Capítulo 21: 2/2
Having slept into the late morning before getting up, remembering his deal with Mott yesterday. Once changed into his day clothes, he'd gather his Wolf School armor and take the long walk to Mott's shop, getting the armor checked in for the smith. By the time he had all that sorted out and back at the Red Keep, it would already be early midday. All it took was a few questions to find the way to the west hall, a small open hall that had a fine view of the city. Arriving there, he'd heard the clack of wooden swords and shuffling feet, along with Syrio speaking out.
"Keep your footing. Never be still during an attack or being on the defensive!"
Entering the hall, Geralt hanged back to see the First Sword of Bravos at work, the man shifting and stepping about while Arya did her best to match his movements. The two were in the middle of a sparring duel, Arya matching Syrio's foot work quite well yet not flowing with her stabs and strikes like the experienced man. In the end she overextended a strike and the fencer slipped up close, the blunt end of his practice sword pressed at her neck.
"And now your dead again." He chuckled, Arya sighing yet having a small smile before noticing the Witcher.
"Geralt! You got my letter!" She'd hurry over, giving him a surprising hug which caught him off guard. Again he had memories of Ciri doing the same when she was young, making a mix of feelings come to mind.
"Heh didn't think you missed me that much." He remarked once the girl let him go.
"Well you and father have been so busy. Sansa is dull…just talking about that stupid Joffrey and the witch of a queen."
The news of Sansa being around Cersei was interesting news. Thinking about it, he remembered how the girl had been in a hurry last he chatted with her, perhaps going off to meet the woman. "Well I'm here now." His gaze looked to Syrio's who had a friendly grin on his face.
"Pleasure to see you again Geralt. Did you teach the girl beforehand? It seems she has a basics when it comes to the dance."
"More of offhanded learning. She always watched how I trained the soldiers and her brothers back in Winterfell."
"That right! He dueled Robb, Jon and Theon all at once. None of them could even touch him."
"Hmm…I see." The fencer paced around slightly as Geralt walked more into the center of the hall. "I'd like to see for myself though." Kicking up Arya's dropped practice sword, he'd catch it with one hand before throwing it to Geralt. The Witcher didn't even flinch as he catch the weapon by the grip, spinning it about in his grasp. A grin crossed Syrio's lips. "Impressive. Very honed reflexes." The man's stance shifted to be side facing, one hand back at his hip and his sword arm out forward, holding the practice sword in a classic fencing style.
Geralt shifted his stance, sword arm back and left hand forward as he took a sideward stance as well. His footing was light as he stared down at the fencer who had a curious look in his eyes.
"Never seen such a stance." He remarked as he'd slowly pace about, circling the Witcher who'd move counter wise, keeping his distance and facing towards the man.
"Called the Fiery Dancer. Meant for more agile opponents." The Witcher explained. "Amusing how it's similar in name to your own style."
"Heh indeed!" Syrio's tensed, his friendly grin fading and a serious glare showed in his eyes. "Watch closely child. It is rare you see masters put their art to the test!" Arya nodded as she stood a good distance back, an excited look in her eyes as the two men locked gazes.
Soon their side shuffle ended as Syrio's lunged, moving quickly forward for a stab. Geralt was quicker, body turning about, sword arm twisting as he blocked a slash to his side. Both of them kept moving as Syrio's pressed the offense while Geralt focused on dodging or guarding in return. At times the Witcher got enough distance to attack back, going in for a quick stab which the fencer blocked yet only to flow into an upward slash and then a downward. The fencer was on guard now, realizing Geralt's blows had more strength then expected yet rapid in speed.
"Interesting. You steps flow like the Water Dance yet blows have such strength to it. An interesting combination." Syrio's remarked.
"Not getting nervous are you?"
"No…if anything I'm thrilled for a challenge!" Again he stepped forward, stringing a series of quick high and low blows which Geralt blocked. For a good while the two were caught up attacking and counter attacking, avoiding falling into an outright defensive. With them fighting up close, it meant one slick up would leave to a jab to the gut or a smack to the side, yet neither yielded. Geralt's decades of experience and mutant reflex just surpassed the fencer. However even the Witcher's exotic style couldn't get through Syrio's defenses because of his agile step and quick sword work.
Both lost track of time, yet Geralt could see Syrio's slowing, getting tired as he was putting so much effort to just protect himself from the Witcher. At this point the Witcher put forward a more aggressive move, stepping forward as Syrio's have a lightening with stab right at him. Quickly he'd turn and spin about, yet during the movement switch his practice sword into his left hand. By the time Syrio reacted to turn about for a guard for the right, only realize his mistake as Geralt's blade was just at his ribs. If it had been a real blade, the weapon would have sunk right up into the man's heart.
"Dead." Geralt muttered, giving a deep sigh as he'd catch his breath.
Syrio was panting, light sweat on his brow and a surprised look in his eyes. "Amazing indeed…a cunning deception." He chuckled as Geralt shifted back. Both glanced to Arya who stood there gawking, seeming at a loss for words.
"I…how…I couldn't even keep track." She murmured in pure awe.
"Heh that is how the duel is properly done. The final test for mastering the Water Dance is to move across a shallow pool. If one can fight across the surface without rippling it, then it is a true show of mastery." He'd give a small bow to Geralt. "I can say this man has been the first to best me since I've gained my title. A compliment that I doubt I'll ever share again."
"You humble me. If anything you've given me quite the challenge for once." Geralt remarked back respectfully, one hand out to be shaken.
Syrio chuckled, shaking Geralt's hand firmly. "We must do a rematch one day. For now though we have Arya's lesson to tend to." Looking to the girl, he'd toss his practice sword to her, which she caught was ease. "I think Geralt here can help with your sword arm while I your footwork. Hone both and in turn balance yourself."
"I get the idea." Arya agreed. "Just not sure I'll fight like you two though."
"Never said never." Geralt chuckled. "Trust me, you'll find your own style in the end. Everyone does."
"A good advice I say. Now then I need a moment to catch my breath. Why not show Geralt what you have learned so far."
The girl nodded as she'd step up, taking a similar stance as the fencer while Geralt shifted into his own poise. She'd start off with a lunge much like Syrio's which Geralt blocked aside with ease, yet let Arya continue into a flow of slashes and attacks. She was overly aggressive in her moves, swinging to widely or over extending herself whenever she stabbed out. Whenever she did, he'd be quick to attack at her outstretched arm or her exposed side, making Arya give a yelp whenever the practice sword tapped at her.
"Have you sword arm move with you. Be it defense or offense you mustn't simply leave your arm exposed." He explained to her.
Arya nodded as the two kept up their sparring lesson while Syrio stood by, a pleased look on his face as he observed how Geralt taught her. The Witcher took the time to show her the proper steps for different attacks and blocks, taking his time as he'd correct her on how she held her weapon and angled her strikes. Once again they'd do another sparring match, Geralt testing her defenses this time, which she pulled off quite well. Yet as they fought, he'd notice by the entrance way that Ned was standing by, muttering something to Syrio's. For a moment Eddard had a proud look in his eyes as he watched Arya block and counter attack, yet as the fight continued on a hint of worry then fear showed in the man's expression, as if dreading the possible danger that may one day threaten the young girl.
…
The next few days Geralt took his time to begin researching his opponents for the upcoming tournament. The first rule of every Witcher was to understand his enemy, problem was he was facing up against forty nine highly skilled knights. Despite how humans lacked the natural deadliness of monsters, they were always very adaptive and unpredictable.
Sandor for one was one he had to keep an eye on, considering the man wouldn't be holding back against him and already had a good understanding of the Witcher's capabilities. Then there was the Mountain, Gregor Clegane. The man thrived off battle and brutality, using his brute strength over skill. Still the man seemed to have a cruel cunning from what the stories said, showing Geralt shouldn't underestimate him. Jaime's overall seemed to be well-balanced in all form from what he learned. Yet he felt in this event the royal knight was going to take this tourney quite seriously for once.
Geralt's attention did focus on one certain fighter, an odd addition who wasn't even from any House. Thoros of Myr, a Red Priest from Essos, renown for being a usual drinking buddy with King Robert. It seemed odd for a priest to have such a habit, although his faith was very different from most Geralt had heard of. Religion aside, the man was a fierce fighter, having taken part in facing the Ironborn during the Greyjoy Rebellion that happened years back. One trait he often had was lighting his sword with wildfire, a violate alchemy oil that reminded Geralt of some of his own oil and bomb mixtures. Overall the man was a wild card and one he'd have to look out for.
With his research aside, Geralt decided it was time to confront Tyrion with some questioning to learn the full truth about the assassin dagger. With taking the weapon in secret, Geralt headed for Tryion's quarters, yet when passing through the main hall run into the dwarf along with Bronn following along. The dwarf gave a small smile seeing the Witcher before approaching. "Ah Geralt! Been far too long since we spoke. I hope your time at the Keep and seeing the city has gone well."
Geralt nodded. "Peaceful enough. I take you've been busy with the tournament no doubt?"
"Mostly. Food and drink has to be ordered. Entertainment and the like. While Littlefinger may procure the coin, I've been appointed for the management of the tournament and as one of its announcer to give the event more flair." He answered back as the two headed outside to the main courtyard.
"Not sure if I should be excited or dreading how you'll act before the crowd."
"Oh ye of little faith." The dwarf sighed.
"Has a point Tyrion." Bronn added. "May very well stroll out onto half drunk and dressed."
Tyrion rolled his eyes as his two friends jested with him. "Just so you know I am trying to take this tournament seriously. Maybe the last one we have in long while if Lord Stark takes serious management on the spending."
"Funny I thought you'd be happy with your family having pulling the strings with capital in debt."
"As much as domination of the Kingdoms sound, I do look to the long term. After all a good amount of that debt remains to the Iron Bank and if payments are not meant…well…they methods on collecting are not welcoming."
Geralt thought a bit, remembering the Iron Bank from Bravos, being richest organization in the known world. In turn they controlled one of the most powerful mercenary armies as well, the Golden Company who were as Tyrion said their 'debt collectors'. "Seems odd to worry about such a matter."
"That's what separates me from the rest of my family…well except my father. He'd say otherwise yet if you met him you'd agree him and I are more like then my siblings."
"Debt and family aside, there is one important mater I need to talk to you about."
Tyrion had a questioning look, yet nodded in the end. "Very well…Bronn, go enjoy yourself for the evening. See you at the usual place." Taking out a small coin pouch, he'd hand it over to the sellsword who gave an approving grin.
"As you wish. Watch him well Geralt." Bronn chuckled as he headed for the gates out to the city.
Once he had strolled off Tyrion gestured to the side path that lead around the main keep and around to the vast gardens. Walking along for a while, Tyrion lead the Witcher to a secluded sitting area set by a fenced cliff side, ensuring no one could spy on them easily.
"So then. What is it?"
Geralt simply drew out the assassin dagger, the curved blade gleaming in the bright sunlight overhead. Tryion flinched a bit at the sight of the weapon, a quick realization showing in his eyes. "That's the assassin's blade isn't it?" Holding one hand out, Geralt handed it over for the dwarf to examine. "Valyrian and dragon bone. Not sure why a vagrant killer would use such a thing…could sell this for a fortune."
"You don't recognize it?"
"I study my weapons from time to time, yet don't know this one." Glancing up, he had a questioning look in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"That dagger use to be Lord Baelish who claims he lost it in a bet with you." Geralt answered back. "On Joffrey's naming day tourney, he says you and him had a bet with the dagger being his offer. He said you betted against your brother who lost the last joust, leading to you winning the blade."
Tyrion was silent, yet a small grin did show across his face. "Heh…so it seems Petyr lied then. You know that I wouldn't-"
"Bet against your own brother? Yah I know. Been around you long enough to be certain on that fact, even told Baelish that." Pausing, he'd give a sigh. "So then…do you have any idea why he would lie to me?"
"Because he's trying to protect Robert no doubt." Tyrion muttered. "Thinking back I remember he had a wager with the King and it was no doubt that weapon. Robert is always interested by such items and no doubt put down a lot of gold towards the bet."
"So you mean Petyr lied to me to protect the King?"
"I'm not implying Robert is behind the assassination on Bran. The man isn't cruel to wish the boy harm or stupid enough to use such a weapon. If anything the dagger may have been gifted to someone among the court or royal family. Who though I cannot say."
"Yet Robert would know…" Geralt calmly stated.
"Yes…but maybe accusing him of providing a murder weapon isn't an appropriate approach. His temperament is bad enough, yet with you I doubt he'll keep himself restrained." Tyrion sighed and thought for a moment. "You need to win some favor back with him and putting on a god show in the tournament will no doubt do so."
"Ah yes…the classic fight for fame method." Geralt remarked in dry sarcasm.
"The man is simple in the end. Show him your fighting skill and honor manners. May very win the attention of the noble born by the end."
"Never had a good track record winning such attention, yet I'll take you word on that."
Tyron gave a small grin. "I've gotten you this far haven't I?" His expression though did turn more serious. "Still you should question Lord Baelish about his lie, learn his reasons for doing so."
"Oh I plan to…" Geralt muttered as he'd take the dagger back from the dwarf. "Already have a good idea on when to talk to him and I'll certainly get an answer."
The way the Witcher spoke had Tyrion nervous a bit. "Just don't cripple him."
Geralt simply shrugged. "So any other details about the tournament I should know about? Special rules or events?"
"Well…for the archery one ideas has come to mind, something that will amazing the masses. After all you can do something I doubt anyone in the known world can…well…maybe in Dorn or somewhere in Essos…but we don't have the coin hiring such talent."
It wasn't hard to figure out what the dwarf was meaning, considering Geralt had put his honed deflection technique to use in saving his life. "So…block a few arrows to wow the crowds? I don't mind being part of completions yet being a sideshow is something I don't enjoy."
"My, they really must treat you like dirt back in your country if you that reluctant." Tyrion muttered. "Yet you know everyone here see's you differently. You're a mystery to many! The stranger with unmatched skill, unshakeable will and strong sense of justice."
Geralt's thoughts drifted back to the night weeks ago, of how Gaunter had claimed he was the 'hero' this world needed. "Fine…guess there can't be much harm in your request." He sighed. "Anything else?"
"Hmm…yes. Your introduction."
"Introduction?"
"You know. The reading of titles and great deeds. Geralt of Rivia is good start yet there needs to be more."
Already the Witcher doubted the dwarf needed to know of his more infamous title as 'Butcher of Blaviken', even if it was falsely given. "Gwynbleidd is a title I was given the elves."
"Are you saying fair ageless beings with pointed ears gave you a title?" The dwarf chuckled in a jesting manner, yet seeing the Witcher's dead serious look had him become silent. "Ah…won't question further on that matter. So Gwyn-blade…Gwybleidd…what does it mean?"
"It's Elder Speech for White Wolf. Think of it as the ancient tongue from where I come from."
"Interesting…anything else?"
"Nothing I that the masses would know or care."
Tyrion thought for a moment, pacing about slowly. "What about the Wildling Slayer? Hmm…no…so violent in tone. Wildling Hunter? Maybe…"
"Rather not glorify that. Not like I actively seek out and kill them." Geralt argued.
"Fine. How about Defender of the North then? Far more neutral and heroic."
"That will do. Anything else you need to ask?"
Again the dwarf was silent, thinking once more before remembering something. "Yes one small detail. A bit personal yet one that I feel is needed…"
Already Geralt had a strange feeling, yet he'd sighed, giving a nod of agreement before hearing Tyrion's request.
…
The last few days quickly went by for Geralt, focusing on training Arya with Syrio's along with preparing himself for the upcoming games. Mott had sent a message saying the armor was finished and he would arrive with it at the tournament grounds. While he believed in the master smith's skills, he couldn't help but feel a bit nervous having his gear brought in at the last minute. The Melee wasn't until the second day joust and archery match. It made sense to put the mass battle for one day since it take that long just to sort through so many combatants. At the least he'd have the advantage of not being tired out or injured unlike the ones taking part in the joust.
When the dawn of the tournament came, Geralt made sure to get up early before the rest of the Keep was up and about. He'd rather no tag along on the royal march through the city streets like last time. Grabbing his swords and locking away all his other belongings, he'd head out for the court yard and the stables to get Roach. No one stopped him from leaving as he rode quickly out into the street of King's Landing heading for the south western gate, the Lion Gate as it was named for it's in honor for the Lannister's. He found that odd considering Tywin had sacked the city, leading to a lot of suffering for the commoners who were caught in the chaos.
Leaving the city walls, he'd turn southward through hilly woodland, following a wide trail that ended at a massive clearing. Already a small sea of colorful tents were set up, gathered pages and servants hurrying about to get everything in order. There was one massive stand meant for the nobility and smaller moveable stands set around for the commoners who'd come and watch. Currently the jousting lane was set up with practice targets set up for the early morning knights to ride against. Already a few of the men were about, charging and hitting the shield targets, yet Geralt paid little attention on them for now.
Soon he arrived at his tent, a light blue and white clothed one, which Tyrion had set up for him. The inside was simple since he didn't require much for the tournament, not needing a small armory of weapons like most knights often brought with them. The only furniture here being a simple yet comfortable cot bed, a sturdy chest for storage and a large table with a few chairs for relaxing. Yet at the table was Mott, who had quite the tired look on his face, seeming almost half asleep with the way he was slumped forward. The table had a piece of cloth covering over it, no doubt Geralt's improved armor. Hearing Geralt, the master smith shifted up to look at the Witcher, giving a small chuckle and smile.
"When you said early, I didn't think you meant this early."
Geralt smirked as he approached the table, taking a seat across from the man. "You didn't have to. Could have come later."
"Bah…may not be a morning person yet I felt this is a special occasion." Mott muttered, shifting up to stand from his seat. "Never worked so hard on an order like this. The time limit did put some pressure, yet this should be a masterpiece."
Pulling the cloth off, the Witcher armor was fully revealed. His eyes widened as he looked over the improved armor, quickly noting the changes given to it. The chest piece had been reinforced with dark iron plating along the shoulders, upper front and the collar area. More flexible plate was added to the upper arms for added protection while at the elbows the only forearm area metal bracers had been pieced into the chain and leather, with the left bracer being the Stark one he had been gifted. The gambeson armor under the fitting jacket had been toughed with a well spread pattern of studded fittings, yet felt not one bit heavier or inflexible under his inspection. The pants also had flexible plating on the sides of the leggings with leather strappings securing it to the toughed clothing. As for the boots they hadn't been changed too much yet feeling at the heel and toe of the shoe wear he could feel a bit of metal had been added to each end, no doubt to make kicks and stomps far more painful.
"Very impressive. The plating is well mixed with the leather and chain work." Geralt remarked.
"Thank you. Why not try it on, get a feel for it. I can promise you none of the plating will hamper your flexibility and movement."
The Witcher was quick to slip the armor on, doing a short stretch and flex once everything was fitted. He'd move his arms about, resting his reach front and back before doing the same with his legs. "Damn. Doesn't feel any different. How did you keep the weight the same?"
"Heh a new trade secret Geralt. Be glad you're the rest to wear such fine hybrid armor. In time I plan to make more with the designs you shared, make a simpler and affordable outfit before the next gathering of smiths."
"Guess that is my way of paying back." Geralt chuckled. "Anyway think I should head out and practice a bit with the new armor." Moving to leave the tent, he did stop at exit. "So do you plan to stay and watch the events?"
Mott thought for a moment and shrugged. "I plan to see the Melee at the least, having put a few bets down on you." Smirking, the man nodded. "Overall just do what you do best Witcher. I want to see a few of those stuck up knight meet a real match for once."
The Witcher smirked in amusement. "You'll see soon enough." Leaving the tent, he'd check around nearby until seeing a few practice dummies set nearby. While he prefer a sparring partner, he guessed this would do as he'd draw his steel sword, spinning the blade in his grasp and between hands. Stepping up towards the dump, he'd spring forward in a short leap, body twisting for a short spin before slashing his blade down at the dummy's shoulder. The enchanted steel slice nearly clean through the hard wood and padded leather, yet the Witcher didn't hesitate at all. Pulling his sword back, he'd shift about to the right as if avoiding an attack, sword swinging across the dummy's side before he stepped around to slash against the back.
He'd continue through different forms and attack patterns, although the dummy quickly began to fall apart as his mutant strength and razor sharp sword hacked at it. Being caught up in his practice fight, he nearly didn't hear someone approaching him. Finishing a final swing, the dummy crumbled apart, being little more than tinder after his onslaught. Glancing back, he'd see a few knights and pages staring before they'd glance quickly away to return to their duties.
"A bit eager for a fight aren't we?"
Tyrion step forward from the departing crowd, Bronn following close behind with an amused smirk.
"Damn Geralt. Hate to see what you'd to against a living target." The sell sword chuckled. "Of course I doubt your opponents will just stand by and let you dice them like that."
"Be disappointing if they were all that easy." Geralt bluntly answered back. "Curious you two show up early. Thought you'd arrive with the rest of the royal procession."
"Rather not get tied up by that march. Besides I doubt Cersei would want me seen even on the same street with her." Tyrion replied with a mischievous grin. "Besides, as presenter of the games I should take my job seriously. We have the more powerful and influential people from the Seven Kingdoms here after all."
Suddenly there was the trumpeting of a horn in the distance, quickly getting everyone's attention. The dwarf had a curious look on his face as he'd move around the tents as there was the stomp of horses approaching the tournament dement grounds.
"Strange…the King wasn't supposed to arrive for at least a few more hours." Tyrion muttered as the trio moved to investigate with the rest of the crowd.
"Maybe Robert being more proactive for once." Geralt jested.
However as they joined the crowd by the trail, they'd quickly realize the approaching riders weren't the royal guard, yet dressed in the red and golden colors of the Lannister family. The well armored men marched alongside one older gentlemen wearing similar yet more regal armor. The man had balding white blond hair with an aged yet hardened face. One glance though and Geralt blink in shock, unable to shake how similar the man looked to another he knew…and disliked ever so greatly.
Tyrion had his own look of surprise before it hardened into a more serious glare. "Well…this is unexpected and troubling." He muttered as the man rode towards them, his guard following closely around him to partly surrounding the trio now.
"I have a good idea who this is…the resemblance is clear."
"You'd best not let him hear that." Tyrion warned as the man neared them, his blue eyes having a commanding sternness to them.
For a moment the armored lord said nothing as he coldly looked down on Tyrion, a hint of distain showing in his eyes. The dwarf however kept that calm look, even a small hint of a grin on the corner of his lips to keep a look of confidence. The man's gaze shifted pass Bronn, giving the sellsword no attention as the man focused on Geralt. Like many others those eyes had a judging and calculating towards the Witcher, yet Geralt showed no weakness or fear towards the lord.
At last though Tyrion spoke up to break the unnerving silence. "Hello father. I must say this is a…surprising visit from you."
Tywin was silent for a moment, expression impassive even as he spoke. "Really now? For the first time in months our family is gathered in one place. It be unfitting of me to not visit…even if I detest Robert's senseless games." The man's voice had Geralt tense, unable to believe how it sounded exactly like Emhyr's. "Besides I heard much about this one…Geralt isn't it?" The man's gazed narrowed, curious hint showing across his aged face. "You have an odd look about you. Almost as if you've met me before…"
"Indeed my lord...let's just say you're a near splitting image." The Witcher answered back coldly, making Tyrion pale as he already felt things were about to go from bad to worse.
…
Notice: I thought to give the catspaw dagger some custom history to it, I do hope it's fitting considering the book and show has told little about it. A good reference for Geralt's improved armor is the Grandmaster Wolf Armor, with a few personal touches to it. Been a busy week with the upcoming holidays slowing work along with classes. As usual, share your thoughts on this chapter! Next time…the tournament of the Hand along with so very much awaited battles!
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