A feast was thrown by House Stark in honour of the arrival of Lucas Lannister at Winterfell. Compared to the lavish feasts and gatherings hosted by House Lannister, this was nothing, but it had its own charm.
Apart from Lucas, all the knights and Tillie were present for the feast. And their number did not account for more than a dozen people. Ned had insisted that he could all his entourage but Lucas had politely refused.
The Northern ale was flowing freely in the Great Hall of Winterfell, its rugged and rough texture scratching against the throats of the Lannister entourage. Lucas, too, was impressed by the Northern drink. Then there was the meat of wild beasts hunted in the forests of the North. It had a unique taste compared to the meat Lucas was used to eating. Just like its people, the beasts of the North were rough and raw and had quite a flavour in their meat. Mixed with this was the chilly air of the North, and Lucas could feel it seeping into his skin, not that the cold affected him much. Thanks to his enhanced and purified physique.
"I hope you are enjoying the feast, Lord Lucas," Ned said, his eyes focused on the chaotic crowd below the high table. "We are but a humble house with humble means. And with winter approaching, we cannot be careless with our coins."
"This is the best we could arrange for you," he continued with his usual expression. "And I am certain that it cannot compare with the feasts you have in the south."
"I am certainly enjoying this, Lord Stark," Lucas replied, his eyes also fixed on the crowd. "It is the first time I am seeing the ways of the North from so close, and I am intrigued. All of this has a different vibe to it, and I am certainly liking it."
"A different vibe and feeling compared to the feasts of the north," he said.
"I am glad to hear that," Ned said, turning his head toward Lucas with a smile on his face.
Ned was sitting at the high table on a raised platform, in a large wooden chair signifying his position as the Lord of the House. Lucas, as the guest of honour, occupied the chair on Ned's right. Catelyn Stark, as the Lady of the House, and Robb Stark, as the heir, were sitting on Ned's left. Their chairs were a little smaller than Lord Stark's.
The rest of Catelyn's children, Sansa, Arya, Bran were seated in the front row. Three year old Rickon, the youngest of them, was too small to attend such a feast and he most probably had already been sent to bed.
Theon Greyjoy, along with others like Rodrik Cassel and Maester Luwin, were seated in the second row. Lucas could spot Jon busy with his meat at the back of the hall.
The feast continued in its full flow and had reached its peak. Half of the Lucas' knights and men of the Stark household were drunk. They were singing, dancing, and making noise befitting a feast in the North. Even Ned's stark face had eased a little and he had become comfortable.
Lucas had been exchanging small talk with Ned, and the tension between them had eased significantly. Both of them, very maturely, had not brought up any political or significant topics for discussion. They both understood that such topics were better discussed in a solar in complete silence.
Instead, they had discussed food, wine, and the weather of the North.
At this moment, Lucas looked toward Tillie, who was sitting at a table in the second row, and gave her a nod. She got up and walked out of the hall.
A few moments later, she emerged back into the hall with a few of Lucas's men following behind her. These men were carrying wooden boxes and crates in their hands, placing them in the gap between the high table and the tables in the front row.
All this commotion had naturally drawn the attention of the entire hall, and every eye was now glued to Lucas and the boxes. It did not take a genius to know that Lucas Lannister had come bearing gifts for House Stark. It was a common courtesy.
But everyone wondered. What was in those boxes? What gifts had he brought? Lucas was a famous man, known for his wealth and influence throughout Westeros, and everyone wondered what the Golden Lannister had brought to the North.
"Lord Stark," Lucas said, his voice booming through the hall as he got up from his seat. "I must express my gratitude and acknowledge the kindness you have shown me by opening the gates of Winterfell and taking me in as a respected guest of your house."
"The pleasure is mine, Lord Lucas," Ned replied softly.
"And like a good guest, I have come bearing a few gifts for you and your family," he said. "And let me start with the youngest."
"For Rickon Stark," Lucas said, and one of his men opened one of the boxes and pulled out an object, showing it to the entire hall. "Considering his age, this is the best I could think of."
It was a metal figurine of a completely armoured and helmeted knight. It was a bit more than three feet tall, and for a toddler like Rickon, it was a perfect toy. It also had a sword strapped to its waist.
"A figurine of a knight," Lucas introduced. "Forged in the metal town of Lannisport by the finest blacksmiths my city has to offer."
The man moved and placed the figurine on the table in front of Lady Stark, who was to receive it on behalf of Rickon in his absence. The figure was glinting in the light of the flame torches and the candles and for the seasoned veterans of wars, all they needed was one glance to confirm that the figurine had been forged out of a very high grade steel. A grade of steel, with which, they would love to have their sword forged.
"And be careful, Lady Stark," he said. "There is a real sword in its sheath, and it would work as a fine knife even for an adult. Make sure to remove it when Rickon plays with it."
"I thank you on Rickon's behalf, Lord Lucas," she replied with a polite smile. "I am sure he will immensely like his gift."
Lucas nodded curtly as he turned toward the next. Bran Stark.
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