22 Chapter 17: S1-E16: Tournament of the Hand 1/2

Chapter 16: Tournament of the Hand

…

For a long moment no one said anything, yet Tyrion and Tywin's guards seemed a little nervous from how Geralt spoke towards Lord Lannister. The stern eyed man stared down at the Witcher, yet Geralt didn't so much as blink from that sharp intimidating gaze. Yet after tense moment, Tywin gave small scowl or perhaps a smirk, Geralt wasn't certain considering how well the man kept such a composed temperament.

"Bold as the rumors say. I've heard how you speak out of line at times, even towards King Robert…" Tywin remarked.

"Bad habit from home." The Witcher answered back in dry sarcasm. "Had to deal with a lot of troublesome nobility over the years and the King is the type I disagree with the most."

"At least you're honest, a virtue few have here in King's Landing." Tywin was silent for a moment, thinking to himself before speaking again. "You are a curious visitor Geralt, one who may be worth my time considering."

Geralt didn't respond, though his passive look hinted he didn't like the noble's tone or choice of words. Tywin most likely didn't care yet did not comment on the Witcher's lack of a reaction. However, the sudden heavy stomp and clank of heavy horse armor could be heard coming up from behind Tywin's mounted guards. The Lannister men shifted their horses aside to reveal who approached the group. It was a giant of a man who rode atop an equally large horse, the biggest Geralt had ever since in all of his traveling. The war horse carried its massive rider who was decked in heavy iron armor with a barreled helm covering his head. On the right side of the saddle was a claymore, which would be considered oversize if not specially forged for this giant of a warrior. It wasn't hard for the Witcher to understand just who this heavy warrior was.

"Ah Gregor. Glad you caught up with us." Tywin casually greeted the iron knight.

The Mountain only have a muffled grunt from under his helmet, which turned just slightly to look over at Tyrion and Bronn before settling on Geralt. While the Witcher couldn't clearly see the man's face or eyes, he felt an intense aggression coming off from him.

"So…that's him?" Gregor suddenly remarked. "You're the one who's been trouble for my brother? Heh…you seem a bit small even for a pest."

"Gregor Clegane. Heard quite a lot about you." The Witcher tone was cold and intimidating despite its calm manner. "Surprised you evem care about Sandor."

"I don't." The man growled, the sound intensified with his helmet echoing it. "Yet I have a reputation maintain…one that I don't plan to let you or Sandor drag down…"

"Enough!" Tywin spoke up before anyone else. "You'll keep your temper in line over these next few days Gregor. Last tournament you caused enough unwanted trouble on and off the field. Step out of line and I will have you sent back to your holdings."

Gregor glanced at Tywin, making Geralt wonder if he'd snap back at his Lord or even lash out. However he'd give a frustrated grunt before forcing his war house about, heading off no doubt to his tent.

"You sure it's safe having him take part in the tournament?" Geralt questioned.

"The King requested for him so it is his duty to participate."

"Right…because a rapist and child murderer is worthy of fighting alongside knights." The expected dry sarcasm showed, yet there was no amusement in mentioning Gregor's 'achievements'. Tywin was silent, yet those sharp eyes hinted the man's curiosity over the Witcher's open hate towards his champion. "Best rest up Lord Lannister. The event will be starting in a few hours." With a short bow, Geralt turned to head towards his tent while Tyrion moved up to speak with his father as he'd slowly ride off to his own encampment.

...

Once within his tent, Geralt unslung his sword from his back, stretching a bit as the stress of practice shifted off his shoulders. He was frustrated with his encounter with Tywin, mainly because of how much the man reminded him of the Emperor, however he knew he needed to keep those memories in check. If anything he was surprised Tywin had been so formal with him despite his sharp words and wit.

"Heh…Emhry would have given some cold threats at the least." He said with a small chuckle, remembering the tense encounters he had with the Emperor of Nilfgaard. However he stop his mutterings as he heard footsteps nearing his tent before Tyrion and Brann quickly entered. "I'd ask you'd knock first…yet that require a door."

"Amusing." Tyrion said before sighing. "I swear Geralt, I thought I have authority issues, yet you seem to be picking fights with every knight or lord you disagree with. However father seemed more impressed by your upfront behavior, even if he didn't show it."

"I'm more impressed you had the balls to talk back to the Mountain. Heard a lot about the man…thought a lot of it was crap…yet seeing the guy you can tell he's natural born killer." Bronn remarked. "Guess nothing does faze you."

"If you only knew." Geralt muttered with a small smirk, making sellsword give a questioning look for a moment. "No need to worry. I don't plan to make an enemy of Lord Tywin…although Gregor already sees me as one."

"Nearly every warrior you've met has been like that towards you." Tyrion chuckled as he'd move for one of the empty chairs opposite of the Witcher. "Overall I can say if anyone can match up to the Mountain it be you or perhaps the Hound if he has the will to face him. Most of the nobility are betting against you mainly because they underestimate your skill."

"Not surprising. They always do with anyone not noble born."

"Which is why I'm counting on you. I put half of my personal fortune towards you making it through the Melee and then the follow up matches. If you win we'll easily triple in earnings."

"Double for me." Bronn chuckled. "So you best not fuck up Geralt otherwise you'll have to deal with me unless Gregor is he doesn't kill you first." Thankful the sellswords tone was friendly enough to not make his words sound like a threat…or at least Geralt hoped so.

Before anyone could say anything else there was the sudden blaring fanfare of horns in the distance. Geralt, Tyrion and Bronn headed outside of the tent to see the pages and knights were hurrying towards main road leading into the tourney grounds, no doubt to look presentable to their King and the royal court. The group decided to follow along yet hanged back to not get any unwanted attention. Soon they could see the waving flags of House Baratheon, a yellow banner with a black stag rearing upward. Half of the King's Guard were leading the royal march, the front rider being an older yet fit gentleman with short white hair and beard. He did remember seeing the man often talking and training with the King's Guard, who overall respected and obeyed his command.

"Ser Barristan Selmy." Tyrion muttered to Geralt. "Lord Commander of the King's Guard and most honored of the order. His skill and chivalry was considered second only to Arthur Dayne, although many feel age has dulled his fighting prowess."

For a while Geralt studied the man, noting the calm way the Lord Commander nodded and softly smiled to knights who greeted him. However at the same time those sharp blue eyes were alert as for a moment the aged man noticed Geralt standing in the back of the gathered knights. However Selmy gave a small nod to the Witcher as he'd continue riding on, yet that short moment was all Geralt needed to know that the King's Guard leader was far from retiring.

"No…far from it." He muttered, making Tyrion give an odd look.

"Perhaps. Jaime has only praise and respect for the man considering Selmy trained him. No doubt grooming my brother to replace him when age takes him."

Geralt simply nodded as his attention was on Jaime who rode close alongside his mentor. He was dressed in his fine golden King's Guard armor which was polished to a blinding gleam. While he had that smug looking look on his face, Geralt could tell the Lannister was tense from his posture. Obviously the coming games had him eager to take part, yet he seemed more serious than usual.

The Witcher's attention shifted on to King Robert who followed behind his royal guard, drawing up cheers from the knights as he gave a quite booming laugh and waved to them, being the most lively the Witcher had ever seen outside of his drunken bouts during feasts. If anything Robert seemed like a proper king for the moment as the man took the time to even ride up to a few knights and lords he knew, shaking hands and quietly speaking to them.

Following close behind Robert was Eddard who had a small smile seeing his friend so active after so many weeks. Lord Stark would notice Geralt off to the side, giving a small nod to the Witcher as he'd continue leading the royal parade along. More members of the Small Council followed, the three being Renly, Petyr and Grand Maester Pycelle. Renly much like his brother was active going up to greet the knights yet Littlefinger kept to himself, only chatting with a few minor lords who he no doubt had connections and dealings with. Pycelle was the slowest of the group, the old man seeming more focused on trying to stay on his saddle then pander to the nobility.

Behind them rode Joffrey who had a smug grin seeing the gathered warriors greeting them. No doubt the prince's ego was being stoked, even if the attention was directed at his father rather than him. Sandor was following close behind the prince, dressed in full armor and his famous hound helmet which hid his face away, although considering how he didn't so much as glance to the crowd he seemed to have no interest acknowledging the knights.

Lastly was a red and gold painted carriage which had its windows panels opened up for the Queen Cersei, her younger children and Sansa to greet the knights. The Queen had a coy calmness with how she smiled and waved to the men while Sansa seemed nervous yet giddy seeing the knights. It was a nice to see the young lady enjoy a moment from all the stories she had heard, having brave knights fawning for her attention. Indeed he did notice a few of the younger men muttered and nodding to her, showing that the fair northern maiden was catch interest. Two other blond haired children peeked out the window, a boy and girl who Geralt had seen a few times at the Red Keep yet hadn't greeted. From what he knew these were Cersei's and Robert's younger children, Joffrey's siblings. He guessed Cersei was being quite protective of them considering he rarely had seen them away from her. Arya was also in the carriage, dressed in a mix of a dress and outdoors clothes she often wore. She looked casually over the crowd, seeming bored from no doubt having to spend an hour listening to her sister and Cersei chattering away. Geralt would wave to catch her attention, making the young girl's dull gaze snap to attention. She'd grin and wave back, her mood instantly improved seeing him.

The royal party headed for the royal stand, Robert being the first to reach his comfortable seat at the top space, with Cersei sitting beside him. Their children followed up, taking seats around their parents while the Hound stood behind Joffrey, silently guarding the royal family. Everyone else took any seat they wished, although the Starks all sat alongside each other with Eddard sitting between his daughters, most likely to prevent bickering between them. Lord Baelish and Pycelle sat behind Starks while Lord Renly sat back left of Baelish, no doubt to chat with him without intruding on the Starks space.

Not long after the group was seated, the knights and servants returned to their duties to prepare for the opening ceremonies. From the road though the commoners became to enter the tourney grounds, being directed by the City Watch to the stands and open space where they could sit. The city folk were quite excited from how they chattered, yet behaved well enough. A few did cheer and call out to Robert who'd chuckled and wave back, showing that his popularity wasn't exaggerated. Course from Geralt's experience everyone loved a war hero, even one who had long fallen out of his prime like Robert.

"Time for me to get to work." Tyrion muttered as he patted Geralt on the back. "You best ready yourself for the opening ceremony. Should be starting soon once the common folk have settled in."

The Witcher simply nodded in response as he watched the dwarf hurry off with Bronn following after him. Returning to his tent, Geralt took the time to double check his swords, deciding having his silver blade as a backup won't hurt. He doubted he'd need it, yet it was habit to carry it in more combative situations. However he did linger when it came to the Dragon Fang dagger. He didn't trust in leaving it at the Red Keep or his tent, not wanting some agent to steal it away. In the end, he strapped the blade to his hip, guessing it be safest with him and could become handy in a pitch.

Soon a signal horn was blown, the call for the contests of the tourney to gather up. Geralt was quick to follow the call as he and the many other knights and warriors began to line up before the stands. The Witcher avoided standing too close to the Mountain who stood in the center of the lineup. One warrior that stood out beside the Mountain was a bald older fellow dressed in red scarlet robes with chainmail under it along with plated leggings and boots. He was the fattest of the gathered warriors and most relaxed considering the cheery grin he had.

"Thoros of Myr." A young male voice spoke up, getting Geralt's attention to his right. Beside him was a young man with long curly brown hair and fair tan colored eyes. He was dressed in the most lavished armor Geralt has seen yet, gleaming steel plate stylized with jeweled flowers on breastplate and shoulders. Even the silvery white cloak had white roses weaved into it, making it a very extravagant piece from considering. "An odd looking man for sure, yet appearances can be deceiving."

"Heard he's a mad man brawler who favors swinging a flaming sword into battles." Geralt commented. "Yet you…hmm…guessing from flowers and fine armor you're from Highgarden. A Tyrell?"

"Heh, you've guessed correct my friend." The young knight chuckled before holding out a gauntleted hand which Geralt shook. "Loras Tyrell, third born of Mace Tyrell."

"Geralt of Rivia. Adviser and bodyguard for Lord Stark, the Hand of the King." He answered back. "I've heard a bit about you in my studies. Quite renown for your jousting prowess from what I've learned."

"My skills as a knight are the pride of my House for sure. Highgarden may not have a proud history of warriors like the Starks or of leading armies like the Lannister's yet we have always been renowned for our chivalry and elegance." Loras answered back. "I can say I've heard a bit of you since arriving to King's Landing. The white haired stranger from beyond even Essos, a man who faced the Hound fearlessly. If anything it's rare for an outsider to get such praise and trust-"

However a horns interrupted the young knight, making both him and Geralt snap their attention to the royal stand as Robert stood up from his seat. The large man gaze drifted the gathered men before speaking deeply out. "All of you are the finest knights and champions the Seven Kingdoms has to offer. From the old and veteran to the young and gifted. Battle is what you live for and even in times of peace it has its uses." His hand gestured out to the other stands where the commoners cheered, the lined warriors all turning to face them. "Today you fight for them. To remind them that when war comes you'll be there to protect them." A broad grin crossed the King's face. "So show us your fighting spirit! Give us a grand show of your prowess!"

The men clapped, a few cheered at the King's short yet inspiring speech. Geralt had to admit he didn't expect one from the man, making him wonder if Eddard had pressured Robert to be proactive during the tournament. He may have well wrote the speech considering, yet he wouldn't put that credit aside just yet.

Once Robert had sat down, Eddard shifted to stand from his seat, making everyone quiet down. "As our good King has said, it is an honor for you all to come so far for these next few days. Indeed, we've had a long peace, twenty years of it which we are thankful for every single day." He'd pause for a moment as the crowds gave short cheers and mutters of agreement. "This tournament is meant to honor me for becoming our King's Hand. Yet I feel it is unjust to have it so…"

The statement drew a few confused looks, especially from Robert who shifted forward in his seat. Cersei and Baelish had curious looks, wondering what Lord Stark was getting at.

"I dedicate this tournament not in my honor but to you." He'd gesture to the gathered warriors yet also to the commoners crowded across the field. "To the men who dutifully protect us and to the honest folk who strive hard in life." The declaration drew a joyous cheer from the commoners, yet Eddard continued to speak. "For the duration of the games, fresh food and fine drink will be freely given. It is time the people enjoy the rewards of peace and prosperity for these fruitful years of unity."

Already the commoners seemed eager to take up on Ned's generosity as people stood up from where they sat. At this point Tyrion would step out from the nearby tents, moving to the center of the field to draw everyone's attention. Already the citizens were muttering when they saw the dwarf, taking note of his fine clothes and golden hair as mutterings of 'Lannister' and 'imp' silently echoed through the air. Tyrion however didn't let the whispers get to him as he'd give a formal smile and short bow. "Ladies…Gentlemen…I know you are all eager to enjoy Lord Stark's generous offer, yet as Master of the Tourney it is my duty that we keep things orderly." Soon city watch filed around, seeming ready to direct the crowds to some nearby tents. "The Watch will show you to the tents were you can get food and drink. However I ask that you don't take long since the first event will be beginning shortly, the archery competition. We have some fine competitors from across and beyond the Kingdoms, so this is something you will not want to miss.

The masses seemed quite surprised by the dwarf's polite and friendly manners as he'd give an order to one of the guard captains, who'd begin leading the eager commoners to the food tents. Soon people were enjoying fresh meat, bread, pastries and ale as any early lunch. Geralt was surprised with how organized the people were, half expected a bit of brawling or hording, yet they seemed to respect the nobles for this unique kindness.

"Now then good knights and warriors. May I ask all except those taking part in archery to leave the field?"

The men dispersed from the line, moving to the sidelines of the field, returning to their tents or even taking an empty seat among the royal stands. Geralt moved for the stands, noticing how Ned had Arya holding a seat for him set between them. "Talk to you later Ser Loras. Try to relax while you can."

"Heh I plan to. Until next time Ser Geralt." The youthful knight gave a respectful bow before moving for his tent, yet for a moment paused to wave at the royal stand. The Witcher glance across the seats, noticing Renly having a small smile as he'd wave back to the young Tyrell before he continue towards his tent.

Geralt guessed the two were friends, yet didn't think too much on the matter as he'd walk through the royal stands and towards the Stark's seats. Moving up the steps, he'd noticed Tywin had joined with his family, having changed out of his armor to a plain yet fine nobleman's outfit. Sitting close by Cersei, the two quietly speaking, although pausing a bit when they noticed him. Geralt didn't react as he'd move along, slipping by towards the Stark's

Sansa gave a small nod to him as he shifted pass her while Arya shifted from her seat to an empty one just next to her so Geralt could sit next to her father.

"Quite the speech you made there. Took quite a few people by surprising." Geralt remarked once he sat down.

"Had a lot of free time to think over and prepare it." Ned chuckled. "Have to make a good impression with the commoners, assure them I'll be a just Hand of the King. Besides after this tournament I doubt there will be any as large as this for many years."

Geralt nodded in agreement. "Going to be hard keeping Robert in line considering his habits. Did you convince him to do that little opening speech?"

"He did that himself. Perhaps he realizes he needs take active role if he wants me to follow any requests…I guess you can say it's a step towards compromise between us."

"And that compromise is involving dealing with Daenery's?" Geralt said in a hushed voice.

Ned's expression hardened slightly. "As I said…steps to compromise." He was silent, hinting that topic was finished. "Point is this is meant to be a day promoting peace and unity, even if it is shaky at times. You know how important that is."

Geralt thought back to his home, of how the Northern Realms had crumbled into bickering and senseless wars, leaving them weak for Nilfgaard. If anything the Seven Kingdoms had become far more successful, even if he could see the cracks and divides. "I do." He simply muttered before feeling Arya tug at his arm.

"Look, the Im- I mean Lord Tyrion is going to speak again." She quickly whispered.

The dwarf once more walked onto the field, everyone quieting down after a moment. Looking about between the different stands and crowds, Tyrion gave a small charming smile before speaking. "Now that everyone is settled in, I think it's time we get this tournament started."

On que, ten men armed with bows and quivers marched out onto the field. One of men was King's Guard member, a broad and muscular man, who had changed out of his plate armor for near golden tanned leather while the rest of the men were a more plain mix. A few were rather plain, seeming more like hunters or infantry bowmen. However one man did stand out to even the fine dressed King's Guard, a dark skinned man who reminded Geralt of a Zerrikanian. He was dressed in a yellow leather and half scale armor with a colorful green and red feathered cape. Even his bow was more ornate then the others, being made of a light green wood and having artistic carvings along it.

"Ten of the finest archers in the land. While the art of jousting and melee are honorable skills to master, to perfect the art of marksmanship requires much more." The dwarf paced about the lined archers. "I'm certain most could shoot clearly say…twenty so paces. Yet what at fifty and beyond? These men have the keen eye and discipline to hit their targets in the most stressful of situations and thus puts them in a whole league of their own." He'd gesture to the far end of the field. "The contest is simple. Scoring based on distance and target. The final three will then take part in a special challenge of skill and a final scoring to determine the winning champion!"

The crowd clapped and muttered eagerly as Tyrion directed the archers down to the shooting field, each man choosing a target and distance before they began shooting. For the next hour, Tyrion gave casual commentary, giving grand praise for good shots and light hearted jests to mishaps which drew amused chuckles. Geralt casually watched, only noting the King's Guard and the feather caped man who were both quite skilled, yet as the other archers were picked off, one young freckled man with light brown hair had ended up among the final three.

"Very interesting. I give you our top three archers!" Tyrion approached the King's Guard knight, patting the strong man on the arm. "Balon Swann, stalwart and dutiful knight in service to the King!"

He'd move onto feathered caped archer. "Jalabhar Xho, prince of Red Flower Vale and rightful heir to the exotic Summer Isles." The dark skinned man bowed, seeming pleased with the respect Tyrion showed.

"And lastly we have…" He'd pause as he'd quickly speak to the freckled archer for a moment. "Anguy…the archer! Bowman of the Dornish Marches!" Seemed the dwarf had be a little creative giving the common born man an interesting title in comparison to his competitors.

"These men will shoot from the farthest distance at one hundred paces! Whoever scores the most will win the prize of ten thousand gold dragons! A small fortune indeed." Balon kept a calm look, while Xho had a serious look show on his face. Anguy lightly licked his lips eagerly, no doubt imagining the luxuries he could buy with such wealth.

"However I promised a special challenge for them. There is no prize for winning it, only to show their skills even further." Tyrion paused for a moment, building up tension. "Now…what if I told you that I met a man who could block an arrow?" For a moment no one spoke, a few chuckles filling the air, yet Tyrion shrugged. "Ah right…I'm certain many of our knights could block an arrow with a shield, yet what of batting it out of the air with his blade?" A few more chuckles filled the air, yet curious mutterings mixed in as well. "You see, when I was visited the far north months ago and in my travels was ambushed by raiders, Wildlings who had snuck into our lands." Boos followed, curses and insults sent to the savages. "My companions and I did not see them at first. An archer tried to pick me off from the shadows, an arrow aimed for my skull. However much to my own shock, one man lunged into action, slapping the missile out of the air and to strike harmlessly to the ground."

Already Geralt knew it was his moment now as he'd shift in his seat, glancing to Arya and whispering. "Watch closely, you may learn something." She had a confused look before he'd get up from his seat and moving to leave the stands, giving a small nod to Ned who seemed curious on what was about to happen.

"You may doubt my story, call it simply a tall tale or lie…yet it is true for the man who saved me is right there!" He'd point to Geralt just as he left the stand, drawing hundreds of gazes towards him as he'd stroll out onto the field. "I give you Geralt of Rivia, a traveler from distant lands beyond even Essos! He is a Witcher, a member of an ancient order of warrior monks who are protectors of the road and slayer of fierce beasts that trouble the land." By now Geralt reached the trio of archers, shaking hands and formally greeting them.

"I hope Tyrion isn't jesting Ser Geralt. I'd rather not put an arrow in you." Balon remarked in a concerned manner.

"Trust the man white cloak. There is something about him…yes…I can tell this will be interesting." Xho muttered, with a small grin.

"Eh…if he gets shot up then it his own fault." Anguy said dismissively. "Bet you ten crowns I'll put an arrow into his knee."

No one remarked on the young commoner's rude words, although Geralt's sharp eyes had the archer shift nervously when he glanced right at him.

A page holding a bundle of arrows approached the group, handing them five arrows each, which on closer inspection were dulled down to be blunted. "Training arrows? Heh guess they don't want any accidents." Anguy remarked as he'd tapped a finger at one of the arrow tips.

"Still leave a bruise maybe a cracked rib on a direct hit." Balon muttered before Tyrion spoke out again.

"Now, may I ask the archers to please stand by the targets? We will be shooting at sixty so paces, far enough to make this fair." Tyrion directed, which the men obeyed, each man taking a spot between the targets. "The rule are simple. Your goal is to hit Ser Geralt with what arrows you have. You may take turns or even fire together. Challenge the Witcher however you see fit."

Geralt stood in the men's firing line, smoothly drawing his fine steel blade and shifting into a defensive stance. For a moment Balon and Xho were hesitant, yet Anguy smirked as he'd suddenly draw his bow.

"I'll make this quick!"

The arrow went flying, sailing through the air, barely trackable for the bare human eye. Thankful Geralt's eyes weren't human as they easily followed the speedy arc of the arrow. With lightening quick reflexes, his blade swung through the air, the crack of it hitting the missile just being heard. For a moment there was silence as Anguy squinted his eyes as he tried to figure out what just happened.

Geralt shifted as he'd pick up the arrow he had just knocked out of the arrow, holding it up for the young man and crowd to see who gasped in shock before throwing it aside.

"W-What…No…no fucking way?!" Anguy growled out in disbelief before he'd readied another shot.

Xho drew his bow back as well as both of them fired after each other. Geralt's blade twisted and turned about, blocking Anguy's second shot, yet angling for a deflection this time. He was quickly to parry away Xho's arrow into the ground, yet as Anguy readied his third arrow, the man paused as he heard a thud to the target beside him, were his second arrow had just landed into. Soon Balon joined in, yet even with the three men firing at him the Witcher continued to block and deflect their arrows. More and more of their shots were being redirected, landing into the targets set beside the three men. The crowd was already cheering and wooting, support mixed towards the archers and Geralt.

However the men soon ran out of shots, much to Anguy's frustration as he cursed under his breath. The Witcher took a deep breath as he calm himself, adrenaline pumping through his body from the tense challenge. Sheathing his sword, he'd see the three men looking to the targets, realizing nearly half of their shots had been reflected back towards them.

Tyrion stepped back onto the field, a quite smug grin on his face. "Believe me now? I doubt you will find any other man in the world who can accomplish this!"

Cheers filled the air, the people openly amazed by the impossible feat. Geralt glanced to the royal stands to see Arya was cheering eagerly while Ned had an amazed yet impressed look on his face as he clapped along. Sansa and Cersei looked baffled, unsure what they had just seen before their very eye. Lord Baelish seemed oddly nervous as Renly was muttering something with an amused smirk on his face. King Robert and Joffrey was on their feet, a wide grins on their faces as they clapped and cheered loudly. Tywin though remained seated, clapping respectful yet his face hinted that he was impressed at the amazing display of skill.

"You will see more of Geralt here during the Melee. For this is a man who battled a dozen Wildlings singlehandedly without getting so much of a scratch! Let's not be too distracted though, we have a competition to finish and a joust to follow up afterwards!"

The trio of archers approached Geralt, although Anguy didn't speak with the Witcher as he seemed too frustrated and disbelieving over what happened.

"You are far from an ordinary warrior Witcher." Xho chuckled. "I cannot explain it…yet I never imagined a man to send a marksman arrow back at him."

"Thankfully not right at us." Balon remarked. "Just how in the hells did you do it?"

"Trade secret and a lot of practice. Trust me, I've taken my share of arrows to the side over the years mastering that move." Geralt answered back. "Yet I can say you're all skilled archers and you shouldn't let this discourage you."

"No…if anything this encourages me!" Xho smirked. "I will have to hone my skill more if I am to best someone like you."

"Hopefully you won't met anyone else like me…" The words had the two feel a bit nervous, wondering just how dangerous Geralt truly was. However the Witcher gave a short bow to them both before returning to the royal stands.

"Archers! Let us begin the final test! One hundred paces please." Tyrion spoke out as they'd resume the competition.

Reaching his seat, Geralt sighed as he sat down before Arya quickly spoke up. "That…I…it was just like your dueled with Syrio's! I mean…more of how quickly you moved."

"I can say I'm at a loss for words Geralt." Ned chuckled, shaking his head. "If I didn't know you I'd claim you used some kind of trick, yet considering how fast you are I can only imagine you pulling off such a feat."

"Prefer only using that technique only when it's needed. A lot less risky when I can just dodge a shot." Geralt remarked back before glancing to Arya. "And I know what you're thinking…no I'm not going to teach you that move. Far too dangerous for you."

The girl sighed before nodding, yet seemed to understand the Witcher's reasons. Everyone's attention focused back to the competition as the three archers took difficult shots at their targets from quite the far distance. Despite the frustration Anguy had shown, the young man seemed more driven then distracted as he landed bullseye after bullseye, outmatching his opponents.

"It seems we have a winner! In an impressive show of skill, I proclaim Anguy of the Dorn Marshes archery champion!" The dwarf shook hands with the young man whose scowl was now a grin as the dwarf chatted with him before handling him a sizable purse of gold. It was certain Anguy was going to be paying a long visit to the Street of Silk to waste away his prize money. He'd give a small wave to the crowd and hurry off the field, disappearing into the nearby crowd of tents.

"A fine show yes? However I feel our other knights deserve some attention…so let us begin the joust!" On his declaration, horns trumpeted as from the two ends of the jousting field the different knights from before filed out. It was quite the display as each rider was dressed uniquely from Gregor's gruff yet effective iron plate, Jaimie's shining golden royal armor and Lora's artistic silvery steel. All of them carried the flag of their House or other heraldry in a small parade before the crowds.

"This will be interesting." Geralt muttered to Ned who nodded in agreement. He'd have to pay close attention to each knight, since he'd be facing them in the Melee tomorrow, that they didn't get too badly injured during the jousting.

…

For the next few hours the knights jousted across the field in a grand show of skill, entertaining the commoners and nobility alike. Geralt took the time to relax, casually chatting with Ned and his daughters, sharing a bit of commentary with his combat experience on how well the men preformed on the field. While he never jousted, he understood the rules and skill required to properly compete. The first half of the jousting was normal enough, with a few injuries yet nothing serious. Four riders so far stood out from the most being the Clegane brothers, Jaime Lannister and Loras Tyrell. They seemingly outmatched everyone with the Cleganes often using their brute strength to dismount others in a single while Jaime and Loras put more finesse to their technique.

However things got grim quickly with Clegane's second match with the Mountain going against the late Jon Arryn's former squire, Hugh of the Vale. The joust started off normally as the men made their first charge, both missing the other's shield. However the second charge ended with a hit this time as Gregor made a sudden lunge at the upper right corner of the man's shield. The lance shattered against it, the resounding crack drawing gasps as both riders passed, yet Hugh lost balance on his saddle. A few people stood up to see what was wrong, Geralt becoming among them as his sharp eyes quickly noting the man's wound.

A massive splitter was stuck in the man's throat, thick blood oozing around it and while more was filling into his mouth. Hugh's struggled to breathe as he began choking on his own blood, a gory sound gasping from his gasping lips as he tried to cling to life. Glancing to the Starks he saw pure shock on Arya's and Sansa's faces as they helplessly watched a man die before them. Eddard had a grim look, as he noticed his children's horrified looks, making him gently hold Sansa's hand as he muttered something to her.

"Why…why doesn't someone help him?" Arya muttered as Hugh garbled on what air he had left, soon becoming still.

"There was nothing that could be done." Geralt muttered, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder as she glanced away from the dead knight as pages hurried out to drag his corpse away. "I'm sorry you had to see something like that."

Arya was silent, only nodding back as she seemed to calm herself after the sudden shock.

The Witcher glanced back to the field, noting how the Mountain rode along as if nothing had happened. No one dared stop or challenge him, too fearful after that gruesome scene.

"As cruel as his reputation says." Littlefinger muttered, leaning in to speak with Geralt and Ned. "Always a death comes by his hand during a tourney, as if he needs one just to sate himself."

"He's a brute yes…but not a stupid as he seems." Geralt answered back, drawing a questioning look from Baelish. "He knew what he was doing. The way he targeted Hugh's shield meant any broken lance would have pierced the man's neck since the armor is more exposed on that side. Was at least a fifty fitty chance."