Walking along the King's Road, two peculiar figures could be seen: a witcher with two swords on his back mounted on a horse, and a young man wearing a dark green and gold cloak with a hood, obscuring all his features.
"A wizard must be mysterious to instill fear." Cadmus said, after covering his body with the cloak he had prepared for long journeys. The cloak was a magical artifact, and although he wasn't a very good craftsman, the cloak had basic cleaning spells, resistance to cold and heat, and looked extremely beautiful and luxurious.
Geralt just rolled his eyes. Witchers tried to go unnoticed to avoid causing too much trouble, but Cadmus was exactly the opposite. Anyone wearing such a flashy cloak would be the center of attention in any town or village they passed through.
After a day of travel, both arrived at a village. Since the Riverlands were fertile land, the people seemed well-fed, wearing clothes with vibrant colors, and life seemed quite peaceful. In Geralt's vast experience, it was a very wealthy village, as most villages he'd visited weren't so prosperous.
As soon as Geralt and Cadmus entered the village, they became the focus of most people, especially children, who spied on both mysterious men with excited and curious looks.
Suddenly, in the children's view, the hooded figure stopped, turned his head toward them, and showed a frightening smile.
The children's frightened screams sounded the next second, before the children ran with all their might in different directions.
Geralt looked at Cadmus speechlessly. "Did you have to scare them?"
"I didn't scare them, I just looked at them with a smile." Looking innocently at Geralt, Cadmus responded in an amused tone, finding it incredibly fun to scare children.
Thinking about the future school he would found and remembering the Ghosts at Hogwarts, Cadmus let out an evil laugh and promised to make the children suffer at the beginning of their school life.
It wasn't that he wanted to be a teacher, but simply that he wanted to create a school and try, at least, to build up some resistance against forces that humanity could not face with armies alone.
Geralt rolled his eyes and headed toward the tavern. He was too lazy to ask about the reason for the villainous laugh. A village might not have a healer, but it certainly had a tavern. After a long day of work, most men would go drink a beer or two. Drinking seemed to be ingrained in male genes.
Cadmus followed behind Geralt with a smile and looked around with curiosity. Although this Era had stagnated shortly after humanity stopped being Gatherers and Hunters, these people had things that humanity would only have in the Middle Ages. Which was quite curious.
However, Cadmus didn't delve into it. He didn't want to lose his good mood thinking about conspiracies of the gods or anything like that.
Arriving at the Tavern, the smell of cheap alcohol and sweat made Cadmus's face show an expression of disgust.
As soon as Cadmus and Geralt entered, everyone's eyes focused on them. Seeing Geralt and his eyes, there was contempt, fear, distrust, and indifference among the gazes of the men inside the tavern.
Since Cadmus was with Geralt, he also received those looks, but he didn't feel anything particularly significant. If there was one thing he had learned, it was that learning to live your own life was fundamental to mental health.
If someone keeps caring about what others think, that person won't be living for themselves, but for others, trying to gain useless and totally unnecessary approval.
"They're looking at us, I think they find us handsome." Cadmus whispered to Geralt, who simply looked at him with a helpless expression.
Meanwhile, a procession of men and women mounted on horses traveled the King's Road, leaving a cloud of dust behind. All wore heavy clothes for the cold, regardless of the heat in the Riverlands after a day of rain.
In the middle of the procession, protected on all sides, a carriage particularly drew attention, definitely not for its beauty, but for the banner above it: against a white background, the head of a fierce wolf!
Inside the carriage, a girl begged her mother. "Mother, I want to ride with Robb and Jon outside, not stay in this boring carriage!"
"You can't, you're a lady, Arya." Lady Catelyn Stark, née Tully, spoke in a tone of severity and reproach.
Arya showed no weakness before her mother. With a look of deep disgust on her face, she responded loudly. "I'm not a lady, I hate dresses and prefer to wear pants!"
The voice echoed outside the carriage where everyone heard and laughed, especially the women from Bear Island, who agreed with Arya, saying that pants were more comfortable to wear than flowery dresses!
Catelyn only expressed displeasure upon hearing the words coming from outside the carriage. If it were any other lord with his vassals, something like this would be considered worthy of reproach, but not in the North, where Northerners weren't afraid to express themselves, regardless of the consequences.
"Mother, don't mind Arya, look at the handkerchief I embroidered." A girl with a notable resemblance to Lady Catelyn spoke, calling her mother's attention, who promptly praised her red-haired daughter with a thousand and one compliments.
"Humph! What's the point of embroidering a handkerchief you're going to give to someone else." Arya muttered dissatisfied, feeling displaced by the attention given to her sister and full of jealousy over the preferential treatment that was unfair in her eyes.
"You wouldn't understand, Horseface. This tournament is my chance to get a prince as a husband, unlike you, who not even a pig would want to marry." Sansa mocked her sister, provoking a furious reaction from Arya.
"I'd rather marry a pig than the men you prefer!" Arya retorted angrily, abruptly rising from her seat.
Both stared at each other in silence. Both showed disdain for each other, not hiding the disgust they felt for one another at this moment.
"Enough! Both of you!" Catelyn intervened before the situation escalated further. It wasn't the first time the two had fought since the march from Winterfell to the Riverlands.
She began to miss and worry about her younger children, Bran and Rickon, who remained in Winterfell for being too young to travel so far.
Suddenly, the carriage stopped, along with the entire procession, and Catelyn sighed in relief at being able to rest a little. Her patience and comfort were being tested to the limit during this day.
-
Robb, who was sitting on a horse, dismounted and massaged the inside of his thighs, feeling the numbness in them.
"Riding is good, but riding long distances sucks." Theon, beside Robb, dismounted from his horse and grumbled.
"Don't be so weak, Theon." The Heir of Winterfell spoke, looking at his friend with a smile.
He continued. "Look at Jon, he's silent without complaining."
"The bastard almost never complains, his mother makes sure of that." Theon looked at the taciturn Jon and spoke with an arrogant smile, his voice containing a touch of disdain.
Jon Snow didn't show much on his face, though his eyes became slightly colder than normal.
"Stop it, Theon." Robb frowned and spoke in a commanding tone. Although Jon was a bastard, he was his brother, and he didn't like at all how Theon and his mother treated him. In his eyes, it wasn't Jon's fault to be born out of wedlock, but his father's, who didn't control his own dick.
Theon frowned in displeasure upon hearing Robb's tone. He wasn't just a vassal of Lord Stark, but his ward, so Robb couldn't speak to him in that tone.
He was the damn Heir to the Seastone Chair, not some filthy commoner!
But he chose to remain silent, letting out only a snort of displeasure and full of dissatisfaction with his friend's actions.
Both stared at each other with irritated looks.
Jon let out a resigned sigh and spoke calmly. "It's okay, Robb. We don't need to argue. Let's enter the village, I want a good night's sleep."
Robb wanted to say something more, but seeing his look, the Heir of Winterfell only smiled bitterly. He wanted to help, but Jon didn't want help, which left him very helpless. In his eyes, Jon had to stand up for himself, not accept everything he received.
The men and women of the North naturally headed toward the tavern. Drinking and feasting had always been something the North greatly appreciated.
Eddard, accompanied by his wife, daughters and sons, along with the lords and ladies of the North, entered the Tavern under the cautious eyes of the village commoners.
Fortunately, the tavern was relatively large, so it allowed the entrance of dozens of people.
The gray eyes of the Lord of Winterfell observed all the men seated around, there weren't many, six men to be more exact. However, his eyes soon focused on two figures seated at the corner table.
There was no way not to pay attention to the two figures. A witcher and a hooded man drew attention wherever they went.
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Read my other books:
Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos (500,000 words written).
Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.
Game Of Thrones: The King's Court Mage