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"Perfect for a stronghold full of dragons. No ship would be able to siege such a place with such a creature burning them." Geralt muttered to himself, understanding one reason why the Targaryen's had built their home here.

It wasn't hard to find Arya and Thoros since the flat area had them stand out. The two were nearby the cliffs and from the Witcher could tell having a duel of some kind. The Red Priest had found a sturdy long stick which he was swinging about at the young girl. Arya was constantly on the move as she'd back step, duck and twist about to avoid the large man's attacks. She also used Needle to block and redirect any blows that slipped pass her agile defense, giving her time to reposition.

"Hah! Very good!" Thoros bellowed out as the two finished their short bout once they noticed the Witcher approaching. "Have to hand it to you Geralt, you and Syrio have taught this one well. Moves like a viper while having the tenacity of a wolf, which is expected of course."

A confident grin hinted the girl's lips from hearing Thoros compliment, making Geralt shake his head slightly in amusement. "Best cut down on the praise else it will go to her head. I'll admit she has a solid defense, though her offense needs to be worked on."

"Its not easy considering…" Arya remarked with a hint of frustration. "I know I need to target the joints and unarmored spots, but it's difficult to get an open even when I pull off a good parry!"

The Witcher nodded in understanding as he'd pace closer to the two. "Guess it time to focus beyond just dueling style and technique. In fact, Thoros will be a good…substitute teacher for Syrio."

"Teaching isn't really my thing you know Geralt." Thoros replied.

"Would you prefer training dummy instead?"

"Fine…teacher will do." The Red Priest grumbled, making an amused smirk hint the Witcher's face and a slight giggle from Arya. "So, my guess is you need to tell the little one how she's going to deal with someone better armored like me right?"

Geralt nodded as he'd look to Arya who'd move to a nearby boulder to sit on, resting a bit while paying close attention to the two. "That is correct. Arya could take on unarmored or lightly armored opponents, however someone like you or even a well-armed soldier can prove more difficult." He'd pace around Thoros who stood by still, gesturing at the man's mix of robes and worn armor. "You may know the weak spots but need ways to exploit them."

"Beyond just out-maneuvering and parring? I know you and Thoros mix in punches at times but…" She'd give a short shrug, pointing out her slim arms.

"Heh, you're much more fit then most girls your age, even ones tolling on a farm. Still I see the issue since you'd be cracking your knuckles just striking at against chainmail." The Red Priest remarked with a chuckle.

"Which is why you need a little touch up to your gear. Need some proper leather clothing for better protection, yet not limiting your speed. I think some reinforced gloves and steel toed boots would help you deal some surprise attacks of your own. I'm sure Gendry could work on crafting it."

The mention of the blacksmith had a faint grin hint the girl's face, who nodded in agreement. "So, since that will take a while…could you teach me about those magic tricks you used before back in King's Landing?"

"My Signs you mean?" It made sense the girl had seen him use them during their escape from the capital, the display of power no doubt sparking interest in her young mind. Even glancing at Thoros he could tell the priest was just as eager to learn more of the Witcher's magical prowess. "Its…not something I can simply teach you or anyone really."

"Why is that? When you threw Jaime off the stage or shot out fire all I saw you do was make a gesture…umm…" Arya struggled to angle her fingers in the Igni pose while giving an annoyed scowl.

"Not as simple as it looks." The Witcher smirked, making the girl give a small sigh of defeat.

"So there is more to just making a gesture, right?" Thoros questioned.

Geralt nodded. "Beyond the gesture, learning a Sign takes weeks or months of intense mediation to…'understand' it. Some trainees with natural talent learn, though all Witchers can use Signs once they had gone through the changes."

"So, you have more tricks beyond shooting fire and tossing people around with a wave of your hand?"

"Yes, though I think it be would be better to show you. I need someone to practice them against, want to make sure they are working normally."

"Because of how you passed out on the night of the comet? Had a feeling there was something more to you collapsing." The man stretched a bit, seeming ready for the Witcher. "Alright then, guess this be a good lesson for me as well. If I plan to travel with you, better I know what your fully capable."

"If you're willing." Still, Geralt knew he had to be careful using his Signs since he felt so empowered ever since coming to this world. The last thing he wanted to do was accidently kill the priest in front of Arya. "Let's start with a Sign I haven't used, a defensive one called Quen." Deftly, he quickly made the Sign, a bright shimmer coursing over his body before fading which drew a surprised gasp from Arya and a curious look from Thoros. Geralt felt no strain on his body like before and knew the Sign was at its usual strength. In fact, the casting felt easier to do then even when he was back on his own world.

"Nifty light show, though you don't look any more protected to me."

"Draw your sword and strike me then." Geralt spread his arms out, leaving himself completely open for an attack.

Thoros expression became quite serious. He didn't react at first, staring down the Witcher before suddenly drawing it sword and striking out, putting his full speed and strength to that blow. The blade came down at Geralt's right shoulder, a cleaving blow.

"NO!" Arya yelled out before there was a resounding bang and crackle as energy sparked out from where the blade made contact.

Thoros cursed out, body jolting back as he was shocked by the protective magic. It was a good thing Geralt hadn't focused enough power into the Sign, else the man could have faced a more lethal charge. "Guh…by the flames…" The Red Priest quickly saw how Geralt had even shifted an inch after that attack. "You didn't even flinch, and my damn arm is numb after that." He'd rub over the limb, chuckling.

"That's how useful Quen is. We both know that even an experienced warrior can't avoid every hit, especially when greatly outnumbered. One lucky blow can easily end you or leave you open for follow up attacks. Slow long as I maintain Quen I can keep up a perfect defense."

"Amazing…but why do I think it can do more than that?" Arya questioned excitedly.

"If given even focus, I can make Quen block more than one blow and even give a dangerous shock to whoever hits me." He'd glance to Thoros who had just shook off the numbness he felt. "Also, I can create a wider shield too." Again, he'd made the Sign but held it this time a transparent yellow bubble formed around him, warding him from all angles.

"Woah! Now that is impressive looking." Thoros had his sword blade drag along the surrounding shield, the surface ripple like water, along with being unyielding when he pressed the weapon against it. "Bet a unit of archers wouldn't be able to hit you."

"I'll admit I've never tested this against such an attack." He'd drop the shield, flexing his hand since keeping the Sign was tiring on the fingers. "The full ward is a stronger defense, although I can't fight back and taking too many blows will exhaust me."

"Hmm…makes sense, the effort put in having equal stress." Thoros commented. "What else is there?'

"Yrden. You can say it's a mixed Sign, good for offense and defense." Geralt made the gesture before pressing his hand to the ground, making a wide circle of purple runes to appear.

"Wow!" Arya gawked a bit since this was the flashiest display of magic the Witcher had shown yet, making her hop from his sitting spot and moving closer to the circle. She paced around it carefully, unsure what would happen if she stepped into the ring.

"It should be safe for both of you. Yrden only has an effect when someone hostile to me enters it."

On cue, Thoros gave a sudden yell and lunge, going for a jabbing punch at Geralt. The Witcher did see it coming but didn't move as the man passed through the runic ring, only to start moving at a snail's pace. Confusion crossed the man's face as he realized what was going on, all while the Witcher casually walked around to avoid the blow.

"That is what happens when an enemy enters this circle. Yrden's binding properties can even affect more…otherworldly things, at least from where I come from." Again, he's make the Sign, dispelling the circle and making Thoro nearly tumble onto his face.

"Damn Geralt…I knew you were different, but these abilities of yours…" The man shook his head, seeming a bit shaken with all of this. "I doubt anyone could beat you between your swordsmanship, these Signs and whatever tricks you still haven't shown."

Geralt was silent as the hardened warrior priest gave that statement, making Arya give a pondering look as well. Indeed, the Witcher hadn't faced many defeats against another human, the only one being against the powerful sorcerer Vilgefortz. The man had been a master of the magical arts and spent a lifetime honing his physical combat skills, making him a more fearsome foe to even the Eredin of the Wild Hunt. It was kind of amusing that a simple illusion and luck had been all the Witcher needed to take down that mad man in the end.

"Hopefully I won't face anyone that will push me that far." Indeed, he wasn't sure how much more powerful he had become since the Red Comet. One detail he hadn't shared with either Thoros was the fact that he was actively using minimal power to his Signs, since even a normally charged one could prove harmful to the man thanks to the magically empowered world. "Any way, I think I've demonstrated enough. I expect you two to keep what I've shown to yourselves…rather not have everyone knowing my secrets."

"Never been loose with my words even when lost in drink. Consider your secrets safe with me." Thoros remarked with a nod.

Arya was silent before quickly nodding as well, a sharper look in her eyes as she took this matter quite seriously. "So, if I can't learn Signs what can you teach me then?"

"For now, we need to keep honing your fighting style, personalize it more for you along with expanding your adaptability. Improving your strength and dexterity with tougher exercises will be our next focus." He'd think for a moment, wanting to start a basic test for her. "Set your sword aside for now. Let's truly test your reflex and agility."

"Right." Arya set Needle aside on the boulder as she'd follow Geralt to a clear area that lacked any rocks or debris that they could trip over. Thoros stood by to watch as the Witcher set his own sword aside before turning to face the young Stark, the two a dozen yards apart. "So, what are we going to do exactly?"

"You rely on your mobility to fight and defend, which means you must not have any flaws with your movements." Geralt shifted into a fighting stands, tense to quickly move forward. "For this test, you can't strike back or fall. Understood?"

The blunt challenge had Arya shift slightly, nervous since the Witcher's gaze had a quite stern look to it. She'd soon shift her own stance, ready for her test as she'd give a short nod to him. At that point Geralt rushed her, the short sprint truly showing off his inhuman speed as he quickly closed the distance between them. The young girl was obviously shocked, already back stepping away as he barely avoided a sweeping shove from the Witcher. Yet it was a distracting move as his left foot was out, making the girl tumble down onto her back as she tripped in her hurry to get away from him.

"Ugh…so quick…" She muttered, shifting to get up despite the rough fall. "Did you have to move so…fast?"

"This isn't going to be like the fencing lessons. This is Witcher training now." Geralt paced back to be at the same starting distance, ready for another round. "If you can match my speed and predict my moves, you'll be able to outpace anyone in Westeros. Avoiding the first move was a good start…so let's continue."

By now Arya stood up, seeming to understand how difficult training was about to become. Taking a deep breath, she'd tense up in a readied stance before nodding to begin. Once more Geralt lunged forward, this time the young Stark not being startled by his sudden movement. The Witcher repeated the same moves, the sweeping shove and the back-leg trip, this time Arya avoiding the last move as she'd hop over it. Geralt followed up with a short shoulder charge, Arya twisting to get further away only to get struck to the side of the head by his elbow as he turned about as well. The blow was enough to make her lose balance and again fall, wincing as she'd rub the spot she had been hit at.

"That hurt…" She grumbled as she took a moment to catch her breath.

"And I pulled back on that blow. Imagine how a true strike would have been for you." He calmly stated as again he return to the starting distance. "If you let me force you into a certain move, you'll be exposed for a follow up attack." He'd wait for Arya stand up again. "Once more."

The same spar played out again and again, Geralt always doing the same moves in the same order. Arya refined each move as she followed the pattern, avoiding the same mistakes and recognizing what movements to avoid doing based on the situation. It wasn't easy for her though as she'd be tripped, knocked or thrown about whenever Geralt was able to outsmart her. After a few hours, Geralt stopped as Arya stayed down this time, gasping for breath from exhaustion. Her hair was messed up and the constant falls had her covered in grass and dirt.

"That is enough. You did well today, better than expected." Geralt remarked, seeming unfazed after the long practice they had done.

"Think you pushed the lass a bit too much. Girl be lucky to stand at all tomorrow." Thoros chuckled, the man having remained silent during their training. The man got up and stretch a bit while Geralt moved over to Arya, offering a hand to help her up. "Can't imagine what the more serious lessons will be."

"All Witcher lessons are considered serious." Geralt stated back as he'd pull Arya up, the girl shaky on her feet though standing mostly on her own. "Not too roughed up right? When we get back to the Keep I can get something to ease any pain or soreness from the Maester."

Arya nodded, seeming too tired to speak as she'd cling a bit to Geralt's arm for support as the trio started to head back to the distant fortress. Again, this brought a feeling a déjà vu to the Witcher as he'd look down at the young Stark who just glanced back at him with those gray colored eyes.

"You did well today. Most trainees didn't get as far as you for so long."

The simple praise had a faint smile hint the girl's face, easing the tired look she had. After the short walk back to the black stone keep, Arya shift away from Geralt to walk on her own as the neared the main path leading to the gates. While she was roughed up, she didn't want to seem injured or weak to anyone in the courtyard. The mix of soldiers and servants working about still, showing things were overall calm in the Keep.

"You two should head in for a late lunch while I go to the forges to take care of a few matters."

Thoros gave a short nod before he'd move on ahead to the main keep and for the dining hall, stopping at the doors as Arya lingered to speak with the Witcher. "Tell Gendry I said hello. Maybe…well…I'll try to visit him later this week."

"I'll be sure to do that. Now go eat and rest up, tomorrow we're going to continue with a new exercise, so I want you fit for the next morning."

She'd quickly nod, giving that sharp look of determination. "I'll be ready. Promise."

With a light pat on the shoulder, Geralt watched her hurry off to the main keep with Thoros following her. The Witcher stood by for a moment to think over the girl's first day, which had indeed been a successful start. He knew it was going to be tiring and rough for her, but she showed the same commitment the rest of her hearty family showed.

"May just have what it takes." He muttered to himself before heading into the keep as well and finding the stairway down into the dark depths of Dragonstone's underground.

…

Geralt had visited many vast ruins and underground passageways in his long life, yet the passages of Dragonstone rivaled them. Considering the place was hundreds of years old along with being a mix of natural and constructed chambers, the vast space could very well spread across the whole island. While he nearly got turned around in the shadowy passages, his sharp senses helped him pick out the stand on banging metal and bellowing fires among the whispering winds blowing through this place.

The chamber that housed the old forges were quite large, which made sense considering the unique design about the many smelting and smithing devices around. The forges were a mix of black stone and metal, designed like much of Dragonstone to be stylized as roaring dragons. Whenever the nearby bellows were worked hard, it makes the flame surge out as if the stone dragon was trying to spew flames. Geralt saw how the ceiling also had holes borrowed out across it, letting the smoke and heat flow out to the surface. Still the air was hot and thick, making the Witcher already sweat in his leather clothing.

His attention focused onto the workers, smiths and craftsman busy repairing or forging new gear for the soldiers above. They seemed to have plenty of materials on hand thanks to the supplies Davos had been providing over the last few months, enough to arm a small army at least. With so many people about, it was difficult to pick out Gendry, so he focused on seeking out the foreman. It wasn't hard to find the man considering his attire was made of finer material and the fact his booming voice was constantly giving out orders.

"Keep fuel going for those flames! I don't want any delays on the latest orders!" The short-bearded man noticed Geralt approaching, his snarled expression becoming a friendlier one. "Ser Geralt! An honor to have you visit us down here." The took firmly shook hands before the foreman continued. "I was at King's landing during the tournament. Always enjoy seeing the fights and seeing the finest arms the men use, though I can say yours were the most impressive."

"Thank you. I take you have quite the experience working here?"

"Aye. Been here since the Rebellion two decades back. Was little more than a journeyman at the time, though my efforts got me noticed by Lord Stannis. When I was requested to come serve here, I didn't hesitate to say yes." The two started to stroll around the chamber, watching the smiths at work. "Dragonstone forges are one of Westeros's oldest and finest, though admittedly not fully understood. I thought they'd hold answers to Valyrian steel. Sadly my experiments have not gained any tangible results."

Geralt simply nodded as he listened. Considering what Mott had shared, he knew well what was missing to the forging process for such fine weapons. Still, he had to feel impressed by the foreman's ambition and dedication to his craft. "Can say this forge outclasses anything from my home, though the one at Mott could be considered a good equal."

"Heh! Perhaps…the man does have odd techniques and knowledge on his side, though I doubt it match what to the Valyrians." The man waved one hand about. "Bah, but you're not here to yammer on such history and debate. What do you need of us Witcher?"

"Want to talk to one of your workers, a young lad by the name of Gendry. He was part of our group from Ser Davos ship."

"Ah that lad!" The man nodded towards one of the anvils where the young man was busy hammering out a new blade across it. Considering his age, the boy was quite fit and seemed quite focused on his task even as the two approached. "Boy's been working all nonstop. So far, the quality of his crafts matches some of my top workers, even though he claims his teacher to have been a simple man."

Geralt guessed Gendry was trying not to reveal too much of his past to the people here at Dragonstone, perhaps for his safety or to avoid attention. If they knew he had been apprenticed to one of Westeros most praised smiths, he'd be constantly bothered. "Must have been a humble yet talented master then."

The foreman gave a short shrug as they'd walk up to Gendry who'd finish up on the sword before sinking it down in a large bucket of water and then setting it aside to fully cool. Wiping sweat off his brow, he'd at last notice the foreman and Geralt, giving a short respectful nod to them both. "My lords."

"Heh no need for lording with me boy. Ser Geralt only wanted to check up on you." The foreman chuckled, giving a firm pat on the boy's shoulder.

"Would prefer to talk privately with him. Think he's earned a break?" Geralt asked.

"See no harm. Lad hasn't taken much time off today and has met the quota. Can take the rest of the day if he wishes." The foreman glanced to Gendry who remained silent, only giving a short nod to answer back.

"Then let's go." Geralt turned and moved to leave the forge, only pausing to make sure Gendry followed once the boy grabbed any of his personal tools to put back on his belt. The two walked out of the hot chamber and into the cooler passages ways, moving through the maze a bit until the Witcher stopped. "So…settling in just fine?"

"Yes, but I know that isn't why you're here Geralt." Gendry muttered. "Something has come up after you spoke to my uncle hasn't it."

For a moment Geralt didn't answer, trying to think of a proper answer to give back. "Lord Stannis is…complicated."

"You mean as stern and stubborn as the rumors go." Gendry bluntly stated.

"He has a dead set view on about the world, with a determination to taking his rightful place on the Iron Throne. He had some…extreme thoughts about whoever oppose him."

"Like the Lannisters…Lord Robb…Me?"

The boy again showed that observative wit, the same kind his father had at times. "I haven't told him the truth about you…not yet."

"Because your worried of what he may do to me?'

"It's a precaution."

Gendry clenched his fists now in a show of frustration. "So, what do you suggest? That I run again if he plans to kill me like the Lannisters?"

"Lord Robb would accept you under his protection. He's a trustworthy and-"

"But what if that doesn't work out? What if Stannis demands he hands me over? Do I run again…until I have to cower beyond the Wall just to be safe?!" The young man snapped those last words out.

"That won't happen!" Geralt spoke sternly, making Gendry snap out of his anger. "Most is uncertain now, yet I won't let fear or doubt muddle my choices. It shouldn't for you." Giving a small sigh, Geralt put a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I'll find the right moment to talk to Stannis, once I'm sure he has no intents to harm you. For now, just on focus your craft and bonding with the other smiths."

Gendry relaxed his hands, giving a short nod before that hand left his shoulder. For a moment, he seemed ready to remark back before deciding otherwise. "Will that be all Ser?"

"I do have a small request…more of a request from Arya really." The mention of the young Stark brought a curious look in Gendry's eyes. "She needs proper armor for training and travel. I have designs that should help you craft…that is if you can handle leatherworking."

"Heh…just because you see me working metal doesn't mean I can't do leathercrafting." A show of pride showed on the man's face now. "I can request the foreman for supplies-"

"No need for that. I can get you all the materials need, top quality stuff. Just be sure to do this project on your off time."

"Of course." Gendry paced about slightly, seeming a bit restless. "May I go now Ser? I feel I'll be resting for the rest of the day."

"Nothing else Gendry." Geralt was unsure what else to say to the boy, since overall his future was uncertain right now. However, he was dead set on making sure he was safe along with the rest of his companions. "I'll see you tomorrow with the blueprints and supplies. Until then." With a parting nod, he'd turn to disappear down the dark corridor towards the way out of the underground, leaving Gendry by himself.

…

Gendry

Taking a deep breath as he'd flop down onto the simple bed he had, having at least been given a small private room that he had been given close to the workshop and forge. He liked the privacy yet always felt on edge in this gloomy place. While part of him hated the idea of running, he'd have no regrets leaving this place.

"Damn fate…or luck…" He cursed to himself as he shifted up to sit on his bed, one foot accidently knocking over his travel pack with spilled out some of its contents. Quickly, he'd shift down to collect it, though noticed one item that wasn't his own. It was a small black leather notebook with the mark of his master's free city on it, a black goat being the symbol. He always seen the master smith writing in this book, making him wonder what was in it and why the man had snuck this into his pack. Curiosity won over as he'd open it and began to read.

To my apprentice Gendry,

I'm sorry we did not have a chance to speak formally before having to send you away, yet time was limited. Conflict is certain and hopefully you will be far from it. As for me, my actions in aiding Geralt's group will no doubt put me at risk unless fate and luck are on my side. Do not worry for me, for this was my choice to make and I will face whatever consequences it brings.

Whatever my fate, I have entrusted you with a copy of my personal notes on forging. It's no secret that I have longed to rediscover the secrets of Valyrian Steel and recently I have had a breakthrough thanks to the Witcher. My notes detail the process I've learned, yet the key step to smelting requires dragon fire.

I know you will be at Dragonstone by the time reading this, a place where the Targaryens kept many secrets of their reign. There could be an alternative method the Valyrian's may have had, otherwise ways of creating their steel has died with the dragons.

You're a sharp lad and have your father's unyielding determination. He was a flawed man, yet deep down he did care for you and wanted to live a normal life. I hope that your travels will be safe in these troubled times and that we may one day meet again.

From, Master Tobho Mott

Finishing the letter, Gendry gave a low sigh and bowed his head slightly. He had to admit that while Mott had been a strict teacher, he had been the closest one to being a father figure to him. Part of was worried for the master smith, though had to trust the man was capable enough to stay safe. What conflicted him the most was the man's comments about his father, Robert Baratheon.

"Did he ever care for anyone? Seemed like it was only himself." He muttered to himself in frustration. After all, Robert was the one who abandoned his mother to raise him up and then die to sickness. Even if he did put him under Mott's care, that didn't make up for leaving her. What angered him the most was how people like Mott and Geralt claimed the man felt regret for his selfish actions.

Gritting his teeth, he put those thoughts aside as he'd read through the book until he saw the later notes. The notes detailed the exact steps to what made up Valyrian steel, most of it being quite rare and exotic mix of metals from what he knew. The latter half of the notes though was more…mystical, showing sketches of runes and arcane rites.

"Don't even understand any of this." Already the boy wondered if Geralt would understand these diagrams, since Mott had mentioned the Witcher aiding his research. He was conflicted on involving the Witcher, considering the man had so much to handle already.

"Once I search this place…then I'll ask him." Taking a deep breath, he'd shut the book before finding some gray cloth to wrap it up to cover up the fine leather book, so it didn't stand out if he was ever searched. Packing it away, he'd lay back on the worn bed with a weary sigh. "A bastard born son of one of Westeros' greatest warriors…now hunted by one of the land's most ruthless House's…all while seeking lost knowledge of Valyria." He'd chuckle a bit at how much it sounded like the legends of old.

"Just hope my tale has a happy ending…"

…

Hadrian - Riverlands – Late Morning

Hadrian's head swayed as he rested in his seat beside Marcus, having been awake for much of the ride since last night's attack. Garm was sitting in the back of the cart, the half-wolf snoozing while his master calmly drove the horses down the road. The gruff man showed not one hint of exhaustion despite having not slept at all throughout the night, even when Hadrian had offered to take the reins. He always kept his gaze to the thick tree line for anything odd. Overall, the forest seemed to be normal in these parts as the birds and peaceful wildlife were active.

"Odd times indeed." He muttered under his breath before glancing ahead down the road. "Oi…Hadrian." Nudging the young man, he'd snap awake with a small yelp, though quickly calmed down when he realized what was going on.

The trees and brush were clearing away to reveal a wide and beautiful valley, Blackwood Vale which some considered the 'breadbasket' of the Riverlands. The fertile valley had been cleared of trees thousands of years ago, creating the first homes for the settlers of the region…at least as the tales go. The young man's attention was to the distant white stone structure, a quite picturesque keep really. Surrounding the keep were sturdy white stone walls and thick square towers set at every corner with a well-kept moat surrounding it all. While the defenses were covered in a lush layer of moss, giving the keep a natural look to it. However, towering over even the walls and nearing the tops of the high structures was a giant weirwood tree, one that had died to old age. Some Maesters claimed it was the largest one of its kind, except for the ones hidden in the frozen lands beyond the Wall.

"Home…" He sighed, feeling at ease for once after the last few harrowing days. His gaze did drift back to the back of the cart, looking at a heavy burlap sack that had a thick red strain showing under it.

"Seen much of Westeros during my travels. Can say Blackwood Vale has that peaceful charm to it that some Kingdoms lack." Marcus remarked as they'd ride pass a few lash fields. The workers did give a curious look to them, a few even muttering as they'd recognize Hadrian. "Seems though the small folk know you though."

"I…well…do often help around the Vale." Rivers muttered a bit shyly. "Whenever someone is even slightly sick, people often come to the Hall for me if there isn't a Wiseman around. I can say no one has died under my care."

"Heh, take pride in that sire." Marcus chuckled, giving a rare grin to the man. "Bastard or not, the common people need decent lords to protect and lead them. I think you'll do just fine."

The young man shuffled slightly in his seat from the praise, though a thankful grin just showed. "Perhaps…though I still have much to learn before take such a responsibly."

The Northern gave a shrug, deciding not to press further on the matter as their cart traveled across the valley and closer to the Hall. There was a larger village nearby the walled keep, a place Hadrian often visited when not busy with his studies within the Hall. With it being late morning, most of the villagers were out and about, doing their usual chores for the day.

"Look! It's Hadrian!" An older man pointed out, quickly drawing more attention as Marcus and River's passed by.

"Wasn't he on a scouting mission to the south?"

"He had nearly a dozen men with him."

"Where's Ser Cordin?"

"Wasn't your husband one of the men in that group?"

The last muttered words had Hadrian feel that sickening feeling hit him, knowing that honest men…husbands and fathers who lived here were all dead. Already he knew he'd have to tell the people about what happened…though he doubted they'd believe monstrous witches had slaughtered them.

"Lad, your shaking." Marcus whispered in a faint voice, making the boy realize that he was indeed shaking in his seat.

"I'm fine…I'm fine…" He muttered back, taking deep breaths to calm himself. With them nearing the moat, the sturdy drawbridge was lowered down and already a group of House soldiers were walking out to question them "Stop here, I'll talk to the guards." The innkeeper nodded as he'd slow the cart down to a stop before the bridge, while Hadrian hopped off and walked towards the trio of guards. "I am Hadrian Rivers, son of Lord Tyto Blackwood." He declared, doing his best to speak in a strong and clear voice despite nervous emotions within him.

"Master Hadrian! We're surprised to see return so suddenly and under…interesting company." The leader guard remarked, glancing for a moment at Marcus and Garm, who had climbed over from the back of the cart to take the boy's old seat. "What has happened to the scouting party and-"

"Their…it's difficult to explain." Hadrian quickly answered back, trying not to share the tragic news publicly. "Please, I need to speak to father right now."

The guards muttered before nodding. "And your companion?"

"Someone who has done much for me in these last few days. I ask that you let him in as a guest and even speak with my father over what happened."

The leading guard thought a bit before noted. "If you will vouch for him then he may enter."

Giving a short thankful nod to the guard, Hadrian glanced back at Marcus who was already moving his cart across the drawbridge. The group soon entered the courtyard, letting the men in gatehouse raise the bridge up behind them. A few guards directed Marcus over to an open spot at the stables to park the cart, though Hadrian saw them chatting for a bit, pointing at Garm. In the end, the gruff northerner seemed to mutter something to the half-wolf, he give a toothy yawn before laying across the driver's seat as he guard the man's possessions. The Northern though grabbed the large burlap sack though before he left the cart.

"Seem they don't trust him tagging along." Marcus explained to Hadrian. "Don't mind though. Rather have him watch over my things instead of the guards."

Hadrian gave an amused smirk before the two were led into the keep itself by one of the guards from the drawbridge. "A lot has happened in the half week you've bene gone Master River's. Near complete chaos has broken out in the capital."

"Chaos? I know there was a trial for Lord Eddard Stark." Hadrian questioned curiously. "Father seemed tense about the matter…having gotten some ravens even baring the mark of the Hand of the King."

"Aye. Let's just say Lord Stark's trial had become an…execution." The shocking news had both Marcus and Hadrian give surprised looks. "There is much to talk about Master Rivers. Lord Blackwood will no doubt tell you what has happened of late."

The group soon entered the main hall of the keep where at the center was a group of men surrounding a large table covered with a map of Westeros along with countless letters spread across it. Rivers recognized advisers of his father such as the Maester and the Master-at-Arms. Yet the young man's gaze quickly set towards his father, who was standing at the head of the table.

Lord Tytos Blackwood indeed looked like an older Hadrian, though having a sharper look about him considering his hooked nose and short crop salt-and-pepper colored beard. He was dressed in plain gray and black finery which the emblem of a weirwood tree marked on the front. "Has there been any word from the North and the Starks about this?" He calmly spoke, his voice smooth yet having a commanding power to it as his gaze was focused on a new letter set before him.

"I doubt we will receive anything until well over a week sire. No doubt Robb Stark and Lady Catelyn will be busy calling their Houses together and gathering their bannermen." The Master-at-Arms answered before the man noticed Hadrian and Marcus approaching. "Lord Blackwood…it's your son."

Tyto's glanced up from the letter to look right at his son. For a moment that hawk like gaze softened, a sign of ease just showing in them for a moment. "Hadrian."

"Father…" The young man bowed his head slightly before approaching the table. "I'm sorry if my return was at a-"

"No need to worry Master River's. If anything, this is fortunate timing for us all." The Maester quickly remarked. "Much uncertainty about of late…"

"Much would be an understatement." Blackwood muttered grimly. "I have a feeling something terrible has happened to the scouting party…hasn't it."

There was a long pause before Hadrian nodded, taking a moment to take a deep shaky breath, "They're dead…all of them."

"What happened exactly? Who attacked you."

"Father…this may sound like a mad tale…but I swear to you it's true…"

…

The next few hours were filled with the grim details of the scouting party's massacre from Hadrian, followed by the chaotic news of what had happened in King's Landing involving Eddard's trial. The exchange of information last until mid-day, leading to a late lunch for the gathered group.

"So…'witches' killed the scouts is what you claim?' Tytos muttered, both hands gripping tightly at the edge of the table. "I can tell your being honest with me Hadrian, but surely the trauma of that ambush has warped your memory."

"I know what happened." Hadrian remarked back, nearly snapping out in a rare show of anger. "Witches…hags…monsters...whatever! I watched Ser Cordin give his life for me…getting crushed by that…thing." A chill went through the young man before he calmed himself. "Even if you don't believe me on who or what attacked us…I can only confirm there is real danger around Highheart and it's already spread throughout the woods around it."

The gathered advisors muttered about to Blackwood, no doubt sharing their thoughts on the boy's outlandish tale, though they'd quiet down when a gruff voice spoke up to draw everyone's attention. "If I may speak my lord."

Blackwood's gaze settled on the Northerner, who had a just as unyielding look in his deep blue eyes. After a tense pause, Blackwood nodded. "Considering how much you did to help my son; I'm open to hearing what you have to say."

Nodding, Marcus stood up from his seat as he'd pace more to the side of the table. "I'll admit, when I found the lad wandering through the woods in a daze, I thought he too had mistook what he saw." The man then held up the sack he had been holding. "I know you're a man who needs to see proof before him…so that is what I'll give you."

Hadrian already knew what the Northerner had planned as Marcus set the sack down onto the table before pulling it open to reveal the grotesque head of the ghoul. The sight drew a mix sickening gag from the Maester and even the Master-at-Arms face paled as he'd glance away from the horrible sight. Blackwood, while shocked by the creature kept his composure, though baffled look just hinted his face.

"By the Seven…" He muttered, looking more closely at the head as he recognized the more human like features to it. "Cordin…I can tell by the eyes and nose…" Blackwood covered his mouth as he took a deep breath, knowing he had to keep calm.

"It is him…or…was him." Hadrian muttered.

"Last night, this thing attacked us when we made camp." Marcus calmly explained. "I've hunted plenty of beasts and faced toughened soldiers who'd fight to their last breath, but this thing endured far beyond any living thing I've encountered."

"The question is how did Ser Codrin…become this abomination?" The Maester questioned.

"Either the gods, be it the old or the new have a twisted way of bringing the dead back…or perhaps the rumors of witches lurking in the swamps are real."

"You do know how crazy that sounds." Blackwood sighed. "But as you said…we have proof before us of a monster."

"Which is why you need to organize the men…or even call for Riverrun for aid!" Hadrian quickly pleaded.

"I understand how you want justice for our men, but we can't simply rush our forces now…not when we have a threat of war looming over us."

River's seemed ready to argue, but Marcus spoke up before him. "You are right Lord Blackwood…if anything you best keep everyone away from those woods. Whatever is lurking there…it isn't natural because after the night that beast attacked us I knew someone…thing…was watching us the whole way."

"So, what do you suggest then? While we can't send our full forces to Heartheart, we simply can't ignore whatever is hiding away there." The Master-at-Arms questioned.

"Simple…burn those woods down."

"That is insane! Even if we had the time to have a controlled fire…the damage to the region would be devastating to whole generations."

"Enough!" At this point Blackwood seemed to have reach his limit on this subject. "I feel we all need time to think over how to handle this new crisis, considering Westeros is possibly on the brink of a new civil war." Looking to Hadrian, he'd take a deep breath to calm himself. "All of you are dismissed. As for you Marcus, you are free to stay for the night at least."

"That is kind of you…but I'd prefer to continue on my way back to Fairmarket." The Northerner formally, if bluntly answered back. "Don't wish to worry my family by arriving home late."

"Then I wish you safe travels Marcus."

The man only gave a short respectful nod, seeming quick to leave now, though Hadrian did hurry over to him just as he was about to leave the hall. "Marcus…I…thank you for everything." The boy seemed unsure of what else to say, but the gruff man didn't mind as he'd clap a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Watch yourself River's. Storm is coming…and you'll need to be strong to survive it." With that warning given, he'd walk away down the hall, heading for the way out of the keep.

Hadrian give a tired sigh as he'd go the opposite direction, heading deeper into the keep and to his own room to clean himself up for the coming night. Part of him hated how much arguing had broken out during the meeting, though he knew his father was under a lot of stress considering the fate of Eddard Stark along with the threat of war between the North and South with the Riverlands caught in the middle. He knew that if war broke out those hags would take advantage to use the bloodshed and chaos…who knew what horrors they would do.

…

"Garm." Marcus's quick remark had the half-wolf's eyes snap awake, the canine seeming alert despite being asleep moments ago. The Northerner checked the ties and reins to his horses before noticing someone approaching him. "Forget to ask me something Lord Blackwood?" He muttered as he finished tightening the straps up.

Tytos didn't respond at first as he watched Marcus move to the side of the cart. "I'm wondering why you'd put yourself at risk of being recognized. Did you think ten years would make everyone forget about you?" He calmly questioned.

"Past is the past my lord. You know that well enough."

"Aye…yet the Boltons haven't forgotten your actions against them. Even after all this time they have kept the bounty on you, though few care for it considering it's over a decade old."

Marcus didn't answer back as he'd heft himself onto the cart and grasp the reins, keeping his gaze away from Blackwood. "So, what will you do? Could have jailed me back in your hall."

"Because I know an innocent man when I see one…and consider this my payment for saving my son."

There be a tense pause between the two before Marcus gave a grunt and low nod. "Then consider us even my lord." A faint smirk hinted his face now. "May the Seven and Old Gods keep you well. Good day Blackwood…" Cracking the reins, the horses pulled the cart forward across the lowered cross bridge and down the road through the village.

"You too…huntsman…" Blackwood muttered to himself, hoping he had made the right choice in letting the Northerner go considering his true reputation.

…

Despite how quickly he had ridden off, Marcus did take the time to make a quick stop at the village's message board just at the edge of it. It was just a habit he always followed, mainly because he was looking for a certain message pinned up. He had a feeling that recent events in King's Landing were not as a random as they seemed, making him wonder if his…associates were active once more.

"Hells be damned…" His attention focused on a message pinned to the board, more of a poetic eulogy considering how it was written.

Grim tidings my dear friends.

Such troubling days we now face with our good King Robert Baratheon murdered in the Shadow of his greatest hunt. To suffer death from the milk of the Viper's, a choking pain that can crush even an iron heart.

How So many mourn his passing. The Wolves of the North howl while The Stones of Storm's End crack in agony to the south and the noble lion roars in rage to the east.

Yet there should be celebration though, for the man would not wish us to wallow in sorrow. To my good friends, we met at the linking of great rivers and under a warm Northern hearth. Be sure to remember three kegs to bring cheer to us all!

Signed, Red Cap

"Always with his stupid poetic messages." Marcus growled as he'd grab the notice, ripping it off the board and crumpling it up in one hand. Getting back onto his cart, he'd have it moving once more while the other rubbed over Garm's head, scratching behind the half-wolf's ear. He'd turn onto the eastern road, following the sign pointed towards Fairmarket.

"From blood of kings…murder and lies. Seems the time is right for us to play our last gambit…Zarin."

….