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|Word Count: 4,285|
𝐆𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞. He'd take the time to gaze around the courtyard, getting an idea of his surroundings. The overall castle was well designed, being split from his understanding into multiple quarters which were separated by smaller inner walls and interconnected buildings. From his guess, this place was at least a several acres large, fitting for a family line supposedly as old as the Starks.
"No time to gawk around Geralt. Lord Eddard is expecting us." Graffin spoke up, getting the Witcher's attention.
He'd give a small nod before following the soldier across the courtyard and towards the inner eastern wall where another thick wooden gate separated the spaces. Voices spoke out as the gates were opened and two filed through before being closed behind them. The eastern yard was smaller than the main courtyard yet hosted the largest building he had seen in this hold, a massive hall. The grey stoned building was covered in the banner of a snarling grey wolf, the royal sign of the Stark family. The great wooden and iron doors into the hall were opened as two armored guards saluted to Graffin he gave a respectful nod to the guards as they passed by.
The inside of the hall was quite vast, having eight long tables set evening across the room. Empty braziers were set around the center along with a big fire pit, no doubt lit during dark and colder nights. At the far end of the hall was a small platform with a ninth long table set across it with a series of comfortable wooden chairs set behind it, facing out to the hall. Three men and one woman sat at this table, the oldest of the men sitting in the largest more throne like of the chairs.
Geralt focused on the oldest individual who was at in his forties by his estimate. He wore a fine yet simple leather best with bands crossing over it along with a regal cloak with a wolf pelt across the shoulders. Even with the heavier clothes, Geralt could tell the man was very much fit for his age, honed through years of training and exercise. His hair was a fine deeper brown and beard well-kept to give him a handsome northerner look befitting of a lord. His gaze was hard to read, yet it seemed deep and thoughtful
The two younger men, at least at or reaching their twenties were no doubt his sons because of their similar looks. The one of the left had longer flowing hair of a rich darker color along with a shorter shaven beard across his face. Much like his father, he wore a leather outfit although lacking the more regal hints the lord had. As for the young man on the lord's right, his hair was short and curly yet had the same darker brown color to it. His beard was more grown then his brother, yet finer shaped as well. His clothes were more similar to his father, perhaps hinting him being the closer in line to lordship. Both of them had a curious look at Geralt, the recognizable hint of young warriors sizing up another. He guessed the two blades on his back was what got their attention.
