The Bringer of Winter Cheer

“It is in the darkest of times, in the harshest and coldest parts of the year, that we find celebrations of life. It is in these times that such celebrations are needed the most.”

—Grand Sorceress Apriza

Wisp tried to keep her head perfectly still while she adjusted her legs. Her foot had gone numb from sitting on her ankle for so long, yet if she moved too much it would disrupt Talia’s work. The two girls were seated cross-legged on the bed, with Talia behind Wisp as she braided Wisp’s hair. Despite her best efforts, Wisp felt a painful tug on the left side of her hair where Talia had a firm grip. She tried to settle back into one position, all the while working feeling back into her foot. Surely the other girl would be done soon. Finally, Talia finished the left braid. She tied off the end with a ribbon before starting to brush the right side. Wisp took a deep breath and tried to settle down once again.

The room around them was bright and comfortable, painted a shade of dusty gold with white trim. Photos and diagrams of airships lined the walls, interspersed with framed prints of flowers. The bed was tucked neatly into one corner next to the fireplace, with a dresser, wardrobe, and mirror on the opposite side. A bank of windows ran the length of one wall above a row of covered radiators, providing what should have been a view of the front gardens. Yet at that moment, everything beyond a hundred yards faded into a fuzzy haze. Snow fell heavily outside, coating the ground in a thick white blanket. Clusters of colored lights peppered the rolling fields of snow, forming the outlines of trees and marking the edges of railings. Nearer afield, in the highest of the surrounding terraces, a pair of snowmen stood looking out into the storm.

Yes, winter had truly arrived in Academe. The cold crept in through the edges of the window, adding a tinge of chill in the otherwise comfortable room.

Wisp heard Talia shiver behind her.

“It’s freezing in here,” Talia commented. “Can’t you get them to turn up the heat a bit?”

“I am afraid this is as warm as it can be,” Wisp told her. “We would need to set a fire in the hearth if we wished for more heat.”

“That whole open fire thing still weirds me out,” Talia replied. “I always feel like it’d burn the house down if I looked away for a second.”

“I could ask one of the day staff to bring up hot drinks and a snack, if you wish,” she offered. “The cook should be finishing a fresh batch of cookies soon, and he can prepare hot chocolate in a matter of minutes. Or perhaps you would prefer sandwiches and tea?”

Wisp felt a gentle tug on her hair. “I’m so jealous you live here in this beautiful house with a real-life Relmlord,” Talia told her. “Fresh food brought to you whenever you want it, maids to clean your room and make your bed.” Wisp heard Talia shiver behind her once again. “Even if it does get really cold.”

Wisp shrugged. It was not that she was unaware of how luxurious her surroundings had become, far from it. But life in the Commonwealth was so far removed from her previous life that she still barely understood how to function in it. Before the Dean had become her guardian, she had lived in a single-room cottage, with her parents and grandmother, in a dying Realm without so much as paved roads. Compared to that life, every person in the Commonwealth lived in luxury, and the Dean’s house was only more so by a matter of degree.

“Do you not have a beautiful house as well?” Wisp asked.

“There’s the family estate back in Hakon,” Talia replied, “But I wouldn’t call that mine, exactly, and I wouldn’t call it pretty. It’s supposed to be some kind of historic building. Really, it’s just a big, dark, gloomy, crumbling pile of stone. No, my family lives in a little brick house in Gullnaland. It’s alright, I guess, but it’s no Realmlord’s palace.”

A porcelain doll swung her legs as she sat on the dresser. Her expression seemed doubly glazed as she stared across the room, waiting for the two of them to finish. At Talia’s comment, however she immediately perked up. “Sorcerous lineages put forth a great many branches. Too many for any one to have much of an inheritance. At least Natalia’s line is comfortably off on their own merit, most don’t have even that luxury.”

Wisp’s eyes flicked upward to the doll. Standing at just under a foot, she was an antique work of art. Her dress ended at the knee, revealing the carefully crafted ball joints of her legs. Her hair was real enough, a mass of chestnut curls beneath a red bonnet. Fine crazing lines ran through the glaze of her face and hands, the mark of countless years of wear despite the gentlest of handling.

Clara was an oddity, even for the Commonwealth. According to Talia, The porcelain doll had been in her family for generations, and had been sentient for almost as long. It was not without precedent; the Commonwealth’s statues were able to spring to life and become independent beings if they were given enough attention. And dolls were treated with far more love than statues. Yet Wisp had never seen another living doll, even in the possession of the other sorceresses in her class. As far as Wisp knew, Clara was unique.

“I hope that you will stay until dinner,” Wisp commented. “This may be our last time to see one another before the beginning of vacation.”

“It’ll be good to have some time off from school,” Talia commented, “Even if it’s going to be just as crazy as it always is.”

Clara spoke up at that. “Your mother always was the type to be carried away with her own plans. Back when I was her doll, she wouldn’t just have tea parties, she would plan ten course meals.”

“Do you have any plans for winter break, Wisp?” Talia asked.

Wisp simply shrugged. “My home is here with Dean Frost. I suppose I will spend my vacation time with him and his remaining guests.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad, honestly,” Talia commented. “I could go for a boring winter break for once.”

As she finished brushing down the right side of Wisp’s hair, Talia let go of the brush and pointed toward the dresser. The brush levitated across the intervening space, setting itself down next to Clara. Moments later, a length of ribbon levitated its way from the dresser and toward the two of them.

Wisp was amazed at how quickly she had come to accept magic as part of her world. Her home Realm, by design, had not had magicians of any description. She had never even heard of wayfinders and sorcerers, outside of old tales that her grandmother had whispered to her. Yet ever since she had arrived in the Commonwealth, she had encountered ever more magicians. Especially after meeting Talia. Natalia Ariovistine-Aprizian was the child of an ancient sorcerous lineage, the oldest in all of the known Realms. From her brother, to her father and mother, to her numerous cousins, it seemed every member of her family had magical talent, some more and some less.

“I’ll be going home for winter break,” Talia told her. “My parents are going to arrive tomorrow, and we’ll all be taking a sleeper car back. We’ll probably spend the whole first day back in the Gullnaland Central Mall.

“What part of that is so unpleasant?” Wisp asked.

“My younger brother is six this year, and he’s probably been making his wish list for the last month,” Talia explained. “I’ll probably get roped into taking him to see Father Winter again.”

Wisp raised an eyebrow in curiosity. “Father Winter?”

“Yeah, my brother visits every year to tell him what he wants,” Talia replied. “I used to too, up until I turned eight. It’s kind of embarrassing that I still have to go with him, but my parents always tell me I need to help him out.”

“Is this the name of some relative of yours?” Wisp asked, still not understanding.

Talia stopped braiding in surprise. “Wait, you’ve never heard of Father Winter?”

“I was not born in the Commonwealth,” Wisp reminded her.

“But you had a midwinter festival, right?” Talia insisted. “I mean, everybody has a midwinter festival!”

“We marked the middle of winter as an important day,” Wisp replied. “I do not know if it could rightly be called a festival, however. It was the first day to begin preparing for the upcoming planting season. There was nothing beyond that.”

“But didn’t Dean Frost tell you about him last year?” Talia pressed. “I mean, you had to have been to Winter’s Festival last year, right?”

“We had a small, private celebration,” Wisp explained. “There were decorations and gifts. All of us sat by the fireplace in the lounge, the other guests told stories of their adventures, and I was permitted a small thimble of sherry. There was no mention of a Father Winter.”

“But that’s crazy!” Talia exclaimed.

Wisp turned halfway around to study her friend’s expression. Talia’s mouth hung open in disbelief. “I did not realize it was of such importance,” she commented.

Talia continued to splutter in shock. “Not important? Not important? For little kids in the Commonwealth, Father Winter is the whole point of the winter festival!”

“Father Winter was part of the midwinter festival long before the Commonwealth even existed,” Clara added. “He’s changed completely since those early celebrations in Hakon, but the basic concept has always been there.”

“Who is he then?” Wisp asked.

Talia sighed, clearly reluctant to explain but not wanting to refuse. She tied off the end of Wisp’s second braid with the second length of ribbon, then shifted around to face Wisp.

“Father Winter is a rail-thin old man with a big, bushy white beard. He wears a blue velvet suit trimmed with white fur and has a wreath of holly leaves on his head. He carries a drinking horn full of festival cheer tucked into his belt and a large sack of toys on his back. He lives in an ice palace in a frozen Realm of eternal winter. A legion of living snowmen serve him and help him to gather gifts for all of the children. Then, on the night of the midwinter festival, he flies through the air in a boat made from a huge holly leaf.”

Wisp perked up at that comment. She loved flight and everything associated with it. The Commonwealth was filled with countless fantastic things which she had never even imagined before, but airships were by far the most marvelous.

“How does he do that?” Wisp asked. “Is it some sort of airship?”

“He’s a powerful magician,” Clara explained. “Powerful enough to make it float with his own will. And he has a wayfinder friend who travels with him, so he always knows the way to the next Realm that he needs to visit.”

Talia continued. “Little kids write him letters or go to visit him at meet and greets, telling him what they want as a gift. Then he travels around to all of the Realms of the world, giving presents to all the kids that have been good that year.”

“And punishing disobedient ones,” Clara added. “A white-furred troll travels with him, carrying away badly-behaved children to work in his palace for a year and a day before returning them home.”

“He doesn’t do that anymore,” Talia corrected. “These days he just gives the bad kids bundles of dry leaves.”

“More’s the pity,” Clara replied, her painted face shifting into a wistful expression. “Children would always become so polite and considerate the month before the festival.”

“Anyway,” Talia continued, “He’s the patron of the winter festival, and it’s his role to spread holiday cheer. There are a lot of stories about him, most of them have been around forever. The winter festival wouldn’t exist if it wasn’t for him.”

The barest hint of skepticism entered Wisp’s mind. “Is this actually true?” she asked.

Talia rolled her eyes. “Of course not! It’s a story made up for little kids to believe in and get them excited for the festival. Nothing more to it than that.”

Wisp frowned, considering what her friend had just told her. It was far from the most fantastical thing she had heard in the previous year and a half. In fact, even compared to just the things she had seen with her own eyes, it seemed perfectly reasonable. “But you said—”

“It’s all just a story,” Talia interrupted. “Don’t put any stock in it, no one above ten does.”

Wisp let the subject drop. It was clear that Talia gave absolutely no credence to Father Winter’s existence. Wisp was no longer certain what to believe.

Talia crawled off of the bed and stood, stretched her legs, and crossed to the dresser. “Well, I’m done here.” Clara hopped into Talia’s arms, settling in to her usual crook at Talia’s elbow. “Let’s find somewhere that isn’t freezing and get some of those cookies you talked about.”

With a slight groan, Wisp stretched her legs and began to work feeling back into her foot.

The two girls spent the next few hours in one of the front lounges in the mansion’s left-hand wing. Somewhere behind the fog of clouds and falling snow, the sun dipped toward the horizon, fading the light from gray-white toward a deep black. Lanterns blinked on along the paths as the evening became night. The countless colored lights glimmered even brighter in the dark, and still the snow swirled in the air.

They ate dinner in a smaller dining room, with a large fire crackling in the fireplace. Dean Frost was busy in his study, and told them not to wait for him. The dean’s other guests were all out of the house, leaving just the two girls to eat alone. The cook had prepared chicken soup with a side of cheese-stuffed garlic rolls. For dessert, there were dark chocolate cookies fresh from the oven. Clara sat on the far end of the table, legs folded demurely beneath her, staying out of the way of the food.

The hour was growing late by the time they finished eating. Marissa, one of the day-staff, agreed to bring Talia back to the girl’s dorms. Wisp and Talia said their goodbyes in the entry hall as Marissa put on her winter clothing. Talia was already bundled up, complete with thick coat, hat, earmuffs and scarf. Clara rode in the crook of her arm, bundled in a miniature coat of her own. Snowflakes fell all around them like tufts of cotton.

“Thanks for letting me hang out here and get out of the dorms for a bit,” Talia told her. “I’ll try to give you a call sometime. Quay knows it’ll be a nice break from all of the craziness.”

Clara added, “Perhaps next year we could arrange for you to visit. The Gullnaland Parade of Lights is truly spectacular, and has only grown better over the years.”

Wisp curtsied to her friend. “I will be here, eagerly awaiting your message.”

The two stood opposite one another for a long moment. The snow fell around them as Talia fidgeted on the doorstep.

After a long moment, Talia blurted out, “I still can’t believe you never heard about Father Winter.”

Wisp shrugged. “I am certain that Dean Frost had his reasons. Although I will admit I am still curious about him.”

“But seriously, don’t put any stock in kiddy stories,” Talia insisted. “It’s all just for fun.”

Wisp shrugged once again. “My interest is purely one of curiosity. Do not worry.” She smiled. “Have a safe journey back.”

At that moment, Marissa returned, as heavily bundled up as Talia. Talia gave Wisp a hug, then turned to follow Marissa. As they disappeared into the falling snow, Wisp turned back into the house and began to search for Dean Frost. She was not certain why she found Talia’s story about Father Winter so interesting. Perhaps it was simply the concept of his flying boat which interested her. Or perhaps it was curiosity why the dean had not mentioned him before. Everything about the Commonwealth was still new and strange, each new detail she discovered a novelty.

She found the dean in the library, an ancient leatherbound book on his lap, the half-eaten remains of a meal to one side along with a glass of wine. Wisp fidgeted in the doorway, not certain whether she wanted to disturb him. The dean looked comfortable, relaxing after a long day of work. Yet she had developed a burning curiosity, one which would not be sated until she had the chance to ask her questions. Stepping quietly into the room, she crossed to where the dean was seated.

Dean Frost smiled as he looked up from his book. “Hi there, Wisp. Sorry that I was busy earlier. Did you have fun with your friend today?”

Wisp nodded. “Talia is good company, and Clara is fascinating.”

“I hope she isn’t walking back in this storm alone,” Dean Frost commented.

“Marissa is escorting her,” Wisp told him.

The dean nodded in approval. “That’s good. I’m going to let the snow continue all night, I’d hate to think that anyone’s walking home in it all by themselves.”

“This is likely the last time we will be able to meet before she leaves for break,” Wisp told him.

“At least it will only be two weeks,” The dean reassured her. “Soon enough, you’ll be able to see her again.”

Several seconds passed in silence. The dean raised an eyebrow as time continued to pass. “Is there something else that you wanted?”

“Why did you not tell me of Father Winter last year?” she asked.

The dean’s eyebrows rose a fraction of an inch in surprise. “What brings this up?”

“Talia mentioned him today,” she explained. “She explained who he is and what he does.”

The dean nodded in understanding. “I see.”

“If he is such an important part of the winter festival, why was he not part of our celebration last year?” Wisp asked.

“All of us were a little busy at the time,” Dean Frost pointed out. “You had only just arrived in the Commonwealth and were still getting acclimated.” He gave her a warm smile. “And you were already a bit old for that kind of tradition as well.”

Wisp considered that for a few moments. She tried to remember back to the year before, to how disordered her thoughts had been. In the course of a single night, she had lost her entire family as her home Realm broke apart, leaving her with a group of complete strangers. Borne away through the air by beings made of light, she had been dropped into a Realm beyond anything she had ever imagined. Then the culture shock of entering the Commonwealth had left her confused and more than a little overwhelmed. It had taken her months before she was comfortable with daily life, and even still she found herself marveling at the simplest of things. Having yet another strange thing to marvel at, it might easily have been lost amid the rest.

“I suppose it does not much matter,” Wisp commented. “Since he does not actually exist.”

The dean shrugged. “And who says he doesn’t?”

Wisp gave him a skeptical look. “But Talia said that Father Winter was invented for children to believe in.”

“Oh, he was made up,” the dean agreed, “but that doesn’t make him any less real.”

“I do not understand,” Wisp admitted. “How can a person be invented yet still exist?”

Dean Frost’s eyes glinted. “The power of will and belief affects the world around us, that’s how magic works. People in the Commonwealth are used to the idea of magic being a personal thing, used only by those with powerful wills. But every sentient being has a will, and two wills working in tandem are as good as one. If enough people want something to be true, then their wills can pool together and make it so.”

Wisp frowned. “What does this have to do with Father Winter?”

“There are millions of children in the Commonwealth,” The dean explained, “many of them magicians or from sorcerous families. At some point, almost all of them believe in Father Winter and his holly boat full of presents. And it’s been that way for over a thousand years. Effigies have been awakened from far less than that.”

Wisp thought about Clara. A doll, passed down through countless generations of sorceresses, loved and treated with care, had become a living being. Sentient statues lived among the people of the Commonwealth, awakened by the same process. Was it so much of a stretch to think that a character out of a thousand-year-old story had sprung into existence as well? If the dean said it was possible, then Wisp was inclined to believe him. Yet Talia had seemed so convinced that Father Winter did not exist.

“So is it true or not true then?” Wisp asked.

“There’s one way for you to find out,” the dean told her. “You can wait up on the night of the winter festival. At midnight, you can look out of the window and see if you find a boat made from a holly leaf flying across the sky.” The dean set aside his book, picked up his plate, and rose to his feet. “I’ll speak with Natalia’s family. Maybe I can arrange for you to visit with them. I’m sure you’d have more fun spending time with your friend than here in this big empty house.” With that, he turned and strode out into the hallway.

Wisp remained in the library for a long time after the dean left, sitting down in the seat he had vacated. She stared out of the tall, narrow slit of the window, across the terraced gardens covered in a blanket of snow. There might have been a thousand Father Winters flying down to land and Wisp would have seen none of them; the sky was still obscured in the haze of falling flakes.

Back in her home Realm, those flakes would have been a cause for worry. Snow of any kind meant cold, and cold meant danger. Such a thick fall would have made their few roads impassable, isolating them even more than they already were isolated. They would have needed to check on the few animals they kept and ensure they were bedded down properly to avoid freezing. They would have re-sealed the windows with clay and built up the fire in an attempt to keep the cold out of the house. And yet the cold would have still crept in regardless.

Yes, back in her home Realm, snow had been a cause for fear. Winter had been a time of creeping death, of cold days and dwindling supplies. Yet seated inside, in the beautiful house of the dean, by the open fire, that Realm was no more than a distant memory. The Commonwealth had tamed winter, turning it from a season of horror to one of delight.

At that moment that she noticed what sat at her elbow. It was the leatherbound book which the dean had been reading. Curious, Wisp opened the volume. She paged through the contents, glancing casually at the printed text. The book was ancient, the paper yellowed and badly worn. From what she could tell, it was a compilation of short stories and poetry. Occasional woodcuts, printed on thicker paper than the rest of the book, were interspersed with the rest of the text. They seemed interesting, but not enough to hold her attention for long. When she reached the page with the dean’s bookmark, however, she froze. There, in large text heading a new chapter, were the words “A Visit by Father Winter.” On the opposite page was a woodcut of a man with a long white beard riding in a large holly leaf.

Wisp moved the book onto her lap and settled in to read.