First were the ancient words that appeared dozens of times.
She used the breakdown method, comparing this proper noun with all kinds of roots and affixes in the dictionary, and finally managed to work out its meaning.
Further, based on the book’s descriptions—and considering that the first half of the word indeed implied a punishment as endless as that of a demon—she translated it as “The Ten-Thousand-Year Dynasty.”
It seemed to refer to an age when generation after generation of elven tyrants ruled over most of the continent.
Mountains shattered, rivers flowed backward, eternal night cycled without end; humans were enslaved as haulers along the great river for countless generations, while dwarves were slaughtered at will.
Most terrifying of all, the elves, through wicked magic, unleashed orcs, trolls, and other dreadful creatures, driving them as hounds and lackeys.
When the heavens collapsed and volcanic lava poured into the earth, even the mighty dragons were enslaved.
Livyate wasn’t entirely convinced by these descriptions.
After all, those terrifying creatures could have been exaggerated or distorted by later generations.
But she could feel it—the lingering distrust humans held toward elves seemed to truly stem from such horrors.
It was odd: if the rule had truly been so brutal, why wasn’t there a clear chronological record?
But soon she understood—if it were true, there may not have been any free humans left alive to record such things.
Yet the elves surely would have records.
At that thought, she looked at Tesvelan, who remained silently withdrawn.
“Your Highness Tesvelan, Liv is very curious about these things. Could you explain to her?”
Julia’s gaze gradually grew cold, displeased by Tesvelan’s attitude.
“So our Liv is a curious little kitten. Clearly an elf herself, yet not the least bit self-aware… Yes, my mother told me—the Ten-Thousand-Year Dynasty really did exist. Tyranny and enslavement also truly existed.”
“But in the end, elves who opposed the tyranny joined hands with human, dwarven, and demihuman friends to overthrow the last monarch—Sharenyate Valenria. The human nations were rebuilt. History—it’s fascinating, isn’t it?”
Tesvelan too put away her smile, staring coldly at Julia.
“Heh. Elves who opposed tyranny, huh. Your Highness Tesvelan, there’s no need to look at me like that. I support friendly relations with the Elven Kingdom; that benefits the Hobrick Republic now—not a thousand years ago. But you should know, in this Republic, there are hundreds of eyes fixed on you, and thousands of mouths voicing distrust of elves. So now, will you tell me your true purpose for coming to Landingset?”
Once doubt is born, it never disappears until a reasonable explanation appears, whether good or bad.
“To supervise the reconstruction of the Riccardo Dandolo, of course. Lady Julia, surely even you could guess that much?”
Tesvelan braced herself on the table, leaning back.
“Oh, is that so? Yes, it’s quite normal for a princess to personally oversee the main battleship. Still, I must ask—why did you inquire in your letter to your mother about when the battleship would be renamed for that new queen?”
Livyate instantly tensed, but realized she couldn’t show too much, so she pretended to be at a loss in the midst of their standoff, leaning forward and glancing nervously between the two.
“Intercepted our letter, did you? Lady Julia, that’s… rather undignified, isn’t it?”
Tesvelan’s hand rested on Livyate’s lower back, as if in comfort.
Julia downed another large gulp of wine, her expression softening somewhat as she said, “Liv, don’t be afraid. We won’t actually fight. Your Highness Tesvelan, whether you believe it or not, the letter fell into the hands of the intelligence office purely by chance, and they helped you send it on. What I mean is, the Republic will not interfere in the Elven Kingdom’s internal affairs.”
“But you must realize: at this critical moment, for you to change queens will shake the foundation of our cooperation and trust. Please, ask your mother to reconsider carefully. Moreover, even here, there are those whose fathers or mothers already know. You must appease them in the name of the Princess. Ensure that before cooperation becomes routine, no further complications arise. This concerns the future of Hobrick and Erindria…”
“The succession of the new queen is inevitable. You don’t know—once we select a queen, there’s no going back. However, my mother is well aware of this, so after her abdication, she’ll continue to push matters forward in the name of Regent. And you can rest assured—the new queen is also highly supportive of our cooperation.”
Tesvelan’s expression relaxed a little, and her left hand left the table.
Of course I’ll support our cooperation.
Livyate thought, her expression plunging from tense to despair in an instant.
Am I really going to be queen?
Did Tesvelan and her mother really not consider how utterly unreasonable this is?
“Oh? Then I’m even more curious about your soon-to-be-crowned new queen. May it be as you say, Your Highness. Still, I hope you’ll issue a public statement in your capacity as Consul.”
“Don’t worry, I will.”
Tesvelan looked at the rigid Livyate beside her with a composed smile, then couldn’t help but laugh.
“Lady Julia, look what you’ve done—you’ve frightened Miss Liv almost out of her wits. And to think you said you wanted to be her good elder sister.”
“Sorry, Liv, but—ah, I really shouldn’t always bring these things up in situations like this. Come, let’s go for a walk together.”
In stark contrast to their earlier confrontation, the other ladies at other tables and corners remained graceful and dignified, subtly showing off their wealth and new necklaces.
But when they noticed Lady Julia actually rising from her chair to stroll with Her Highness the Princess, the mood instantly changed.
People gathered around again.
But as one leading lady began to speak, the other wives and misses quickly stepped aside and fell silent.
The lady gave a slight bow and said, “Lady Julia has finally left her chair. At these gatherings, you always avoid socializing and just hold little councils with the most distinguished young ladies. You really are suited to inherit your father’s mantle. I’ve heard that your father, Lord Domenico, will soon serve on the Council of Ten. Truly a confidant of the Doge.”
Julia seemed to ignore the subject and instead remarked, “Mrs. Baor. Your necklace is rather nice—it seems to be a product of the Elven Kingdom?”
“Oh hoho, you flatter me. Indeed, it was custom-made by elven jewelers. But surely, Lady Julia, if you wanted one, you could easily obtain it as well? If I may say, Lady Julia, it’s good to focus on work, but socializing is important too. Look at Annia of the Faliero family—though she’s only a distant relative of the head, she spent a long time preparing for this ball.”
“She just told me how honored she was to toast with Her Majesty the Queen and the princesses. Your family’s status and resources are so much greater than hers—how can you not use them to your advantage?”
Ah, so Annia is Kayla’s husband’s relative—no wonder she follows around like a little shadow.
Then why was she so prickly at first?
Livyate thought.
“Elven jewelry, is it? Speaking of which, I’m sure Her Highness the Princess could tell us much more. Your Highness, could you tell me how much such a necklace would cost?”
Julia continued talking only about the necklace and turned the topic to Tesvelan.
No one replied.
Livyate glanced at Tesvelan beside her and noticed her pointed ears turning crimson.
Could it be the princess knows nothing about luxury goods?
Tesvelan noticed someone looking and turned to Livyate, lips trembling slightly.
She managed a small smile at Livyate.
“On that topic, Miss Livyate here is far more knowledgeable than I am. She’s quite the expert on such things.”
Mrs. Baor smiled at Livyate as well.
“Indeed, Miss Livyate’s outfit today is absolutely stunning. I think retro moonlight white will soon be all the rage. But there’s no need to trouble Her Highness and Miss Livyate to guess. This necklace cost the equivalent of 900 ducats, with a sizable portion required to be paid in elven currency. By the way, aren’t we friendly partners? Why won’t the elves accept ducats, Your Highness?”
Tesvelan fell silent again; it seemed she truly had no desire to face such questions—especially not in front of humans.
Livyate knew the reason, and she knew it was her turn to speak.
Livyate gently grasped Tesvelan’s hand, leaning forward, and met Mrs. Baor’s gaze directly with a harmless smile.
“Of course, we elves are committed to sincere cooperation. That’s what Her Majesty the Queen wishes as well. But because our currencies are so complex, the arrival of stable ducat gold coins in our country would cause many difficulties.”
“So elves prefer to use ducats for bulk trade, because ducats held in the elven treasury won’t impact our currency markets. I think, Mrs. Baor, you understand our predicament. It’s not arrogance, but rather, the response of a fragile economy from a small nation faced with a giant like the Hobrick Republic.”
“This young princess is truly sharp-tongued. Indeed, the Elven Kingdom is full of talent. Lady Julia, I must say, Annia of the Faliero family is rather petty compared to her. If only our Republic had more young people like you, how wonderful it would be—hoho.”
Mrs. Baor’s face relaxed and she didn’t press the topic.
After raising her glass with them, she moved away.
“That lady—she’s the real opposition you spoke of, isn’t she?”
Once they were far away, Tesvelan asked.
It was the first time she had taken the initiative to broach such topics.
“Yes, she’s the head of the Dandolo family. Her parents died young, so she took a minor family’s head as her live-in husband.”
“Dandolo family? Is that where the Riccardo Dandolo’s name comes from?”
Tesvelan grew curious.
“That’s right. Several centuries ago, her family produced a supremely gifted governor, Riccardo Dandolo. He opened up all the western sea routes and further cemented our control of the southern archipelago. Most importantly, he blocked and defeated the Kingdom of Camelot’s navy at the river mouth, ending Camelot’s threat from the Blue Sea forever. Ever since, generations of navy warships have been named for Governor Dandolo.”
Julia went on.
Indeed, Livyate had read of such things in A Modern History of Hobrick.
But she hadn’t expected the well-maintained noble lady from earlier to be the Dandolo family head herself.
It made sense, though; of course she would be dissatisfied at her great ancestor’s namesake ship being halted, or perhaps knowing it was to be leased to the elves.
“She hates elves,” Tesvelan suddenly said.
“How did you…” Livyate was startled.
“It’s true. She deeply distrusts cooperation with the Elven Kingdom. She thinks it will break the tacit understanding among the continent’s nations. Although the continental blockade ended long ago, she repeatedly addresses the assembly, insisting on maintaining unity west of the Great River and isolating the Elven Kingdom.”
“Let her try, then. All these things are spoiling my mood. Lady Julia, as compensation, accompany me and Miss Liv for a walk in the garden. I don’t want to stay here any longer—it’s so dull.”
Tesvelan grabbed Livyate’s hand and strode out, not looking back.
Julia followed with a wry smile.
The garden was quiet, in sharp contrast to the noisy hall.
It had long been secured by guards—no uninvited commoner could spy on the affairs of the upper class here.
But from this vantage, one could gaze out over the entirety of Landingset; the port’s lights blazed all night, watching as merchant ships slipped quietly from the darkness into the glow, and then, laden with goods, slid back into the night.
Layer after layer, street after street, the lights of ten thousand homes gleamed.
But as the night deepened, here and there a light would wink out, like faint, flickering stars.
“I’ve never seen so many houses, so many people, so many lights in the Elven Kingdom. Is it so you can see your family’s faces at night?”
Tesvelan spoke without turning, but it seemed directed at Julia.
“Humans have feared the dark since ancient times. Our night vision isn’t as keen as an elf’s.”
“That’s right. It’s always been that way. My mother said that, even in the darkest days, elves were amazed to discover that unless poverty was utterly desperate, humans would scrimp and save to buy candles. What was there for a slave to do at night? Shouldn’t they collapse from exhaustion and sleep as soon as it’s dark? But no—the elven patrols saw every home lit by candles, whispering in the dark. Were they plotting rebellion?”
“But when the elves burst in to interrogate them, they found a mother secretly sewing a dress for her daughter from scraps, or a father quietly telling stories of the past to his son. The tiny candlelight didn’t even let them see each other’s faces, but still they insisted on lighting it. And there were old people whose children had died from forced labor—their eyes nearly blinded from weeping, yet every night they lit a candle.”
“Would their sons and daughters truly find their way home by its light? And orphans: the older children would light the candle, the younger ones would huddle together and sing nursery rhymes—the lyrics about losing their parents, that they too would die, and that once dead, hunger would hurt no more… Did they not know who made it so?!”
Tesvelan’s emotions swelled to the point of losing control.
After a night of Annia, Kayla, Baor, and Julia taking turns with false smiles, mockery, and interrogation, the youngest princess could no longer maintain her facade.
Nearly sobbing, she suddenly felt someone embrace her from behind—a delicate, small touch: Livyate.
“Tes, that’s enough… Don’t torment yourself. If anyone should feel guilt, it’s me.”
Livyate spoke softly, then turned with resolve and determination to Julia.
“Julia, I’m truly sorry for deceiving you for so long. The new queen mentioned in Tesvelan’s letter is me. I will continue to support cooperation between humans and elves, alongside the current queen and future Regent, Larorvia Windheiz. But please, keep this secret from everyone else—including your father.”