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Rowan Atkinse was losing.

At first, she had used her [Stone Chain] to threaten her opponent - one of her sister’s customers - into submission by dominating the long-range arena. But, lo and behold, the damn wench Mained a similar long-range Concept, coupled with a melee weapon with almost threatening swordsmanship.

“This is Ingrid Rook,” Taylor had introduced at the shop. “Ingrid, this is Ro, my sister.”

The masked figure had been standing in the tailoring shop, almost blending into the shadows but yet standing out. Rowan had met a variety of eccentric presences, like the three-star Lieutenants, and even Sir Lilith whom she served under, but this character…

The best comparison of her appearance Rowan managed to find was a knife at the butcher’s. The knife stood out because it was shiny, but it still belonged there, in a way. The person’s movements were fluid and brisk, with dark hair, dressed a shorn-off half-cloak and leather pants.

“Ah,” Rowan had said, “I hear you’re a Teaching Assistant?” Clasping Ingrid’s outstretched hand, Rowan tried to remain polite. Although she was known for her fiery temper, the person hadn’t provoked her just yet.

“Yes, I’m currently working at Vya,” the masked figure, Ingrid, had replied. She sounded tactful, polite, and even a bit on the warm side contrary to her appearance.

The minute Rowan had walked in, she had spotted a scar peeking from beneath the full-face mask. Although Rowan had been in her fair share of brawls, and looked threatening enough, the long injury almost looked self-inflicted. But even she knew not to prod at old wounds. A sword had hung at the figure’s side, a nice-enough sword that meant Ingrid looked wealthier than she looked.

But VYA?! Rowan had expected a small-time teaching assistant that likely came from A nice enough Academy, but not THE Academy.

Shit, the woman could be lying for all Rowan knew but her aura didn’t lie.

Rowan had taken Taylor aside for a bit, and hissed, “VYA?! Taylor, you didn’t tell me she was from VYA?! I’m sure she’s at least adjutant material, if not two-star level! You know that school full of spoiled nobles doesn’t pick their staff that easily!”

“Calm down, Ro,” Taylor had coaxed. “She doesn’t bite. You’re a big girl now. A three-star adjutant~ She just needs some practice, and she seems nice~”

“ARE YOU TRYING TO SET ME UP OR KILL ME?!” Rowan had struggled to keep her tone quiet.

Taylor had shushed her, urging Rowan to take the woman to one of the private training pavilion areas scattered all across Vya built by the Order. Rowan had finally conceded, and she had commenced combat upon arrival.

Rowan gritted her teeth as she switched her Concepts. Withdrawing the stone chains that were made of hardened earth, Rowan reeled them in like a fishing line as she activated the magic she had gathered before. The bubbly sensation rising to her fingertips, she managed to conjure her Secondary Concept, the one she learned from Lieutenant Lilith, [Abyssal Orb].

Darkness, an element that opposed Light.

Rowan could feel her magic supply shrinking as she Willed the orbs to whir and compress themselves, darting towards the teaching assistant. She was well-versed in manual combat, but was no match against a sword, which was the main reason why she mastered Earth first, a defensive element.

But [Stone Chain] was an offensive, long-range Concept that could easily be dealt with by the other’s air whip.

Her opponent had a terrifying preciseness to her attacks. Her swordsmanship posture, the way she moved, all of it was as if she had only learned based on textbooks. There weren’t any unnecessary movements, and the threatening way she wielded her sword was powerful. Ingrid chose to encase her blade in a layer of vibrating air, similar to the air solidified into slithering whip-like shapes behind her.

The whips were the main thing preventing Rowan from getting close, along with her sharp sword. It was mainly a question of adaptability to the situation, and stamina, but Rowan was confident she could turn the tide around.

Reaching into her jacket coat, Rowan withdrew two blades that she resorted to when facing situations that weren’t compatible with her current Concepts just like Ingrid.

Controlling her darkness orbs, Rowan could feel her stamina depleting. Although she was a personal adjutant, Lieutenant Lilith could control her orbs much more skillfully.

Lunging, Rowan aimed one blade at Ingrid’s sword and the other at her side. She wasn’t aiming to kill, of course, none of the moves she used in the spar contained the style she would use on her battlefield. Most spars ended without severe injuries.

Unsurprisingly, Ingrid’s blade came up to block one of her blades. Surprisingly, it was the one at her side.

Twisting, Ingrid dodged the first blade and met the second, unassuming yet dangerous twin blade with a ‘clang.’ Although Ingrid had said that she hadn’t had much battle experience, her refined swordsmanship and [Concepts] made up for it.

Was it just pure battle instinct? Rowan realized that her level of skill was enough to classify her as an expert, but not as a prodigy. Compared to three-star Lieutenants like twenty-year-old Lieutenants Lilith and Kieran, Ingrid still fell short in terms of the extraordinary factor. But that didn’t mean she wasn’t capable.

Rowan’s rapid thoughts flowed through her head and she reflexively dodged. One of Ingrid’s [Sky Whips] whizzed past her cheek, a stinging pain across her skin like the scrape of a poisonous needle.

Manipulating her [Abyssal Orbs], Rowan commanded them to come in a swarm and distract the [Sky Whips] as Rowan drew back at her failed attempt, internally swearing.

It was probably precisely because of her lack of battle experience that she chose to defy common logic, which was to obey reflexes and defend against the more immediate threat rather than the cloaked one at the edge of her vision.

Rowan could feel her stamina rapidly depleting, as she prepared for a last-ditch effort. Summoning the leftover magic yet again, she closed her eyes and felt the Earth shifting beneath the pavilion floor. She would have to pay a destruction fine for this move, but it was alright since she had an employee discount, Rowan guessed.

Ingrid’s eyes under the mask gleamed in interest as Rowan threw up an [Earth Wall], her third ace in the sleeve.

The sleek stone shot up, bursting through the pavilion floor in a crash. The smooth surface created a shield between Ingrid and Rowan, enough for a moment of rest and to knock Ingrid off her feet with a surprise.

Behind the rock, Rowan planned her next move, furiously thinking.

‘Ah. There was that.’

Launching herself in the air, Rowan felt her limbs fading as she slowly used [Earth Shifting] to transform herself into a barrage of rocks with the last of her ability. As her limbs became earth and her consciousness merged with the pelting rocks, she let gravity take her as Ingrid started towards Rowan’s [Earth Wall], her sword at the ready.

At the last second, Ingrid looked up to see the rocks, Rowan among them, as they got closer to her face. Ingrid immediately threw her arms up just as Rowan transformed along with her third knife in her hand. Rowan’s knee shoved itself at her neck, finally human, after hiding as a rock among the barrage.

The sensation of being skin and bone always felt strange after shifting.

They tumbled, and Rowan tore apart Ingrid's protective arms shielding herself as Rowan placed her third knife against her opponent’s neck.

A close win, for Rowan.

She could feel her heaving sparring partner’s pale neck against the sword as she heard a small chuckle.

“That last move was outstanding,” Ingrid complimented beneath the mask as she accepted the loss.

Rowan got off her opponent, offering a hand which Ingrid accepted. The training pavilions scattered across Vya had strict rules to be followed, of which included paying hefty fines for damaging the property. However, members of the Order got a discount.

The familiar pavilion was structured as a slightly smaller magic stadium, with seats circling a large round raised platform. Usually, spars were either ended if a referee saw that a move was fatal, or heavy fights in which people tried to knock each other off the platform.

“Thanks,” Rowan replied. “You did extremely well, too. Shall I provide some detailed feedback, in return for some?”

Ingrid laughed. “I’m not sure if I’m qualified to critique a three-star adjutant, but anything for more chance at improving. I’ll have to thank you, and Taylor too, for providing me this opportunity; and finding a training - arena, was it?”

Rowan smiled bashfully. “It’s nothing. I had to switch my Concepts for a bit there; your long-range Concept isn’t quite compatible with my Main. Was that your Main?”

“[Sky Whip] is,” Ingrid confirmed, “but I’ve picked up the water element for a bit; I’m planning to proceed to use ice, or maybe some throwing-knife version of it like your darkness spheres, but I haven’t quite honed the element to the point to use it in spars.” She looked around, and apologetically said, “Is there any water around?”

“Ah, we should go out for refreshments after we pay for our first use. Shall we go another round after a break?”

“Sure.”

It wasn’t awkward conversing with Ingrid like she’d expected it to be. Rowan’s rough demeanor didn’t seem to impact her, and both of them spoke casually about their moves after they moved to a nearby restaurant.

Ingrid pointed out a few vague flaws that Rowan took note of, especially in her knife-handling, and Rowan, in turn, gave tips to make up for experience.

“If you used Air Shifting in the beginning, the battle would’ve progressed quicker,” Rowan added. “Earth mages usually have fast reflexes for defensive magic, but you can easily feint them off if you bluff well, just like I did in the end.”

Ordering a bowl of noodles, Ingrid slurped them up, grinning.

Perhaps it reminded her of Resilia, where she looked like she came from with her dark hair. Rowan envied her voracious appetite, but of course not the current situation there.

All of the Four Kingdoms were at peace, but everyone knew that although Resilia had calmed down in the past, the border attacks had increased in recent weeks.

Sigh.

Rowan looked down at her dish.

Rowan’s roasted chicken was good enough, toasted in breadcrumbs and slathered in a creme sauce as a side dish. Edible flowers and vegetables were scattered on the side, with an main arrangement of assorted berries. Elevyarian cuisine was composed mostly of plant life, with meat seen as a side. It was a bit bland, but the wide variety of sauces made up for it, Rowan thought.

Snapping up the berries and rolling them in the leftover sauce from the chicken, Rowan continued conversing.

Ingrid even asked to see her knife, and give her advice on how to throw it.

After refreshments, they went for another round and parted their ways.

Rowan thought to herself, it was a good day.

There are four kingdoms that exist on the Anisa continent: Elevyar, Resilia, Likator, and Evangeline. As such, there have been noted to be corresponding myths and beliefs surrounding the creation of each kingdom. Historians of each respective Kingdom have compiled, and observed the changes in these myths over time.

Elevyar, the kingdom in the west, follows the High Elf King Souveraine, wielder of Durendal. Those who join his ranks are called those of L’air, or High Elves.

High King Souveraine was said to have been raised in these western lands, where humans and elves coexisted separately, and slowly went on a Voyage to unite them both. There has been no previously recorded name of the lands other than ‘the Western Lands.’

High King Souveraine finally took the throne and named the newly established kingdom ‘Elevyar,’ or ‘Kingdom of Air,’ a tribute to the main element of the kingdom. He declared that no matter human or elf, all citizens of Elevyar were equal under one banner, the penta-flower.

Those who came after never had the title of ‘High King,’ but rather King of Elevyar, or the one ‘Blessed by L’air.’ After Souveraine passed, the Elves followed him, leaving only one descendant behind, which was the first recorded King. The human population slowly took over, the elf blood only running in the members of the Vya surname, said to be the surname of the first recorded King, whose name remains unknown.

After High King Souveraine passed away, Durendal became lost.

Resilia, the kingdom in the west, follows Queen Xuena, the Undine. Her full name is said to be [Mei Ul-tra], part of the Mei clan, the ruling clan of Undines. Much more is known about her lineage than her contemporary, Souveraine. According to earlier texts, she reportedly refused to pass down her Undine surname and opted to pass down the Central Resilian Ultra instead, establishing the Ultra royal family.

The Undines were a race of water fairies, who coexisted with the humans just like those in the Western Lands. Queen Xuena was not the first, but the most prominent wielder of Excalibur, the ice sword. Unlike the relatively peaceful creation myth of Elevyar, Queen Xuena’s reign was long and bloody. It started with the humans, who attacked the Undines one day. The dispute got out of hand and quickly turned into a war.

Queen Xuena was a fearsome general, ruling with an iron fist and revolutionizing water magic by creating an ice branch. After reaching an agreement with the humans after decades of battles, Queen Xuena established the eastern kingdom of Resilia, as she hoped that a resilient bond would be formed between all under her reign.

Similar to the case between Souveraine and the elves, all of the Undines - and Excalibur - vanished after her death…

- Creation Myths of the Four Kingdoms, Author Unknown

(Chapter 1: Resilia and Elevyar)

I sing a ballad, of four heroes,

A snowy day upon which I met,

One bloody, one bruised, one beaten, one mused,

“Of song you serenade...but what do you forsake?”

I replied, in confusion, “Forsake?” I asked in delusion;

“Yes, forsake,” the snow queen repeated, amused.

The bruised elf snorted, “Look, Your Majesty, your patience has been abused.”

“You are human, are you not?” questioned the bloody general.

“That is correct,” I replied, in awe,

“Humans forsake,” the warlord explained, “if they do not…”

“Then they must take,” the snow queen finished.

“Of peace or of love, of war or of power, if humans cannot take..

They always act, actively forsake.”

This lowly bard, stumbled home and realized,

That these four heroes were ____*

The Bard’s Ballad, “Forsake,” Author Unknown, said to based on an encounter of the Four Holy Heroes

*the original phrase is unknown, most finish it with “correct, to his surprise”

Novarra sighed, heading back towards the inn after waving goodbye to Rowan.

After she had dropped off her potatoes, she had wanted to walk around the darker streets of Vya, but had failed as she fell asleep as soon as she hit the bed for a rest. Which was why she had rescheduled it for today.

Humming, Varra made a couple turns just to shake Rowan off, even though it was unlikely she would follow, and ducked under a corner.

Vya City was much busier than Rook, with carriages everywhere on the road, gleaming shopfronts that resembled the luxurious boutiques Novarra shopped at the closer you got to the palace, and two sorts of people. Sophisticated people, and people who tried to look sophisticated. She had only been here for a couple weeks, but the capital city was almost stifling, reminding her of home.

The feeling she got of higher Vya society while interacting with the Academy students was similar to higher society back home: unsophisticated people were either seen as unimportant, or would slowly be forced to change into the latter category of the two.

It reminded her of her former world, which she didn’t dislike. After all, a game played on familiar territory was better than a game played on foreign land.

She still got looks and stares, but nothing threatening enough for her to pull out her sword and blatantly threaten someone.

That said, every kingdom had a red-light district, although the term was fairly modern. Prostitutes, drugs, assassins, and the like. Novarra had preferred not to associate with them in her former life, as it was annoying to sort out and drew attention once exposed, but the closer you got to Elevyar’s red-light district, Fantasia, the drunker the people got.

And loose lips talked.

After stretching much to the disdain of her neighbors in the crowd, Varra headed towards the district with a smile on her face.

It was much easier interacting with violent people then it was interacting with people who were scared of her.

Continuing to hum, Novarra alked further. The Victorian architecture changed into more derelict, run-down buildings as the sun rays gradually turned pinker. Streaks of sunset made its way across the sky like comets, bright mingling with dark in ripples. It was an admittedly fantastical sight, the wilting Elevyarian pines against the sunset. The stench of alcohol grew stronger, and she spotted courtesans standing outside of brothels.

Swathes of gossamer and silk fabric hung like clothing lines between houses, the atmosphere mingling with the intoxicating scent of perfume and drunksters. It was almost like a festival, except the lecherous looks on the customers’ faces and the bunches of naked people. The streets were littered with splotches of wine and - was that pee?

It wasn’t even that deep into the district...

Ai...let’s see who to target.

She felt like a con artist as she scanned the streets, avoiding the attention of the customers and courtesans. She finally spotted a half-naked man with a bottle in his hand, who looked like the most miserable person on Earth. He had a pot belly and looked in his late thirties, with scarlet eyes as if he was crying.

Oh, well. Miserable people are always the easiest people to target.

Wandering over, Novarra deepened her voice and assumed the posture of a drunk. Lurching, Varra laughed and slumped on the dirty sidewalk in the crook of the crowd, just beside the man.

The man practically reeked of misery.

“Hehehe, old man~” she growled drunkenly, “you look so down...what for? My mama says that us drunks have to help each other out...Or was it my papa? Oh right, he’s dead, hehe~”

The man turned, glancing at her as Novarra circled an arm around him like a compatriot. His bare skin stank of alcohol. Plucking the bottle from his hand, Varra burped in his face before taking a swig to taint her breath.

“Why the long face, old man?” she asked, taking another swig as she forced herself to sway. “Answer me…”

After the man ignored her, Novarra slapped her hands on his face and made him meet her eyes.

“Is it the mask? My girlfriend broke up with me for it, you know! Just because I visited Fantasia and drank a bit too much!” Novarra shook him. “Old man, my papa told me that you have to open hearts to strangers, not wallets! Tell me, what’s wrong?!”

The man finally answered sullenly, “Isn’t your father dead? And get your hands off me, please.”

Varra reluctantly obeyed, pouting. “But what happened to YOU? People said I was too uneducated, that no one wanted to talk to me.” Novarra burst into tears. They dripped down her face beneath the mask, much to her discomfort. “I suppose you’re the same too.”

C’mon, man, have a heart.

The man glanced at her, sighing exasperatedly. “It’s not that. My wife just left me because I kept gambling, alright? Don’t take it too personally.”

Novarra stopped the waterworks, looking up at him with red eyes.

“Oh~ I’m sorry,” she apologized, trembling. “I didn’t know…It looks like we’re both miserable tonight, old man.”

Tsking, the man frowned. “I’m not that old. I’m only thirty four.”

Oops.

“I’m twenty-four,” Varra offered, “my name’s Andrew.”

The man sighed. “David,” he replied, offering a hand. “I guess you’re my junior, then.”

After they shook hands, Novarra chatted him up a bit before getting him to spill his story.

“My wife, Diane, said I was visiting Fantasia too often. A man has his struggles, you know? And while I’m working my ass off, she goes and chats up the nice single merchant she works with. He’s married, for goodness’ sake! Then, last night, she packed her bags and left, taking our son with her.” David sounded pissed. “And now, I’m left with practically nothing but an old carriage and a room at a boarding inn.”

Novarra didn’t actually sympathize with him, of course, but she drunkenly patted him on the back like an empathetic junior.

“I get it, I get it. But if the world looks down on you, then you just grow taller, right? They can’t oppress us forever!” she added, encouraging him. “You know, my girlfriend did the same thing. Love is so fickle, you know. One second they’re telling you they love you, and then they run away.”

“Love sucks,” David agreed.

“Cheers to that!” Novarra hollered, once again flinging her arm around him. “You know, I just recently came to town, so I’m worried I’ll get scammed.” As if she were telling a secret, she leaned closer, and whispered, “And my Mama got mixed in with those Order sorts. I don’t know what their reputation is, exactly, so…”

David looked a lot better than before, but he frowned.

“Most of the lot pretend to be normal and justice-y,” David said, in a low voice, “but some of them, the ones with the tattoos, especially, are rotten to the core.”

Varra feigned shock. “What about the tattoos?”

David looked around. Alcohol had loosened his tongue.

“You know the penta-flower, right? The one with five spade petals, our national symbol?”

After Novarra nodded, David continued, “Well, you won’t see them often, but there’s a select few in the order with a single Spade tattoo. Those are the corrupt ones, the ones nobles can bribe to look the other way if a shipment exceeds regulations. Resilian guild traders sell better weapons at a better price, but since the situation there is wack, it’s illegal to trade with them b’cause, well, you know.”

He paused. “The higher-ups look the other way because they benefit from them. I know this ‘cause my cousin used to deal in weapons. Sharper swords, better weapons, the better those Order freaks get armed.”

“Are the Spades an organization?” Varra asked, her interest piqued. “Won’t the tattoo be too obvious?”

“The tattoo only appears when they want them too,” David said. “Magic, y’know? And yeah, they’re apart of the S-” David took a breath in, as if he realized he shouldn’t be talking about the subject. He swiveled in the other direction. “Y’know what, Andrew? Tell me more about your girlfriend.”

Novarra didn’t press him. “Yeah, alright. She was pretty, you know? With big blue eyes that makes you think she wouldn’t hurt a flea. But she hurt more than just my flea-” Varra faked a sob. “She broke my heart.”

After crying yet again, Novarra tried to get him drunk. Well, more drunk than he already was, anyway. “Hey, Dave, you want to get more bottles? To drown our sorrows away?”

The man looked a bit wary, especially since he had almost slipped before. “I’ll have to decline, Andy. But I’ll see you around.”

Varra didn’t push it. It was getting dark, and perhaps she would stalk him again. “Alright, old man. See you around.”

With a wave, Novarra left the old drunk.

She decided to trust her judgement and avoid the Order as much as possible. It wasn’t likely, but Rowan could have a Spade tattoo, too, or know others who had it. Other than Rowan, Novarra made a mental note to avoid all nobles other than the Vya students.

Finishing the ditty she was humming earlier, Varra skipped her way home with the midnight crowd.

She felt the carriages lessen as she suddenly felt a sensation of being watched. Not wanting to alarm anyone, she quickly ducked behind a pillar and used [Air Shifting] to transport herself back home.

Damn big cities.

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