shrug. "I guess I should explain more about what happened in Winterfell. Thing is lady Catelyn is coming here to the capital and she must be brought in for questioning as quickly as possible."
A curious look hinted Littlefinger's eyes, seeming to have not known of this news. "Really now? What would drive her to travel so far south then?"
Geralt sighed as he'd pace to the nearby chair, tugging it out before sitting down. "Best you sit down Lord Baelish. A bit of a tale on this one matter."
…
At least an hour passed as Geralt explained the full story about attempted assassination on Bran and how Catelyn nearly died defending him. The news of her being hurt troubled Petyr, yet he remained focused as the Witcher told the man how she was quickly arriving by boat, possibly reaching the city within the week. When he got into the details of the attack, Littlefinger showed a curious interest at the mention of the Valyrian steel dagger that had been used.
"That weapon. It sounds familiar. Does it have a dragon bone hilt as well?"
Geralt had not mentioned that detail yet, drawing a hint of surprise from him. "That is correct yet how…"
"Because it use to be mine." The nobleman calmly explained. "Most houses own grand valyrian swords yet my simple family we had little more than that dagger. It is the finest of its kind yet meant more for appearance then battle."
"So then how did you lose it? Dagger or not a valyrian weapon is a valuable piece."
"Heh indeed and the tale is a bit embarrassing really. All my life I've taken risks and while I often have success I also have my failures. A month before the royal family left for the North there was a tourney for Joffrey's name day. It was quite the exciting event as the joust led to a great clash between the Jaime Lannister and the young yet talented Loras Tyrell."
"Let me guess…you betted the weapon?"
"Indeed. I betted the weapon for quite the tidy fortune that Tyrion Lannister offered up. I betted on Jaime winning while Lord Tyrion betted against him. Despite man's skill, Loras is a master when it comes to the lance yet it was a close match."
For a moment Geralt thought over this information, finding some of it odd from his point of view. He had after all stayed with Tyrion for months and knew the dwarf well. The man looked up to his brother and deeply understood his skills, which made it odd for Tyrion to suddenly doubt them during a bet. "So you lost the dagger to Tyrion. Strange then that it is missing from his ownership."
"Left in the Red Keep leaves it open to being stolen or perhaps he gifted it to someone else." Littlefinger suggested. "Sadly my knowledge of the dagger ends there yet I can suggest some leads. Varys be your best choice to learn of anything odd going about the Keep. Nothing rarely escapes that man's knowledge."
"Guess I'll have to plan a visit with the good Master of Whispers then." Already Geralt moved to get out of his seat yet continued to speak. "One other thing. If you get word of Lady Catelyn entering or roaming the city, I'd like it if you escort her here and inform Lord Stark."
"Of course. Overall I wish you the best of luck in your search Witcher." He'd stand up, one hand out to be shook yet Geralt didn't take the offer. He just had a gut feeling, a natural distrust of the man.
"Thank you for your support. Until next time Lord Baelish." With that he'd leave the study, yet just as he closed the door he swore the man had a sly smirk on his face, yet for what he wasn't sure. He'd retrace his steps through the brothel, getting a few teasing offers as he passed through the sitting room yet ignoring the alluring girls. Leaving out the lobby, he'd only give a short wave to the mistress who said a quick goodbye, before heading out to the main street.
By now the sun was setting low, casting a yellow light across the tan colored buildings. He'd make his way back southward towards the main square before the Sept, deciding to head back to the Red Keep. From a distance he'd get quite the view as the setting sun cast a beautiful light across the red stone structure. The walk to the keep was uneventful yet nearing the gates he'd see the guards were speaking with a short curly haired fellow, who seemed to be arguing with. The man was dressed in deep green coat and tanned vest along with fine leather pants and boots. At his belt he had a sheathed thin blade that reminded Geralt of Arya's gifted sword, although this one was double in size. The man's overall look reminded him of a duelist, especially with the way he stood, relaxed yet on guard as if to spring forward at a moment's notice.
"I'm sorry sir but we're under orders to not let you in."
"Surely this is a mistake good sir. King Robert himself said I was free to visit whenever I wished." The man remarked, his voice having a quite foreign accent to it. "Syrio's, First Blade of Brovos has long a friend of the court. Please tell the King of my arrival and surely you will see I am welcomed."
"We can't follow such a demand sir." The guard started before noticing Geralt approaching. "Please sir, we have others waiting entry. Sir Geralt is a very important guest who-"
Hearing the name, the curly haired man seemed to snap to attention and turned about quickly. "Geralt…THE Geralt?" He asked curiously. The man had a sharp and inquisitive look in his eyes as he gazed at the Witcher.
"Let me guess you've heard of me? Slayer of a dozen Wildlings and challenger of the Hound?" Geralt quickly asked.
The man gave a wide grin. "Sharp aren't you. Indeed rumor travels fast. I thought this country would lack any more interesting yet then I hear of you." He'd brush his lightly bearded face, nodding his head. "Yes you have an experienced look. Yet I wonder how does one like you do the dance…much less with a sword like that?"
At this point one of the guards interrupted. "Excuse me. We do need to lock the gates for the night."
Geralt and Syrio's was silent, yet in the end the Witcher spoke up. "Then let us in. I'll take responsibility of Syrio's as my guest."
For a moment the guard seemed ready to argue yet he'd sigh and nodded. "Very well sir." He and the guard gave an order as the men behind the gates raised the portcullis up for them. The guards escorting Geralt and Syrio's towards the keep before moving onto the barricks, no doubt to rest the night away.
"Many thanks friend. It's troubling that this…misunderstanding happened."
"Any idea who tried to keep you out?"
"A few. The bald eunuch perhaps who thinks me a spy from Essos or maybe the golden haired queen who sees me as troublesome around her husband." The man shrugged. "Maybe the good King did simply forget to warn the guards."
"Heh…perhaps. So is it true you're a guest here." By now the two were walking through the main hall, heading towards the living quarters for the guests. "You mentioned Bravos which I know is in Essos."
"That be correct. I've come here to see more of the world beyond Free Cities. King's Landing is a more…rough capital for sure yet the Seven Kingdoms have been wondrous to explore. King Robert took notice of me during one of his smaller tourneys when I showed the Water Dance against one of his knights. Ever since I've always been welcomed here at the Red Keep.
"Water Dance?"
"It is the fighting style of my city. It requires speed, grace and balance to master this style of fencing."
"Fencing huh. My master was renowned for his dueling skill and taught me everything there was to his style."
"Oh? Very interesting." Geralt saw the familiar look in the man's eyes, the exciting look of a challenge. "Perhaps a sparring match one day yes?"
The Witcher nodded. "Perhaps. Have a lot of work to do."
"Whenever you feel free Geralt. A wise warrior never rushes into a fight he doesn't seek." The man chuckled before he'd move aside down one hallway. "Until next time!"
Watching the man stroll off down the dimly lit corridor, Geralt tensed as his sharp ears heard someone shifting behind in from another hallway. By reflex one hand shifted to the sword on his back, yet a soft voice had him stop.
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