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“My lord.” The plea broke through G’raha Tia’s concentration, as he was working on fixing the temporary home for one of the citizens of Norvrandt. Temporary, because they were going to clear out some of the land around the Crystal Tower to build a city, and this would have to do until then.
“Yes?” Internally, he cringed. He had become far too accustomed to people referring to him in this way; it was baffling for a mere historian like him. Then G’raha realized that there was a small crowd of people gathered. “Did something happen?” he asked, his heart sinking. He hadn’t heard any screams or cries for help, so what could it be?
One man, an elezen, spoke up. “As you know, Voeburt has fallen.” There were muffled sobs at the declaration, but they soon subsided. “We, the scattered remnants of that kingdom and those beyond, are in need of a leader. A king.”
Before G’raha could speak up—suggest such a noble candidate, offer to devise a plan to select a ruler, or ask a question—a viera began gesturing enthusiastically. “My lord, we already know you must be our king!” She waved her arms, her passion evident. “There can be no other! For who else has given us sanctuary? Who else has cared for us as you have?”
“Hear, hear!” cried the crowd.
“Now, now, I think you are being hasty,” G’raha tried to say, lifting his hands up placatingly. “I am no king.” His Royal Eyes were a gift from the true princess to his family, not any indication of his own royal blood. He was an imposter, and he could not let these people elevate him beyond his worth.
He didn’t come from this world. The cultures of Norvrandt and the lands lost to the Flood were still new or unknown to him. As much as he pretended to come from afar—which wasn’t exactly lying, only hiding the truth—he knew that he was not truly one of them. It wouldn’t be right to accept their pleas in this case.
The crowd protested this. “There could be no one better!”
“My lord, there is no nobility left from Voeburt. There is no one else to take the throne. Please! Let us swear fealty and call you king!”
G’raha shook his head several times. “My friends. Please.” His calm voice settled their enthusiasm. He took a step forward, and it took all of his courage. “I do not deny that we are in need of a leader. Someone, or a group of people, ought to be making the decisions for our safety and well-being. The organization of our military has to be led by someone, so that we may be safe from the sin eaters, not to mention those among our fellow men who are desperate enough to harm us.” The smile on his face felt forced as he kept talking, as his heart thudded low in his chest. He didn’t want this, he needed to persuade them differently. “I am touched that you think so well of me that you would elevate me as your king.” His crystal hand laid over his heart, and he barely felt it—a reminder of why he was here, and the sacrifices he had already made to remain. “But I cannot. I am not a king, and I would be a poor one if I accepted.”
Someday, he would leave. Someday, he would die. It would be for their sake, and he wondered if they would ever know that. He would take the Crystal Tower with him as he had once warned them, and its glittering spires would no longer be their sanctuary. They needed someone else, anyone else, to guide them, so that when he was gone, they would have a peaceful line of succession, unbroken and unhindered by his presence.
It would be as if he were never there in the first place.
The crowd had grown by this point, and he saw the tired and scared remnants of the First staring at him. “If not you, then who?” a young woman asked. She had a child clinging to her hand, with a young man at her side. A family.
“We could elect a council,” he offered. “Or we could have a contest for devising a ruler, so that any may have the chance.”
They all shook their heads. “I wouldn’t want to, my lord,” a hrothgar said. He looked like he’d barely reached adolescence. “Not when I know I’d rather follow you.”
“How can we persuade you?” asked the man who had first brought up the subject.
His left hand felt very cold. What would the Warrior of Light do in this situation? Point out that she was not a ruler, probably, but that wasn’t working with these people. “Do you all feel this way?”
“We have for some time, my lord.” There were murmurs of agreement.
“I will not be your king,” he declared. “I am no king.” But in the space of heartbeat, he had come to a decision. They refused to have any other be their leader, and he did care about them. The Crystal Tower had plenty of resources he could use to study, adding to what he already knew about leaders from the past. “Instead… would you good people be amenable to a… a governor?” This way, he could avoid the weight of a royal crown and instead focus on finding the right people to help him. He knew he would not be able to do this alone, not for the many years ahead.
“Does this mean you accept? You’ll lead us?” The elezen looked visibly relieved.
“I will, but only if you will help me.” G’raha smiled and gestured to them all. “We can build a city together, as we have already built a community.” This is the only way I can think of to make up for my shortcomings and to accept their pleas. If they are so determined to have me, then I can only do my best for them.
The crowd broke into cheers and applause, and many swarmed him in their excitement. The Kingdom of Voeburt was gone, Nabaath Araeng was gone, but there were people who remained, and they would gather together to create something new.
While they never knew their leader’s identity, they loved and respected him too much to press. There were fierce arguments about his title, as everything he suggested was too simple or humble. “We need something to rival that of Eulmore, my lord,” someone pointed out. “Mayor” didn’t seem like much, but the might behind Eulmore already existed. They would need something that could be on equal footing, and G’raha had to concede. That was how “Exarch” was chosen, from among what few texts were left from lands far, far away.
The Crystarium was planned, and built, and it grew, all under the watchful gaze of the Crystal Exarch. He felt he wasn’t suited for the role, but everyone politely ignored his protestations and treated him with the respect they felt he deserved. “Exarch” might not mean “king,” but he was a king in all but name to them.