The Other Pole

Monday greets ye, mortals! My Yuletide Adventure continues below—& as a bonus, I included also a page from the chronicle of my experience of the FIRST Christmas! Aye, Amœnus were there, & the Massacre of the Innocents was not my fault as I am sure ye shall agree…

Need to catch up? Read all of this year’s Yuletide Adventure, or revisit last year’s, right here!

“…And Be Merry.”
Part III: The Gift
A Multipolar World

My research in the Bybliotecha Nicolai proved fruitful. I gleaned secrets from unsacred pages, pointing me toward the unseen enemy who sought to destroy Santa’s mind; I cast the runes, meditating on the revelations. They landed standing-up, on their sides. An impossible result; I cast twice more, thrice in total, & each time, the rune-stones landed the same way: “ᚢᚾᛒᛖᚱᚪᛚᚪᚾᛞ.” The other Pole—Antarctica.

St. Nicholas ferries me Southward on his sleigh; I bid him return home, to leave the dangers to me. The Moon glows strangely, in a pillar; the hazy darkness chills me more than the misty winds. I scan the gloomy horizons, but nothing catches my eye. From a belt-pouch I produce an amber trout on a string; I let it dangle a moment, then another. It falls still…then begins to turn, so slightly, to my right. I pack the maliacus back into its pouch, & set off on that heading.

Hours pass, I think. The Moon moves in a most unusual fashion—that is, not at all. Once an hour, I dangle the maliacus to stay on-track. I begin to grow paranoid, & fearful; the Moon offers little comfort in this strange configuration. Eventually, I encounter a small group of penguins. Thankfully, they speak puffin, & so we chat a while. They tell me of their woes with the shrinking ice & warming seas; I offer apologies on behalf of my mortal friends. I ask them whether they know of any strange places, full of strange beings? Not my most articulate query, but puffin is a most difficult language.

As luck would have it, they do know a strange place; they confirm the readings of my maliacus, & assure me my goal sits only an hour’s waddle away. I cast Create Sardines for them to show my gratitude, & resume my hike, buoyed by their flightless assurance.

Sure enough, after an hour, shapes rise on the far horizon. Dark & distant shadows, where only madmen might go. & so on I go—& the Moon begins to follow, sliding sideways as I draw closer. Eventually, I see more details. Some ominous stone dome, topped with a pyramid, sits beside what may be some sort of observatory. A giant skull, sitting in some sort of…I know not what to call it. & in front of the dome, a gleaming golden sentry.

I press on, undaunted…

“…And Be Merry.” shall continue on Saturday!

What awaits me? Battle? I hope not—but in the meantime, please enjoy this bonus bit of Christmas history:

About 2,000 years ago, having fled Gaul after our defeat at Cæsar’s bloody hands, I found my way to Hierosolyma—the king there, some dour Roman puppet named Herod, had executed his vizier, creating a perfect job opportunity. I arrived at his court, performed a few minor miracles, & proved I knew my letters; he hired me on the spot.

Working for the Romans, e’en by proxy, grated on my soul, but I figured—well, I need coin, & time to think, so why not advise this king for a bit? Perhaps, I thought, I could change the system from the inside? Badly naïf, aye, but I were 2,000 years younger then!

Just my luck—after one week, these three Magi show up, babbling about some prophecy & wanting directions to some backwater town called Bethlehem. Herod blows his top, immediately, howling about some truly insane plan to kill every baby boy in Bethlehem. I try to explain to him that, not only will slaughtering little children reflect extremely poorly upon him, but also, working overtime to prevent a prophecy is a surefire way to bring it about.

Well, as ye know, he heeded not my words. He sent soldiers out to work the massacre, & I decided that quiet quitting was the wisest course of action. I left with the Magi before Herod ordered my termination, & we set out, we Four Wise Men, for Bethlehem…

Thank ye for reading, mortals! & thank ye extra-much to the generous mortals who can & do support our works here with coin!

Wednesday, I shall write ye with news of this week’s episode—wherein we shall ENTOMB 2025 as is our annual New Year’s custom. I shall also include my forecast for 2026, & information on our special New Year’s Eve broadcast! 8PT to Midnight, on our channel, with our friends from Radio Free Multiverse. HUZZAH, what a busy holiday season! ‘Til then—be safe, be well, & remember, massacring children is never the answer.

Cheers,
Amœnus Franco
Wizard, Writer, Vizier Emeritus