----

Guild Leaderboard of Current Guilds in Resilia (GLCGR)

A leaderboard to help track and establish up-and-coming guilds. Also known as ‘the Board.’ Established by Serratta the Seer. Ranked based on reputation, members, and other categories. Feedback is not appreciated. Your opinions will not be considered. There are no spelling errors. Updated weekly. [lnu = last name unknown]

Top 5

1. Cavalierre (Central Resilia)

Guildmaster: Yiala Kesse Captain: Vanvera [lnu] Total Members: 73 Tri-elemental Masters: 10 Dual-elemental Masters: 26 Single-Elemental Masters: 35

2. Hwara (East Resilia)

Guildmaster: Kim Haeun Captain: Kim Haneul Total Members: 47 Tri-elemental Masters: 7 Dual-elemental Masters: 18 Single-elemental Masters: 22

3. The Silent Assassins

- Guildmaster: Ulysses

- Captain: Unknown

- Total Members: Unknown

- Tri-elemental Masters: Unknown

- Dual-elemental Masters: Unknown

- Single-elemental Masters: Unknown

4. Giyera (Southeast Resilia)

Guildmaster: Angelica Reyes Captain: Somsak [lnu] Total Members: 59 Tri-elemental Masters: 9 Dual-elemental Masters: 35 Single-elemental Masters: 15

5. Carnage (Western Resilia)

Guildmaster: Sonestra Whittington Captain: Ahmaud [lnu] Total Members: 49 Tri-elemental Masters: 5 Dual-elemental Masters: 20 Single-elemental Masters: 24

----

{What do you wish for?}

A familiar voice, in her head. An echo as Novarra collapsed on the mattress.

A System?

She blinked, and honestly answered aloud.

“I wish to live a peaceful life.”

{You know you cannot}, the voice replied, {the minute you were transported here, you were doomed to live the opposite}

“I will make it so,” she said, firmly.

{But you know you cannot.}

The voice annoyed her.

“What are you, my consciousness?” Novarra scoffed. “What authority do you have to say I cannot?”

One of those self-reflecting dreams that furthers my so-called character development? It only happens in books, but it so happens that I’m in one..

{Your authority}, the voice gently responded. {I am you, in a way - just as you are me.}

“Stop prancing in circles. If I cannot live a peaceful life here, then I will make it so I return.”

{You are running away.}

“If running away helps me survive, then so be it.”

{You know you have to face ‘it’ head-on sooner or later.}

Although Novarra’s senses were hazy, just like in a dreamy meditation state, she knew she was awake. In the back of her head, the voice was speaking the truth. Or at least, a semblance of it.

It.

Varra knew immediately.

The lines. The grays. ‘It.’

“If ‘it’ is in the way, then I will take the initiative to destroy ‘it.’ That’s what I’ve always done. If you were me, you would know that.”

You should know that.

“That means,” Novarra continued, “that you are not me. Perhaps a part of me, maybe that little voice at the back of my head or one of my faces, but not me.”

Which means you're a liar.

{You have no one.}

A simple, abrupt sentence that halted Varra’s thoughts like a goat darting in front of a locomotive. Novarra wasn’t the type to run over goats, but desperate mental times called for desperate mental measures.

“So what if I don’t?” Novarra snapped. Obstacles did that to her. They were very annoying.

{Sachia Kiye left you. You don’t see Navven Ultra as a person, much less a father. Your relatives spy on your every move. Even a person who you only knew for a day left you. The people around you only approach you for your background, and you see them as leeches. The only person who came close to being a relative died just recently. You have no one.}

She challenged, “Belluse? Mavis?”

{Perhaps it was poorly worded. You trust no-one.}

“I trust Belluse.”

{But if you want out of this world, you’ll have to leave her. She let go of you, too, quite a bit. You both let go. You have no one who will follow you every step of the way, no one who you call home in that twisted little mind of yours.}

“Don’t call me twisted. You know nothing.” Novarra paused. “I’m done arguing with a voice in my head, unless this is an exchange and I get some shiny weapon in exchange for bantering with you...which seems a bit sad, by the way. You should take your own advice too.”

Pah.

She turned defiantly on her side, as she closed her eyes after she finished speaking.

The voice continued, {Perhaps I am not you. But I am similar. I would like to make a deal, you of the same kind.}

Ah. There it is. The motive.

“Based on how easily you revise your statements, I can’t trust you.”

You’re either a System, or one of powerful plot-related characters - the Four Heroes, or maybe a dreamwalker or Metaphysical?

{Souveraine. That is my name. Souveraine de la L’air.}

Novarra didn’t flinch. She had long honed her reflexes not to, as she confirmed it in her head. Thoughts ran furiously in her brain. It was said that Queen Xuena, the wielder of Excalibur, contacted Evan like this too, after being angered by Evan stole Kiara’s Claim. Mindspeak. Since Novarra had made no moves towards Durendal, she guessed that he had come with other intentions.

{Ah, yes, that sounds like something Yuxue would do}, Souveraine remarked, amused.

He can read minds, too, she remembered.

“Since you can sense my questions, I’d rather not blindly make a deal with you,” Novarra said, more tactfully. “What are your intentions?”

{I would like you to find Durendal.}

“But the Claim is not mine. I’ll be branded.” She frowned, contemplating his offer.

The Thief’s Brand. Evan King was not aware of it yet, a piece of leverage Novarra had over the prodigy.

Yet. A dangerous word. When there were too many yets, too many befores, there would be too many unpredictable factors at play.

Varra had no choice but to tough it out and rationalize her way through it. Five years of peace had been enough of a reward, it seemed.

But Novarra was scheduled to transmigrate in another ten years, so that was that. She would be around forty by then.

God, she was getting old.

{Not God}, Souveraine corrected, {Me.}

“I’m not Elevyarian. Or Resilian, for that matter. Even before, I was apathetic." Before. Another dangerous word.

{Your original body believes in Queen Xuena, though.}

Novarra snorted. “So you know about my transmigration? And you know that you are part of a novel?”

{But I am real.}

“Yes,” Novarra agreed, “you are, unfortunately. You still haven’t addressed the Brand part.”

{It is correct. If you take me up on my deal, then you will unfortunately be marked with the Thief’s Brand. That King boy, the one similar to Yuxue, only had Excalibur for a while before discovering it and purchasing a skill to negate the effect}, Souveraine said, distastefully, {but it’s for a worthy cause. You will earn a Holy Sword, a noble rank of likely Count or above, and many more benefits.}

“Is there a time limit to this? Or are you planning to coerce other people?”

{Coerce is a strong word. Yuxue has your little Thief-Hero. Carmine has your Creator. I have you.}

“I only count three Heroes. For each transmigrator? I’m guessing the Creator is the third?”

{That is correct. Jac will have to make do, I suppose.}

“You still haven’t answered my questions.” Novarra frowned.

{It is because they are cumbersome. My offer is always open, since you are thinking of putting it aside. That loathsome Metaphysical has you on your toes, I suspect.}

Novarra smiled. Ah, a confirmation about the mysterious System.

“My aim - well, I suppose you already know since you’re rifling around my head,” Varra said, bemused. “But after I figure out my Personal Attribute - I suppose, if you could tell me, you would - I will reconsider it more deeply. But don’t you have dead Elevyarian souls to calm?"

{You are correct in saying that I can only stay for a few more pleasant exchanges}, Souveraine replied, {one last thing before I go, is to inform you - since that wretched Meta hasn’t told you - that there are rebels at the border. They have conquered the Bridges and crossed the Argent, and are camping in the Elevyarian part of the Woods.}

Novarra’s eyes widened. Elevyarian side...are they..?

{Your assumptions are not false. They are planning to attack your hometown in a couple weeks from today. You will meet someone, tomorrow. Prepare for a surprise.} Souveraine’s voice paused, smilingly.

Oi, stop smiling-

A pause.

{Good luck…[Novarra Ultra]}

----

"Guardian of Carrion,

Of blood and of bone,

Of honor you have wrought,

A crown of ever-flaming glory shown,

The Lady of Scarlet Iron."

A pause.

"Of battlefields galore,

Of peace and of wealth,

The Savior of the Resilient,

Keeper of the Gateways of Heaven,

Your Majesty Queen Xuena," Novarra began the prayer.

She wasn't particularly religious.

She relied on the former Queen's knowledge of Hero worship.

"Please grace this subject with your presence, and grant this subject a wish: for Souveraine rots in any Hell, if Hell exists."

The beginning of the prayer was word-for-word, a chanting of the multitude of titles tacked upon the Queen's name. Novarra was only doing this for entertainment, but perhaps it would anger Souveraine enough to Mindspeak again, or maybe even amuse the Bloody Hero up in the Heavens.

The end would usually be, "save us" in ancient Resilian.

The original Nova thought it was silly. She had a good life, and a trusted brother. What could she need saving from?

Save us, the prayer's ending meant. Save us from the dark and harrowing twists of life, from the betrayal and death and loss that lurk in the darkness, that try with all their might to kill us; save us. Of course, it didn't actually mean save us, although those with blind faith would protest otherwise.

It really just meant try to save us from most of it.

Novarra's prayer was laughable, she had to admit, especially since she had no faith.

She didn't even believe in the Heroes, really; she wasn't even a citizen of this World. But five years she had spent in it. Even if she was giving it a shot as a joke, at least she was giving it a shot.

'It.' The lines.

"I tried to not lose myself, I really did," Novarra murmured, breaking character somewhat, "I know you exist, and I really couldn't care less if you care, but it would be nice if one person forgives me. I know it isn't a sin, to lose your lines, but it would be nice."

Varra cleared her throat.

She didn't try to hesitate, as she clasped her hands almost laughably.

She smiled.

"Save me."

Save me, so I can save who I want to.

"I won't be judge, jury, or executioner - not in the metaphorical sense, anyway - but I do believe no one has the right to judge others. If you do not want to save me, then do not. One queen to another, you have no obligation to. But that is my request. Save me, so I can survive."

Novarra's smile grew wider.

I have my pride. But if the existence of it does not matter, then should it be brought up to others?

"Save only me, Your Majesty Queen Xuena."

A dramatic pause, but there was no thunder, or lightning. Perhaps this wasn't even her jurisdiction, Novarra amusedly thought as she got up from her position on the floor.

After she put on the mask to head to Vya Academy, Varraturned towards the dingy window in the inn.

A typical Vya morning, busy with fair Elevyarian weather - cyan skies, fluffy white clouds that didn't resemble pieces of shit, but rather beheaded sheep, and fanciful buildings coupled with ornamental decorations and distasteful elf contortions that made Novarra's fists itch. Ah, Souveraine.

Just as she was about to snatch the glass cup off the door handle and go outside, she heard a drop.

'Plop.'

Then heavy pitter-patters.

Turning Novarras eyes slowly took in the scene outside that had changed in a matter of seconds.

Steady streams of clear water, multiple trickles dropping down from the skies that were now a pale shade of grey.

Queen Xuena, the Undine, had made it rain in a neighboring kingdom. A coincidence? A call to her plea? An acceptance of her unspoken apology?

Whatever the case, Novarra's steps were a bit lighter as she opened the door.

However annoying the High King of the elves were, the finality in which he'd said the last few sentences last night triggered an expectation in her.

She was going to meet someone today.

----

Evan King smiled.

The Count smiled back.

"You're officially a student now." Count Dubois slid the registration slip across the large table, of which Evan reached across to accept. "Five years old," the Count added. "One of the youngest registered students in Vya history."

Evan ignored the disguised warning, and continued smiling. "It's good to be here. Thank you for the reception."

The Count was one of the nobles that Evan King had quickly committed to memory after getting ahold of the register.

The greying middle-aged man had age pulling on the creases of his face, along with a tired expression that Evan recognized as one that commonly plagued the likes of his previous world. It would've been innocuous if it didn't belong to someone with decidedly enormous amounts of power and influence, a count - although some decided him merely a consort - who headed the most prestigious academy in Elevyar.

His wife was one of the King's greatest supporters, and most saw him as only a man who hated his job, not someone with eyes that seemed as if it could see through the most powerful of illusions.

Adjusting the first-year stripe on his purple Academy uniform, Evan stood up from his desk and met eyes with the assistant standing next to the Count. The assistant jolted, but hurriedly composed himself.

"I'll be off then, Your Lordship," Evan remarked tactfully. "Classes start soon."

"I assume you don't need a guide?"

"None needed. I wouldn't want to overstep your courtesy." Politely smiling again - a practiced expression and one hardened through years of difficult circumstance - he headed for the door after a bow.

He had no trouble with the somewhat low doorway.

Evan King got glances as he walked through the lavish halls. While Central Resilia, where Evan the commoner had grown up, had resembled the ancient east, Vya resembled more western architecture. Ornate baroque gildings, large arching pillars, and hallways decorated with almost haunting paintings of prominent Elevyarian figures, made the elaborate construction impressively elegant.

It was a pity the glances were anything but.

"Is that...a child? In a first-year uniform?"

"What, is this a joke? Or is he one of those prodigies?"

"I need to send a letter to my father - they can't be serious about this…"

Derision, disdain, shock, envy.

He had experienced the last two many, many times before, at home. He switched on his All-Seeing Eyes, seeing multitudes of [Status] hovering above people's heads on holographic screens.

He needed to look for something special, something that screamed 'Transmigrator!!!'

Or Personal Attributes. He could check that, too.

His Eyes burned, like cutting onions except without the tears, as he surveyed the milling students discreetly.

Quite a number of baronial children, especially with the Ilya surname, true to the gossip. He turned his Eyes off after a while of fruitless searching, and came face-to-face with a handsome third-year.

Oh. Trouble.

----

Player: Vicenza de Mare Title: The Ducal Heir Role: Powerful Extra Type: Formidable Calculator Affiliation: The Mare Duchy Aliases Vic, Neza, Cenza, That One Mare Boy Lvl 194 STR 60 INT 85 SPE 75 SKI 70 Skills:

[Equanimity] A+ Class

[Cunning] A+ Class

[Calming the Masses] B Class

[Talented] C Class

[Pretending Like You Know What You're Doing] S Class

Traits:

[Placid] not easily upset or excited

[Charismatic] charming

[Likeable] easy to get along with

[Intelligent] able to acquire and apply skills and knowledge well

[Aloof] distant to those he does not care about

[Talented] high potential in multiple fields

System Note:

(!) [Player Vicenza de Mare] is not approaching you with purely benevolent intentions.

----

Evan King lowered his head a bit in a half-bow, then rose to meet the noble's eyes.

Tall, tan, handsome, that Mare boy was dressed in the same purple uniform, although a lighter shade. It was, apparently, an open secret about how the Order of Mages' uniforms were white; the closer a student got to graduating, the lighter their uniforms were and the more chance they would get into the Order. It really was annoying, how pushy they were.

Evan's half-hearted nod likely could've been seen as an insult by other, similarly high-ranked nobles, but this third-year's traits gave it away.

"Your Lordship," he acknowledged.

He could practically hear the disapproving murmurs, but Vicenza's placid smile didn't falter.

"I am Vicenza de Mare, of the Duchy of Mare," he introduced himself, his pearly whites gleaming as he stretched down a well-manicured hand.

Good. If he had bent down, Evan would've smacked him. Internally, of course.

"I am Evan King, of Central Resilia," Evan responded in kind, plastering on a rational smile while accepting the hand. The fact that he had not introduced his noble title didn't seem to cause even a furrow in the third-year's perfectly curved brow.

Vicenza was still smiling. "Do you need help getting to your classes?" he offered, "since it's your first day here, it might get...confusing."

Confusing because…?

"It's alright, although I appreciate it," Evan turned it down, politely of course. "I hope your day goes well, Your Lordship."

"As do I, Evan King. As do I." Vicenza's face was still placid, his lips softly quirked. "Please, call me Cenza. It was a pleasure meeting you."

"Likewise, Your Lordship."

After Evan's curt response, he passed Vicenza without a change in smile, heading down the hallways as he puzzled over the encounters. The Ultra duchy was probably equivalent to the Viers, the Whittingtons, or the Kims back in Central Resilia.

'The guy probably saw that I was powerful,' Evan King concluded, 'or at least something of the sort.'

But his mind was elsewhere. His friends. Kiara Vier. Serratta, the insufferable gloomy nerd. Even the idiot Hwara's Guild Captain Kim Haneul, and his Guildmaster sister Kim Haeun, who Evan had just met recently. Yiala Kesse and Vanvera, his Guild's Guildmaster and Captain; hell, Evan even lingered on the volatile Angelica Reyes of Giyera.

It wasn't missing them, but more of a...slight longing. Maybe it was the hormones of a five-year-old, although it was a bit early.

'Childish.'

----