Chapter 9: S1-E8: Road to Castle Black

Chapter Eight: The Road to Castle Black

Three days had passed since Bran's fall and the boy showed no signs of awakening. Geralt and Luwin had worked tireless to figure out how to revive the boy yet the Witcher knew that was up to time and luck. Catelyn continued to care for the boy, feeding and cleaning him as he slept in bed. If anything the woman hardly slept or ate anything during her vigil.

Geralt kept to himself, although it seemed everyone was keeping to themselves at the same time. Jon seemed set on going to the Wall as the young man was busy getting supplies set and often chatting with Tyrion. The two worked well together with Tyrion giving insightful advice to Jon while the young man shared tales of training with the Witcher. At the same time, Geralt also prepared for travel as he stored his own supplies and gear for the trip northward for the Wall.

Soon news went about that Eddard had reluctantly agreed to become the new Hand of the King. His wife was angered by the news, yet did not try to fight him in leaving. Geralt guessed with the new position, Ned would have be able to look into Cersei's and the Lannister's dealings along with investigate the mysterious death of Jon Arryn as well. Yet going to King's landing would no doubt put Ned and his two daughters at risk being around so many supports of the Lannister family. For now he only hoped Ned make preparations for the two to be watched and guarded when they arrived there.

The on night before the royal caravan planned to leave, Geralt would approach Tyrion as the dwarf was leaving the Great Hall after a short dinner with his family. The dwarf noticed the Witcher, giving a friendly smile and wave while Geralt nodded back. "You've been quiet of late. I take Bran's fall has been troubling for you." The Lannister remarked.

"It has. Was tutoring Bran in archery and sword fighting. Now the boy may never walk again considering his injury." Geralt answered back. "Still he's a tough one like his family. I'm certain he will wake up and find a way in life despite it all."

Tyrion nodded, a thoughtful look in his eyes. "It is a shame Lord Eddard has to leave him as well to serve in the capital. Personally I'd curse the King for telling me to go."

Geralt chuckled at that quite defiant remark. "You are the rebellious type that's for sure…though I'd probably do the same really."

Both of them laughed for a moment before Tyrion spoke up again. "Although I take you didn't come out here to simply joke about nobility?"

"Got me there. Decided I'll be tagging along for that trip to the Wall and Castle Black." The Witcher answered back. "Feel I need some time away from…well...here. Been cooped up in Winterfell for too long."

"Surprised you can even stand being stuck in one place for months. You have the look of a man who's a drifter and thrill seeker to me." Tyrion commented.

Geralt shrugged at the remark. "Sort of was back home. Think I moved across the Northern Realms five times over in just the last year. Course a story for another time."

"I take it that you're prepared for the trip then?"

"Of course. One of the first rules of being a Witcher is to always be prepared." He replied back.

"Heh you'll have to share some tales about your profession. Anyway Jon will be pleased to know you'll be coming along as well. Perhaps you'll get one more chance to sway him from joining the Watch." With that the short Lannister gave a small nod and continued on his way back to his room at the Guest House.

With that matter sorted out, all that was left was one more thing to do. Heading for the Great Keep, he'd go to Bran's room, being silent as near the door. It was partly open to show Catelyn was fast asleep in an armchair, no doubt exhausted after these troubling days. Slipping into the room, he'd near Bran's bed where the boy laid covered in comfortable sheets and furs.

Geralt shifted the pack he had been carrying it, taking out the boy's crossbow and bolt quiver. "I wish I had given these to you soon. Maybe would have made a difference, kept you from leaving the keep or protect you somehow." The Witcher muttered as he'd set the two items on the nightstand next to the bed. However he had one more item to give as he'd pick out a small wooden medallion from the pack. It was shaped similar to his Witcher symbol, although not as sharp or detailed in design. "Knew how badly you wanted to have one. Always noticed how you wanted to wear mine." Leaning in, he'd put the wooden wolf medallion around Bran's neck before shifting back to look down at the sleeping boy. "I promise…I'll make whoever did this pay." Being silent for a moment, he'd give a small sigh before silently leaving and return back to his room.

…

The Witcher woke up early the next morning, getting dressed in his leather and chain armor along with the northern garb he had been given. Grabbing his two swords, crossbow, quiver and alchemy pack, he'd head outside were the caravan was readying to leave. He'd find his horse at the post he had left it with Jon and Tyrion gathered with their own mounts. The two noticed and greeted him, which he returned both the three saddled up to ride for the main road. Already the royal caravan was at the crossroads of Winterfell and the King's Road. Ned and Robert where speaking to each other before the northern lord noticed the group and rode over to them.

"Time for final goodbyes it seems." Geralt remarked as Ned neared the group.

"I'll wait on ahead. I doubt the good Lord wishes to speak with me." Tyrion remarked, riding pass the group when Eddard neared.

The Northern Lord looked between Jon and Geralt, giving a faint smile to them both. "You know…I can't remember the last time I've feel such stress." Ned remarked. "Even in the middle of the Rebellion, the fiercest of battles never pained more then what happened to Bran and the choice of having to leave him here." Taking a deep breath, the man looked at Geralt. "I'd like to speak with you privately for a moment."

Geralt nodded before looking to Jon who spoke up. "I'll wait right here."

Ned and the Witcher rode away to be out of earshot from Jon before the Northern Lord slipped off his mount once they stopped. Geralt did the same as the two faced each other. He'd notice Ned holding a wrapped piece of cloth in his hands.

"In all my years I've never met a man as compassionate, dutiful and brave as you Geralt. If anything you put most knights that I've known to shame." Eddard calmly stated.

"Thank you Lord Stark, yet you exaggerate really." Geralt remarked back with a small smile.

Ned chuckled, shrugging slightly. "Perhaps I am, yet you've treated my family as if they were you own. You've been an inspiration for the men of my household along for my sons and daughters in these short few months." Pausing, he'd have a more serious look in his eyes. "The Starks have never needed a champion for centuries like the other Houses. In the North, we take pride in our strength and self-reliance to protect ourselves."

Ned unwrapped the cloth to reveal a white and grey fur cloak similar to what the Stark family wore. Along it there was a dark metal and leather bracer with the dire wolf symbol carved onto it. "The North is stubborn to change. We're been steady fast in every age, prideful in our sense of duty and honor." He'd pause for a moment before continuing. "Yet these are troubling times and change must come. That is why Geralt of Rivia I ask you to become the champion of House Stark."

The declaration surprised Geralt, the reaction showing in his yellow eyes which Ned noticed. The Witcher was silent, unsure of how to respond. "Lord Stark. I'm honored but…I can't swear fealty to you." The Witcher formally answered back. "A Witcher isn't meant to commit to any lord or king. Besides I can't let such a commitment hinder me."

"I know that and I expect no oaths to any of the Gods be they the Old or New or whatever you follow in your lands." Ned quickly responded. "You're bound to the Starks, my family, is that of friendship and trust. Those are to me are stronger than any vow a man can give." He'd present the cloak and bracer to Geralt, the Witch silent as he looked at them.

In the end he'd take the bracer, removing his own left one to wear the fine piece which matched well with his current armor. Next he'd take the white and grey cloak, fitting it over his back loosely to not get in the way of his swords. Ned gave a small nod and smile.

"It suits you Geralt. Wear it well for the North." Eddard complimented.

"Have to admit I've never been one for cloaks. Doesn't work well for Witcher's work." Geralt remarked. "Yet I can't deny it has style to it."

"That aside, that bracer will show your alliance with us. Show that to any soldier of the north and they will know of your ties with us." Moving to a pack on his horse, he'd also hand Geralt a bunch of rolled up papers. "Also take these."

Geralt quickly opened the scrolls, one being a fresh map of the Seven Kingdoms while the others were documents. Glancing over them they seem to be writs, regional decrees for supplies, aid and so on.

"Those writs can get you anything you need in a time of need, within reason of course. Use them wisely and keep them safe." Ned explained as Geralt carefully rolled them up and put them in his saddle pack.

"So how did Robert react to you tell him of making me your House champion?" Geralt questioned.

"Surprisingly pleased. In the end he won't have to worry about managing you and he sees this as you simply working for me officially…even though it isn't." Ned explained. "That aside we have to discuss your travel plans."

"Right…" Geralt muttered. "With me, Tyrion and Jon, we should arrive at Castle Black in… about half a week considering. Only plan to be there a few days before heading back south. Not sure if Tyrion will tag along or not though but I'll have enough time to question him about Cersei."

"Good. From my understanding it will take the royal caravan a bit over a month to return to King's Landing. Have a few stops along the way. You may catch up with us." Pausing, Ned nodded to the pack, making Geralt remember the map. Taking it out, the two looked over it as Ned scanned along it. "Here." He'd point at a major crossroad spot that split in fall fours directions.

"What's there?" Geralt questioned.

"A famous unnamed in, although everyone simply call it the Crossroads Inn." Ned explained. "When Robert and I lived in the Vale, we'd visit there at times whenever we traveled. You won't find better food or more interesting characters." Ned explained. "Overall that would be your best chance to rejoin us. If other matters do get in the way though, send a raven there or to the Red Keep."

"Sure. Overall seems we have a solid plan set." Geralt repacked the map, making sure to mark the meeting spot down on it.

"So until we meet again Geralt." Ned held one hand out as the two firmly shook hands. "Watch the roads and woods well my friend. Winter is coming." From what the Witcher knew, the saying was that of vigilance and warning. Ned got back onto his horse before riding back to Jon while the Witcher pulled himself back onto his saddle and riding to where Tyrion was waiting.

"My now…seems Lord Stark has given you a promotion." The dwarf chuckled, noting the fine cloak Geralt wore.

"More of a parting gift. Besides from what I know the far north is cold even in the summer." Geralt remarked back. The two watched the distant conversation between Ned and Jon, curious on what they were saying.

However the two heard a horse nearing them or more of a pony when they glanced to the main road. There was Arya, grinning excitedly as she'd hurry her mount over to the two, stopping with a small giggle.

"Didn't expect your father let you ride on your own." Geralt chuckled.

"Mother isn't around to worry. Besides he said I can only ride a bit a day while we travel." The young girl answered back before looking to her father and half-brother talking. "I'm going to miss Jon. Is he really planning to stay at the Wall?" She asked somberly.

Geralt nodded, giving a sigh. "He's convicted. Guess he feels he'll have a righteous purpose there. A chance to make something of himself by his own hand."

Arya sighed, unsure what to say. Shifting, she'd grab something behind her pack to reveal a small thin weapon sheath. "Jon gave me this. It's a sword meant for me." She'd carefully draw it to show off the thin sword which Geralt considered a cross between a short sword and rapier in design. "I call it Needle. Special swords like this need names after all."

"I find that a suitable name. Sounds innocent yet hides its deadly nature." Tyrion commented, making Arya chuckle.

"Heh it be a fitting weapon for you Imp. About the right size for you too." Arya chuckled, yet was playful with the dwarf's so called 'title'.

"Alas I'm not a fighter. Words and wit are my sword and shield." He answered back in a grandiose manner, making Arya smirk.

"So now that I have a sword can you teach me how to fight?" Arya quickly asked Geralt, an eager gleam in her eyes.

"Huh…not too sure about that." He started yet the young Stark gave that puppy dog stare, making him grumble. "Alright maybe…so long as you get your father's permission. You have a long road ahead, so plenty of time to do so."

Arya beamed, nodding quickly as he'd tuck her sword away once more. "Thank you! Bet dad will agree, I know it!" With that she'd wave to both Geralt and Tyrion, giving a cute smile to the two. "Enjoy seeing the Wall…try not to get lost alright!" She'd then ride off back for the caravan while the two waved goodbye.

"A lively girl. So different from her older sister." Tyrion remarked.

"Yah…classic tomboy like Ciri." Geralt muttered in agreement before noticing Jon and Ned had finished their conversation. The two went their separate ways, Ned following his young daughter back to the caravan while Jon returned his companions.

Nearing, Jon had thoughtful look across his face and remained silent once he stopped before the others. They'd look at the young man curiously, expecting some big reveal from him. "Right…shall we get going then?" Jon simply asked.

Tyrion gave a surprised look after hearing that. "Wait…you just talked to your father for possibly the last time…and you have nothing to share with us?" The dwarf questioned.

Jon kept a passive look for a moment before nodding. "Yah…we just said our goodbyes." He muttered.

"So no secret reveals? No truth of your mother or…or maybe he's not your father!" Tyrion teased, making Jon growl lowly in annoyance. "That be a fascinated twist to any story yes?" The dwarf asked Geralt.

"A bit clichéd if you ask me." Geralt replied back before shaking his head. "Look, stop pestering Jon. Whatever they discussed it's between them alone. He can tell us what was said when he feels like it."

The young man was silent, yet gave a short nod of thanks to Geralt while Tyrion gave a small sigh of disappointment. "I do hate cliff hangers you know." He muttered before looking northward. "Anyway enough chatter. We have a good ride for the Wall and I want to get there as soon as possible." Before anyone could react, the dwarf had his small horse galloping forward, making the two hurry along to follow after. Jon cracked a small smile chasing after the dwarf, Geralt smirking as everyone focused on the journey ahead.

…

The first few days were calm and peaceful for the three, riding through beautiful woodlands and plains. They did stop in a few nearby villages for warm food and soft beds, yet soon any hint of civilization was completely lost to unending wilderness on the third day of traveling. Along the way Tyrion constantly chatted with the two, questioning Geralt the most about his travels and what his home country was like. He'd share the same tale like he had with most people and mainly discus the many unique kingdoms that made up his world. The mention of the Nilfgaard Empire had Tyrion very curious, considering the Empire's proactive researching and modernization…even if it was through strict and sometimes brutal control.

"They sound like world conquerors for sure. A war between the Seven Kingdoms and them be quite an epic I'd say." The dwarf commented to Geralt.

"Rather avoid that. Besides, the Empire is big enough as it is." The Witcher muttered.

The third night, the group made camp off the side of the road. The clearing was fitting enough for sizable camp fire and setting up their bedrolls for sleeping. Lucky the two had Geralt to help around as the Witcher easily got some rabbits for dinner and showed Jon a few skinned tricks. Tyrion would casually watch while reading one of a few books he had packed with him. Soon everyone was sitting around the fire, each eating a piece of rabbit on a stick silently.

"So Witcher…I think it's time you share some monster stories with us." Tyrion asked after finishing his meal.

"Last time I mentioned such things you seemed dubious at best. Then again we were half under from all the drinking." Geralt remarked back.

Tyrion chuckled, rolling his eyes a bit in amusement. "Considering the tales of dragons and the many exotic beasts that exist across the Narrow Sea…well…perhaps your land's beasts are not so far-fetched."

Jon gave a small shrug and nod as he'd finish up his rabbit. "He has a point there. Doubt you have anything that can top that."

"Fine…" He debated on telling them that he did face a dragon once, although decided not to do that just yet. He'd probably be confusing them more than anything. "Alright then, I'll tell you the one that got me pretty well known among the Northern Realms. Started off when following an old contract, a seven year old one in the Kingdom of Temeria involving the cursed daughter of a king being a Striga."

Geralt detailed the wild story of how King Foltest's unborn daughter had been cursed by a spiteful noble seeking revenge for the taboo marriage between the King and his sister. Of course he kept those details short and simple, focusing more on detailing the fierce and deadly Striga along with the fact that Foltest was desperate to find some way to reverse the curse. Removing the curse sounded simple, keep the creature from its sarcophagus until dawn. The problem…survive the night. A small army of mystics, knights, adventurers, fools and other Witchers had all tried only to flee or die.

The Witcher shared the deadly night he faced the beast, fighting in with the halls of an abandoned palace. He told the two about how the noble who made the curse had come and became handy bait in the end, even if it lead to a gruesome end for him. When the battle itself began, he'd detail every step and move he did…well...nearly everyone one as he excluded his use of Signs. In the end he'd trick the Striga and sneak into its tomb, sealing himself in its own sarcophagus for the rest of the long night. Then came the finale of the grand tale.

"So did it work?" Jon asked, excited after everything he heard.

Geralt nodded. "When I crawled out of that tomb there was no Striga but a fourteen year old girl. She was thin and looked like she had been through hell, yet human enough. Had to get close to examine her and…well…" He'd rub the back of his head, glancing away slightly. "…she still was partly monstrous and surprised me, sliced my neck with her lingering claws."

Both of his companions gave surprised look, yet Tyrion gave an amused chuckle. "Wait, you battled a fierce beast throughout a night unscathed yet a girl gets the jump on you?" The dwarf questioned.

Sighing, Geralt suddenly tugged the collar of his cloak and leather jacket along with the plain shirt he had aside. His neck was exposed and despite all the skilled healing he had gotten that scar over his jugular remained. "Wound like this kill most men. Lucky I pulled back just enough to avoid getting my throat slit." He calmly stated.

Tyrion had a nervous look, lightly rubbing his own neck at the thought. "Point taken."

"In the end I subdued her, then passed out from the bleeding and exhaustion. Foltest's men found me and her. Took us both back to the new palace where I was passed out for two days then before waking up. Took another two days before I was strong enough to leave, though in the end I rode off with three thousand orens and the high praise of a king." Still, he'd give a small sigh. "Still didn't mean people tried to cheat and rob me at every turn though."

The dwarf chuckled at that remark. "The more fame you have, the more people will recognize you."

Geralt nodded in agreement, yet was became oddly silent. For a moment Jon and Tyrion looked at the Witcher with a questioning looks, unsure what was going on. "Geralt?" Jon spoke up, shifting up in his seat slightly.

However Geralt didn't even glance at Jon, yet one hand shifted slowly toward his blades set beside him. Tyrion gulped nervously as his gaze shifted to the dark woodlands, his mind still fresh with the terrible Striga tale. Jon kept calm as he too reached for his long sword cautiously. He knew Geralt noticed something he or Tyrion couldn't that was considered dangerous. For a long moment the only sounds was the crackle of the camp fire, the creak of the surrounding woods and Tyrion heavy breathing.

Suddenly there was a snap and in an instant Geralt moved, steel sword drawn out as he suddenly rushed at Tyrion. The dwarf yelled in surprise before the air rang out as the Withcer's sword striked something out of the air. It took a moment for Tyrion to process what had just happened as he'd glance to his side, seeing an arrow clatter down onto his lap. "He…he deflected an arrow?!" He muttered in shock. Even Jon was shocked at what just happened, his sharper eyes having seen what just happened.

Soon there were yells as figures charged the camp from the darkness, familiar ones for Geralt as he'd recognize the rough leather and fur outfits of Wildlings. "Watch our flank Jon! Don't hesitate because they won't! Tyrion stay low and get my crossbow!" He ordered before another arrow flew right at him, yet with ease he deflected it out into the darkness, drawing a pained cry as it hint one of the charging attackers.

"He did it again!" Tyrion yelled out in disbelief before another arrow struck at the nearby tree, making him yelp in surprise. He'd quickly throw himself to the ground to avoid any more arrows while the Wildlings rushed in. There was at least eight of them counting the one archer hanging back. The leader of the group was a towering bald man with ritual scar marks along his face, wielding a fine steel battle axe. He had an arrow to the side, the one Geralt had deflected, which the savage pull out and snapped with one hand.

"White haired one…" He growled while the rest of his Wildling raiders rushed in.

Geralt smirked, a thrilled look in his yellow eyes to at last have a real fight on his hands. Glancing to Jon, the young man had a serious look about him yet seemed ready for this moment. Quickly two Wildlings faced off against the Witcher, broadly swinging their worn weapons at him. They lacked any real tactic or pattern of attack, leaving their defenses low. For once he didn't have to hold back as he'd parry one blow, guiding the weapon aside while twisting about to dodge the other Wildling's attack.

The savage he dodged howled as Geralt sword cut across his back, knocking him down, twitching as his spine can be severed with one clean blow. "Bastard!" The other yelled as he'd lunge in to strike directly at Geralt who simply stepped back and blocked a follow up attack. Quickly one foot kicked the Wildling in the gut, knocking the wind out of him before being thrown onto his back. Flowing with his movements, Geralt spun his blade about before stabbing down right into the man's heart who gave such a shocked gurgled cry before being still. He'd withdraw his blade of the man's chest, spinning it about to flick the blood off the blade and across the ground.

Glancing back, the Witcher saw Jon facing against two Wildlings of his own, handling them with ease. He avoiding blocking excessively, relying more on footwork to avoid their wide attacks and counter at their side or flank. One got stabbed clean through the side, gasping out before Jon withdrew his blade and spinning about to block a high blow from the other Wildling. He'd shift and twist their locked weapons, deftly disarming the raider in one smooth motion before slashing upward cross his chest.

During all of this, Tyrion was scrambling for Geralt's pack and quickly grabbed the one-hand crossbow which was already loaded. One of the Wildlings saw the dwarf in on the ground, seeing him as easy pickings as he'd close in. The dwarf quite panicking with the battle happening around him quickly aimed the crossbow before firing, striking right into the raider's chest and halting his charge. Growling at the pain while Tyrion quickly reloaded to fire another shot close by the last bolt before the man dropped to the ground dead.

All that was left was the archer, the axe wielding leader and one nervous young Wildling. Geralt eyed the three, the archer and other raider openly nervous as the Witcher and Stark had beaten multiple people at once. The Witcher eyed the three, yet noticed the scarred man had a wild look in his eyes.

"You dance as if the blade was part of you." He chuckled, voice deep and gravely. "I thought the south be full of soft people…yet you are different." The man saw Geralt's yellow catlike eyes and grinned. "Yes. You feel the thrill like the half-beast you are. The bloodlust of killing another without mercy. You've done this countless times."

Geralt didn't shift his tense stance as the Wildling leader laughed out at that fierce stare. "One chance to back off. Crawl back north and huddle in some far off corner. You got over the Wall somehow…best try to enjoy that freedom while you can live." He coldly threatened the warrior.

"A Thenn doesn't run or cower Southern." He'd grasp his axe in both hands, spinning the massive weapon about with agile skill. "We are the true First Men. These lands belongs to us and we claim it or die trying!"

Geralt spun his blade about in his grip, stance low as he stared the Thenn down. "That can be arranged." He muttered before noticing Jon standing ready to fight. "Stay out of his Jon."

"He's a Thenn Geralt. Few men can fight one alone." The Stark remarked as the tall warrior slowly stepped closer.

"Lucky I'm not like most men. Guard Tyrion, the other two don't seem to be backing down either." Geralt answered back, not looking away from the axe swinging warrior.

The Thenn was pleased that the Witcher planned to face him one on one, grinning eagerly. "Kill the others. If you dare step in I'll cut you up myself!" He threatened he'd move in, axe raised to his side to attack.

Both the Thenn and Geralt moved at each other, that fine axe slashing out in an upward swing. Geralt side stepped and lashed out with a switch slash for the man's side, yet the savage twisted the axe about to block the blow with the long metal shaft of his weapon. Both of them twisted away from each other, grasping their weapons in both hands as they ended up in a powerful clash.

While the two battled, Jon focused on the last Wildling who looked little more than his age. "Don't have to do this…" The Stark muttered as they circled each other.

"It's you or me in the end." The raider muttered before giving a yell before attacking.

The Wildling left himself open with his charge as Jon lunged in, sword striking across the man's belly while avoiding the raider's overhead swing. The man staggered and coughed up blood before slumping forward to the ground. However when Jon looked up, he saw the Wildling archer aimed right at him, smirking for a moment before suddenly getting a bolt through the side of his skull. Jon quickly look to the side were Tyrion had snuck off, crossbow lowering as he'd look over to the Stark.

Meanwhile Geralt's and Thann's duel was reaching its critical point. The Wildling raider was panting as Geralt's superhuman speed was fully shown as the warrior could barely react fast enough to block such quick constant blows. His own counter attacks were becoming slower and slower until the Witcher shifted back. The man panted deeply, catching his breath while Geralt hardly seemed to breathe.

"Just what are you…?" The Thann gasped, growling in frustration. "No one can move that fast…"

Geralt didn't answer at first as again he tensed for another attack. "Any last words?"

For a moment the Thann was silent, tightly gripping his weapon and glance at his dead raiders. "In the end this changes nothing. There will be more of us…and when we fall we'll rise again. We all will."

Geralt gave a questioning look at the Wildling's statement. "What do you mean?"

Chuckling, the Thann took a deep breath as he'd ready his axe again. "You will see in time White Wolf. The Long Night comes and everyone will brave its horrors."

With that the Wildling roared a battle cry before spinning his axe about, swinging high and low attacks to force Geralt back. The Witcher back pedaled those attacks, getting an idea of the timing before he'd suddenly rush forward. He'd do a partial slide under the incoming slash before twisting about, sword cutting upward at the Thann's exposed left arm. What followed was a howl of pain and the gush of blood as Geralt cut his arm at the forearm with a clean cut. Despite the pain, the Wildling gripping his large weapon with his right hand as his rage drove him on. He'd swing out yet the Witcher simply stopped the attack as his free hand grabbed the shaft of the large axe. Forcing the weapon blade down to the ground, he'd lash out as he'd then cut the other arm off, drawing even more pained cries from the warrior. Jon and Tyrion stood there in shock, yet Geralt was focused on finishing this. His bloody blade was at the warrior's neck as the Thann dropped to his knees panting and howling in pain, yet giving a mad grin in the end.

"Glorious!" He muttered before Geralt pulled his blade back and decapitated him, his bald head tumbling away into the darkness. That grin remained on his face even in death while the body slumped to its side.

Calmly Geralt looked to Tyrion and Jon, both too shocked to react. Taking a deep breath, he'd clean his blade off the dead Thann before moving to the two.

"Gods Geralt that was…a bit excessive…" Tyrion muttered.

"Got caught up in the fight…didn't want to take any chances as well." Geralt answered back. "Besides, I have a feeling he'd have done much worse to us."

Jon nodded, calming down from the fighting. "Thann's are said to be cannibals from what I heard. Few of the other Wildlings tribes like them because of that."

"Ah…that is a fair point then." The dwarf muttered before moving to Geralt who'd moved to sheath his blade. "I guess I now see why your swordsmanship is so renowned. Never seen anyone, not even Jaime move so fast before." Pausing, he'd glance at the stop where he had been sitting during the ambush. "Still…how did you block an arrow like that, much less one from an unseen attacker? Tyrion questioned.

"Let's just say it took a lot of practice to do that. Involves a lot of timing and reflexes as well." He simply said.

"Well it's a trick that saved my life which I am grateful for." Tyrion said thankfully before handing the Witcher's Crossbow back. "Same thanks to your crossbow as well. I've practiced my share of archery, yet your crossbow's design let me shot in mere seconds."

"It is one of a kind." Geralt remarked before packing the weapon away. "Still requires a good aim to be useful which you lucky have." Packing the weapon aside, Geralt continued to pack away his belongings. "Anyway, we should move on. More Wildlings lurking or the blood may draw predators. Besides, doubt we should sleep with corpses around."

"So much for a calm trip." Jon muttered before looking to the fallen axe of the Thann. "Wait, we should take some proof back to Castle Black. This is the second raiding party within months, this could be what we need to convince the King to better aid the Watch!"

Geralt paused as he'd think for a moment. Indeed Jon had a good point, since in total that made twenty Wildlings having come over the Wall. Who knew how many more were slipping past the massive barrier, taking advantage of the fact that much of the border was unmanned. With so much open space between the different Holdings, these raiders could easily pillage the isolated towns, build up their strength and numbers over time. "Fair point. At the least this is worth showing the Commander at Castle Black as well."

Moving to the fallen weapon, Geralt got a closer look at the weapon. It was nothing like the crude or stolen weapons the other Wildlings had, being a master crafted weapon with interest yet non-magical runes. Jon noticed Geralt curious interest in the weapon. "The Thann's are said to be one of the most powerful tribes beyond the Wall. Despite their fierce nature and…eating habits, they have access to forges and skilled smiths unlike the other tribes."

"Interesting…anyway let's move. An hour's ride should distance us far enough from here."

Tyrion sighed hearing this. "Here I thought we've have a restful night…"

The group hurried off down the dark road, torches out to light the way. Jon glanced at Geralt, seeing how unfazed the man was after that sudden ambush. True he knew well how Geralt fought after their many sparring matches and lessons yet against the Wildlings he showed only cold ruthlessness. Plus the way he executed the raid leader had him sick to the gut deep down. After a while, he'd ride up close to the Witcher and spoke in a hushed voice.

"So how do you do it…just…killing others with such ease? The way you fought and looked it wasn't like anything I've seen in any of the sparring matches."

Geralt gave a side way's glance to the young man, seeing the tense look in those eyes. "There is a difference between a sparring lesson and real battle. There is no chatter, no joking or second tries…you let your guard down and you'll die." Letting those blunt words sink in, he'd continue to speak. "For me, time and exposure is how I've come to accept killing. Second guessing doesn't change who lived and died."

"I know that…I'm not regretting having to kill them!" Jon quickly muttered back.

"And I'm not suggesting that. If anything you handled yourself well. Kept your composure and didn't hesitate. I've seen more talented warriors do that too often and pay for it." The Witcher calmly stated.

Jon sighed as he'd be silent for a moment. "It was the last one who got to me. He seemed my age considering. His eyes had such…a desperate look to them, makes me wonder just what made them brave the Wall to come here."

Geralt too wondered. What the Thann mentioned had him thinking of theories, mainly that of the White Walkers. Sure the lands beyond the Wall were harsh, yet records showed possibly a million or more people lived beyond it despite the hostile environment. Something new and threatening was forcing the Wildlings to flee. "In the end their human. They maybe savage from our point of view yet share the same emotions and fears we have."

The young man though kept silent before nodding his head, sighing as he'd slow down as he'd glance at a clearing nearby. "Let's stop. We should be far enough by now." He calmly stated, not giving a true reaction to the Witcher's words.

Indeed they had traveled far, Geralt realizing their conversation had been distracting him. Tyrion seemed nearly ready to doze off in his saddle, snapping to attention when he realized they stopped. In the end he nodded in agreement as he'd quickly get the area cleared for their hasty camp. With bedrolls laid out, Jon and Tyrion were quick to fall asleep, exhausted from the traveling and ambush. Geralt though remained vigilant as he'd shift to sit on his knees and enter mediation, resting his mind and body yet keeping his senses sharp for any more surprises.

…

However something tugged at his mind, drawing him away from clearing he rested in. His surroundings were that of a frozen wasteland, much like the dead world he had visited with Avallac'h. A fierce snow storm shrouded his surroundings, yet his sharp eyes could just see movement ahead along with hearing the sound of clanging weapons. A familiar and fierce yell was heard, a female voice that he recognized.

"CIRI!" He yelled out over the howling winds as he'd draw his silver blade and forcing through the pushing wind. Nearing the sounds of battle, he could see the shadow of Ciri moving about, her warping abilities having her appear and reappear in a flash. A crown horned figure battled her, moving inhumanly fast and seemingly predicting where she'd teleport to attack.

Nearing the scene of the fight, the horned figure suddenly had one hand reach out, grabbing Ciri by the throat as she phased into existence. She'd howl out despite the grip of the figure not even tensing, as if she was being burned…no freezing. Yet despite the pain she still had focus and desire to survive. Suddenly she faded, perhaps in desperation or a natural reaction in her Elder Blood to preserve her. The figure seemed confused, staring at the empty air silently for a long moment. At this point Geralt saw the figure's piercing bright blue eyes, a glowing gaze that was empty and devoid of emotion. The figure seemingly saw Geralt, the eyes not even blinking as it suddenly flexed his hand at him. A gush of wind blew at Geralt, flinging him away like a ragdoll and into cold nothingness.

He struggled and yelled in the howling wind, trying to fight…struggle…find some way to that cursed creature. Yet despite the deafening sound of the wind, a single echoing caw of a raven could be heard. Then he saw it, a massive black raven flying toward him, it's head low to reveal a third eye on its forehead. Its clawed feet reached for him, yet when then closed around his form everything went dark.

…

Snapping his eyes open, Geralt gasped and nearly bolted up to his feet, one hand going for his swords. Yet he'd see the surprised faces of Tyrion and Jon, the two stepping back as they had been watching the Witcher closely.

"Gods man…although thought we had to slap you awake." Tyrion remarked while Geralt quickly moved his hand away from his swords.

Jon nodded, stepping closer to Geralt to offer a hand to help him stand fully up. "What was wrong…some nightmare?"

Geralt firmly took the offered hand, pulling himself. "Sort of…not sure what it was about." He muttered.

"Most dreams often make no sense." Tyrion commented with a shrug. "Still you seemed ready to fight…had us worried you'd start lashing out."

The Witcher couldn't help but smirk at the remark, thinking back to how he had gotten visions of his past when he lost his memory or the nightmares he had of the Wild Hunt tormenting him or his friends. Was this vision similar…or some distant warning of some kind? Shaking his head, he'd move to pick up his swords and cloak, fitting both across his back. "Anyway I'm awake now." Glancing at the sky, he'd realize it was late morning as well. "Should have left sooner. No matter should get to Castle Black by the evening from my guess." He'd already gather his pack, trying to hurry along before the two questioned him about what he had dreamed.

Soon the three were saddled up and back on the King's Road heading northward once more. For a long while no one spoke as they'd soon enter the region called The Gift. The hilly plains were lush and green despite the chilly conditions, fitting land for farming this far north. From what Geralt read, the early Stark family gave this territory to the Night's Watch as a source of resources and food. A few villages filled this area who supplied Castle Black, yet support was low considering the Night's Watch low numbers.

Jon was riding ahead, eager to see the Wall and Castle Black. Tyrion kept riding at a slow stroll, a perfect chance to talk privately with the dwarf. Riding alongside the Lannister, Tyrion gave a curious look towards the Witcher. "I take you wish to discuss something?"

"A private matter, one I hope you can keep to yourself." Geralt answered back.

Tyrion paused for a moment before shrugging. "Lucky I'm good at keeping secrets…very well…ask away

"It's about Bran. His fall wasn't an accident. There were two others else at that tower, one of them being your sister." The Witcher calmly explained.

The dwarf had an odd look in his eyes, a mix of curiosity yet worry. "And you have proof?"

"Just sample of long golden hair. One long haired blond at Winterfell at the time was Lady Cersei."

"Are you accusing her of having pushed young Bran off that tower?" Tyrion questioned.

"Not yet her male companion may have done so." Geralt quickly explained. "At best she is a witness to an attempted murder. Worse, she ordered it to happen."

"Then I'll just have to accept your judgement on that matter. I take then you expect me to know of her…companion at the tower."

Geralt nodded calmly. "I don't care about her love habits or the fact of infidelity. Robert obviously does that as well. Point is do you know who she could have been with?"

Tyrion was silent, yet he'd smirk in amusement. "If anything it's obvious considering. Haven't heard the rumors about my sister have you?"

"Gossip isn't on the top of my list during conversations. Besides I don't know much about what goes on in the capital."

"Ah…a fair point." The dwarf muttered with a shrug. "Many people claim my sister has many lovers, yet the most shameful of claims is that she sleeps with our brother Jaime." He had a small smirk on his lips. "The two were always close. I remember the story of how Jaime rushed off to join the King's Guard after Cersei was sent off to the capital…can't remember what for, perhaps all part of father's plan to marry into the Targaryen's."

"Yet is it true?" Geralt calmly asked.

"As I said a rumor." Yet the dwarf had a knowing look to his eyes, a subtle hint of course.

"Can't exactly report to the Starks on a slanderous rumor. Come on Tyrion, surely you know more." Geralt argued. "I saved your life last night and from my understanding, 'Lannister's always pay their debts'."

Tyrion grumbled at the mention of his family moto. "And we do Witcher." He muttered. "Hypothetically what would you do I Jaime and Cersei had been in that tower…and that my brother happened to push Bran out that window?"

Geralt locked eyes with the dwarf, an intense in that yellow cat like gaze. "Debating if I'd break his legs in return or drag him to Eddard and the courts to be judged."

Tyrion was silent before giving a small sigh. "Well at least you're honest." Chuckling, he'd glance away. "Again this is just rumors and guesses Geralt. Don't think I'm defending my family, because in the end I don't know who could have been at the tower at that moment. I only have your word to follow up on." Yet after a moment's silence, he'd speak up. "However I can help. Jaime trusts me and in the end I can draw the truth from him. Be it that he committed the act or Cersei confided on what happened, he may just share the truth…or at least betray a lie."

"You'd be willing to do that, interrogate your own family, your own brother?" Geralt muttered, curious at the dwarf's offer. "How do I know you won't warn him or somehow lie to me in return?"

Tyrion laughed lightly at the remark. "And risk angering you? I'd rather not wish your wrath Witcher considering what you've shown. You a far better friend then an enemy."

The compliment at the end was surprisingly to hear, making Geralt give a small smile. "I am sorry about being blunt on the matter. I owe the Starks for their kindness and Bran…he deserves justice."

The dwarf nodded slightly, a thoughtful look in his eyes, no doubt thinking of the few encounters he had with the boy. "I understand that. He seemed fond of you after all, almost like a second father like Jon."

"Heh…never thought anyone call me a good father figure." Geralt chuckled.

"I maybe whore chaser and wine hounder, yet I always pride myself in judging one's true character." Tyrion boasted before Jon called out.

"Hurry up you two! I can see it!" The young man was at the top of the next hill, waving for the two.

Tyrion smirked as he'd have his pony hurry forward in a mock race with Geralt. The Witcher easily caught as both of them rejoined Jon. The view was breath taking indeed even for Geralt who had seen much in his near century of living. He had visited the great capitals of his world, seen the natural wonders of kingdoms and explored the aged ruins of the past. Yet the Wall, it was something different.

The vast mass of ice and rock stretched out for miles on end, beyond the horizon even to the distant seas it linked to. From his studies he knew the Wall stretched three hundred miles between to the Bay of Ice and Bay of Seals. Its height was over seven hundred feet tall and the top wide enough for a troop of riders to go across like a road. Indeed he doubted anything like this could exist in this world, even with all the grand powers the elves and sorceresses had under their control.

"Amazing…" He muttered before glancing at the others to see they own looks of wonder.

"It is. You read and hear so much of it yet never truly understand its scale until you see it." Tyrion remarked.

"Aye. Makes you wonder just what it guards us from too." Jon muttered as his gaze shifting to a black structure at the base of the Wall and where the King's Road ended, Castle Black itself. "Let's hurry on now." Already Jon was off, Geralt quickly following while Tyrion fumbled with his reins to give chase as they all neared the vast shadow of the Wall.

…

Notice: An early chapter this week and possibly another if the weekend isn't too busy. Overall, review and PM please! Already many people after shared interesting ideas and theories which have been very inspiring. Thank you all for your support!