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"The main sentiment of the Anisa Continent is to agree that Elevyarians are too peaceful, while simultaneously agreeing that Resilians are too freedom-obsessed, while thinking that Likatorites are too sturdy and the Evangelinese too fiery. Oh, and that everyone hates politics, even the nobles."
- An Honest Take on The Four Kingdoms of the Anisa Continent, Abridged
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Maevri wrinkled her nose at the mayor’s unsuccessful attempt.
“Terrible.”
The viscount’s daughter looked to be in a bad mood, from the way she finally discarded her artificial benevolent gaze and glared at the two seated across from her.
“Mallev, you simpleton. You can’t even explain things? Father keeps saying you think with your sword down there instead of your brain, but he's wrong - you don't even have a brain."
The words were viciously handed out, but Alessia and the brother remained unfazed.
After Novarra had performed, Maevri had been shocked, as had Mallev.
To Novarra, her performance hadn’t been that earth-shattering. She hadn’t expected to become a prodigy on the first day, but after staying up all night rereading the guide a hundred times she’d expected at least something more showy. The air that had danced on her palm was the size of a tiny cockroach.
Novarra sighed internally.
Never have I envied a person so much.
Man, I’m sorry I teased you in the comments for not being able to move on from your ex.
At least you were a prodigy.
She remembered that when Evan started learning elemental skills, he had almost burnt a village to the ground and had two High Mages begging for him to be his disciple.
Novarra barely got a wink of sleep last night. It reminded her of her cramming days at her international high school.
The result of her eye bags and midnight epiphany? Air the size of a bread crumb.
Pah.
But, judging from the two nobles’ reactions, getting at least a crumb in one day was an enviable Novarra watched as Maevri lashed out at Alessia, who could only take it with her head down.
Sorry for not standing up for you. Hope you understand, as a fellow self-preservationist, Novarra silently apologized.
Get chased down by a viscounty or stand up for a person she'd only known for a couple months for a few seconds of valor?
The choice was easy.
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Novarra’s Rules for Self-Preservation:
1. Do not needlessly pick fights or look for trouble.
2. Do not associate yourself with dealings amongst those more powerful than you.
3. Keep your head down unless provoked. When provoked by someone, check their status. If they are of a more powerful status than you, refer to Rule 4.
4. When provoked by someone more powerful, do not retaliate unless the following criteria are fulfilled:
a. The provocation will get in the way of your endgame or a step to said endgame.
b. You are sure you can face the consequences of your retaliation.
c. Your retaliation does not bring consequences that will get in the way of your endgame or a step to said endgame.
1. Ensure that your plans will cause minimal damage to yourself in the long run.
2. Never start fights you can’t finish by winning.
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To live a long life, her rules sounded pretty good to her.
To stand up meant going against the viscounty, which she preferred not to do. Even if the viscount’s children had ulterior motives, unless they planned to harm Novarra or her plans, Varra wouldn’t move.
Sorry again, mayor.
Even if the mayor reminded Novarra of the stallkeeper that ran the barbequed pork stall nearby her high school, albeit a more ambitious, snake-like version, Novarra still wouldn’t move.
After Maevri finished lecturing the two, she huffed.
“The Festival is in two months,” she said.
Novarra froze for a second, scanning her memories of “REBUILD” as well as her own of this world.
Ah…
She recalled the Festival of Souveraine, the First Elf King. Evan had participated in it during his search for Durendal. Apparently it had happened every end of spring; a religious holiday, for the whole of Elevyar who believed in elves.
Here, on the Anisa continent, they worshipped four Heroes in their respective kingdoms instead of Gods, and Souveraine was one of them, the Hero of Elevyar.
Maevri gazed at both the mayor and Novarra.
“We need to move onto the next town, and we’ll be back after then, to check on your work. I hope this all won’t be for naught.”
Dramatically getting up, Maevri dragged her brother out, their entourage of servants following behind. Novarra and the mayor were left blinking in confusion.
They had left as quickly as they came.
Novarra quickly regained her composure and glanced at the mayor, who remained impassive.
“I guess they’re gone,” Alessia said casually. Her salt-and-pepper hair was swept up in a harsh bun, like it usually was, exposing her hawk-like features. Her skin was enviable, untouched from the leathery grasp of age.
“Your summoning wasn’t even that bad,” Novarra commented.
After working together, they had developed a good working relationship. Not good enough for Novarra to sacrifice her life for her, but good enough still.
“No, they were right. It was terrible.”
Alessia was frank.
Novarra pressed her lips together, discreetly moving onto another topic.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
“There were a lot of holes in their plan, too.” She frowned. “Do you think they have ulterior motives?”
They can't visit all the frontier towns - they lack patience, resources, and time. Rather than personally visiting each, enlisting a mandatory period of magic learning for each town head would be a more practical sol-
“The one who sent them likely did,” Alessia replied. “I’m sure you heard about their sibling’s engagement.”
Ah. Brownie points.
“So they’re trying to get into the Duke’s good graces? But aren’t they already in them…” Novarra wondered out loud.
She had only lived in Elevyar for a month, so although she had a rough idea about the nobles here, she didn’t know their specific hierarchy. But she knew that the Delacartes were one of the Duke’s most loyal vassals, and had a shit ton of power in the duchy’s capital.
“Apparently, the plan was made by their sister. They probably want to show off her supposed talents to spread her reputation, so the Duke’s third son doesn’t divorce her after their marriage.” Alessia continued. “If the third son does get named heir, and decides to divorce the viscount’s daughter for a higher-ranked consort, he’ll be criticized.”
“The Duke has five children, doesn’t he?"
Five potential heirs.
“The first son is around your age. Nineteen, allegedly talented, but extremely mysterious so the public doesn’t know much about him. I mean, he’ll likely have to come out soon.” Alessia lowered her voice. “It’s rumored that the Duke Rella is ill.”
Novarra’s eyes widened.
For the citizens in Rook, this was an almost earth-shattering piece of information.
After all, Rook was in the Duke’s territory. The presence of a new Duke could mean a lot of things - harsher reforms, heavier taxes, or the complete opposite. It would deal an impact to the noble hierarchy, and the citizens under the Rella Duchy as well.
“I’m surprised he hasn’t named an heir already,” Novarra quietly admitted. “I mean, with the Delacartes struggling, you’d think there’d already be one…”
Power. Everything correlates to power. Power trying to keep other powers in check. A glorified catfight.
“Mmm, but we shouldn’t continue with this topic.” Alessia looked around. “The walls may have ears.”
An excuse.
Novarra agreed, albeit a bit reluctantly, and moved onto the topic of the festival.
“Could you explain the Souveraine Festival?” Novarra asked.
Alessia obliged, filling in the gaps.
Elevyarians believed that the kingdom had formerly been inhabited by elves, the mythical creatures. Souveraine de L’air, the first Elf King, was a figure in both fairy tales and religious ceremonies. There was no Church or anything like that, but the belief was deeply ingrained in Elevyar’s culture, so much so that the King of Elevyar was known as the one ‘Blessed by L’air.’
L’air had been the last name of the royal Elf family, the first of whom was Souveraine, the original wielder of Durendal.
Novarra remembered that it, in French, his name vaguely translated to ‘ruler of the air.’ Apparently, the Festival celebrated Souveraine’s discovery of air magic.
Alessia had always calmly explained everything Novarra was unsure about.
For that, Varra was grateful.
But, it still felt embarrassing to ask what the hell the Festival entailed.
Evan had entered the Festival to eat, and drink for a bit before finding Durendal… but that was it. There was the background behind the story, but it was more of a mini-arc to expose Kiara's tsundere side.
Pah. Characterization.
It’s fine, I’ll ask Belluse to explain it later.
Thanking Alessia, Novarra returned home to plan the Festival.
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Novarra panted. She had been practicing her ass off on her air manipulation skills, according to the harsh training Evan had experience in the original book.
Respect is given...I don’t even know how he could endure this…
She had purchased books with the martial arts stances Mages used for offensive attacks, and had even gotten a wooden stick sword.
Belluse frowned. “No, Your Majesty, you just have to tilt your feet a bit…Yes, that’s it.”
Novarra felt as if she were doing magic yoga. She had never been extremely athletic, so her legs had been so stiff that she fell multiple times.
Fuc- Just as she moved her feet according to Belluse’s instructions, her limbs failed and the world span. She fell to the ground with a thud.
“Ow.”
“Your Majesty?!”
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“No, Renee, move the flowers over there. A little bit over to the left...That’s perfect.”
Novarrawas walking around armed with a scroll, a sort-of clipboard, and a quill pen, micromanaging the preparations festivities.
It was the night before the Festival, and two months had passed since the nobles’ last visit. Preparing for the town gala was the administrator’s job, and it was a frenzy Novarra had prepped for as soon as she knew about its existence.
“Whoa, Administrator, you have an eye for these things.”
Renee looked at the flower arrangement she had just placed with approval.
Rook’s town square, which was usually home to its marketplace, had been cleared out. Garlands of Elevyarian gladerre flowers, white stars that resembled Earth’s gladiolus, were wrapped around columns and chairs, filling the air with its scent. Novarra had mainly doodled the decoration plan and Belluse had filled in the rest.
“The credit mostly goes to Lucia,” Varra said warmly, and instantly Renee’s expression stiffened.
Do they have beef?
“Renee?” Novarra asked, prodding her.
Renee was Alessia’s assistant, and the daughter of the owner of a bookshop that Novarra frequented. She was only a year younger, and had a round, oval-shaped face with pretty blonde hair. Novarra had a good relationship with her, and she was usually very amicable. Varra slowly realized that Renee was looking past her shoulder, and she turned.
Renee’s gaze was towards a handsome young stranger in black.
The stranger looked like a prince in a fairy tale, with dark chocolate hair and long lashes that framed sapphire eyes. His features were neither delicate, nor angular, yet otherworldly; if Novarra were an artist, she was sure she would’ve whipped out her sketchbook then and there. Thankfully, the town square was empty, as Renee and Novarra had stayed behind for the finishing touches.
Lips that resembled cherries, and light caramel skin like porcelain that blended against the night sky. He was dressed in somewhat luxurious yet simple clothes - black leather - and his left hand had on a ring with a familiar insignia.
A hawk? A threat?
Novarra blinked.
Renee’s expression looked like the earth had just split into two.
Just before Novarra could match the insignia to the family, the stranger’s lips parted.
“Renee, I’m back.”
The stranger sounded somewhat sad, and regretful, and neither at the same time.
He sounded like one of those protagonists in romance novels - the childhood best friend that had returned after betraying the lead.
But, Novarra could feel no sincerity in his words.
She didn’t know when lying had become second nature to her, but it had.
Detecting the nuances between words was vital to being able to manipulate them - Novarra wouldn’t go as far as to say that she was a master liar, but she was a good one.
It was as if he was faking regret.
He was hiding behind it.
Renee collapsed forward, running towards the stranger and hitting him with a loud ‘pak.’
The slap echoed across the empty village square.
Varra flinched.
That must’ve hurt.
Hearing Renee’s sniffles, Novarra made the executive decision of tucking the clipboard under her arm and discreetly edging away from the scene.
It was strange.
Rather than comforting her, the stranger looked as if hugging Renee was a chore he didn’t want to do.
As if feeling Novarra’s glance, the stranger looked up, and met her eyes.
They were emotionless.
An abyss of not pain, but darkness.
A threat? Novarra asked herself.
A hawk. A noble. Aristocracy. Endgame. Interruption. Rules.
Her thoughts were scattered, but she did not need to collect them.
As Novarra turned around, two quiet words escaped her lips in an irreverberating tone, a final decision.
"A threat."
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Argent River: A river that has served as a border between the kingdoms of Elevyar and Resilia since the signing of the Argent Treaty. Contains the Silver Bridges, sources of trade between Resilia and Elevyar. The River was made by Queen Xuena.
Resilian-Elevyarian Woods: Also known as simply the Woods, a forest that contains the Argent River, composed of both a Resilian side and an Elevyarian one. The Elevyarian Woods are considerably thinner.
Crimson Plains: The breadbasket of the continent. The name was christened after the Crimson War between Evangeline and Resilia over the aforementioned breadbasket. Has an abundance of natural mana. Currently in possession of the Evangelinese. Plain Settlers are called Crimsons.
Scarlet Cliffs: Mountain range near the southern borders of Evangeline. Known for its harsh and less than ideal conditions, and being a training ground for Scarlet Hermits.
Sanguine Steppes: A large chunk of grasslands that contain the Elevyarian-Evangelinese border. Contains many Sanguine ethnic groups, such as the most commonly seen Steppe tribe.
- The Geography of the Anisa Continent, Abridged, Page 1
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