23 2/2

"You're that certain?" Ned asked, yet he'd note how Geralt tapped the side of his head to remind the Lord of his cat like eyes.

"It was a calculated move. Murder by mishap."

Baelish had a small grin on his face, impressed by the Witcher's deduction. "Tell me Geralt, have you ever wondered why the Clengane brothers hate each other so? You'd think the two be well bonded for their love for battle."

Geralt didn't answer at first, yet he'd shrug. "Fine…I'm curious to know."

"Can say few know the truth of the Clengane siblings divide only that it traces back to their childhood. Sandor was little more than six when it happened while his older brother was busy honing his skill for violence. One day Gregor comes home to find his brother playing his a wooden knight, his knight. So without a word he grabs young Sandor by the neck and shoves his face into the burning coals of the fireplace, melting half his brother's face without so much of a care."

For a moment the Witcher couldn't help but imagine that scene as he'd glance at Sandor who currently stood by the royal family. While the man had his hound helm visor, he could thatthat Sandor knew his brother had intentionally killed Hugh. He could imagine the mixed feelings the Hound felt for the Mountain, the fear yet anger for having his childhood ruined and his face forever scarred by that fire.

"Sounds like a monster…" Geralt muttered Gregor rode off for his tent, yet already the Witcher felt a pent of fierceness stirring within him. It had been too long since he killed a monster…

…

The rest of the jousting tournament went along normally as Gregor, Sandor, Jaime and Loras came out as the finalists. The first round between Jaime and Sandor was quite an exciting one as the Hound held nothing back against the Lannister knight. Jaime however fought boldly against the brutal warrior, doing faster charges and risky lunges with his lance. In the end though while neither dismounted the other, Sandor scored just slightly better than Jaime, leading to his victory.

"So much for the King Slayer." Arya muttered, having expected the Lannister to have won.

"A lot more aspects to a joust then a duel. Bad luck can make the best rider loose despite all their experience." Geralt remarked back. "Any battle can change in such a way, which is why you must always be aware and adaptive on a moment's notice."

The girl nodded before looking back to the jousting field as the last semi-final match began. Ser Loras rode by the royal stands, passing before the Starks. Nearing the Witcher, he'd catch on odd scent from the man's horse, one that was a bit familiar although he didn't question it just yet. The young knight had been doing so every match, always offering a white rose to one of the young ladies or maidens in a charming display for the crowds. This time though he had a red rose in hand as he'd stop before Sansa, offering it out to her with a charming smile. For a moment the girl seemed stunned, a small blush on her face before she accepted the rose.

"Thank you Ser Loras." She sounded a bit flustered, almost making Geralt wonder if the girl would faint from the chivalrous gesture.

With his gift give, Loras gave a small bow yet for a moment his gaze drifted upward along the stands before riding up to be alongside Gregor. Glancing back, Geralt noted how Renly watched Loras, almost a concerned look on his face as the handsome young man was dwarfed by the imposing Mountain. After a moment Robert nodded to both to begin their joust, yet Gregor's horse neighed and snouted, making the large man struggle a bit to direct his warhorse to his side of the field.

"Quite the riled up horse." Ned muttered.

"It's because of Loras mount." Geralt answered back. "It's a mare, a strange choice for jousting. Not as strong or durable as a steed. Yet it has a musk about it…it's in heat."

"Keen observation Witcher or rather a sharp nose." Littlefinger chuckled. "A lot of gold is on line for these final few matches. An underhanded move, yet a smart one.

Everyone became silent as both men had taken up their lances and Loras donned extravagant styled helmet. Geralt could hear Sansa muttering to her father, clinging to his arm as she seemed worried for the knight although Ned was quick to assure her. He had to agree with Lord Stark since so far Loras skill easily matched up against Gregor's cunning brutality. Soon the trumpet was sounded and both men charged, going at full speed at the start. However Gregor's warhorse was unfocused as the giant of a man struggled to keep the powerful animal under control, leaving him exposed for Loras lance. A direct hit was made at the center Mountain's shield, strong enough to make the weapon shatter and roughly stagger the iron clad knight.

Between the force of the blow and Gregor's own weight, he and his horse tumbled to the side as the man fell onto the jousting barrier, crushing the wood as if they were made of twigs. Gasps and cheers filled the air as Loras rode up before the royal stand, bowing low to Robert who clapped eagerly. However Geralt's attention was on the Mountain who was quick to stand up, throwing his helmet off in anger to reveal his face at last. He was rather gruff looking as expect, having large head and short cut hair in a classic soldiery styling.

"Sword!" He yelled out, making a page hurry off for his tent. Despite his cry, no one else noticing, being too distracted by Loras.

"Ned…" Geralt warned, tensing up as he knew something was wrong.

The page returned, carrying the Mountain's massive sheathed blade which the man quickly drew out. With a roar Gregor swung his blade down at his steed's neck, slicing cleaning through thick muscle and bone as he decapitated the horse with one blow. All cheering stopped as a few horrified yells escaped from the crowds, making Loras turn about to see the shocking scene…and the Mountain rushing in at him. The young knight was quick to get his jousting shield up, blocking the massive sword yet bashing him off the side of his horse and fall roughly to the sandy ground. Despite the dazing fall, Loras was quick to roll onto his back and grasp the shield in both hands, blocking another blow which nearly split the shield apart.

At this point instinct kicked in for Geralt as he stood up, ignoring Ned who spoke out to him. Quickly he rushed out of the stands, steel sword drawn as he'd get between the Mountain and Loras. "Leave him-" He started as he grasp his sword in both hands, block the next incoming attack. However another sword clashed with Gregor's massive blade, making Geralt glance to the side as he realize Sandor had stepped in as well.

"-be?" Both muttered, a bit surprise at how the other hand blindly rushed in to Loras defense. For a moment both men were distracted, yet snapped to attention with Gregor growled out, pulling his sword back from their locked blades, swinging his sword horizontal at their chests. Both dodged back to avoid the long reach of the large weapon before lunging to counter attack. The air rang with steel striking steel as Gregor struggled to fight back against the two skilled warriors. Geralt couldn't deny that the Mountain was insanely strong as every blow he blocked stressed his arms. He remembered why he was taught to avoid blocking a monster's blows since such attacks were too powerful to defend against safely, even with his enhanced strength. The clash went out for a few moments, adrenaline driving them all on to fight more fiercely. Small chants and cheers came from the commoners, calling out 'Wolf' and 'Hound' as the Mountain perhaps for the first time in his life faced real equals.

"Stop this madness in the name of your King!" Robert roared out, enough to make even Geralt glance towards him.

The booming command suddenly made Sandor stop in mid-swing as he suddenly dropped to one knee before the royal stand, sword braced into the sand. Gregor however didn't stop himself as he swung downward at his brother, sword aimed for the Hound's neck. For a moment Sandor glanced up, realizing his fatal mistake as the sword neared only for it to be stopped as Geralt's sword blocked it. Growling, the Witcher shoved back with all his might, the massive man stagger a few steps away with a surprised look at the sudden burst of strength. Hateful eyes met the Witcher who gave a death stare, one that would make anyone else flinch in fear yet for the Mountain he didn't so much as blink.

"Leave." Geralt muttered as Gregor threw his blade into the sand, growling in anger as he'd glance between the two men and Robert who scowled back in anger. He'd march off the field for the tents despite the city guard stood in his way, although the men seemed ready to piss themselves considering the shaky looks they had.

"Let him go!" Robert ordered, making the men quickly step aside. Considering their looks of relief, they seemed thankful for the King's quick order.

Geralt sighed as he catched his breath, calming down as he'd sheath his sword while Gregor shifted to stand. The Witcher saw Loras get up, the young knight having crawled away to escape the clash between the three warriors. He seemed winded yet uninjured as he'd stand before both men, glancing between them with a thankful look on his face.

"I owe you my life Sers." His tone was deeply respectful despite the few words said, making both Sandor and Geralt glance oddly about as if expecting some real knights to be behind them.

"I'm no Ser." Geralt and Sandor both said, much like the moment the two had locked blades with Gregor. Both looked at each other, annoyance showing on the Hound's face as he seemed ready to snap some insult at the Witcher.

"Please…I know you two have a rivalry, yet you've just showed you can put that aside when needed." Loras quickly pleaded before turning to face the crowd. "However I can honor you both! I give Sandor Clegane honor and prize of the joust and Geralt of Riva the favor of House Tyrell. Let their bravery be praised this day!" Grasping an arm from both of them, he raise them up high into the air as the crowd cheering loudly for the two gruff heroes. Sandor glanced aside, seeming embarrassed with the praise while Geralt felt out of place being in the limelight. After a long moment of cheering, Loras let go of their arms, giving Sandor a chance hurry away as he seemed eager to escape the crowds' attention.

"That was unneeded…even if it was honorable of you." Geralt muttered to Loras.

"Yet it is the right thing to do. If anything I'm embarrassed I let that brute surprise me so…"

"I'll admit I'm impressed you were able to block such blows. You're a lot tougher then you look."

"I did say before appearances can be deceiving." The young knight jested as he'd pat the Witcher on the back before two pages hurried forward to check up on him. "Yet I meant what I said Geralt. If you ever need it, House Tyrell will glad aid you however it can." He'd quickly chat to his page, assuring the boy that he was alright as he'd be head for his tent.

By this point Tyrion would hurry out onto the jousting field, looking at Geralt in a quite dumbfounded manner. "First your face the Hound, then you blindly clash with the Mountain. You really must be brave or stupid…" He muttered, although a joking grin crossed his face. "Either way you amaze me once more Geralt." Turning to the crowd, he spoke up to them. "An unforeseen turn of events! While Ser Loras and Sandor were to joust, it seems the honorable Tyrell had conceded the prize to the Hound. We have seen an historic event my friends, a true show of courage and chivalry!" By now Geralt hurried off the field while Tyrion gave his grand speech, a fitting distraction to slip away back to his tent.

…

He could hear the crowd cheering on a bit more as it seemed Tyrion had some side events going, no doubt mock duels or jousting feats to make up for the last match being canceled. Taking the time to change out of his armor and set his sword's aside, he'd hear Ned speak up the tent entrance.

"May I come in?"

Geralt didn't answer at first, yet gave a sigh. "Of course Lord Stark…" He muttered before Eddard entered.

"You know that was crazy what you did. The Hound I can understand yet Gregor…"

"Yes I know. I'm most likely going to hear that for weeks." The Witcher grumbled as he'd move over to one of the cabinets the tent had, storing a mix of bottles ales and wines. He carelessly picked one bottle and two cups, filling them up before fitting down at the table. "Just instinct to rush in like that. Wasn't going to let the Mountain kill anyone else today."

"Sandor seemed to have had it under control." Ned remarked as he moved for an empty seat, picking up his cup of wine before drinking it. "Always thought the Hound was fearful of his brother, yet the fierceness he showed proved otherwise."

"He would have been too slow. Loras would have been cleaved before he reached him." Geralt plainly argued.

"Even so, you've definitely shown Tywin, Robert…hells half the nobility of Westeros what your capable of. Forget rumors from months back, people are realizing that you're far above even the best known warriors of our time…"

"I can only hold back so much Ned. Decades of experience is hard to keep in check when a monster like him is attacking." He'd take a deep drink from his cup, sighing as he'd shake his head. "Doesn't matter. I understand your concern but I can handle whatever new intrigue or challenges came come up."

Ned chuckled nervously. "That what worries me. You handle this so casually. I'd be a stressful wreak in your shoes."

"If you live as long as me, you'll find little will surprise you…well it shouldn't." The Witcher smirked a bit. "Worries and jests aside, I think we need to talk about the Lannister's. Lord Tywin's arriving complicates things."

Eddard nodded in agreement. "He's not a man to be taking lightly. Cunning, manipulative and controlling in every degree. After you left the field he was quick to ask me about you, having heard of how we found you in the far North. I could tell he doesn't buy the story of you being beyond Essos."

"I'll even admit it's a weak excuse. Course, just saying I fell through a hole in the sky from another world wouldn't be any better though."

"True…I can only warn you be careful with what you share about yourself. He can find faults and weaknesses in others better than most."

Geralt simply nodded as he'd refill his cup, taking a deep drink from it. "Do you think he is involved with our investigation? Connected to Jon Arryn and the attack on Brann?"

"With Arryn I'm unsure yet with Brann I know he wasn't involve. If he knew he'd most likely turn whoever did it just to win my favor and trust…which he'd earn considering."

"Wouldn't go that far…"

"Maybe…yet I'll admit Geralt I'm tired of snooping and hiding this. I'd like nothing more than to up front with Robert on what we know and confront the Lannister's or all of the royal court if it meant getting the truth!" Ned remarked back sternly. "You may find this normal yet for me…"

"I know Ned. If anything I'd like nothing more than to have done this all on my own, yet that has long past." Geralt calmly stated. "I know we're close to a break through…and it all comes down to whatever Arryn saw in Gendry."

"The boy has that much importance?"

"Considering someone with a lot of influence and wealth has securing his future…yes. Yet there must be something more that Arryn noticed. You didn't find anything new over the last few days have you?"

Ned paused, thinking for a bit. "I did question Grand Maester Pycelle on Jon's death. Should have questioned the Maester sooner since he had quite a few hidden details to share." He'd pause, taking a deep breath. "Jon didn't die to natural causes but to poison. Tears of Lys, a quite rare and deadly poison that is very hard to trace."

"Is that why the details of it are so recent?"

"Pycelle claims so. He had taken…samples from Jon when he examined him before and after his passing. I'd like to hope the Maester's words are true."

"Hm…maybe I'll pay him a visit this evening. Haven't had much of a chance to speak with him since arriving to the city. Here at the tournament I'll be able to be a bit more discrete."

"Be mindful still." Ned warned before finishing his drink. "There is going to be a lot of eyes on you for the next few days. I'm certain tomorrow the crowds will be doubled just to see the Melee." Eddard stood up from his seat before moving to leave. "I'd wish you luck for tomorrow…yet I know better. I have a feeling that despite the odds you will win."

Geralt smirked at the man's serious show of confidence, giving a small nod of thanks back before Eddard left the tent. Finishing the second cup of wine, Geralt stood up and stretched a bit before moving to the entrance flap of the tent. Peeking outside he could see things had calmed down outside as the commoners were busy filing out of the tournament grounds and returning to the city. The mix of entertainment and free meals had the masses quite happy as everyone was directed back to the main road leading to King's Landing. However he could see that around his tent there was a small group of knights and nobles milling around, acting casual chatting about yet always glancing toward his abode.

"Right…rather avoid that." He'd shift back inside and the Dragon Fang as he'd move to the very back of the tent, cutting a short opening low to the ground, enough for him to couch through. Squeezing through the opening, he'd keep to the shadows the setting sun cast as he'd quickly walk around the back ends of the tents.

"Now then…the Maester's…" It take forever to check every tent and in turn draw attention to him. He'd be still as he'd take a deep breath and focus his senses, mainly his hearing. The many echoing sounds of chattering voices, laughing, clanging armor and neighing horses became nearly deafening, yet he'd shut out the loader noises as he looked for one certain sound. Soon he detected it, the ratter of chains coming from a smaller tent set close by to the King's royal pavilion. "Found you."

Sneaking between the tents, he'd avoid the main pathways as he'd reach the Grand Maester's private tent. When the coast was clear, he'd slip inside without anyone noticing. In tent while small was packed with a mix of alchemical and medical supplies. No doubt much of this were for emergencies during the tournament or for any dire needs for the King. Geralt noticed the old man busy at one of the work tables, working some mixing apparatus and muttering to himself, perhaps some formula. Oddly the man's posture was different from before, the old man standing up straight and quite strongly as he worked.

"Grand Maester?"

Speaking up had the man give a small startled gasp, his stance shifting to a more slumped and shaky. The old man turned about, grasping something close to his robes yet relaxed when he saw the Witcher. "By the S-Seven Geralt! You should know better than sneak up on your elders like that…"

The remark was a bit amusing since Geralt knew very well he was the eldest in between the two of them. "I apologize for surprising you and for not having a proper discuss since I arrived here."

"Ah…n-no worries. You no doubt have many duties very L-Lord Stark. My own tasks have kept me quite busy as well…experiments, medical needs and so on…" He'd mutter onward. "I've gotten Ravens from the Maesters of the North. Luwin and Aemon. Both have praised your quite scholarly knowledge…claim it's that of a Maester's even."

Geralt shrugged as he'd pace around the tent, examining a few herbal samples and potions, recognizing most of them as he looked about. "Witcher's are more than just warriors. Need to be knowledgeable on a lot of subjects such history, alchemy and magical theory."

"Interesting. Yet while I'd enjoy d-debating and sharing knowledge, I feel you're here on a more important manner."

Geralt nodded as he'd face the old man, the calm cat like eye's having the Maester shift nervously. "It's about Jon Arryn. Ned told me you learned he was poisoned with a rare mixture."

"Oh…I…yes. Tears of Lys. Foul mixture indeed with some h-horrible yet subtitle symptoms." He'd shuffle to a nearby book, flipping through it and gesturing for the Witcher to come look. "The substance is a clear and tasteless fluid which one digested eats away at the stomach and bowels. Often d-deaths caused by it are attributed to natural sickness or a-age, unless proper tests are done."

"Tests that you preformed yes?"

"Of course! I consider myself an expert when it comes to err…poison. Many Maesters are against the study yet in service of the K-King it is needed."

"Understandable. I know a good my share of toxic mixtures as well." Geralt remarked back. "So does that mean the Red Keep as a poison storage?"

"I…well…yes." Pycelle nervously muttered. "You do understand poisons in the very small dosages can counter act certain illness and other poisons. Also with the uhh…samples I can better identify what poisons maybe involved if any…incidents happen."

Geralt nodded, the Maester's explanation logical enough so far. "I take only you have access to this dangerous storage?"

"Of course! I have the only key and knowledge to working the cabinet as well. Many of the mixtures are very reactive and proper handling is needed. If anyone among the court required access, they'd need to inform me and be have their request safely v-verified. I keep a very detailed log t-to ensure no wrong doing happens."

"Right…so how did Jon Arryn get poisoned then? Did you have the Tears in supply?"

"Of course not! The Tears is far too potent even in the smallest of doses for any medical needs. I have no idea how Lord Arryn was poisoned…no doubt someone outside the court."

However Pycelle's reaction was too quick and defensive. Either the man was over exaggerating or he was hiding something. "Are you certain about that?" Geralt shifted his left hand up, fingers quickly flexing into the Axii Sign. He hoped the Sign was strong enough as the old man blinked, a dizzy look crossing his eyes.

"I…perhaps we did get a small supply. It was an exotic gift from Essos…err…a trader or guest I think." The Maester muttered. "Should have poured it away…dangerous…even more when it was taken…"

Geralt gave an odd look at that last few words shared. "Taken? You mean stolen. When did this happen?"

However the Sign seemed to be wearing off as Pycelle shook his head and blinked rapidly. "Uhhh…light headed suddenly. What do you mean stolen…did I say something odd?" He seemed confused, yet was becoming more alert.

The Witcher was tempted to try Axii again, yet he wasn't sure if it was worth the risk since using the Sign multiple times on an individual in a short period made it easier to resist, along with the fact the magic was weak as it is. However before he could decide, he'd hear soft footsteps outside and the brushing of a long dress across the grass as someone entered the tent.

"Never mind. It was nothing Grand Maester…excuse me." Geralt turned to leave, feeling he'd question Pycelle later back at the Red Keep.

"Oh…uhh…very well." The old man sighed, shifting to sip something from a cup, giving a refreshed aside as the drink cleared his senses.

As Geralt neared the tent flap, he'd stop as Cersei stepped through, the woman pausing as she saw him. "Ser Geralt. I didn't expect you to be here." She calmly stated, being formal yet on guard in tone.

"Had to visit the Grand Maester on a personal matter. Herbs for my own potions." He simply yet politely answered back before bowing slightly to her. "I should return to my tent. Tomorrow will be a busy day after all." As he shifted to move pass her, he could feel her sharp gaze at his back as he'd step outside and move around the tent. However he didn't move on just yet as he linger by the tent, listening closely as Cersei approaching Pycelle.

"My Queen…what brings you in at this hour?"

"I need the usual medication Grand Maester…twice the dosage this time." The woman calmly stated.

"Double? That is much…yet I have enough in stock. Is that wise though...surely the King-"

"Robert does not need to worry on the matter. He is more…active of late and I'd rather not have any unwanted mishaps."

"Uhh…as you wish…" There was the soft clatter of vials as Pycelle seemed to find what was requested. "Remember. Small doses with drink. Take some before any uhh…love making or on a daily basis if signs of life stir within you. Overdosing could be…risky with the chance of infertility."

"I know the risks." Cersei was silent for a moment as she'd shift for the flap out of the tent. "Remember…not a word to Robert…"

Geralt stepped to the shadows as Cersei moved along, returning to the royal tents. Once she was out of sight, Geralt slipped away through the maze of tents and returned to his own, entering through the back opening he had made. Once alone, he'd give a small sigh as he'd think over what he had just overheard. It seemed Cersei was taking some mixture for pregnancy, mainly to prevent it and for quite a while from his understanding.

"Curious…" He muttered as he'd pace around the tent, packing away Dragon Fang with the rest of his gear in the nearby chest before doing to the comfortable cot set nearby. Already he a theory creeped into his head, something that seemed so obvious yet to crazy to be.

"What if they aren't his children?"

The implication was troubling…very troubling. However he couldn't let that distract him just yet as he'd take a deep breath, relaxing himself on the cot as he closed his eyes. He still have the Melee tomorrow and he was certain everyone taking part was going to be ganging up against him. Of course he had no plans holding back against such imposing odds. It was about time he cut loose for once…

…

Notice: Even in the middle of a tournament intrigue continues to play out! I hope this long chapter makes up for the minor delay and at least gets everyone pumped up for the Melee next chapter. I realized the other events and characters needed attention so the grand battle ahead can be played out properly. Anyway my birthday is this weekend, so things will be a bit slow, however I promise all this waiting will be worth it as Geralt truly shows Westeros what he is capable of.