4 Chapter 4

"Rickard, this alliance with Lord Atlas... it's a significant departure from our traditions. Do you trust him?" Lyarra's eyes searched Rickard's for reassurance.

Rickard, with a thoughtful expression, replied, "Trust is a delicate matter, especially when dealing with someone who possesses such extraordinary powers. But there's something about him, Lyarra. His honesty, his willingness to address our concerns… It is a good sign at least."

Lyarra nodded thoughtfully, absorbing Rickard's perspective. "I thought you said he acted carefree; he seemed anything but."

"It astonished me too," Rickard admitted, "but I'm glad for it. Perhaps he found joy in completing his castle, and in that accomplishment, shed his carefree behavior." 

Lyarra gazed out over the balcony, the moonlight casting a gentle glow on her features. "This castle, it is beautiful, don't you think? Maybe we can use one of those projects he offered for him to renovate Winterfell to such an extent?"

Rickard furrowed his brow, considering her suggestion. "Lyarra, as stunning as this castle may be, we must prioritize our needs over desires. Winterfell is our ancestral home, but we should use Lord Atlas's projects for necessities rather than vain endeavors."

Lyarra sighed, realizing the practicality of Rickard's stance. "You're right, of course. It's just that seeing what he can create makes one dream."

Rickard placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Dreams are important, my love, but we must remain grounded in reality. I wanted to see if he could build us farmland which can handle the cold bite of the North, or if he could renovate Moat Cailin so we had nothing to worry about from the Andals."

Lyarra nodded, appreciating the wisdom in Rickard's words. "You always think of our people first. I admire that about you."

"Your well-being and the well-being of our people are my foremost concerns," Rickard replied, his gaze fixed on the starlit horizon. "What is a Lord without his people, they placed their trust in me, and I will not break it."

Lyarra leaned against the windowsill, her gaze focused on the moonlit landscape. "I trust your judgment, Rickard. Whatever decisions you make, I'll stand by you."

—

"My Lords, Lord Atlas has sent me to escort you to the main hall, the celebration is in full swing." Liam's announcement echoed in the quietude of their guest chamber, rousing Rickard and Lyarra from their contemplation. 

"Lead the way, Liam," As they followed Liam through the magnificent corridors of Atlas's castle, they began to hear music and sounds of cheering and celebration, and they eventually reached the Main hall.

The main hall, adorned with banners displaying the sigil of Lord Atlas, greeted them with joy. Rickard would have to ask for his house name and the meaning of his sigil at some point tonight. The Stark retinue alongside Lord Atlas' own mingled, all partaking in the jubilation. 

The music was a manner of which he had never heard before, pleasant however, the food looked delicious, though it was a type of food he had never seen before, mayhaps it was food from Lord Atlas' homeland, another thing he would have to ask at some point tonight. 

He spotted Lord Atlas, who was happily chatting with Rodrick Cassel as if they were the best of friends. Gerold was arm wrestling with all of his soldiers and was handling them quite easily. He was making quite the coin off of it too it seemed. And after a moment of observation, he smiled at his wife before he made his way towards Lord Atlas.

Upon noticing them approaching, Atlas walked towards them, a welcoming smile gracing his features. 

"Lord Stark, Lady Stark, I'm delighted you could join the celebration," Atlas greeted, extending his arm which Rickard reciprocated with a firm handshake, and Lyarra offered a gracious nod.

"The pleasure is ours, Lord Atlas. This is quite the celebration," Rickard remarked, observing the lively scene.

Atlas had a warm smile as he responded, "Please friend, this is a night of celebration, let us shed our titles and formalities. Call me Atlas." 

"Call me Rickard then, Atlas." 

—

The grand hall echoed with laughter as Rickard animatedly recounted tales of battles and victories. The lively atmosphere seemed to draw everyone into a shared camaraderie, and the distinctions of titles and ranks became blurred in the warmth of the celebration.

"HAHAHAHA! Killed over a dozen of those Blackfyre soldiers," Rickard exclaimed, his voice resonating through the hall. "I watched as Ser Barristan slayed that monster of a man. On horseback, in the middle of the field, time seemed to stop as I watched his lance pierce through that man's skull, well, one of his skulls." The tales of valor and triumph flowed freely, each story was punctuated by laughter and applause.

Any semblance of formality had dissolved, the long tables were laden with sumptuous food and overflowing goblets. The men were sharing stories and tales of war, and as the night wore on, Rickard, who was now fueled by good food and alcohol, asked Atlas,

"Atlas, I've been curious for a while now, where are you from?"

Atlas in response leaned back in his chair, the flickering candlelight casting intriguing shadows on his face, he paused for a bit, letting the question sink in and thinking of an answer, "Well, my friend, the place I come from is far different than these lands," Atlas began, "Picture a realm where magic is as common as sunrise and landscapes are painted in colors beyond our imagination. My home was called Avalon, Gods I miss that place." 

As he spoke, Atlas exuded a mix of nostalgia and longing, not entirely untrue. The technology of his world would indeed seem like magic to these people, and the landscapes were beyond their wildest dreams. Atlas, in his heart, did miss his home, at least parts of it.

He paused, taking a sip from his goblet, and then his gaze turned solemn as he looked at his reflection inside the cup. The room felt the shift in mood, and Rickard sensed there was more to Atlas's story. With genuine concern, he asked, "I take it you can't return?"

Atlas chuckled a hint of complexity in his expression. "I can, someday, but that day is a long time from now, and truth be told, I am not sure if I want to return."

As the conversation delved into deeper waters, Atlas began to share a different side of his magical world. "You see, the magical realm is not always as magical as one might think. It's a rough world to live in, it's hard to find meaning in such a life."

His voice carried the weight of both accomplishment and isolation. "Some thrived in such a world, but I was not one of them"

"It was due to this that I began to wonder, wonder if there was a world beyond my own, one where I could experience a new life, one that truly made me happy. It led me here."

Atlas noticed the wariness inside Lord Stark's eyes and chuckled, "I see your worries, Rickard. No one can follow me here; the spell is one of my own creation."

Rickard, momentarily wide-eyed, let out a chuckle, "Does your magic allow you to read minds, my friend?"

Atlas grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Perhaps."

Rickard instantly became guarded and cautious, the weight of potential mind-reading making him reassess his recent thoughts. However, the infectious laughter of Atlas echoed through the hall, and the tension dissipated. Rickard couldn't help but smile, realizing the jest.

"Ah, Lord Stark, your thoughts are safe with me," Atlas reassured, raising his goblet in a mock toast. "But imagine the possibilities if I could read minds. The intricacies of negotiations, the secrets of the court, it would make life much more interesting."

Rickard chuckled, recognizing the playful banter. "Indeed, it would. But I suppose a bit of mystery keeps things lively."

"As it should," Atlas agreed, the twinkle in his eyes hinting at depths of knowledge yet unexplored. He raised his goblet high, "To newfound homes and unexpected friendships. May our bonds grow stronger with each passing day."

The gathered guests joined in, echoing the sentiment with clinking goblets and hearty cheers. The celebration continued the weight of the night lifted by the shared warmth of laughter and camaraderie.

—

[Quest]

'hmm?'