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The Nein arrived, as was customary for honored guests of the court, early on the third day of festivities. The other four days’ worth of celebrations were far more intimate even within the Dens - and logistically complicated. There was always a great deal of discussion about which merchants to patronize, on which dates the consecuted would visit their previous families, and what they all would be seen wearing to the temples. For the common folk, it was common for them to forgo anything but the briefest observance for the other days - Essek supposed it must be difficult for them to rearrange five days of work for a holiday only announced a few weeks in advance.
But the third day’s celebrations were always the largest, the most public and extravagant, and therefore the ones that the rare visiting dignitaries would be invited to witness. The Nein were instructed to teleport in a few hours before the morning’s celebrations. Even that was cutting it close - as foreigners, there was more security to get through, and they required more of an explanation of what behavior was expected of them.
But in truth, the Nein would be kept far away from the Bright Queen, and consecution removed some of the efficacy of assassination attempts. Essek assumed the security around the local beacon had been improved since his time, though it’s not like he would have any way of knowing.
As for an explanation of expected behavior, well, perhaps the Kryn court had finally given up on expecting the Nein to behave in any orderly fashion.
Verin had managed to be assigned as their escort - whether or not he considered it an annoyance or a privilege, Essek couldn’t tell. He faced his brother in the flesh for the first time in years and tried to determine if there were any discrepancies with his memory, whether due to a lapse of the mind or some change in the intervening years. He seemed more formal than Essek had expected, somehow more serious even as he smiled and joked through the security briefing. Essek wasn’t sure if it was time or simply the fact that his brother wasn’t interacting with him. Verin always said that he had no choice but to act the fool - Essek hoarded all of the solemnity.
Essek had used magic to disguise himself as an aasimar - and then more magic to make the previous magic difficult to detect. It was not foolproof by any means, but it was sufficient for the expected amount of security. After all, the Nein had brought other members with them - Caduceus had brought his youngest sister, Veth had brought Luc (Yeza had, understandably, opted to stay at home), and Kingsley had brought himself. The dossier on the Nein did note that they had an aasimar ally, and Reani was so amused by the idea that he would be impersonating her that she agreed at once.
He was thankful to all of them - for the sacrifices, and the risks that they’d been willing to take. To let him see his country one last time, if through foreign eyes.
Verin was going over the day’s schedule - apparently pointing out a time in the mid-afternoon where it would be a good idea to take a nap - “It’s just a bunch of chanting and singing, and the first couple of hours of chanting and singing would probably be enough,” he said with a practiced but somewhat mischievous smile.
It was all that Essek could do to not say anything - people did leave the ceremony early, but it was taken by the Dens as a sign of impiety and mild scandal. It was to the point where some Den members would hire stand-ins so their absence would avoid notice. Though, he supposed, there was no reason for the Nein to pretend at devotion.
Soon enough, it was time for them to take their place in the Den Thelyss’s viewing tower, one of twelve that overlooked the open air dias below. Hundreds, if not thousands, of people had already lined up in the plaza below the dias to get a good view. Meanwhile, his former Den was showing their amount of favor by placing the Nein in the second-highest box - just high enough that they would still be visible for everyone else. A dozen chairs were laid out in rows with refreshments, and Essek was sure to take the one furthest from Verin.
The highest box, the Umavi’s, was typically empty, as she would be on the dias. Also, the view was horrible and there were even more flights of stairs that nobody wanted to climb.
It had been years since he’d been able to watch the ceremony this way, having long taken his place on the dais years ago. In return for the proximity of power and the small amount of prestige that came with being one of the faces on center stage, he had spent the last decade seeing the backs of everyone’s heads and missing every other word of their speeches. The spectator’s view made him remember what it had been like before - when he was young and his father was still alive. Back when he’d believed in the majesty of it all.
The chanting started in darkness - from all around the central plaza, as echoes and illusions were dispatched to ensure that all would be able to experience and know. Verin started to translate for the Nein, but then Beau cut in with her version.
“Lloth sucked, some drow figured out that Lloth sucked, but Llolth didn’t like that so they got ran out and wandered the underdark alone.”
To which Verin shrugged and said, “close enough”.
And then, the court’s chronurgists began to manipulate the enchantment that changed the sky over Rosohna, moving the night sky to dawn - a sliver of light from over the high towers, carefully placed to just hit Leylas Kryn, dressed in what seemed to be rags of black and purple (it would be delicately woven lace with artful tears up close), as she picked up a glinting beacon to symbolize the Luxon’s first discovery. As she picked it up, her robes changed to shimmering white and silver, diamonds in her robes reflecting the rosy dawn’s light. She stood there as the singing grew and reached a crescendo, the crowd gasping and cheering and joining in with the singing, an overwhelming din that echoed through the plaza and slowly, slowly tapered off as Leylas lowered the beacon.
The beacon would be glass, Essek knew, the real beacon safely hidden. Most people only saw the replicas as their local temple, and wouldn’t be able to tell the difference even if they were close enough to see the details. He knew that Leylas’s robes were a mummer’s quickchange, not even magic. And yet, it was still difficult to not sing along with the crowd, to not be carried away by the euphoria. Essek stared ahead and willed himself to not react. He did not look to see how any of the rest of the Nein were reacting, either - he wasn’t sure if it would be worse if they were entranced or bored.
“What do you do if it rains? Or if it’s super cloudy?” asked Jester, interrupting his thoughts.
“They check the weather before announcing the holiday - it’s usually around this time of year, but the day itself is a little more, ah, variable.” says Verin.
If it took too long, they’d get storm sorcerers or druids involved to clear the weather. It was an open secret at court. As Shadowhand, it had been yet another trivial task that had, for some reason, fallen under his jurisdiction and annoyed him to no end.
It was, of course, based on the weather in Rosohna - clerics in Asarius and Jigow would determine their own timing, and the rest would typically align to whoever is closest, even if it meant a cloudy sky. The last time before his exile, in Eiselcross, he forgot that they were far enough away to not bother to synchronize with anyone, and was startled out of sleep when his brother messaged him.
It was always dark that time of year in Eiselcross, the sun only managing a weak attempt at light, low on the horizon. They’d lit a few more lamps than usual, maybe, but the holiday mostly went unnoticed.
The cheers from the beacon reveal having long since died down, Leylas Kryn was now giving her annual speech. Essek looked around at the rest - Caleb paying attention, Jester and Veth whispering to each other, Beau trying her best to look like she’s not paying attention but glancing out to the speaker - and his brother, staring right at him, a strange and considering look on his face.
It wouldn’t do to let his brother recognize him. Not now, not like this. But it still hurt to have Verin so close, yet still not be able to talk to him.
Essek quickly turned his attention to the speech. It was over soon enough - he supposed the good thing about having to give a speech for centuries is that you know to make it short. The end of the speech was punctuated by the court chronurgists moving the sky’s illusion to noon, the sun now beating overhead.
It had taken Essek a few months of living under sunlight to realize how strange the sun’s movements were for the light day celebration - changing the time of the illusion by cue, the light created to hit certain marks, then staying that way until the next one. It seemed to him that natural sunlight moved at a human’s speed, ever changing.
Below, the stage cleared for the reenactment. This year, the subject was of the most recent war - told through acrobatics, dance, and a few quickly penned songs that would be heard in the taverns for the next year. Essek was glad that the beacon theft was only shown to be by a nefarious figure, all in black, that snuck across the stage with black wisps trailing - not even deserving of its own lyrics. The assault on the Dwendalian Tri-Spires was shown on aerial silks - acrobats climbing and falling with some graviturgical assistance, throwing brightly colored scarves as spells. Then, an echo knight fell, and entrusted the beacon to the Nein to keep it safe.
“Seems like they missed the pissing onto a helmet,” mentioned Beau.
“Not sure if they can show that sort of thing on the stage here. Can they?” Caduceus turned to Verin, as if this was a sensible question to ask.
“What,” said Verin, laughing a little with disbelief.
“We had, ah, some difficulties with communication and had to get inventive,” said Caleb. Verin nodded his head slowly with his eyebrows still raised.
Jester hushed them, as onstage the Nein made their perilous but very straightforward trek from Zadash to Felderwin, where a moving ghazal revealed that Nott’s husband had defected willingly to the Kryn in the hopes of being reunited with his goblin wife.
“Oh, they thought you were Kryn,” said Yasha.
“Well, we don’t see very many Dwendalian goblins - wait, you’re the goblin? How’d that work?” Verin said, checking his dossier on the Nein and peering at Veth.
“I think it’s a good thing that Yeza stayed home,” Caleb said, nudging Veth. She managed a small nod, her face frozen.
“Wait, they didn’t even allude to the pirates!” complained Jester.
Onstage, the troupe had found their way into the Bright Queen’s court. The staged Nein’s entrance was far less … chaotic than it had been in real life. The performers all wore hoods, masks, and makeup to help them with the sunlight, but they also wore a lot more clothes than Essek remembered. The half-drow playing Caleb still gave an impassioned speech, but it involved far more praise of the Luxon and strength of purpose than he’d remembered. Nott, played by a goblin, had her own refrain, where she asked for her husband.
Essek looked at Luc, but he seemed enraptured in the strange story.
“Do you think he realizes what this is based off of?” Essek whispered to Veth.
“I sure hope not,” Veth whispered back.
From there, the Nein largely disappeared from the narrative - there was another exciting battle, the wizard Allura, and a gracious apology from the Dwendalian empire. The story did not swerve any closer to the truth, but the lack of personal offense limited the commentary.
True to his word earlier in the day, the second the devotional section started, Verin suggested a break. Essek ignored him, listening and watching the crowd below as they spoke and sang in perfect unison. The sheer numbers created their own harmonies, smoothed off any jagged edges. It was hard to not be carried by the euphoria - the mix of beauty and pain that only added to the awe. He didn’t understand when he was young that the ritual was the point; gilding covering a hollow core.
He still remembered after all this time - less the feeling of belief as much as the want - the anticipation of someday understanding, knowing, fitting in. And he knew better now, but he still missed the hope inherent in it, sometimes.
He was not sure if he resented the others - those that still believed, or at least were unbothered by the lie. He wondered how many of them pretended piety because it got them something they wanted more - power, or access, or acceptance. He wondered how different he would have to be to be one of them.
“Come, we are all heading down to see the sights,” Caleb said, squeezing Essek’s shoulder. Everyone else had left their box for the stairs.
Everything below was filled with color and light. The brightly colored sand patterns in front of homes, held in place with dunamancy - the street vendors selling flowers; the pieces of glass brought out to catch the sun and mirror it; others breaking up its rays into colored rainbows. Essek had gotten much more used to sunlight in recent years, even the sunlight in Nicodranas, and here it was still blinding.
He’d never wandered the markets during the Light Day celebration; he had never dared to leave the main ceremonies early, and had retreated to his own towers afterwards. It had always been his preference to watch the displays from on high. If asked, he would say he liked the ability to watch the entire city erupt in fireworks; from the larger Den displays to the block-coordinated events in the Coronas. In truth, he enjoyed being farther away from the loud deafening sounds and haze - from the holiday’s false promises of community and acceptance.
The devotions must have just completed; the sky turned from the blistering noonday sun to the last rays of sunset. Beau blinked and nearly tripped at abrupt change.
“Yeah, I hear that it’s strange if you aren’t used to it,” Verin smiled in sympathy. “It’ll be sunset for about half an hour for the Bright Queen’s procession back to the palace, then back to the usual sunless sky.”
“I would have thought they’d just take down the darkness shroud, or whatever it is, not just mess with time,” said Beau.
“I couldn’t explain it to you, but apparently it’s easier to do it this way,” Verin said, noncommittally. “Besides, most residents don’t really recognize the difference.”
Essek had to keep himself from explaining - it was easier to change the time it portrayed rather than dispel the enchantment and recast it. There would be no reason for an aasimar to know. And he was a little embarrassed at being one of those who would not have internalized how strange it would be to go suddenly from high noon to sunset.
Verin’s eyes were on him again. Essek did his best to look interested in the surroundings. He let the rest of the group go ahead, just a little. With the dimming light, families were beginning to light the floating lanterns and small lamps in front of their homes, the smell of pakoda frying in the air. The street vendors - those that had not already sold out - were competing for one last sale. Children were waving sparklers; someone gave one to Luc, and Jester created her own.
The ruse didn’t work. Verin waited for Essek to pass him, then sidled up.
“What do you think of the festivities?” he asked, showing the right amount of concern as a good host.
“They are very engaging. I do not believe I’ve seen anything like this in the Greying Wildlands. That is where I’m from,” Essek said, to waylay any suspicion that he might be anyone but the aasimar friend of the Nein.
“I’m glad to hear that! You know, it’s funny - Essek would have complained about how the local merchants were angry that foreigners were cashing in on our holiday, the Luxon clerics were angry that the local merchants wanted profits over piety, and the foreign merchants thought the taxes were too high.”
That… sounded familiar. And a petty argument that he’d forgotten about in the intervening years. He didn’t relish the memory. Essek made a vague noise of agreement and hoped that Verin would accept that as a response.
“Do you know Essek? I’m his brother,” said Essek’s brother. To Essek.
“We have met.”
Keep it short and simple, Caleb had said. Vague, and allow the other person to fill in the rest of the details. He’d never been good at lying to people he cared about, and Verin knew all of his tells.
“Do you want to hear embarrassing stories about him? I can provide - there was this one time, with some jam. And he was, like, seventy, before he realized,” Verin said, laughing all along.
Essek had not been not nearly seventy before he realized. He had known right away. He was nearly seventy before Verin would admit that he’d done it on purpose, after fifty-odd years of resentment. Every single time Verin would hint at it over the years, with a smug laughing look at his face. … One that looked a lot like the look Verin had on his face now. A few things fell into place.
“You know.” Essek accused, without saying exactly what Verin would know, just in case.
But Verin smiled and put his arm around Essek’s shoulders; far too comfortable if he were a near-total stranger. “Jester told me of the plan weeks ago - it’s why I volunteered for babysitting duty.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell me?” Essek hated the little whine that entered his voice, but he hated the petty feeling of betrayal even more.
Verin shrugged. “It’s funny?”
Essek sighed, and Verin squeezed him closer.
“Look, if it helps - as far as I know, nobody’s looking for you. Your death and self exile before your death was kind of weird, sure, but most people seem to be chalking it up to you not being able to take the pressure of Court and burning out. I think you’re okay for now.”
“Or maybe that means that you don’t pay enough attention to court gossip,” said Essek. Did Verin have to say these ‘death’ and ‘self-exile’ out loud in the middle of a crowd?
“Yeah. Fair. Maybe I’m missing a plot or two, and if you thought that your one option in life is for you to exile yourself and then fake your death - and I’m very carefully not considering what sorts of things you might have done to put you in that position - then, fine. You know better than me. All I’m saying is that there isn’t anyone actively looking or thinking about you anymore,” he said bluntly, and Essek tried not to feel hurt by that. All those years of work, and he just faded from importance.
Verin removed his arm and led them to a now-abandoned booth on the side of the road so he could face his brother. “No - I meant. I mean. Look. Remember all those times that you told me that nobody would consider me a problem unless I made myself a problem?”
“Usually as a way to tell you to get out of my room, yes.” It figured that Verin would remember; it never seemed like he was listening at the time.
“The why and the where aren’t important right now. Maybe you made yourself a problem, but you also took yourself off the board. Nobody’s going to be asking questions about you unless you do something else suspicious, I don’t think.”
“Something suspicious, like, say, entering the country in disguise while attending a crowded event in close proximity to some of the most powerful members of court?” Essek said sarcastically.
“Well, okay, fine. I still think you can stop panicking a little now. And now that everyone knows that I’ve met the Nein, I can go and visit you - and a certain redhead? Jester said that I was supposed to ask you about that.”
“You really do not need to do everything that Jester suggests.” Essek felt a little pang of regret at slandering Jester, but he was still a little angry that she’d gone behind his back.
“C’mon, lighten up. I never understood your problem with having fun.” Verin said, gesturing to the lamps to make sure that Essek got the ‘light’ pun.
“I’m fine with fun. I’m even fine with crowds these days.”
“You’re just not fine with being able to talk to me.” Verin said flatly. He looked disappointed, and Essek hated that he’d put that look on his brother’s face.
“It’s just. You know - the reenactment they put on this year. You know that it’s all lies.”
“Yes, that’s how theater works.” Verin didn’t sound impressed.
Essek pushed on. “It’s not how it went at all - Yeza was imprisoned and tortured. I think they took the beacon on a whim, not out of some noble purpose.”
“Essek. It might have mistaken your notice, I know how you get distracted, but I’ve been a soldier for over a decade now. I’m aware how such tales get cleaned up for the masses.”
“Doesn’t it bother you? Not just the Nein’s story - but all of it? I know you’ve kept your distance from Court, but you have to know we’re lying to everyone.” Essek felt like he was close to begging.
“Essek, it’s just lights.” Verin laughed a little, the way he did when he thought Essek was being unreasonable. “It’s an excuse to take a day off, enjoy yourself. And if comes with a little discomfort and pain - well then. So does all self-knowledge. Or so I’ve heard.”
There was a part of him that had hoped that Verin would have understood. That maybe the intervening years might have allowed the both of them to reach an understanding, that he could have explained. That hope crumbled beneath him.
Verin, taking in whatever expression Essek had on his face, plowed on through. “It’s not even thought of as a religious holiday outside of Rosohna. Bazzoxan gets the sun year-round, we mostly use it as an excuse to light some fireworks and enjoy ourselves for once. Come on, you’re getting stuck in your own head again. I want to meet your friends. They’re not what I’d imagined for you, but I think they’re even better.”
And with that, Verin walked ahead, looking to catch up with the rest of the group.
The star-filled sky was back in place overhead. In the distance, the first of the fireworks displays started to go off. Countless lanterns and lamps and sparklers and Dancing Lights cantrips filled the road ahead of him. It was beautiful, and he felt so separate from it.
The lights had never been the important part, at least not for him. It had been the feeling, the promise of the holiday. Of the pursuit of enlightenment and truth, of camaraderie, of acceptance.
“Verin,” Essek shouted ahead to his brother. Verin turned around, questioningly. “When are you going back?”
“The day after tomorrow. The barracks don’t really understand the whole five day celebration.”
“I would like it if you could contrive a reason to visit Caleb Widogast. Just for a night, you can return to your post in the morning.” Essek said, speaking quickly to get the words out before he lost his nerve. “I would like to show you my life now, if you would consent to it.”
“I … all right.” Verin nodded uselessly.
Essek smiled - a brief thing, and then took one last look back through the glittering streets back to the Court’s dias, before moving to catch up with the Nein.