29 2/2

Indeed there was marking in the dirt, large and rough tracks fitting of a big boar. Already Geralt crouched down as he focused his sharp eyes to the ground, noting how the trail started off from the dense underbrush before scrapping a tree as a territorial mark before heading down the trail.

"Big one. At least a grand old boar, maybe eight or ten years in age." Geralt muttered.

"Quite the prime age." Renly remarked as he stepped closer. "Going to have to be mindful with tracking it."

"Heh, boars this age have no fear. If we get close enough the boar will come to us instead of run." Robert chuckled eagerly, hefting up his spear. "Let's keep going. Can't have gone too far."

The group resumed the match with Geralt taking more of a lead, his cat like eyes keeping track of the boar's trail. Robert was quiet for a while, watching the Witcher closely.

"Anyway I miss the simpler times Geralt. Enemies were right in front of you, vicious and bloody inviting you to face them. Nothing like today…"

"Sounds exhilarating." Renly remarked back offhandedly.

"Exhilarating yes! Not like those balls and masquerades you like to throw!" Robert gave a deep chuckle of amusement, although his brother's sour expression was quite the opposite. Lancel again moved forward, offering the wineskin again to Robert who took a short drink with a pleased sigh. "So Geralt, enjoyed any Northerner or Riverland women yet?"

"Haven't had the time sire." The Witcher muttered back dismissively.

"Heh, back in my day we had a little right of manhood were you had to fuck one girl from each of the Seven Kingdoms and the Riverlands. We used to call it making the eight!"

"Those must have been some lucky girls…" Renly remarked back, hinting mockery in his tone.

Robert seemed to ignore his brother's tone though. "You ever make the eight Barristan?"

Geralt couldn't help but glance back as the Lord Commander seemed stoic as ever with the calm expression on his face. "I don't believe so your grace." He answered back formally.

Again the king laughed out loudly at the commander's reply. "Ah those were the days."

Suddenly Renly had a look of frustration cross his face as he suddenly spoke up. "Which days exactly?

He firmly planted the end of his spear into the ground, making everyone behind him come to a sudden stop. Robert turned to look at his younger brother, a stern look showing in his eyes. "The one were one half of Westeros fought the other and millions died? Or before that when the Mad King slaughtered women and babies because the voices in his head told him they deserved it? Or way before that when dragons burned whole cities to the ground!?"

Everyone seemed taken aback at Renly's words, even Geralt as the young noble and Robert had a tense stare down. The King gripped his boar spear tightly before speaking back. "Easy boy…you may be my brother but you're speaking to your king."

Renly seemed ready to snap back, showing tell this was only going to get worse. "Sires. Hate to break up the family feud, but something is close." The Witcher spoke up, silencing the younger noble before their spat got out of hand.

There was a long pause, Robert seeming to forget the argument as his attention returned to the hunt. Lancel seemed oddly nervous as he glanced about before moving towards Robert. "Ah…more wine before-"

"The King has had enough to drink." Geralt muttered back. "Save it for after the kill."

The Witcher expected the King to argue back yet the man remained silent. Perhaps the small lesson on the day of the Melee had left an impression with the ruler. "Big…something big is lurking."

Indeed there was a heavy rustling nearby and a deep squealing grunts that grew louder each time. Geralt moved one hand behind his back, gripping his crossbow while Renly and Robert took positions facing different directions. Barristan had a tense look in his eyes as he gripped his sword, that same alertness before the Melee showing once more.

Suddenly there was a fierce squeal as a massive boar, the biggest even Geralt had seen charged out from the thick brush. It rivaled the size of the Mountain in bulk and length, along with having massive gnarled tusks that could gore muscle and rip leather with ease. Lancel yelped out in shock as he leaped aside into the bushes, while Robert and Renly turned about, spears aimed low in a bracing stance.

"Come on you old pig!" Robert growled out while Barristan and Geralt dodged aside, knowing the boar spears be more effective than their swords. The boar blindly rushed into the two spears, Renly's being knocked aside by the thrashing head, nicking across the boar's muscular neck while staggering the young man away. The king however had his spear drive into the beast's chest, the spear sinking deep into thick muscle and flesh.

Despite the deep wound the boar was unyielding as it struggle and push forward, making Robert slide back as he put all his heavy weight against the beast. The rough terrain made it hard for the large man to keep his footing as a thick overgrown root had him tumble back, cursing out as he landed roughly onto his back. With the spear still stuck in, the boar squealed as it rushed at Robert, who quickly drew out a large hunting knife to defend himself.

At this point Geralt acted as he drew and fired his crossbow in one fluid move, the bolt flying right into the beast's left eye. The overgrown animal squealed in pain as it was blinded, disrupting its charge as it turned away from Robert. Renly had recovered as he gave a yell, stabbing into the boar's side, slowing the animal even more as he twisted the spear about. The boar thrashed about, trying to get at Renly who was barely keeping his own footing.

Robert took this chance to pull himself up and lunge at the boar, giving a fierce battle cry as he grabbed at one of gnarled tusks, showing a shocking burst of strength as he yanked the beast's head about. With a roar he drove his knife into the boar's skull. It was a lethal wound, but the mindless beast seemed dead set on trying to take the King down with it. Geralt fired another shot at the gashed wound Renly had left earlier across the neck, piercing through the thick fur and hide. The boar recoiling in pain, giving Robert the chance to stab again and twist the knife about. The boar give a mournful groan before it at last slumped down dead at last. Robert shuffled back panting, leaving his knife embedded in the boar's skull while everyone gathered up around the massive beast.

For a long moment no one said anything as they glanced between each other and the slain beast, until Robert gave a deep laugh and victorious cry. "Hah! I still got it. Haven't stared death in the eye for so long…" Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his sweaty face and gruff beard as before glancing at Renly. "Renly…you're damn soft at times but you saved my ass there. Consider us even over that argument, just don't do that again." His gaze then shifted to Geralt. "Thank as well. Damn good shot going for the eye and neck. Seems you are full of tricks Witcher."

Renly shook his head, smirking a bit as he seemed a bit amused with his brother's remark. Whatever tension that had built up from their earlier argument was gone for the moment. "Fine…even then." He muttered, taking a deep sigh as he catched his breath.

"Crazy of you to grapple a boar like that, much less with one hand." Geralt remarked. "Guess you got some fire left in you sire."

"Heh, under a layer of fat and sagging muscle." The Robert chuckled as he stepped up to yank his knife out of the boar's skull with a bit of effort. "Either I need to thin down or hang up the spear. Been any slower that thing would have gored my guts out."

"It was a close call your grace." Barristan remarked. "I feel I should have intervened at the least."

"Bah don't worry yourself Barristan. Your job is to fight off assassins, not old boars." By now Lancel would peek out from his hiding spot, quickly being noticed by Robert. "And you boy. Best hope you got strong arms and a sturdy back because you'll be helping drag this thing all the way back to camp."

Geralt couldn't help but smirk in amusement as the squire give such a troubled look from the order, although he nodded his head as he'd rejoin the group. "As you wish sire…" He offered up the wineskin which the King snatched up before taking a deep gulp from, giving a pleased sigh as he savored the drink and his victorious kill.

…

The walk back to camp took twice as long as the group struggled to drag the giant boar back. Even with Geralt helping out, the sheer bulk of the animal was just too difficult to heft about. Renly was sent ahead to get more men, who arrived when the group was half way there. Soon everyone was back in the camp and the boar set on a massive table in a large tent to be skinned and chopped up.

Geralt took the time to get some water after the long trek before check up on Robert, thinking this may be the best chance to talk privately with the man. Entering the main tent, the Witcher found Robert already cutting his knife deeply into the boar as he'd carefully work on gutting the creature while Lancel stood by with a wooden bucket to collect the gory entrails.

"Mind the bladder boy. That thing's burst and you'll stick of boar piss for a week." Robert warned has he handed over the bloody sack to the squire, who seemed pale with the gross details. The King's attention shifted to Geralt when he stepped in, giving a big welcoming smile to the Witcher. "Come to help Witcher? If anything Lancel here looks like he'll need a bucket for his own guts."

"A-Amusing your grace." The squire muttered, seeming a bit green with nausea as he careful deposed of the foul organ.

Robert sighed and shook his head. "If a gutted pig has you this sick, you'll never have the balls to slice a man in a real battle. Get those guts thrown out and gather up some water, going to need plenty to cleaning up here."

"But the nearest stream is…"

"Far off…which means you best get moving then!"

Lancel quickly nodded before he hurried off, nearly fumbling with the gut filled bucket as he left the tent. Geralt stepped up beside the skinning table as Robert continued his knife work, grunting and cursing as the hide was held tightly together by the dense muscle.

"Think you're being a bit too tough on the squire?" Geralt questioned.

"Have to be. Show him being a…ugh…knight isn't as simple as it looks. Need's to understand there is hard work and commitment to matter how lowly the task is." Robert muttered back between cuts.

"Fair point." For a while the Witcher just silently watched the King cut away at the boar body before speaking. "Hide tougher than it looks."

"Heh, should have scrounged up a valyrian steel knife from the vault…guh!" The knife got stuck in the thick muscle which forced him to roughly yank it out.

"Have a dagger, though it's not really meant for this kind of work." Geralt reached to his hip, holding up the sheathed curved blade.

When Robert glanced at it, then did a double take, a hint of recognition showing in his eyes. "Where did you get that?" He questioned sharply.

"So you have seen this weapon before?"

"Aye. I won it a month before our trip to Winterfell during Joffrey's naming day tourney. Lord Baelish betted it."

"Huh…guess he wasn't lying on that detail." The Witcher remarked lowly.

Robert's expression became more stern. "Again where did you get that dagger?" He demanded.

"Guess even Eddard didn't tell you yet. This dagger was in the hands of some vagrant hired to murder Bran back in Winterfell. The man nearly killed the boy and Lady Stark with it."

Confusion and shock now hinted the King's eyes. "What? How can that be? I gave that thing to Joffrey day after his naming day…boy treasured that dagger over everything else."

"So you admit Joffrey was the last owner of the dagger?"

"Aye. Now care to explain how some lowly assassin got hold of it?"

"If anything you just told me who gave it to him."

Robert growled lowly, making Barristan tense slightly in the tent corner. "Watch yourself Geralt. You saved my life back there yet that doesn't give you the right to say such things about my family!"

"I'm stating what the clues tell me sire."

"What you're imply is that my son tried to kill my best friend's own child."

"Because it's damn obvious. I know the Starks have plenty of enemies, but do you really think any of them are this clumsy?" Geralt countered back. "Hiring a desperate criminal and arming him with a traceable weapon like this? Only a child would be foolish enough to do something like this."

The explanation had Robert pause, glancing between Geralt and the dagger. "Why then? Joffrey didn't even talk with the boy…has no reason to want him dead."

"True. Yet the he doesn't think reasonable like most kids his age." The Witcher countered back. "Think back to the days after Bran's fall. I remember a few people say you claimed the boy was better off dead considering he was crippled."

Again the King was silent, seeming to be thinking back to all those months. "I…may have said such things. Drink made me loose tongued with my thoughts."

"Thoughts that Joffrey may have overheard. You may not show much attention to the boy, but he listens closely to everything you say. Overall he didn't do it out of a cruel intent, only out of a lack of common sense."

"I don't want to believe it…" Robert muttered in a low voice.

At this point Geralt could tell there was conflict in the man's mind, as if he had some knowledge that something was deeply wrong with Joffrey. This seemed like the right moment to give the full truth.

"I know this is a lot to take in, but there is more troubling news to share."

Robert slam his fist against the table in showing frustration. "Damn it Geralt! I came out here to escape the stresses of court, not be drown in more intrigue!"

"Trust me, Lord Stark and I hate it just as much, but this is a matter that wasn't safe to speak at the Red Keep. It involves Jon Arryn's death and his activities beforehand. Mainly-" However Geralt paused, head tilting as he swore he heard something odd outside, a pained grunt that seemed out of place.

"Mainly what Witcher? Come on out with it!" Robert cursed, seeming not to realize something was wrong.

Barristan seemed to notice as well as he paced to the tent flap to glance outside as the servants seemed to speaking out in shock. At that point the old knight looked back at Geralt and his King, a dead serious look in his eyes. "Sire, take cover now!"

Robert was confused yet Geralt didn't hesitate as his sharp ears heard the whishing sound coming from above. Grabbing hold of King, he dragged him down low just as arrows pierce through the tent top and sunk into the ground where they had just stood. Shocked and pained cries followed outside as the servants and guards were picked off by unseen archers. Barristan reached behind himself as he drew out a light heater shield. It was small enough to conceal onto his back and under his white cape without hindering his movement. He raised it over head to ward off more falling arrows before rolling forward under the table, armor hardly hindering him.

"Bloody hells is going on!?" Robert cursed as more arrows struck the table, the half-skinned boar and heavy wood shielding the three.

A few moment later the small rain of arrows stopped, as outside there low wailing cries of whoever had survived the barrage yet was wounded. For a long while the three men were silent, Geralt being the first to slowly crawl out from cover and towards the tent flap to peak out. Outside the guards and servants were strewn around the campgrounds, dead or dying from what he could tell. Scanning the area, he couldn't see Renly, making him worry something had happened to him.

"Hello!" A male voice, an aged voice yelled out from the woods. "Robert? Glorious King Robert? Are you dead yet?"

Geralt glanced back at the table, seeing the King have a fierce look of anger across his face. However Barristan was muttering something to him, no doubt trying to calm him down.

"Either your dead or hiding…either way it doesn't matter. I do know that Lord Commander Barristan and Ser Geralt though must surely be alive. I doubt two legends of the court would simply die in such a simple ambush."

Neither man answered back, knowing better then to reveal their position to their unseen attackers.

After a long pause, the man continued to speak. "This is dull. If Robert is alive then hear this…Lord Viserys and Lady Daenerys sends their regards. The Targaryens never forget and always repay in fire and blood."

A look of shock then pure rage crossed Robert's face, the man giving a low growl of fury as he heard those words. Indeed Geralt was just as surprised but didn't let that distract him as he could hear heavy footsteps approaching, at least a dozen from what he could tell. Already the Witcher tensed as he'd brace one hand to the ground while the other reached for his steel sword, ready to lunge up and attack when an enemy was in sight. Already he was having doubts on who these men really were and their motives for attacking. Whoever they were they were numerous and well trained along with lacking any restraint on whoever got hurt or killed.

Barristan was prepared as well as he shifted out from cover, drawing his own sword and holding up his shield. Already Geralt knew that the Lord Commander had no plans on holding back, since those eyes had a look of pure focus in them. "Your grace, leave this to us." The older knight calmly stated.

"No…" Robert muttered as he staggered out of cover. "I'm not going to hide! For once I have an enemy out in the open…inviting me to face them like so many years before!" He glanced about, cursing since there were no spare swords on hand, except the hunting and skinning tools on the table. Grabbing a hatchet, Robert glance between the Witcher and the Lord Commander. "Don't care if these are pretenders or some thick-headed loyalists…no one attacks the King and gets away with it!"

"I get that you want to fight them, but we are outnumbered and surrounded. You're safety comes before everything else." The footsteps neared, the sound of blades being drawn being heard. A few pained cries followed as the men were finishing off the injured as they made their way towards the tent. "Barristan, you need to get the King into the woods. In the camp we're too exposed to archers. I'll draw their attention while you get Robert to cover."

"I don't plan on running off Witcher." Robert growled before a sudden shock of realization hit him. "Oh gods…Renly…he was out there."

Even Geralt had nearly forgotten about the younger Baratheon, making him curse lowly. "I'll try to find him. Maybe he got to cover or was able to escape."

"Let us hope." Barristan muttered. "Time is up…they approach."

…

At that moment everyone moved, Geralt lunging out as the first ambusher neared the tent flap. The man was gruff and plain looking, dressed in leather and chainmail fitting for infantry or a sellsword. A look of complete surprise crossed his face as the Witcher moved so inhumanly fast along with the fact Geralt's steel blade had just cut right through his unprotected neck.

"By the Seven!" One of the other men yelled out in shock as their companion was instantly beheaded, leaving an opening for Geralt to rush in. The two other raiders could barely get their swords up to block the powerful blows the Witcher dealt, making them stagger about from the sheer force. Geralt took advantage of their weak guard as he sliced across one man's chest, rending his simple armor like it was paper. The other tried to lash out with an armored back hand, the Witcher simply side stepping and counter attacked, leading to howling cries and an arm flying through the air.

Geralt's attention shifted to Barristan and Robert as they rushed in the opposite direction, making a break for the dense woods. The Lord Commander cut through any raider with ease, parrying blows with his shield before following up with a lethal stab or slash, even taking a head off one attacker. Age seemingly hadn't slowed or weakened him in the slightest from what the Witcher could tell.

Robert bellowed out threats and curses, following close behind Barristan and watching his flank, even though the knight needed no help. Still the King yelled as he swung his hatchet about at one raider who rushed in, catching the man by surprise as hesplit the man's head with a deep cleave. "Hah! Gods I've missed this!" Robert laughed out, picking up the dead man's mace before continuing to follow beside Barristan, heading to the north side of camp.

"Don't just stand there! Shoot them!" It was the same voice who had delivered the speech from before, no doubt the ambush party leader. Geralt could just see some men in the west tree line, shortbows at the ready to shoot at Robert and Barristan.

With the archers in view, Geralt armed his bomb and threw it out at the camp edge, aimed to hit as many of the men as possible.

Soon there was a loud bang followed by a blindly flash then the pained cries of the raiders. "GUH! My eyes…ears…" One howled as everyone clutched at their faces, dazed from the explosion. Even while helpless Geralt showed no mercy as he'd lunge in, blade spinning and turning as he'd dice a bloody path through the raiders. Already he had counted at least eleven men so far between those he and Barristan had faced, although he wasn't sure if there was more where the knight was heading. Eight more raiders charged in from the woods, yet when they saw their slaughtered companions they gave pause, espcally when Geralt's yellow gaze fell on them.

"How in the hells?!" One muttered. "He's just one man."

"Yah…one who beat the Mountain and the Kingslayer."

"Don't believe that crap."

"I do because I saw it!"

"All of you done talking?" Already Geralt paced closer, spinning his blade in one hand to flick off fresh blood. "Surrender and live or resist and join your friends. The choice is simple."

One of the men at the back of the group suddenly turned to run off, the others glance back to watch him disappear into the brush. The rest shifted back, on guard and fearful as the Witcher neared. Seemed they were too thick headed to know they were outmatched.

"Gave you a chance." He muttered before one of the leading men yelled and charged, sword overhead which left him exposed. The man didn't stand a chance as he had enchanted steel pierce right through his gut and split through his spine, making him go limp in an instant. He did not pause as he withdrew his blade, body twisting about to dodge two raiders to attacked from the front and right side.

Three of the men tried to surround him, attacking from all sides wildly to try and overwhelm him. Compared to the knights from the tourney they were lacking in skill and tactics. One attack he parried before cleaving across the shoulder and chest, then turning about to slice through another raider's belly when he tried an overhead attack. His stance shifted low to dodge one attack from behind, blade sweeping upward to slash from man hip to chin in one move. All three tumbled over dead, leaving the remaining three gawking in pure horror.

"Yield! Gods we yield!" One yelled as he tossed down his sword, the other two doing the same.

"Smart." Geralt muttered before he noticed someone behind the pleading men and some trees, a figure dressed in some worn red robes. Suddenly the figure tossed something at them which tumbled to land between the Witcher and the men. The thick smell of powder and smoke was all the warning Geralt needed as the bomb's fuse quickly burned through.

"What the-?" One sellsword muttered in confusion before burning shrapnel shredded his gawking face.

The fierce explosion blew the three raiders into pieces as fire and metal flew about. It took all of Geralt's honed reflexes to dodge away along with flex his fingers to make the Quen Sign, hoping it shield him from the blast. He just hoped the Sign wasn't too weakened, else one side of his body would be mutilated by the bomb. The magic shield thankfully held, flaring as it absorbed the blast which flung him hard into a tree. The rough blow and landing winded him, though he quickly recovered and grabbed his dropped sword, ready for another attack.

Panting, he see the figure was gone, having disappeared during the chaos of the blast. Already he wondered who would use such a rare and deadly weapon, since bombs were limited to only a few knowledgeable groups in this world. Whoever it was they had nearly killed him if it weren't for his Witcher abilities.

For now though it seemed the raiders had been wiped out or retreated. He returned to the camp, needing to find Renly and see if anyone had survived the initial ambush. Pacing around the camp, he examined a few of the slain servants and guards, finding them all dead by arrows or stabs to the back. The horses were also gone, either spooked off from the fighting or let loose by the raiders to make sure no one could make a quick escape. Checking one of the raiders, he recognized they had a House emblem on the arm or shoulder, a red three headed dragon, the symbol of the Targaryen's.

"Crudely done." He muttered before yanking armor pierce off, touching the emblem to find the paint for it was just fresh. "Recent too." He stopped speaking when he heard movement behind him, making him tense up and raise his sword. Moving closer to the supply wagon, he heard someone mutter from under it as he approached. "Is someone still alive?"

"Ugh…I am…" The familiar voice of Renly spoke out as the young noble crawled out of hiding, bruised and dirtied from what seemed to have been a rough fall.

Geralt relaxed, lowering his sword as he examined Renly more closely. "What happened? We heard the attack yet didn't see what happened."

"Archers. Seemed like over a dozen considering how many arrows flew." Renly muttered as he glanced around the camp. "Just…one of the guards saved me. Pushed me down under the cart before an arrow got him in the side." By now he noticed dismembered limbs of the men Geralt had killed, face paling at the gruesome sight. "Where's Robert? Did they hurt him?"

"He and Barristan fled the camp. I just hope I took care of most of the ambushers so they could escape safely." Picking up a sword, he offered it to Renly who took it, though he seemed too shaken to be good in a fight. "We should go, try to find Robert before any more trouble comes."

"Right…right…" Renly nodded in agreement as he followed the Witcher through the camp.

Approaching the northern edge of the camp, they soon found a small trail of slain ambushers, no doubt Barristan's work considering the lethal cuts and stabs across their bodies. He focused his senses to pick out the two men's trail, following along for a few long minutes. Soon Geralt could hear low voices, mainly Robert who was gave a low pained curse.

"I was careless damn it. Thought I hit him hard enough." He hissed out.

"Happens to the best of us sire. You've suffered worse than this." Barristan remarked back.

"Aye…I have."

Geralt and Renly rounded a large grouping of trees to see the two men, Robert sitting back against one with a hand grasping at his belly, blood soaking over the cloth and leather. When the King saw his younger brother, he smirked with a thankful look hinting his eyes.

"Again you're surprising me more and more brother. First the boar now arrows…tougher than you look."

Renly shook his head, a grim look on his face. "An odd time to praise Robert. The servants dead and you're injured…"

"Bah this is…mgh…nothing. Just stings…ugh…a little."

Geralt gestured for Barristan to move aside as he crouched down, moving the King's arm aside. "Deep stab wound. Going to need more then bandages for this. How did this happen?"

"Bashed one man in the head as we were retreating. Must have been tougher then he looked, or my arm's gotten that weak. Was just able to gut me before I cracked his head open properly…" Robert muttered.

"One wound is all it takes to end a life. May have reached your liver…or what's left of it."

"Heh…amusing Witcher." Robert grunted weakly.

The Witcher shifted away, looking to Barristan with a serious look. "I can stop the bleeding, but for every hour we delay the worse his condition will become."

Suddenly there be a familiar voice of Lancel called out back in the direction of the camp. "Your grace! W-Witcher! Is anyone out there?"

"The bloody boy. Guess that little trip to the stream saved his hide." Robert grunted.

"Quiet your grace." Geralt remarked back before looking to Renly and Barristan. "Need to get back to camp and get him onto the cart. He's too injured to ride on a horse safely, even if we had one for him." Geralt looked to Renly and Barristan, nodding for them to help Robert up onto his feet.

"Going to take twice as long to return to the capital on foot, even longer if we have to pull the cart ourselves." Barristan quickly stated.

"Have a plan for that. Let's just get back." Already Geralt was taking the lead, while Barristan and Renly carried Robert. Soon he saw Lancel wandering through the woods, a worried look on his young face as he glanced about. "Everything alright squire?"

The boy flinched when he saw the Witcher, only relaxing when he noticed the rest of the group. "I just returned and…everyone…"

"Dead, I know. Self-proclaimed followers of the Targaryen's attacked us."

"Bastards…" Robert muttered before giving winced grunt of pain, silencing him.

"Overall you're lucky Lancel. Stayed a few minutes longer and you may have been riddled with arrows."

The squire seemed pale for a moment, nodding in agreement. "Ah…r-right sir."

The whole group returned to the camp and headed for the supply cart which they clear off to lay Robert down on after getting some blankets to make things more comfortable. With that done Geralt whistled loudly out and after a few moments there be some movement coming to the south until Roach walked out from the forest.

"Where did…" Renly started.

"A one of a kind loyalty. You'd be surprise how far Roach has traveled to aid me." Geralt answered casually back as he'd guide the horse to the cart front, getting the mare strapped up to carry the wounded King back to the city. "May not be used to carts but she'll manage."

"Guh…the boar…throw the boar in beside me." Robert grumbled.

"Brother it's just a damn pig." Renly argued back as he'd climb in to sit beside the King. "We'll have a party of guards to come back for it."

"Nah…meat be bad by then. Fucking criminals…kill my men and rob me of my hunting prize." However he quickly become quiet, seeming too tired to argue any further.

Lancel got up to the front of the cart to guide the horse forward while Gerlat and Barristan followed on foot to keep watch along the road if any more ambushers lurked about. Soon they were back on the King's Road and heading northward for the capital. After a while though the Witcher glanced to the Lord Comannder, feeling it was time he spoke his mind after the attack."

"The Targaryens didn't plan this." He said in a hushed voice.

"And I'd agree." Barristan answered back.

"Not surprised really, but care to explain your reasons?"

"There is simply no one in Westeros who has any loyalty left to that family. They are all either dead, exiled to the corners of the world or have long lost their faith to the Targaryen line."

"This was a set up. A ruse to kill the King…maybe us included."

"Yet who?"

"Have some ideas…not sure if I should share them…"

At that moment the old man had a sharp look in his eyes. "Witcher I understand your secrecy yet keeping the truth from me doesn't help anyone."

"Maybe so…but you are a man who puts honor and loyalty to the royal family above all else considering what you let the last king do. How can I be sure you won't repeat past mistakes?"

Barristan was silent, his gaze showed a hint of anger and guilt at the Witcher's words. "I have always put duty before all else…it is all I've ever believed in when it came to knighthood." Taking a deep sigh, he calmed himself. "Yet in this case the King's life is in danger and I know the threat is within the court itself."

"It is. Jon Arryn was close to a conspiracy that would affected the future of Iron Throne. Led to him being killed for looking too far."

"How far does this go?"

"To the top…the queen herself."

"You can't be serious…"

"I wish I wasn't." Geralt sighed, wishing he had told Robert sooner before the attack. Right now he knew he needed strong allies like Barristan on his side, honest men that he knew he could rely on. "Cersei's children…their not Robert's…"

…

The lone sellsword paused to catch his breath, glancing back to see that white-haired man hadn't chased after him. "Shit…everything has gone to hell…" He muttered to himself as he'd continue along through the woods, heading to the gathering point the boss had planned. "The old man fucked up…said this be damn simple!" He arriveed at a small clearing that overlook the nearby King's Road, the woods offering perfect cover to not be noticed. This was how the group had tracked the King's approach along with seeing how much protection he had as well. Really they were just back up while their so called 'man-on-the-inside' tried a more subtler means of getting at the king. "That boy fucked up. How hard is it to get a man like that drunk!?"

A sudden branch snapping made him gasp in shock before turning about, short sword out. "Put that down sellsword." A deep voice calmly mutter, words thick with a foreign accent that the mercenary knew was Dothraki. From the dense brush an imposing man dressed in a mix of boiled dark leather and light fur clothing. The simple choice of armor showed off the man's more foreign traits, such as his copper dark skin and dense muscular body. At his back was a large scythe-like blade, an Arakh, the recognizable blade of the Dothraki raiders. The most striking feature of the Dothraki though was the large scar that went up the left side of his face, going across the eye which was a dull pale color unlike the deep blue of the other. His short cut black hair also lacked the braid all Dothraki warriors had, a hint that this one had committed a serious dishonor in the past.

"Where's the old man copper skin?" The sellsword growled, keeping his weapon up despite that warning.

Despite the man's insult the Dothraki gave a small shrug before nodding back into the woods. "Tying up any loose ends."

The simple answer had the man lower his blade and sheath it, pacing around nervously. "I knew that old knight and foreigner was good…but never thought they could take on so many at once." He muttered to himself, still shocked at how fast that Witcher had moved.

"It shows that we shouldn't have relied on amateurs." An aged voice spoke out, smooth and well spoken. Moving into view to stand beside the Dothraki was the old man who the sellsword believed was nearing sixty. His face was thin and pale skinned with the chin having a well-kept dark goatee. Those deep green eyes stared calmly at the man, seeming hardly worried despite the complications that had happened. He wore a faded red robes over his slim figure, pouches and bottled mixtures strapped around his waist for easy access. Crowning the top of his thinning dark-haired head was a red cap, completing the recognizable outfit the Alchemists of King's Landing wore. "The priority was Robert. If you had focused more of your men during his escape, we could have ensured his death."

"What do you mean ensure? Also did any of my men survive?"

The old man didn't answer immediately as he paced towards the ridge, looking over the road. "One of the men got lucky and wounded the King. It could prove lethal, but there is no guarantee." He paused in thought, lightly stroking his goatee. "As for your men they are all dead. I killed the last few myself."

"YOU WHAT!?" The sellsword raised his short sword up in anger, rushing at the old man who seemed unfazed at being attacked. The Dothraki though reacted quicker as he lunged forward to grab the man's sword arm, gripping it tightly and twisting at the wrist to disarm the sellsword. "Ugh! You bastards! I should have known…dealing with scum like you!"

"Heh, considering you were willing to kill the King for money. I think we know who is the real scum here." The Dothraki chuckled, keeping the struggling sellsword in an arm lock.

"Ugh…and you two are no different?"

"Your men were a loose end. I couldn't risk having them talk and expose us…or the employer just yet." At this point the alchemist turned to face him, a thin smile hinting his lips. "You fight for coin, but us we fight for an ideal." He stopped to stand before the mercenary, tugging on a red leather glove before reaching into one pouch at the hip. "Really if I had wanted Robert dead I'd had blown up his tent. Loud and messy, but effective. However the employer wanted us to pin it on the Targaryens, which was where your group came in."

"So what was the point then? You did this to send a fucking message?!"

"In a manner of speaking. However I won't bore you with the details…since it won't concern to you." He withdrew his hand from the pouch, a fine white powder just drifting away between his fingers. "Ogatto, please get the man on his knees."

The Dothraki grinned before one strong leg struck the back of the sellsword, who grunted out as he forced down into the requested position.

"Thank you."

"You're making a mistake old man! You kill me and you'll have the Brave Companions hunting you down!" The man threatened, though panic hinted his words.

Despite the name of one of the most vicious mercenary companies in the known world, the alchemist gave an amused smirk. "I'm not worried. If anything I expect them too…and you'll no doubt tell them yourself." With that he tossed the powder into the man's face, catching him by surprise as it also caught into his open eyes.

A shocked gasp escaped from him, eyes rapidly blinking and narrowing in they began red with irritation. That redness spread along his skin, which made him hiss out as the skin started to flake off. "Ughh…w-what the fuck did y-you do!?" His eyes were red, tearing up as he also started to cough. "Its…shit it's burning! My eyes…AGHH!" He started to thrash about, Ogatto letting him go as he rubbed at his face, trying to scratch away the pain even as his skin was being peeled off while doing so.

"Hmm…curious. Need to balance out the mixtures used. The reaction is too violent…" The alchemist muttered, moving away from the crying man as he fell onto his back, grasping at his face. Calmly, he'd take out a black notebook and quickly write something down into it, glancing between the sellsword and his Dothraki companion. "Is our horses set for us?"

Ogatto nodded. "All prepared for the trip to the Riverlands. With the extra supplies and coin, we'll have no trouble." He looked at the sellsword who was trembling in pain, body going into shock. "Will he die Zarin?"

The alchemist shrugged as he closed his book and slipped it back into the leather bag he carried. "Perhaps." Picking out a flask of water, he poured it down onto the man's face, making him gasp out with some relief. "Still with me?"

The sellsword only gave a gasping whimper, face blooded and eyes swollen that they could barely open.

"Good. Now, I want you to go to your commander Vargo Hoat. Tell him that you have crossed paths with the Grims and that Red Cap sends his regards. He'll understand…which means he'll hopefully drag his 'Brave' Companions back to Essos where they belong."

The name had a hint of surprise show on the man's face, fear soon showing as he trembled. He tried to say something, but his swollen lips only let him gasp and mumble senselessly.

"Hah! You nearly made him piss himself Zarin just saying a few names.!" The Dothraki deeply laughed out as he'd follow the old man away from the clearing, leaving the sellsword to his fate. They soon reached their horses tied up close by, getting them loose and mounting up for the ride ahead. "So, not worried that our employer will be angry about this? She'll not be pleased if Robert survived."

"It matters little." Zarin said with a shrug as they followed a trail, taking a more secluded northwestern route through the King's Wood. "Let the nobles in King's Landing scramble with their games. Those that are required will be in their proper places. When events fall into motion we'll be the ones who are prepared."

"Does that mean we're getting the whole group together?"

The alchemist nodded. "The Grims been preparing for this time for twenty years." Gripping the reins, he urged his horse to start off into a gallop, making Ogatto hurry after. "For me…I've been waiting all my life…"

…