6 Chapter 6: S1-E5: Old Wolf and Burned Hound

Chapter 5: Old Wolf and Burned Hound

The following two weeks passed as Geralt continued his usual routine between his reading, sparring against the older Stark sons and his tutoring of Bran. He took this time to distance himself from Eddard, although the Northern lord seemed to be busy with preparations for King Robert's arrival. He'd also go to the blacksmith and fletcher with the blueprints for one of the more basic crossbows he had on hand with a few additions on his part, making it a personalized weapon for Bran.

Geralt intensified his duels with Jon, Rob and Theon as he pushed them to their limits. None of them had landed a blow on him, yet whenever the three sparred against even the most trained Stark soldiers they easily outmatched them. It was strange training them like this, making him wonder if Vesemir's training habits had rubbed off onto him. Theon continued to be troublesome ever since he had shoved the Iron Islander during the discovery of the dire wolves. Despite all his skill he still suffered from his overconfidence and arrogance. Still Robb and Jon seemed to balance him out whenever they were all together for training.

He also helped the Stark family with their dire wolves, who were already the size of small dogs in the short time the Stark's had taken them in. They were eating their weight in meat which explained their constant rapid growth. Mainly he focused on this time to stay around Arya and Sansa, since they didn't understand how to handle and train such animals. The eldest female Stark had been weary of him, yet he kept a formalness around her that won her over slightly. He guessed she got that from her mother, who while polite always had a judging manner about her. She had learned about his crossbow and sword practice with Bran, something she didn't seem pleased with. Maybe she preferred Rodrik in tutoring her son, yet the old master-at-arms had shown no issue on the matter. He knew Catelyn cared for his children, yet she was being overly controlling with them.

…

Late into the week, Geralt had decided to take a break from his usual duties and have some time by himself. He decided to go to the Godswood, having gotten permission despite his last argument with Ned. It was good at least that Eddard wasn't a vindictive man, since Geralt felt if he had acted in such a way to any ruler back home, he'd be thrown out or tossed in a jail cell…that is if they could force him into one. If anything he wanted to go to the clearing he and Eddard had talked at to examine the Weirwood tree. Finding it, he'd walk closer to the red leafed tree, one hand touched the ancient white bark. Being up close, his medallion did lightly pulse, yet it was very weak.

"Not much of spark left in you." He muttered as he'd look at the carved face on the tree, which had a peaceful if otherworldly look to it. "Reminds me of a source of power." At this point he'd move to clear the spot before the tree before shifting down onto his knees, taking the meditative poise before it. He wasn't sure if he could tap into whatever power the tree had, yet at the least the surroundings would be relaxing for meditation. Closing his eyes, he'd take a deep breath and exhale as he focused, slowing his heartbeat and opening his senses to his surroundings. Yet he tapped into a sixth sense that most magical inclined beings had, even though his magical skill was very basic. He could sense it…a faint shiver of power about the tree. It was old and so distant, a great power that was being deeply suppressed. He'd try to tap into it like other sources, yet reaching for it stretch his willpower further and further. It was hard to keep focus, making his body tense during meditation.

"Geralt?" A soft voice spoke, making the Witcher snap out of his trance. He was panting, realizing he had gotten lost in his meditation. Hours had passed by the looks of it, yet his attention focused on the voice.

It was Arya who looked at him with a concerned look, seeing hint of surprise in the Witcher's eyes. Beside her was her direwolf Nymeria, who gave a curious glance at Geralt before moving over to him. "Are you alright you seem shaken?" Arya remarked while Geralt moved to stand up, brushing the dirt off his knees.

"Was meditating." He simply said.

"Is that some Witcher trick?" Arya asked curiously while her direwolf moved up close, sniffing at Geralt before moving up close. The Witcher couldn't help but rub the canine's head, scratching behind her ears.

"Sort of. It's a bit complicated to explain." He answered back, making the girl give a shrug. "So why are you out here? Taking Nymeria for a walk?"

"Heh, can't exactly go beyond the walls." Arya chuckled as she'd pick up a stone, lightly skipping it along the tranquil pond. "I like coming here often. The Godswood is so much like the stories I read or the ones you share."

Geralt paused as he look around the beautiful forest, nodding in agreement. "It does. Reminds me a bit of a Toussaint woodland, just with a more northerner touch to it." He explained.

"Is that another one of your land's kingdoms?" Arya asked, making Geralt nod.

"Said to be one of the happiest places in the Nilfgaard Empire. I visited there a long time ago for work and it felt like a land out of a fairytale." He described.

By this point Arya sat on a large smooth rock and had Nymeria tugged close as she'd listened intently. "I do have some questions about what you do as a Witcher. I want to know more about the stuff you hunted!"

"Guess I've shared the most basic tales I have…alright then ask." He'd answer back.

"So…are there good monsters in your world?" Arya asked. "I mean the tales say the Children were good before disappearing after all."

Geralt nodded. "Most of the creatures I've told you are little more than mindless or primal, yet there are plenty that are sentient and act just like you and me." He explained. "Trolls while low witted and primitive are social enough to pick up conversation or share riddles. Often though the price for losing is being part of their stew.

"Bleck...doesn't sound like the friendliest types to me." Arya muttered.

"Every creature is different, even the most monstrous ones can be unique. Some are just innocent beings who want to live peaceful among humans." He'd think for a moment. "Dopplers are one type creature that are kind hearted in nature. Their shapeshifters who can look like us yet overall just want to blend in. Few times I ever had to fight one, it was often on a misunderstanding and they were quick to apologize. One of them that I did encounter became good friend, a sly merchant and actor named Dudu."

The name had Arya giggling, enough for even Geralt to crack a smile. "Quite the odd name." She chuckled.

"That's because he normally took the form of a Halfling, sort of a half sized human with hairy feet." Geralt explained.

"You mean like the Imp?" The young Stark remarked. "I heard the Lannister's have a family member who half the size of a man, has a pig's tail and a head twice as big as mine...with horns on top!"

Geralt did remember hearing stories about the Lannister family. He taken some time to read about the current family members. From his understanding the 'Imp' as Arya called him was Tyrion, the youngest son of Tywin.

"Doubtful. No doubt was born with dwarfism." Geralt simply stated, making Arya give a confused look at the term. "It a special and rare condition people can be born with that makes them shorter and have abnormal limbs at times. No pig tails or devil horns included."

Arya grumbled at his answer, expecting something more thrilling answer from the monster hunter. "I think rumors sound more exciting." She muttered before realizing they were shifting off topic. "Alright…can you think of the scariest monster you've ever faced?"

"Scariest…huh…hard to say." He muttered. "Well I can say there are at least two creatures Witchers are never meant to fight. Dragons and High Vampires."

"Wait you have dragons where you come from!?" Arya remarked in an excited manner. "I thought they were all dead…well I mean they are here in Westeros and Essos from what I've heard."

"Sort of. The weaker breeds were hunted down over the ages, yet the more exotic ones have simply vanished. No doubt moved to other lands to avoid annoying humans following rumors of them guarding piles of treasure." Geralt explained. "From what your books say the dragons here grew as big as the rarest types back home and seem more instinct driven…although tamable." Yet looking at Arya she seemed bored with his examination, making him realize he babbling now. "Sorry…habit." He muttered, making Arya smirk at his apology.

"Anyway you still haven't told me what monster scared you the most." Arya questioned.

Geralt paused as he thought over on how to answer. "Can't think of anything that scared me before…yet the most dangerous I can think of were a trio of monsters, the Ladies of the Wood. Ancient witches who had created their own domain over neighboring villages of a swamp."

"Witches? You mean three old woman with warts got you nervous?" Arya chuckled, yet when she saw Geralt dead serious stare, she'd be quickly silent. That look even make Nymeria give a small whine.

"They were no joke. These weren't a bunch of old ladies raising toads and chackling over a caldron. They were creatures that had plagued the world when it was young." Geralt warned in a calm yet serious manner. He'd continue to detail their dark powers and horrible acts such as enslaving the villagers of the surrounding area under their 'protection' in exchange for their young and being worshipped. Arya held Nymeria closely during the story, especially hearing the part about the grim fate of the children the hags kept. Yet he'd end the story sharing how two of the crones were slain, yet the last sister Weavess having escaped the battle against Ciri.

"S-So what about the last one? I mean she's still out there." Arya muttered nervously.

"Well she can hurt you or anyone. She's pretty much a…well…world away." Geralt remarked. "Besides, after I find Ciri and we return home, we're going to hunt her down. Make sure she can't hurt and torment anyone else." His serious tone showed how he meant it, making Arya relax slightly.

"I can't imagine anything worse than those…things." Arya remarked.

"True. Crones are by far one of the foulest beings I've seen." However he pause, thinking over the long journey he had searching for Ciri and following the Witcher's Way. "Yet…despite all the beasts and monsters I've seen there is one race that does the worst to others and itself."

Arya looked confused yet curious at what he was meaning. "What do you mean?"

The girl's innocent look made him hesitate though, unsure he should tell her the truth. For him, despite all the horrible creatures he had fast in his long life, humanity always seemed to be far more violent, cruel and destructive. Yet she hadn't seen that, at least for now. She was still too young and isolated from the harshness of the world…a reason why he felt Eddard's plans to investigate the late Hand of the King was a risky move.

"Nevermind…just an old Witcher with too much on his mind." He muttered back, although Arya seemed dead set to know.

"Come on, no excuses! Just the way you looked was serious. I know what you were about to say was important!' She argued back.

Geralt gave a small sigh, since Arya really was acting like Ciri when she was young, always questioning and challenging. "How about this, I'll tell you when I come back with Ciri. Right now you've had enough horror stories for once." With that said, he'd get up and stretch a bit before moving towards the edge of the clearing. "Anyway we should head back. Sun is getting low and I'd rather not have your mother worrying about you."

Arya seemed disappointed she wouldn't learn what Geralt was going to tell her, yet nodded as she'd let go of Nymeria to follow him while the dire wolf chased after them back to the main yard of hold.

…

A two more days past as the usual routine continued for Geralt. He had just finished a long sparring lesson with Robb, Jon and Theon who had all become honed fighters under his tough training. It was impressive how well they had learned in just under two months yet Jon and Robb were evenly matched by the end. Already the group were packing away the training swords and getting mugs of water, relaxing since it was a cool yet sunny day.

"I think this will be the last day of training for us." Geralt suddenly remarked, making the three young men give surprised looks.

"That's it? Run out of things to teach us?" Theon questioned.

"At least within your limits." The Witcher remarked back, making Theon give an annoyed look while Robb and Jon chuckled at his expression. "Point is you all have your own fighting styles, things that you or I can't simply change. All I can say is one final piece of advice."

All three nodded, listening intently to what Geralt had to say.

"In a real fight, don't fight fair." He simply stated, making the three look confused and glance at each other.

"Not exactly the most honor piece of knowledge you've shared with us Geralt." Robb remarked, being respectful despite what the Witcher had said. "Father has always put honor before all else even in battle."

"In a duel, yah I can understand that. Yet what if one day you're facing down an assassin or against just a common soldier? Honor won't matter to them, only winning since it means life or death." He simply explained. "Honor will be worthless if your opponent doesn't give a damn about it. I've seen enough decent men die because of it and I'd rather not see any of you make the same mistake."

The three were silent, thoughtful over the matter yet troubled. After all it was against what Ned had taught them. However Geralt moved up and firmly patted them all on the shoulders to snap them back to attention.

"Overall remember what I taught you and you'll get far in life." However before he or any of the others could say more, they heard Catelyn speak out, making everyone look towards the main wall.

They saw Bran climbed agilely down the side of the nearby tower while his mother and Maester Luwin stood by. From the noble woman's expression, she wasn't pleased with the boy's climb. From what Geralt knew from chatting with the boy, he often did this much to his mother's annoyance. Geralt and the others moved closer as Bran seemed excited about something while dropping down onto the nearby roof then climbing down the vines to the ground.

"But he's coming right now!" Bran explained while his mother walked up, leaning forward to look the boy in the eyes.

"I want you to promise me. No. More. Climbing." She asked, making the boy look down for a moment then back at her.

"I promise." He said, keeping a straight face when he spoke.

Catelyn gave a sigh, her expression softened as she'd give a small smile at her son. "You know what?"

Bran gave a confused look, head tilting slightly. "What?"

"You always look down at your feet when you lie." She coyly stated, making Bran give a big smile back, not seeming guilty about it.

"Ran along to your father. Tell him the King is close." She'd quickly order, making the boy nod and hurry off for the Great Keep.

At this point Geralt and the other approached her and Luwin, the Maester giving a small bow to the group. The Witcher gave a small nod back before looking to Catelyn, her gaze stern when focused onto him.

"Boy can climb well you know." He remarked calmly.

"Well or not, it's not a safe thing to do." The woman remarked back. "He's young after all and shouldn't be putting himself at risk like that."

"Yet he won't be a boy forever." Geralt argued back. "He's a smart and fit lad. I trust that he can handle himself."

"Then we'll agree to disagree Master Witcher." Catelyn muttered before giving a small sigh. "Family aside though, we all should get ready." Looking to Robb and Theon, she'd move off to the Great Keep to prepare, leaving the three to themselves.

"Heh…if Yen were here…" Geralt muttered, wondering what the grand sorceress would do to such a frustrating woman like Catelyn. No doubt debate on changing her into some small animal or other bothersome spell.

"Mother has a point. Have to look our best for King Robert." Robb remarked, making Theon nod in agreement. "Anyway Geralt, we'll met you back in the yard later." With that he and the Iron Islander left, leaving the Witcher with just Jon. Looking at the young man, he could see the side long look he had. Catelyn had once again shown her discord for him, not even acknowledged him, not by name or even looking to him.

"Look…" Geralt put a steady hand on Jon's shoulder, making the young man look to him. "You're as much as a Stark as Robb and Bran. She may not see it but everyone else does. Ned does too, yet tradition forces him otherwise."

"I know that. Doesn't make it any easier knowing though." Jon muttered.

"Then don't cower or be silent. Speak up instead. If there are consequences then face them, yet show everyone that you are as steadfast as father and brothers." He'd shift away, moving for the Guest House. "Anyway, clean yourself up and get your best cloak. Maybe you last chance to meet the King after all."

Jon smirked at the last remark before Geralt moved for the Guest House while he headed off to the Great Keep. Geralt knew the young man needed some motivation since today was meant to be an exciting occasion. Arriving to his room, Geralt quickly changed into fresh clothes yet also into a custom made northern outfit, similar to what the house hold members but with his own personal touch to the design. Strapping his swords to his back, he'd get his white hair fixed up before heading outside once more. Just checking out from one window, he could see the entire guard and soldier force were out for the King's arrival, the men lining up before the main gate and through the court yard.

Already the Stark family, their servants and trusted house hold were lining up. Everyone was dressed in the norths finest, with the all the Starks wearing lavish fur cloaks. The men were in there best leathers and the women fair colorful dresses. Ned was at the front with his wife and children all lined up, although Jon was set just behind Robb. Eddard gave a small nod to Geralt as he approached. "Good timing. Your spot is beside Jon in the second line." Pausing, he'd give curious look at Geralt as if realizing something. "I take you know how to act properly around a King yes?"

"I've had my fair share, so no need to worry. Don't plan to insult the man if that is what you're worried." Geralt reassured him. "Just don't expect me to do any fancy bows or kiss any oversized rings."

Ned couldn't help but chuckle at the last remark. "Heh last time Robert was one for formality, so I doubt it will come to that."

Geralt smirked before moving to his spot, nodding to Jon as he'd stand beside him. For a long while the group stood around being silent as the nearing stamper of the royal caravan neared the gates. Yet as Geralt looked over the gathered group, he quickly realized Arya was missing. Before he could point it out though, the young girl revealed herself as she hurried up to the front row with a guard's dome helm on. Ned was quick to stop her before taking the helm and handing it off to Sir Rodrik who'd fiddle with the piece of armor before hiding it under his cloak. Arya meanwhile moved to her spot, playfully pushing Bran to get some space.

Geralt shook his head, yet quickly stood to attention as at last the caravan arrived. The first to ride in were ornately armored knights of the King's Guard, the honor guard of the royal family, proclaimed elite warriors of the continent. Riding close behind was a dashing teenager, who Geralt assumed was one of the Lannister children considering his fine short cut blond hair, no doubt Joffrey considering his age. Riding in, his gaze was quickly set to Sansa, a small charming smile on his lips which had the northern girl smile back in a friendly manner. He did remember Sansa talking about him, acting like a Toussaint maiden dreaming of marrying a prince. Considering how she acted, no one took her seriously on the matter.

Behind the prince was a tall and muscular man dressed in black plate and a unique hound helmet. Geralt heard this one was Sandor Clegane, Joffrey's bodyguard and the Lannister's enforcer. His fierce and disorderly nature yet set loyalty to the family gained him the nickname 'The Hound'. The man stop beside the prince before lifting his helmet visor put, showing a gruff scarred face, which Geralt could tell was quite old and caused by fire. Made the man quite intimidating though.

Next came a lavish wooden and iron bound carriage, fitting for one of high royalty back home. No doubt meant for comfortable riding out on the road. Following behind it were another group of King's Guard and a large bearded man in a large dark regal cloak. At a glance Geralt thought he had just found the Red Baron's older brother considering how the looks were quite similar. However he'd realize everyone was quickly dropping to one knee towards there King. He'd do the same, yet his head wasn't completely low so he could just see what was going on. Royal pages hurried out with a wooden step for Robert to dismount with ease before the man quickly moved right towards Ned. Eddard look up as his old friend stood before him, remanding silent as the king gestured for him to stand. In doing so, everyone stood up and looked intensively at what was going to happen.

There was a tense silence before Eddard at last spoke. "Your grace."

Robert didn't answer for a moment, looking at the Northern Lord over before at last speaking in a gruff voice. "You've gotten fat."

Everyone in the group gave a mix of looks, unsure of how to react although Rodrik couldn't help but high and amuse smirk. Geralt already was debating if that dimensional relation theory was true and he was just meeting this world's Red Baron now. Eddard though gave an odd look to his king, yet the way he looked him over seemed to be a silent 'look who's talking'.

Robert caught onto the jesting look as he give a deep laugh, making Eddard do the same before the two gave a firm hug to each other. Chuckling, Robert looked to Catelyn before hugging her and then moving back to Ned.

"Gods it's been over ten years. Where the hell have you been?" He'd remark.

"Guarding the North for you, your grace. Winterfell is yours after all." Ned answered back, being formal despite Robert's casual manners.

Geralt continued to overhear their conversation while looking to the carriage, seeing a beautiful golden haired woman who had the finest dress and furred cloak out of the gathered group. No doubt this was Robert's wife, Cersei Lannister, who many proclaimed was the most beautiful woman of all of Westeros. Considering her alluring looks, he could said she'd have easy claim to the title.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya whispered as she glanced around slightly, making Sansa tug her in place.

"Shut up!" She hissed at her younger sister.

Meanwhile Robert moved to go met the Stark children as he'd shake hands with Robb, eyeing Sansa then having a short chat with Arya and Bran. However moving along back towards Ned, the King paused as he'd see Geralt now.

"You there. Step forward." He said in a commanding manner.

Geralt paused for a moment before stepping up, Robb giving him space to be before the king. Robert looked Geralt over, eyes having a sharp warrior's look to it as he was sizing up the white haired man. "When I read the letter that some white hair strange was found in the woods, I found some Targaryan straggler had crawled out of hiding." The man sternly remarked. Yet locking gazes with Geralt, he'd give hint of surprise seeing those piercing yellow cat like eyes. "Ugh…then again you seem to be something different."

"Let me guess, far too ugly to be a Targaryan?" Geralt remarked back, arms crossed. "Seems to the answer I usually get."

Everyone was silent, yet in the end Robert laughed out and grinned, patting Geralt roughly on the shoulder. "Ah I like you already! Ned's letter spoke highly of you and I can see why. " Nodding, he'd step back and look to Ned. "We'll have to talk later. Right now I have important matters to tend to. Take me to your crypt, I want to pay my respects."

Cersei meanwhile approached the group, Ned greeting her and kissing her hand before the fair Lannister spoke up. "We've been riding for a month my love, surely the dead can wait."

Robert looked at her for a moment, yet shifted back to Ned who he gave a nod. "Ned." Already the King was off, heading for the crypt entrance. Eddard looked at Cersei for a moment before following after his old friend, leaving the group by themselves.

Cersei seemed annoyed about the matter as she moved back towards her carriage and to one of the King's Guard who had removed his helmet. Considering his handsome looks and similar golden hair, Geralt guessed this one was Jamie Lannister, twin brother of the queen. The two seemed to have a short conversation, which his sharp ears could only pick out a few words such as 'finding that little beast'. Jamie seemed to give a small sigh and nod before marching off towards the village that made up the outer area of Winterfell.

At this point the group split up as the royal caravan moved to unpack supplies and belongings, while the Stark men helped. As for the Stark family members, they were quick to go introduce themselves to the rest of the royal family. Geralt looked to Jon, who gave a shrug.

"The King is…an interesting man for sure." The young man muttered.

"Quite the blunt one really. Still better than the high and mighty types I've met." Geralt remarked back. "Guess we won't have much to do until the feast."

"Ah right…the feast. I may not be around for that." Already the two stepped aside to look over the caravan, keeping out of the way for the workers.

"Let me guess. Be rude to have a bastard among royalty." Geralt remarked, making Jon nod silently. "Lady Stark's suggestion no doubt. Well you may not be able to share the high table, but doesn't mean you can sit with the common household."

"Heh…not worried that may be frown upon." Jon questioned.

"If Lady Catelyn has an issue, she can argue it with me. Anyway I need to take care of a few things before the feast. No excuses, I expect you there." With that, he'd head for the main court yard where the different knights and other mounted travelers moved to store their horses. While he was going for the Guest House to wait out for the evening, a young male voice spoke out.

"White haired one, I'd like to speak to you."

Looking over, Geralt realized that it was Prince Joffery who spoke to him. The prince approached with the Hound following close behind, his unique helmet under one arm. With it off his scarred face was more exposed, showing just how disfiguring the burn scars were.

"Your grace. What is it you want?" Geralt asked, in a formal if blunt manner.

"Just curious to meet the man who slayed a dozen Wildlings. When we got the raven, the whole caravan was gossiping about the white haired man with two swords." The boy looked over Geralt, seeing the scars and nodding. "Sure have the look of a killer about you." A short pause followed. "So what is your name anyway?"

"Geralt of Rivia. As for why I killed them, it was in self-defense. Didn't know or care who they were at the moment." The Witcher calmly stated.

"Heh…seems like an excuse to me. Their savages after all and deserved to be cut down." Joffery looked to the Hound now as he continued to speak. "Ever fight a Wildling before? Heard you could gut one and they'd keep fighting."

"Can't say I know sire. Everyone else normally drops at that point." The gruff man muttered.

Joffrey looked back at Geralt, a sly yet cruel hint in those eyes. "So Hound. What do you take of Geralt here? Think you could best him?"

Sandor and Geralt looked at each other, both already sizing up each other. "Can't say for sure until I see what he can do. Considering the scars I'd say he's seen his battles."

Joffrey thought for a moment, pacing slightly between the two men. "Hmm…it will be a while until the feast. It will be dull having to wait." A smile creeped across his lips before looking to the nearby sparring ring. "A fight then! That be an interesting show for everyone right?"

The nearby servants and guards would pause at their work, muttering in curious interest. Already Geralt had a bad feeling about this. This young prince had an eagerness about seeing a fight.

"Not sure if it be wise to do so." Geralt started before the prince spoke up.

"It wouldn't be wise to refuse me Geralt." The boy remarked sternly. "The road has been boring and a duel be thrilling to see." Already Joffrey nodded to Sandor to follow him to the ring, along with some of the servants and guards gathering up.

Geralt sighed as he'd follow along, already fiddling with his strapped blades on his back. However, once again Joffrey spoke up.

"No need for that Geralt. I thought real men duel with real blades, not blunt pieces of iron." The prince remarked with a smug look.

"Of course…" The Witcher muttered as the Hound set his helmet back onto his head before drawing his quite bastard sword from its sheath. He'd move to draw his steel blade before pacing into the sparring circle, staring down the armored man.

"Try to make this entertaining." The Hound gruffly muttered before closing his helmet. "If anything I can do with a challenge." The large man's stance shifted as he grasped his sword with both hands, a very aggressive poise.

Geralt kept silent, as he'd shift his blade to that low angle, yet gripped it with both hands. He felt the Hound have much more power behind his attacks and require more effort to guard against. For a long moment the two stared down each other, no doubt waiting for the other to make their first move. Everyone was silent yet Joffrey was quickly getting annoyed from the lack of action.

Yet just as the prince was about to speak, the Hound gave a fierce yell and charged Geralt, moving shockingly fast for a man his size. Lucky Geralt wasn't a normal man as his honed reflexes kicked in, as his sword moved up to block the powerful overhead blow, giving a low grunt from the effort. Both pulled their weapons back, feet shifting as they moved to circle each other before Geralt lunged in for a stab. Sandor twisted his blade to block the attack, yet had one hand let go of his blade to lash out with an armored backhand attack. Geralt was fast enough to turn his head, the iron fist just grazing the left side of his face. If he were a normal man, Geralt knew such a blow from the Hound would have broken his jaw and sent teeth flying. At best the blow would stun him and leave a decent mark, giving the towering man the chance to land some potentially seriously hits."

Yet the Witcher also took advantage of the close quarters as he'd jab his left fist right into Sandor's side, targeting the less armored section at the hip. While he couldn't see the Hound's face under his helmet, the shocked and pained grunt showed the blow hurt, considering the surprising strength Geralt had. The man staggered back, left hand gripping the spot while Geralt winced as he flexed his hand, bloodied slightly from hitting chain metal. However he recovered faster as he'd grasp his blade two-handed once more, stepping up as he raised his steel sword overhead. Sandor got his second wind, only giving himself enough time to brace his blade for the powerful strike Geralt dealt.

For the Hound, he could tell Geralt was strong, yet the force of that blow had even the tall man be forced a step back. The Witcher kept up the attack, swinging upward with the same powerful behind the strike while Sandor was forced to back again. The loud clang of metal was constant in the yard, almost over whelming the cheering of the gathered crowd. Joffrey was quite active, yelling out orders to the Hound and encouraging him on.

"Damn it, hit him back!" The prince called out, making the Hound growl out as the tension of battle and the boy's ordering frustrated him.

In the end he did hit back, yet with a strong kick right to Geralt's gut instead of a sword strike. With his defenses low, the strike was dead on, knocking the wind out of Geralt. The force of the kick even knock him back onto one knee, the Witcher having to brace one hand to the ground to avoid falling over. Coughing and panting, he'd look up as the Hound roared before he'd strike down, his eyes having a pure look of bloodlust in them. Geralt pulled his sword up, one hand bracing under his blade as the heavy clashed down against his.

"Bloody…stubborn bastard!" The Hound growled as he'd keep striking down at Geralt with constant blows, not even giving Geralt a chance to get up from his kneeling stance. In worse, the man mixed in short kicks right at the Witcher, trying to break his guard or knock him over even if it was a cheap tactic for a duel. He had to turn his stance just to have those armored kicks strike at his shoulder instead of his face. At this point people were muttering as Geralt grunted and growled in pain, yet refused to yield while Joffrey seemed pleased at the sight. "If I have to beat you senseless to finish this I will!" Sandor snapped.

At this point Geralt's anger surged up as he gripped his sword hilt tightly. Those yellow eyes had a fierce look to them as Sandor readied for a final blow with his blade. With adrenaline pumping through him, he'd ignore the pain and push his reflexes to more supernatural limits. With only one hand grasping his sword, he'd swing out just as Sandor's brought his blade down at him. For Geralt everything was in slow motion yet for the crowd and the Hound it was lightning fast. Despite the raw strength behind that attack, the Hound's blade was parried with a resounding clang, forcing the towering man to break his guard stance. Geralt sprung up to his feet before pressing his left hand right against Sandor's chest before making the Aard sign.

It was a stupid move to use a Sign with so many people around, yet raw combat instinct just pushed Geralt on. Yet it seemed the world's waning magic was a blessing at this moment as the telekinetic push was unleashed yet it did little more than knock Sandor roughly to the ground. At that point Geralt realized his hasty mistake as he'd look at the Hound, who groaned from the hard fall and struggling to get up. He knew if he had put such focus into a Sign like that he would have had the man smashed into the nearby wall and half the gathered crowd knocked to the ground. Probably even crush Sandor's ribcage with the Sign being point blank as well.

"Aghh…what…what the hell was that?!" Sandor gasped as he'd stagger up, fumbling to get his visor up as a look of shocked confusion showed on his face.

Indeed, the crowd was just as confused at what had just happened.

"It was so sudden."

"Was there some kind of flash?"

"No that was a trick of the light from the swords!"

The Witcher realized he had to make an excuse fast. "Nothing…I just shoved you." Geralt muttered, as he'd catch his breath before sheathing his blade while the crowd cheered at the fierce duel concluding.

"No fucking way!" The Hound growled as he stomped forward, making Geralt tense up. "You hardly tensed up. Didn't even pull your arm back! No one is that strong…well…maybe him."

Geralt remained silent, eyes narrowing in frustration towards the gruff man, curious at who 'him' was. "Maybe you just tripped. Everything happened quite fast after all."

Before the Hound could argue any further, Joffrey spoke up to get their attention. "Done already? I thought there be more…after all you two seemed to be at each other's throats."

Geralt didn't answer back, only giving a sharp look to the prince who flinch at the cold glare. Sandor seemed to snap out of his angry state, realizing the Witcher was moments from snapping back at the young royal. "Decided it's a draw. Besides rather not bloodier ourselves for the feast." He explained to Joffrey.

"Heh…be improper to have you two prancing around cut up and bleeding." Pausing the prince gave a small grin as an idea came to mind. "Then Geralt and you should fight again, yet this time at the upcoming tournament! That would be a spectacular scene for all the people to see right?" The gathered crowd would mutter and nod in agreement. "Maybe have your brother join the fray to make things more exciting."

The mention of the Hound's sibling drew two emotions to the scarred man, fear and anger. This time it was Geralt's turn to intervene. "You make a good point Joffrey. If your father allows it I'll take part in a match during the event." He quickly answered back.

"Good. At least now I have something to look forward in the coming months." The prince, looked between the two men before nodding. "You're dismissed Geralt. Hound, consider yourself free for the rest of the day and night. I don't need you breathing down my neck during the feast."

At this point Sandor had calmed himself as he'd give a sigh and small nod. "Thank you sire…" He grumbled, obviously bothered by the boy's suggestions about the tournament.

With that, Joffrey turned to his servants as he gave some quick orders for them to get back to work and hurried off to check through his belongings.

Geralt and Sandor looked at each other, both still catching their breath after that violent duel yet left them both tense still. "Guess your reputation of being dishonorable is true. You fucking kicked me while I was down." Geralt muttered under his breath. "

"Well you bloody cheated with that…hand gesture thing." The Hound growled back clenching one fist as if ready to strike at the Witcher. "But you know what. Cheat or not you gave me a challenge for once and got the brat off my back. I'm thankful for that at least." His hand dropped and he'd step away from Geralt to tug his helmet off, getting his unkept hair all over his scarred face. "So for now we're even." Moving aside, he'd get a flash from his pack and gulp it down, no doubt booze to numb the pain he felt. "Anyway off with you. Like to enjoy some damn peace and quiet while I can."

Geralt rubbed his bruised shoulder, nodding in agreement. "Enjoy your evening then Sandor." He'd move to leave the sparring circle, yet did notice the man look to him with a confused look, not being expected to be called his true name.

Once inside the Guest House, Geralt gave a low groan as the pain kicked in after that fight. "Hate having to hold back." He muttered, yet he did think over how his sign had reacted. It was far weaker than before, even more then the time he had lost his memory. At this rate he felt Sign's wouldn't be reliable at this rate even if the situation was dire. Moving up to his room, Geralt moved for his potion bag and got a small sample of Swallow out. While he could heal quickly naturally, he didn't want to go through the evening sore and bruised. Taking a sip of the blue mixture, he'd take a deep breath as the potent liquid eased the pain rapidly. With the soreness easing away, he'd take some time to clean himself off from the duel, washing off the sweat and dirty with a wet rag before changing into fresh clothes. By the time he was changed, his shoulder could flex fine and his fingers no longer cracked from the slightly movement.

For now he'd take some time to rest, sitting at his desk to read over another book to quickly pass the time until the nightfall came.

Notice: A new rivalry begins! I hope this was an intense fight between the two, putting a more brutal aspects compared to the sparring fights we've been having. The Hound is after all a tough and pragmatic fighter, not caring for following rules to most duels. With Geralt handicapping himself, it also leaves him exposed to more brutal foes as like Sandor. Course being a mutant gives.

Overall, review and message me your thoughts!