Between episodes, the most eventful reaction was in regards to Jack's swim. An anonymous online poster, made an argument that something very large was swimming in the waters below Jack, at the time he was swimming. Slow motion clips of the particular moment where the supposed evidence is shown. The scene took place after Jack's jump from the pirate ship, and his two shoulder lights cut downward through the black waters. At a particular moment, it does appear as if a large mass, far below, is moving. Other contributors to the claim, attempt to inject some science into the argument. They argue about the particular lumens in the shoulder lights and the density and temperature of the water. The collaborative pitch is that the object is the size of a humpback whale or possibly larger. No official scientific communities weigh in very much, sighting insufficient data.

There is, of course, discussion on the last episode itself. The trending motto is Tell The Truth. It is a plea for Jack to tell Tyrion the complete truth, of how he arrived in Westeros and where he comes from. The network actually weighs in and shows a prepared video that the scientific community compiled for Jack, on the off chance he encountered intelligent life. It is posted to The Traveler's website. The video is a collage of history and culture of earth. It shows clips and images from the past and present. The Traveler's show runners explain that they don't know why Jack did not share the video, at this point in the series.

The episode begins with the usual credits and theme of The Traveler. Shortly after the last name is shown the image cuts sharply to a day scene on a barren coast. A guttural yell comes from nearby, but out of the view of Jack's cameras. A face leaps into view, close and unrecognizable. "What did you do?" An unkempt man with spittle dripping from his mouth, screams the question,at presumably, Jack. "What did you do?" he asks again, breaking into a sob. The image fades to black. White lettering appears: Weeks Earlier.

The next scene fades into a steady chaos. Jack is surrounded by a mob, pushing and yelling. Quickly, the viewers decipher that the mob is actually a busy street or market. Jack seems to pivot every second, as the image blurs with his sharp rotations. Lettering appears over the commotion: 'Volantis', which fades out and is replaced by The Long Bridge.

Jack looks down to Tyrion, who is sitting in a perfect stone niche that seems to have been made for him. He is rubbing his knees while wincing slightly. Jack takes the moment to look around himself. For a bridge made without machinery, it is quite remarkable. Most of the sun is blotted out by multi story buildings. At the front of each are sellers. They are pushing leathers, spices and slaves.

"It's one of the nine Wonders Made by Man," Tyrion offers. "And we need to cross it and we are making terrible time."

"We can hire one of those..." Jack snaps his fingers, searching for the word.

"Palanquins," Tyrion says sardonically. "I would love one, but you do know that I would be carried about by slaves?"

Jack throws up his hands in seeming defeat.

Tyrion smiles, "Actually I will not ride one, because to not ride one is looked down upon by the freed people here. I am hoping they, looking so poorly upon a walking dwarf, will not notice me at all."

"Varys," Jack mutters.

"Oh, others as well I expect," Tyrion adds. "We cannot be long in Volantis. As much as I would like to explore her secrets and read her many books from Old Valyria."

"Prince Quentyn is looking for a ship for Meereen," Jack says. "You could explore a little, maybe."

Tyrion shaked his head. "There will be no ship. Not for us. The prince and his companions, perhaps, but not us. We are wanted men. We will be fortunate to escape Volantis with our lives. No, we must gather supplies, horses and wagons and take the Demon Road to Meereen."

"Sounds fun," Jack says with fake enthusiasm.

"Doesn't it? And we best be going, time is not on our side," Tyrion says, while getting up and dusting himself off.

Jack began to lead them through the crowd. A voice is suddenly heard from off screen, but nearby. "A moment, please?" Jack turns to the voice and an open, upward facing hand is in his face. A cloaked man blows forward and a fine powder distorts Jack's, and the audience's, view. Jack manages to thrust forward and grab the cloaked man's arm. He wipes at his face with the other hand.

After a moment the viewers of The Traveller notice that the rest of the merchants, slaves and travellers on the great bridge have moved back and formed a semicircle around Jack. He turns to Tyrion, as if looking for an explanation. Tyrion is standing back in horror with his shirt drawn over his mouth.

Jack, still holding the other man, sputters a few times. Then, slowly begins to smack his lips. "What is that, almond?," he directs to his assailant. "Not quite peanut butter, but close." He then runs a finger on his black neckline and licks off more powder. There's an audible gasp from the spectators. "It's not bad," Jack says.

"It's poison, you fool," Tyrion shouts.

"I know it's supposed to be," Jack replies. He jerks his captive closer and starts patting him down. Jack tosses a knife into the river and eventually produces a small pouch. "Is this it? This is the poison?" Jack speaks inquisitively. When the other man doesn't respond, Jack twists his arm behind his back and pulls back his hood. The assassin has slicked back black hair and a large hook nose. "Is this the poison?" Jack growls. The other man nods fearfully.

"Excellent. This will go well with my shakes. Anyway, I could try to explain natural selection of nut tolerance, but I think it would be lost on you," Jack says to his attacker. It is not apparent if the man understands anything Jack is saying. It doesn't matter much, as Jack grabs the man around the waist and throws him over the side of the bridge. Jack unzips a pocket and tucks the small pouch into it. "No time at all," he nods to Tyrion. "Shall we?"

Tyrion shakes his head. "Not quite."

Jump cut and Jack is sputtering again. A splash of water hits him in the face. "That's enough," Jack insists.

Tyrion, out of sight, "Again."

Jack is drenched once more. He stands up and stalks away. "That's enough," he shouts.

Two common men, holding empty buckets, turn to Tyrion. He nods and tosses them a pair of coins. Jack brushes off what water he can and gives his arms a good shake. The people around them have already begun going about their own business. "I didn't need to be drenched you know," Jack complained.

"As someone who usually stands at either a few paces behind, or simply below you, I did not care to eat your dust." Tyrion replied.

Jack laughed to the point of wiping a tear. "Eat my dust...," he chortled.

Tyrion frowned up at him. "Perhaps it does not affect you, but that poison is fatal with even the lightest of tastes. It is similar to The Strangler, in that it closes your throat and suffocates you. You say you have been introduced to it before?"

The viewers can hear the smile in Jack's voice. "We feed it to our children."

Tyrion frowns and scratches his scar. He begins to turn, "I think this at least confirms that we are not welcome in Volantis." Cut to commercial.

Most of the commercials were anti-histamine or other remedies. Most viewers paid little attention and instead engaged in real time discussions. More than a few researched nut allergies and natural selection.

The show returns and Jack is watching Tyrion. It is late in the day and the small man is staring into the distance. Jack looks in the same direction to see a great black wall. It looks like a perpetual storm on the horizon. Tyrion sighs and turns away. "Another life," he mutters and walks toward a large structure that towers over the other crowded buildings. "The Merchant's House" lettering informs the viewers where Jack is..

"Won't there be more assassins inside?" Jack asks.

"Perhaps," Tyrion answers, "but, I have you. And more importantly, we need to be moving. Here is where we purchase our goods and be on our way. Our coin purses will be absolutely ravaged as they discover our desperation."

Tyrion gave Jack a quick smile at his own observation and then frowned at the larger man. "You shrugged. You shrugged when I said they will sing songs to our faces of robbing us."

"They can have my money if that's what we need. We have the Martel money also," Jack says defensively.

Tyrion shakes his head and turns away. "You don't care for coins, the beds of others, titles or your name being remembered. What do you want Jack?"

"If you had a couple years in a new land, only a couple years, would you keep your head down or see its wonders? I ask myself every day," Jack replied.

Tyrion stops to consider the question. "I like to think of myself as intelligent, but it is a double edged blade. I might say, it would be intelligent to stay safe at home, but I also know curiosity is the curse of intelligence. I was absolutely thrilled to go to Winterfell with Robert Baratheon. I went to the North, saw the Wall and witnessed the fall of a kingdom. I became Hand, fought a war and lost my nose."

"So stay home, porridge and tea?" Jack asked.

"I was never that intelligent," Tyrion smiled. They walk in silence through the narrow streets. Lanterns are beginning to be lit and children are pulled inside.

Jack and Tyrion reach the courtyard of the Merchant's House. As the rest of the city began to slumber, the Merchant's House was beginning to wake. Good natured shouting bellowed from men and women just outside the entryway. A steady flow of people entered and exited at an almost even flow. As the two companions entered they were passed by a man pulling another attached to a chain.

The two companions work their way through the massive common room. The viewers watching at home often note the looks the two get. The stares start low and then climb high in bewilderment. The background noise is shouting, screaming, swearing and all done in numerous languages. Jack and Tyrion find a mostly dark alcove with a small wooden table.

"Well?" Tyrion asks and gestures to the common room. Jack doesn't reply and appears to be taking it all in.

"You didn't care to see that slave, did you?" Tyrion asks.

"No, I did not," Jack grumbles.

"Well then, draw your blade and set him free. Set them all free," Tyrion says flatly. Jack glances at him and the viewers observe Tyrion trying to gesture to a servant for a drink.

"I'm guessing that would be impossible," Jack states dourly.

"Like a dwarf trying to get a servant to bring us wine," Tyrion says and pops off his chair. He waddles off toward the wine merchants. Jack watches him at first and then his eyes wander to a woman attempting to pummel a man at another table. The man sheepishly and apologetically defends himself with little effort. People at other tables are laughing at the display. It seems the whole common room is taken up with the joke as the laughter expands. However, there is another commotion. Jack's view darts around to find the second incident. He watches as a large man has tossed a struggling Tyrion over his shoulder, and is crossing the room rapidly.

Jack sighs and stands out of his chair. He just notices a servant offering a pitcher. Jack chuckles and waves it off. He angles towards the other man's trajectory. He pauses to apparently wait for the man to enter a side hall. The audience takes note of the middle aged balding man with a black beard. Tyrion is flinging his arms, kicking and yelling, but garners no sympathy from those they pass.

Jack closes the distance quickly to the kidnapper. As he reaches for him, the other man spins and thrusts a knife at his chest. Jack backhands the knife out of the man's hand and punches him in the stomach. He drops Tyrion and Jack catches him before he lands on his head. Jack then pounces on the other man as he reaches for a sword at his waist. Jack pins him to the ground with his left forearm and raises his right fist.

"Wait," Tyrion shouts from behind. He stands to the right of Jack and examines their attacker.

"Assassin?" Jack asks.

"No, they tend to kill," Tyrion replies. "He's Westerosi and obviously more a fighter than cutthroat or purse snatcher." Tyrion pulls the man's cloak aside covering his chest. The show's viewers see green fabric and a symbol that appears to be a black bear. The man struggles to prevent this being seen, but he is held firmly. "Mormont," Tyrion states. "And that makes you ser Jorah."

Jack watches Tyrion who seems to be pondering something. "Let him up," he commands. Jack pauses and then gets off the man. Jorah rises warrily, watching Jack the whole time. "Before you reach for your sword, or try to run, my friend here is the greatest warrior in either Westeros or Essos. He killed The Mountain and he can certainly kill you," Tyrion explain. "So, do you know who I am, or simply have a taste for dwarfs?"

Jorah's eyes dart toward Tyrion, but keep their focus on Jack. "A yellow haired dwarf missing a nose? Yes I know who you are," Jorah grumbles.

"And the reason for my kidnapping?" Tyrion asks.

"I was to take you to the queen," Jorah reluctantly admits.

"And what is my sister offering for me lately? Five Hundred gold coins? Is it just as much for my head, or does she want all of me?" Tyrion peppered the man.

"Not that queen," Jorah spat. "Daenerys Targaryen. The true queen."

"And she would reward you for my capture?" Tyrion asks skeptically.

"You were Hand. You are a Lannister," Jorah shrugs.

"I am not Hand, and barely a Lannister at this point," Tyrion mused. "So why are you in Volantis? Searching for errant Lannisters?"

Ser Jorah was silent for a moment. Then sighs and sits himself on the ground. "I have fallen out of favor with the queen," Jorah says reluctantly.

"Oh, that's right," Tyrion smiles. "Varys mentioned that you were his paid eyes and ears on our would-be queen."

"I swore myself to Daenerys through and through," Jorah shouted. He stood again, but leaned his back against the stone wall. "So what will it be? Your sellsword here gut me or take my head?"

"I'm not...," Jack started.

"No, I think we shall all go to your queen. You can tell her you captured me," Tyrion mused. "Humor aside, you are a guest with our group and not our commander. Your first duty is wine. A great deal as I am quite behind for the evening."

Jorah grunted and wandered toward the common room. Jack turns to Tyrion, "Is this a good idea?"

"I believe him, but honestly do not care if he improves his standing with Daenerys. Truthfully, we may have to rid ourselves of him before she concludes we are all in the same barrel of fish. In the meantime, he is a true warrior knight and has been living in these lands for years," Tyrion concludes.

"Do people think I work for you?" Jack asks.

Tyrion laughs. "Of course they do. You are this large, frightening looking man, who follows a dwarf."

"What if he's still spying for Varys?" Jack asks.

"No. Varys reported to the small council that Jorah had quit reporting for some time," Tyrion replied.

"And we certainly trust Varys," Jack muttered.

Commercials again. They are a mix of alcohol and military recruitment. Many viewers look at the show's official website for more information on Ser Jorah Mormont. Sadly, nothing had been added.

The next scene is pure brightness that begins to coalesce into shapes and sound. Mostly slaves moving rows of horses, sheep and oxen in seemingly every direction. The vision is accompanied by shouting, baying of animals and the general din of a large crowd. Jack turns to his right to see Tyrion tugging at his arm.

They walked a small distance where they found Quentyn's party along with Mormont. They were clustered around a wagon and a number of horses. Above them loomed a headless statue of what appeared to be a man on a horse.

"The rest of our supplies are on their way, food for man and beast and other provisions," Tyrion explains.

Quentyn approaches him with a smile, "Still think we should have taken a ship. We were convincing some mercenaries that we were looking for pay to fight their war against the queen."

"If you want to take the ship, feel free to," Jack replied.

Quentyn paused and looked doubtful, he turned to his companions but did not seem to get any meaning in their faces. "No, I think we should all stay together."

What followed were vignettes of their journey from Volantis. First was their leaving the city. To their left was the large black walls that Tyrion gazed after longingly. They passed a small crowd of people circling a bald man with flame tattoos on his face. He seemed to be preaching, but his words cannot be heard. The bald man stopped what he was saying and declared something loudly while pointing at Jack. The viewers expected the mob to attack, but they just stared as the wagon and horses went by. Jack looked at Tyrion, who was leaning out of the side of the carriage, "What was that?"

"He either said you cannot be or shouldn't be," Tyrion answered. "Should you be?"

"I most certainly should not," Jack replied.

The next few vignettes were horses and open road. The sea was to their right as dessert plains stretched to their left. Quick cuts to setting and striking camp, hard meat being eaten and the men talking quietly. Ser Jorah seemed to never engage or smile, while Quentyn and his party seemed upbeat but cautious.

Quick cut to a rainy night. The horses and men are huddled tight to the two wagons. Jack stood under a propped up portion of the wagon cover. He was eating hard bread and taking drinks from his canteen. A large bald man jogs over out of the dark. He cuffs his hands and blows on them for heat. "Archibald," Jack acknowledges.

The bald man is not quite as tall as Jack, but his arms, belly and legs are much wider. "Looks like you and I are too big for the wagons," he says.

"Yes we are," Jack agrees. "Where are you going to sleep?"

"Got a plank of wood I'm going to try to stretch between the wheels. You?" he asks.

"On my feet, it looks like," Jack replies.

"Oh, I was supposed to ask if you need anything." Archibald said.

"No, thank you," Jack answers.

"Alright then. Tomorrow we pass Mantarys. They say monsters live within its walls," Archibald says.

"So we won't be sampling their wines," Jack says.

"No," Archibald chuckles. "Night"

"Night," Jack replies. He watches the other man disappear into the dark before propping himself on a wheel and leaning against the wagon. The scene fades to black.

It's daytime again. Jack is walking next to the lead wagon. The small caravan is moving slowly and no one seems to be talking. The road is little more than caked sandstone. There are bluffs on Jack's right and mountains in the distance. A short cut in the show jumps time and distance a little further. There appears to be a manmade structure ahead. Jack jogs ahead and the odd object finally comes into view. A man sized pillar with a stone demon on top. It has an outstretched arm pointing inland.

"Think that's pointing the way to Mantarys," a voice calls out from behind.

"Invitation or threat?" Jack asks mostly to himself.

"Rider," another voice shouts.

Jack scans back and forth for a moment before he catches the target. A single rider on a horse on a bluff a half mile away. They are wearing loose clothing dyed black and red. The face appears to be covered, but it's clear they are staring at Jack's party. A long moment passes as the rider and caravan neither speak or gesture. The rider then casually turns their horse and disappears behind the bluff.

"I suggest we get moving quickly," Tyrion calls out from the second wagon.

There is no debate as drivers spur horses to go faster. Jack starts to trot faster, but keeps glancing backward. He looks ahead and glances back once more to see about two dozen riders charging hard his way.

"They're coming," Jack yells.

Instincts kick in and the group tries to speed their retreat. Shouting and whipping at horses ensues. Jack is running, but keeps looking back. It's obvious to the viewers that the attackers will catch up quickly.

"We're not going to get away, we have to stop," Jack yells.

The others look back and seem to come to the same conclusion. The horses are slowed and turned end to end to block the road. Quentyn's men hurry to put on armor and grab weapons. They position themselves behind the wagons. Quentyn himself hesitates at Jack's side before Jack tells him to join the others.

The attackers will be on them in a few minutes it seems. They are oddly quiet, but they are slowly swing curved swords in wide arcs.

"Tyrion?" Jack calls out.

"Assume a fight. I cannot say if they are simply raiders or Mantarys' guard. Neither will take prisoners," Tyrion says quickly. "You can kill them all, can you not?"

They seem very close now. "I don't know if I can defend you all," Jack answers.

"Wait," a shout from behind. Jack glances to his right to see a wagon turn on the horsemen. At the reins is Quentyn.

"Let's get them," Quentyn shouts at Jack with a mad smile.

"Stop," Jack shouts. Quentyn however charges ahead, his wagon gaining speed. Jack seems to have no choice and charges after.

Quentyn's gambit seems to work. The speed of the wagon meeting the horse charge splits and confuses the raiders. Several of them collide spilling horses and riders.

A single rider ignores the wagon and aims toward Jack. He is approaching ahead on Jack's left. He is winding up a blow from his sword. Jack is sprinting now at incredible speed. The rider does not appear to be able to compensate for it. He slices downward, but Jack catches his wrist and yanks the rider violently off his horse. Jack does not assess the damage, but continues to charge after Quentyn.

Looking ahead he sees another single rider with a short axe dance around Quentyn wagon. He darts back into the wagon and chops and a back wheel. Wood flies and the wheel splinters when the damaged portion connects to the ground. The wagon hops to the right and turns over, pulling the horses with it. The crash ends in a cloud of dust and tossed supplies.

The audience cannot see Quentyn, but they do see an attacker dismount and prepare to plunge their weapon at the front of the downed wagon. The viewers could also not see when Jack drew his gun. Many viewers again comment how odd it is to hear a gunshot in this setting. The shot takes the attacker in his right arm. He clutches his arm in seemingly more surprise than pain.

As more attackers pour out through the dust, Jack stops running and takes more deliberate aim. He fires five more shots. Three seem to be fatal, one hits a man in the calf and the fifth misses altogether. The sudden prospect of mysterious instant death seems to scare the other attackers away. They run or ride quickly away. Jack runs again toward the front of the wagon.

The wagon had been pulled by two horses. The one on the bottom is clearly dead, the other is making terrible gasping sounds. Many viewers struggle to watch. Jack leaps over them to look for Quentyn. He sees the young man's upper torso twisted under the wagon. His lower half is under the bottom horse. Jack begins to pull Quentyn out when the prince begins screaming.

"Ok, hold on we'll get you out," Jack says. Jack looks behind to see the others running or riding toward him. The first is a tall good looking man with sandy blond hair. "Gerris, he's stuck under the wagon. We need to lift it and pull him out," Jack explains.

Gerris nods and moves around Jack. "I lift, you pull," Jack says. He squats low and slowly pushes the wagon upward. Jack strains, but watches as Gerris quickly pulls Quentyn out. The viewers notice immediately that things are not right with Quentyn.

He is screaming and it's hard to tell how much of him is broken. "Get the Maester," Jack barks and Gerris runs off. "It's going to be okay Quentyn," Jack tries to soothe. It's obvious to the viewers though that Quentyn cannot hear anything outside of pain and screams.

The Maester, a thin dark haired man, quickly kneels at Quentyn's side. He looks him over, touches and pulls gently in different areas. Quentyn is now alternating rapid breathing with sharp wailing. The Maester looks up at Jack with tears in his eyes and shakes his head. Still he continues to work. He pulls out a small vial and brings it to Quentyn's mouth. "Milk of the poppy, my prince, it will take the pain away," he says gently. The white liquid spills over Quentyn's lips, but little if any is consumed as he writhes and moans.

Jack steps back and looks around. A winded Tyrion is there. He is working out his sore limbs, but walks around to assess the situation. He sighs deeply as he takes in the prince of Dorne. "Maester Kedry?" Tyrion asks.

Again the Maester shakes his head. He walks over to Jack, Tyrion and Gerris. "He would not take the milk of the poppy and I have no more. He can last in pain for a day or more before he passes. I am sorry there is nothing more I can do," the Maester says miserably.

"Do not think me a monster then by suggesting the gift of mercy," Tyrion says quietly.

Gerris puts his hands to his face with a look of horror and disbelief. Quentyn shouts "It hurts, it hurts," he repeats over and over.

Some of the others have caught up and are quickly caught up. Archibald stayed with the other wagon. They share a moment of anger and grief. The Maester is back to Quentyn's side offering consolement.

The group of men begin sharply discussing the matter. Every time someone seems to suggest waiting or doing nothing, it seems Quentyn decides to scream out in absolute misery. Quickly a consensus seems to form to relieve Quentyn of his pain. Jack says nothing the entire time. He then steps back and begins to walk away.

"Jack McCallen, you need to stay," Tyrion commands.

Jack doesn't challenge it, but does not join the circle of men.

"I'll do it," Mormont offers.

"The hell you will," Gerris hisses. "He is a prince of Dorne, not a chance for a disgraced sell sword knight to add something to his name." The men almost came to blows before being pulled apart.

Someone suggested Gerris then, or another Dornish knight. Gerris looked over the prince and quickly turned back with tears in his eyes. "He is my prince, I cannot." The others suggested each other or drawing names. Jack looked them over, his gaze passing over Tyrion who was staring at him. Jack looked past him staring at the mountains. He lingered a moment before turning back to the group. They were not speaking. They were all staring at him.

"No. I cannot, will not kill that boy," Jack barked.

"He loved you as a hero," Gerris said through tears.. "Please help him one last time. We cannot, he is our prince we swore to protect, but you are his friend and not Dornish. Please end his pain."

"No," Jack commanded. He stepped backwards and turned on them. Quentyn screamed his loudest yet.

"It's time," Tyrion says gently.

Jack holds his breath for and then lets it out in a raging shout. He slaps his head a few times. Another pause and he walks over to Quentyn. He kneels next to the young man. Quentyn takes no notice as he squeals in a low voice.

"Quentyn you are brave and loved by your friends. I am sorry this happened to you," Jack says. The gun is in his hand again as he presses it to Quentyn's temple. Cut to black and a gunshot.

Cut again to the opening scene of the episode as Archibald is screaming in Jack's face, "What did you do?"

Fades to black and credits roll.