Euria was one of the strongest and largest continents of the world. Euria is a land where history and modernity share the same breath.
Ancient cobblestone streets run beneath glass towers, and cathedrals rise beside research centers. Each country in Euria carries its own language and rhythm, yet there's a shared elegance — a sense that everything here was built to last.
The people of Euria value order and aesthetics. Cafés spill onto narrow sidewalks, filled with quiet laughter and the smell of roasted beans. Public squares host street musicians who play for the joy of being heard, and libraries are treated like temples.
Euria's politics are complex — the continent is a blend of democratic ideals, student activism, and subtle class divides. Universities here are more than schools; they are arenas of thought, where debates spill from lecture halls to candle-lit bars.
Seasons in Euria define its soul: winters are long and gray, summers bright and short, autumns golden with falling leaves that make every street look like a painting.
To outsiders, Euria feels like stepping into a dream built by both poets and engineers — where progress doesn't erase the past, it learns from it.
Ilinus, the capital city of the Eurian Republic of Varen, stands on the banks of the River Dena. The city is an old soul wearing a modern coat.
Tall bridges arc over quiet waters, connecting districts that each tell a different story — from the red-brick old town to the sleek academic quarter where Northvale University lies.
By day, Ilinus hums with motion: trams sliding down narrow tracks, students rushing through plazas, the smell of bread from street bakeries mixing with the cold morning air.
By night, it softens — yellow streetlights reflect on wet pavements, music drifts from basement bars, and laughter carries through alleys lined with ivy and stone.
The air is often crisp, almost melancholic, like the city itself remembers everything. Locals call it "the city that listens."
Beneath its charm lies tension. Political posters hang from lampposts, and student rallies fill the main square every few weeks. The youth of Ilinus believe change begins in classrooms — and sometimes ends on the streets.
Northvale University, perched on a hill overlooking the city, is a symbol of ambition and quiet rebellion. Its old clocktower overlooks both the wealth of the uptown district and the worn rooftops of the old quarter — a constant reminder of the gap between dreams and reality.
I was scrolling through an article about Euria and Ilinus while waiting for Ryan to get ready. The more I read, the more the place fascinated me — a land of old traditions trying to live with modern freedom.
Northvale, too, reflected that mix. There were no strict clothing rules; students could wear whatever they wanted, as long as it didn't cross the university's quiet line of decency. Freedom, but not without limits — just like everything in Euria.
I went with a light sweater layered over a white shirt, dark fitted jeans, and clean sneakers. A wristwatch sat snugly on my left wrist.
I hope this isn't inconsistent with the class environment, I thought, standing before Ryan's room.
"Isn't he out yet?" Valen's voice echoed from behind me as he stepped out of his own room.
He looked neat as always — a button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark trousers, polished shoes, and those rectangular glasses that somehow never seemed to catch a smudge.
"No. I don't know what's taking him so long," I said.
Valen sighed and lifted his hand to knock, but before he could, the door swung open.
Ryan appeared, slightly out of breath, wearing a fitted light-blue shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway, dark tailored trousers, and simple lace-up shoes.
"Sorry I'm a little late," he said, flashing an awkward smile.
Valen checked his watch. "We should get going. The orientation starts in thirty minutes."
"Relax, professor," Ryan said with a grin, locking his door. "We're not taking an exam."
"Yet," Valen replied flatly, already walking toward the stairs.
I followed them down the narrow dorm hallway, the sound of our footsteps echoing softly against the old wooden floor. The morning air hit us as soon as we stepped outside—cool and crisp, carrying the faint scent of rain and roasted coffee from the café across the square.
Ilinus looked different in daylight. Yesterday, it had felt distant and unfamiliar. But now, with sunlight washing over the rooftops, the city seemed alive. Trams glided past with a low hum, students hurried by with maps and coffee cups, and laughter drifted through the open courtyards.
Ryan inhaled deeply. "Man, this place smells expensive."
Valen gave him a look. "That's called clean air, Ryan."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Let's hope it stays this way once classes start."
As we crossed the street toward the main campus gate, the sign Northvale University came into view—tall metal letters against a backdrop of ivy and stone. Beyond it stretched a sprawling courtyard filled with students, posters, and chatter in a dozen accents.
For a moment, I stopped walking.
It hit me again—that strange mixture of excitement and unease. This was supposed to be a new beginning. Yet the thought wouldn't leave my mind.
What if the past was here too?
Ryan's voice broke my thoughts. "Hey, Sol! You coming or daydreaming already?"
"Coming," I said, catching up.
The gates of Northvale stood wide open, sunlight glinting off their iron bars.
And as I stepped through, it felt like crossing into another chapter of my life—one that hadn't been written yet.
---
Northvale University stood on a rise overlooking the River Dena, a blend of old stone and modern glass that reflected both Euria's history and its hunger for progress. Its motto, "Through Thought, We Rise," was carved beneath the main clocktower—a quiet reminder of the ideals that shaped it. The campus centered around a wide courtyard with an ancient oak, a fountain, and paths leading to the Library of Dawn, lecture halls, and the newer research wing where international scholars like Solace studied. Beyond its beauty, Northvale was alive with tension and ambition: student debates that blurred into politics, reform councils challenging authority, and friendships forming across cultural lines. To the world, it was a university. To those inside, it was where ideas—and destinies—collided.
Solace, Ryan, and Valen made their way toward the gymnasium where the orientation ceremony was being held. All departments were gathered together—only the newly admitted students, their voices blending into a soft buzz of anticipation.
The gymnasium was enormous, its polished floor reflecting the overhead lights. Nearly two or three thousand students filled the space, a sea of faces and excitement. The air carried that strange mix of nervousness and hope that always comes with beginnings.
Soon, a voice echoed through the hall.
"Welcome to Northvale."
The speaker stood at the center stage—a middle-aged man with black and white hair and calm brown eyes. The tide of time had left its traces on his face, not unkindly but with quiet authority.
He was the Dean of Northvale University, Mr. Austin Felips.
Mr. Felips adjusted the microphone. For a moment, the gymnasium fell completely silent, the murmur of thousands fading into the hum of the lights above.
"Welcome to Northvale," he began, his voice calm but firm, carrying through the hall with practiced ease. "Each of you has traveled a different path to stand here today. Some of you come from the heart of Euria, others from far beyond its borders. But here, those distances no longer matter. At Northvale, your origin is not your measure—your thought is."
He paused, letting the words sink in.
"This university was built not only to teach, but to question. To challenge. To search for truth in a world that too often hides it. You will find that our classrooms are filled with ideas that may clash, and people who may never agree. That is not a flaw. That is learning."
A faint smile touched his lips. "Northvale has a long tradition of debate and discovery. But remember—freedom of thought carries weight. The choices you make here, the voices you raise, they shape not just your future, but the pulse of this city."
The room remained quiet, students leaning in.
"Carry yourselves with honesty," he finished softly. "Study with curiosity. And above all, remember that thought is the first step toward change."
He stepped back from the microphone to the sound of steady applause that slowly built into a wave.
After Mr. Felips stepped away from the podium, another figure took his place.
He was young—probably only a few years older than Dolace and his group—but carried himself with the composure of someone far beyond his age. His hair was a pale shade of yellow, his eyes sharp and brown behind square-shaped glasses. His expression was serious, almost unreadable.
"Greetings, everyone," he began, his tone steady and precise. "I'm the current Student Council President, Alen Hugos."
Alen adjusted the mic, his gaze sweeping over the sea of faces before him.
"Thank you, Dean Felips," he said, his voice clear but edged with something firmer—discipline, maybe, or conviction. "As he mentioned, Northvale is a place of ideas. But it's also a place of responsibility."
He paused, letting that word linger.
"I won't take much of your time. You'll learn soon enough that this university isn't just about lectures and grades. Northvale is a mirror of Euria itself—its strengths, its flaws, and its debates. You'll see protests in the courtyards, arguments in classrooms, and people who will challenge everything you believe in."
A few students shifted uncomfortably.
"That's the reality of Northvale," Alen continued. "And it's also what makes it worth being part of. We're not here to agree—we're here to grow. To speak, to listen, to act."
He straightened his glasses slightly. "The Student Council exists to keep that balance—to ensure that every student, whether from Ilinus or far beyond, has a voice. I hope some of you will step forward and join us."
A faint smile crossed his face, more professional than warm.
"Welcome to Northvale University. I wish you the courage to find out who you really are."
He stepped back from the podium as applause rippled through the gymnasium—not as thunderous as before, but more thoughtful, heavier somehow.