Chương 30: Chapter 21: S1-E20: In the Name of King Robert 1/2
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-"
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