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Emet-Selch, unsundered Ascian, third seat of the Convocation, former emperor of Garlemald, servant of darkness and breaker of worlds, could not believe what he was hearing. “You want me to do… what?”
“Come with us to the Starlight markets!” Ryne replied happily. The teenager was decked out in red and white from head to toe, looking every bit the festive holiday reveler. All around them, the Crystarium fairly bustled with excitement, the chill in the air offset by the quiet energy of excitement. Emet-Selch had once thought such ridiculous displays rightfully confined to the Source, but it appeared the Allagan tower was not the only thing the Crystal Exarch had brought with him to the First.
The former conqueror pinched the bridge of his nose. “And why, precisely, would I wish to do such a thing?”
Ryne frowned. “Well, Gaia and I are going. And we’re responsible for you right now, so that means you’re coming too!”
“Not an answer to my question,” Emet-Selch sighed deeply. “Why would I of all people wish to participate in a spectacle of frivolity so outlandish as to drive men to utter nonsense?” He gestured pointedly at a giggling couple lingering under an archway lined in mistletoe. “You see there? That plant has no aetheric or alchemical properties to elicit such a response. They act like that merely because they have been told to. Feckless foppery.”
“It’s called tradition, you grouch,” came another, painfully familiar voice from behind him. Emet-Selch glanced over to see Gaia striding forward to meet them. In stark contrast to Ryne, the other girl kept to her typical black and gray attire, though she had seemingly acquiesced to a holly leaf hairpin above one ear. “A way to remember the past? I should think someone your age would appreciate that, Hades.”
Emet-Selch felt an eye twitch slightly at the use of his real name, betraying his impassive facade. Gaia had once been a colleague, countless lifetimes ago. In the days of Amaurot, as part of the Convocation of Fourteen. Just as Hades had held the seat of Emet-Selch, Gaia’s was the seat of Loghrif. But while his soul bore the weight of aeons, hers had been reborn over and over again, so any memories she might have of him were broken and vague at best. Even still, hearing her call him by a name that until recently had not been spoken in an age… hurt more than he expected.
“‘Someone my age’ can see the illusion for what it is. Elaborate theater and shared delusions. A useful tool, perhaps, but not a mirage to lose oneself in.”
Ryne planted her hands on her hips. “Well, we’re going to go experience that mirage and have fun doing it. And you’re going to have fun too.”
“You cannot force me to enjoy this,” Emet-Selch grumbled. “What if I simply eradicate the proceedings? That might prove amusing.”
“You’re mortal now, remember?” Gaia crossed her arms. “No fancy Ascian spells for you.”
“I could still stab someone. I’m feeling rather stabby today.”
Gaia rolled her eyes. “Oh, get over yourself already. If I’d known you would be this dramatic, I’d have signed you up for the production.”
That got Emet-Selch’s attention. “Theatre, you say?”
“Oh, yes!” Ryne lit up. “Ever since the Exarch introduced Starlight to the Crystarium, there’s been a reenactment of its origins every year. Thancred always made sure we had time to come into town for it. Plus, this is going to be the first time we get to celebrate Starlight under actual starlight, so everyone’s giving it their absolute best.”
The Ascian raised an eyebrow. He had worked hard to cultivate Garlemald’s theatrical scene during his time as emperor, and while he had little faith in the locals’ acting talents, earnest effort could make up for a lot. And he was mildly curious how the Exarch had adapted the ridiculous Starlight legends enough for the people of the First to comprehend.
He let out the most exasperated sigh he could manage. “Oh, all right, if we must. No promises on the stabbing, however. I can be quite fickle.”
Ryne actually jumped in excitement. “Wonderful! Come on, I know just where to start.”
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“I should have known you’d start here,” Gaia chuckled as the three took their seats at the Wandering Stairs. “You do know this is supposed to be a day off for me, right?”
“But if we didn’t come early, they might have sold out of their special ginger biscuits!” Ryne protested.
“I doubt it. Practically all I did yesterday was work on these blasted things,” replied Gaia as their server set a plate of the aforementioned confections on their table.
“And it would have been all you did today, too. Trust me,” said the server, smiling wryly. She was an elven woman, tall, with bronze skin and white hair in a tight braid. Emet-Selch could swear he’d seen her somewhere before.
“Ah, right,” Gaia mumbled, her expression something close to sheepish. “I forgot to thank you for covering my shift today. So, um, thanks, Cyella.”
“Don’t worry about it,” the woman apparently named Cyella replied. “You owe me one, though. Have you all settled on drinks?”
The woman’s gaze met Emet-Selch’s with a faint hint of wariness, and he finally placed where he knew her from. Cyella… of course, the little pet Loghrif and Mitron picked up on the Thirteenth as it fell into darkness. He had only seen her once, shortly after that, but he knew the failed Rejoining a century ago was partially due to flaws in her scheme. Ah well, he was guilty of botching a Rejoining himself now, he supposed. Cyella clearly knew who he was, at least by reputation, and he was content to leave it at that for now.
He gave Cyella a small smile. “Wine, if you please. Something of quality, preferably red. Whatever pairs well with these…” He trailed off as he noticed that every one of the lauded ginger biscuits was formed in the silhouette of the erstwhile Crystal Exarch himself. How revoltingly quaint.
Ryne piped up to fill the silence. “I’d like a mulled cider, please! Hot.”
“Just coffee for me. Black, thanks,” Gaia added. She looked up to see Ryne pouting across the table, and her resolve lasted about two seconds. “All right, all right, make it the peppermint blend.”
Cyella nodded and headed off towards the bar. Emet-Selch took the opportunity to pick up and examine one of the ginger Exarchs. The edible simulacrum of the man who had near-singlehandedly ruined his plans for the First smelled surprisingly good. The Ascian had never been one for sweets - at least, not in several centuries - but he detected a sting of freshness that was unexpectedly enticing. Well… surely one bite wouldn’t kill him.
He snapped off the tiny Exarch’s head between his teeth (just a bit cathartic) and chewed. Yes, the flavor was strong; slightly sweet, but countered by the bright tang of the ginger. Even he had to admit, it was not entirely unpleasant.
Emet-Selch looked up to see Ryne and Gaia watching his reaction with differing levels of expectation. He realized the corner of his mouth had quirked up in a half-grin. He shrugged in response to the girls’ unasked question. “Adequate,” he said, before swallowing. The teenagers exchanged knowing smiles before claiming their own ginger biscuits.
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Some time later, Ryne was almost skipping from stall to stall in the Musica Universalis markets. The whole plaza had been strung with lights, adorned with wreaths, and generally made to look as though the so-called “Saint of Nymeia” had vomited holiday cheer over the entire area. Gaia did her best to keep up with her indefatigable partner, with Emet-Selch lagging several paces behind. The Ascian’s languid gaze passed over the wares without stopping. It was still well over an hour before the performance was set to begin, and he was beginning to wonder if it would be worth the trouble.
His companions at last noticed his indifference and fell back to match his pace. “Anything catch your eye, Hades?” asked Gaia.
“I have built nations, child,” he responded. “Enjoyed the finest quality goods half a world could produce. These handcrafted trinkets are… rustic, but ultimately unappealing.”
“Well then, you’re just not looking hard enough,” Ryne chirped. “Come on, pick something out. My treat.”
Emet-Selch frowned. “You are effectively serving as my jailer at present, and yet you would offer a boon out of… what? Kindness? Compassion?”
The girl stopped in her tracks and looked at him like he was speaking a different language. “It’s Starlight,” she stated matter-of-factly, as though it were the most obvious answer in the world.
Hades sighed. He would never understand these people. He gave the stalls around them one more scan to humor her. Decorations, candies, sweaters, nothing he would ever - oh.
A few dozen yalms away, a viis was manning what appeared to be a miniature version of a clothier’s store. On a rack facing the trio was an array of longcoats; fur-lined leather, in a variety of colors. Even at this distance, he could tell that the craftsmanship was a few steps above the competition. Clearly, whoever made these did so for a living, or at the very least dedicated significant time to their work. Emet-Selch did appreciate a good coat, and his current one had seen better days.
Ryne followed his gaze and grinned. “Be right back!” she exclaimed, rushing off to the stall.
“Wha- wai- I- ugh,” the Ascian uttered. He wasn’t about to go running after the girl, and besides, what she did with her money was none of his concern. If she wanted to be so foolish as to waste it trying to curry favor with him, so be it.
“You might as well accept it,” Gaia smiled, confirming his own conclusions. “There’s no arguing with her when she gets like this.”
After a few moments, Ryne returned carrying one of the ankle-length leather coats in a deep purple. It was the exact shade he would have chosen. Smiling widely, she pushed it into Emet-Selch’s arms. “And there, you, go!”
He blinked down at the gift. “And, what, you expect me to wear this now?”
“That’s up to you,” Ryne replied. “Do what you want with it. It’s yours now.”
Hades stood there silently, for once at a loss for words. Gaia, recognizing his discomfort, took Ryne’s hand and headed deeper into the markets. He waited until they had left, he held the coat up before him. It looked like it would fit perfectly. His eye caught the maker’s mark inside the collar: “Cherished Memories.” Likely the name of the store. Because of course it was. He took a deep breath, shook his head, folded the coat carefully over one arm, and strode off after the others.
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Emet-Selch shivered on the end of a long bench, the girls’ shopping bags (mostly Ryne’s) sitting next to him. By all accounts, this theatre production was going to be popular, so he had insisted they head over early to get good seats. Ryne, however, had become distracted by yet more mistletoe, and Gaia had suggested he go ahead without them. The stage had been built just inside the city gates, facing Lakeland, with seating arranged both outside the aetheryte plaza and on the balcony above. The benefit of such a setup was that it provided ample view of both the stage and the slowly setting sun behind it. Less beneficial was the lack of any form of shelter from the wind and the cold blowing up from the south. Emet-Selch would never admit it, but he was absolutely freezing. And where were the girls? Any longer and they would miss the opening act, a grievous offense to any production.
As he hunched over further, trying unsuccessfully to keep his hands inside his sleeves for warmth, his gaze drifted down to the violet coat Ryne had gifted him. It certainly looked warmer than his current garb. If he wore it, he risked the teenager gloating upon her return, but at least he would feel comfortable enough to enjoy the show. Conversely, standing his ground would prove a point, but could end up dealing more damage to his physical form than the alternative would to his pride. Reluctantly, he pulled the coat over his shoulders. Hells, it really was warm.
Ryne and Gaia came running up shortly after, out of breath despite the short distance. “Sorry,” the former remarked, “I got a bit carried away and lost track of time.” She looked over Emet-Selch wearing the new coat and smiled, but said nothing. Gaia likewise remained silent through her satisfied expression as she took her seat. Within moments, the lights came up and the play began.
The Ascian hadn’t expected much from the Crystarium’s talent pool, and his expectations were met accordingly. Much of the dialogue was stilted, the movements stiff, the effects passable, but the passion put into every piece of the production shone through. The musical number was a pleasant surprise, with a guest singer who was apparently quite the rising star in Eulmore. Cyella served as narrator, playing the part of the Crystal Exarch. She was actually quite the storyteller, but could never make a convincing Exarch; she was far too tall.
The plot itself was a fairly basic adaptation of the Starlight story, just with some names and locations that didn’t exist here on the First obfuscated accordingly. A distant land, ravaged by war, saw dozens of children made orphaned and homeless. A terrible winter set in, and the children had little hope of survival. Yet just when all seemed lost, a detachment of red-cloaked soldiers came across the orphans. While regulations prevented them from sharing their food and shelter, the soldiers could not just abandon the children. Their captain, here named Santa Nimeus (cute way to use a figure called the Saint of Nymeia without the need for Nymeia herself), hatched a plan: the children could hide within the soldiers’ red cloaks, allowing them access to the barracks where food and warmth were in ample supply. Every one of the orphans made it through the winter and grew up to pass on the favor, dressing in red during the coldest week of the year and distributing necessities and gifts to those who needed them most.
As the tale ended and the lights fell, Ryne stretched her arms wide. “That was a good one! You know, sometimes the Exarch would do the narration himself, but besides him this was the best narrator I can remember! Oh, and that song was lovely, don’t you-”
She halted abruptly as Gaia tilted her head towards the sky. Emet-Selch had to give the director some credit; they had timed the production to end just as the stars began to appear overhead, ending the story of Starlight with starlight itself. He approved of the poetry.
After a minute or two of the teenagers just sitting there amid the theater seats, Ryne’s head on Gaia’s shoulder, the latter finally spoke up. “What about you, Hades? You’re awfully quiet. Was the show worth it?”
Emet-Selch shrugged. “I could point out the historical inaccuracies or the lack of production quality, but I suppose they did the best they could with what they had, which counts for something. It’s better than a rote recital without soul, at any rate.”
Ryne tore her eyes away from the stars to look at the Ascian in confusion. “Historical inaccuracies? What do you mean? That’s the only version I’ve ever heard.”
Hades pursed his lips as he turned his own gaze upward. What did he mean, indeed…
* * *
Amid the howling winds of Coerthas was no place for me. Of course I can hold my own on a battlefield - I’ve probably seen more combat than much of the star’s denizens put together, and that was before I created dear Solus - but I prefer to be the hand moving the pieces. Still, one must prepare the board if one is to play the game, and it had seemed to me that a society strategically placed in the mountains of western Eorzea could prove useful in stoking future conflict. So it was that I took on the identity of an elezen knight a century or two after the fifth Rejoining; a few words in the right ears, and a number of villages emigrated halfway across the continent. The local draconic brood were a concern, particularly after one of the villages had antagonized a vengeful wyrmling and been practically razed in response. Still, most of the new community was thriving, and that was enough for now.
I could feel myself growing old. My armor had become ill-fitting, my hair and beard gone white with time. The flesh of these people was so fleeting, it made me sick. This body would likely only see a few more summers. Less if that worthless ice dragon kept testing the borders of my little project here and I had to do something about it. Which is, of course, what happened.
The report came in. The dragon had frozen another village over, this one without provocation. That meant it was a direct threat to my work here, and would keep coming until the settlement was no more. I had wasted too many decades on this rock to allpw one lizard to end it on a whim.
The people looked to me, their most experienced knight. I had attempted to instill a martial attitude into them by fixating on their god Halone as a focal point of worship. Which meant, of course, I would have to resolve this through martial means. How I always manage to create my own biggest problems, I will never know.
I set out in my crimson armor and white cloak alongside my squire. (What was her name? Mia, perhaps? Something like that.) Through the wind we strode, then through the artificial blizzard brought about by this dragon’s temper. It had reasonably powerful command over the elements, it must not be too far removed from Hraesvelgr himself. Hopefully killing one dragon wouldn’t rouse the ire of another, at least not if we did it quietly and carefully. Miya would certainly die in the process, likely my own body as well, but it should prevent further retaliation against the burgeoning society until it was ripe enough to be of use.
They were only a few malms away from the newly-destroyed village when Mya spotted them. I had of course seen them first, but elected to ignore them. Two children, sheltering under a small embankment. They must have survived the initial attack and escaped, for all the good it was doing them now. A shame, but the dragon took priority. Myah, however, insisted, and not wanting to spend what little strength my body had left arguing, I followed her.
The older child, a girl, had her arms around the younger boy, attempting in vain to warm him. Their features were similar enough to assume a familial relation. We have to help them, said Milia, or something to that effect. No time, I countered, if the wyrmling loses interest we’ll lose it. The boy remained silent throughout, simply staring at me. His sister whispered empty assurances. It’ll be okay. We’ll make it through this. I’ll keep you safe, Lodie.
I stopped. Told her to repeat that. Lodie, she said. Her brother’s name was Hallodieux.
My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, the boy’s eyes seemed almost like his eyes, the eyes I lost so long ago. Of course, it was nothing but a trick of the light. This boy was nothing like him, not even a shard. And yet… I could feel a tear well up in my eye and brushed it away in frustration. Fine. I would allow myself exactly one act of sentiment.
I took off my white cloak and wrapped it around the two children, for warmth and for camouflage. Gave them what water and rations I had on me for emergencies. (Maria must have already given them hers.) The dragon saw us coming, I said, so he’ll see you leaving unless I engage him. Malia, it will be your task to escort them to safety.
But _____, she protested. (I don’t remember what name I used at the time. It doesn’t particularly matter.) You cannot face him alone. I can and I will, I said, because you cannot abandon these children, correct? You cannot beat this dragon, but they will be safe with you.
Some sort of tearful goodbye from my squire. Many hoarse words of gratitude from the sister. A single thank-you from Hallodieux. It wasn’t his voice, but for a moment I could almost hear his voice, see his smile. It was the closest I’d come in millenia. It was worth the pain that came after, of burying my draconic foe and myself under an avalanche. It was worth that and more.
* * *
Hades came back to himself, blinking, still gazing into the starlit sky. Both Gaia and Ryne were now looking at him with open curiosity on their faces. He gave them a dry smile and a shrug. “You’ve already had one Starlight origin tale tonight. Perhaps next year.” He was surprised to find that he meant it. “Now, wasn’t one of you looking to make one last pass through the markets before they close?”
As Ryne sprinted ahead and Gaia attempted to keep up, the Ascian took one last look at the empty stage under the stars. It really was all rather ridiculous. Hythlodaeus would have absolutely loved it.