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prolestariwrites · 6 years ago

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Mead stops at the door, swallowing uncomfortably when he scans the room full of chatty boys and girls. His eyes open wide and his fingers tremble as they grasp the little sack that holds his lunch: a small loaf of honey bread, an apple, and a hunk of sharp cheese. Nana Mary, with whom he had been staying since arriving in the capital a week ago, had said this was what all the children ate at school, but seeing their fancy clothes and embroidered backpacks, he suddenly feels incredibly out of place.

Someone bumps him from behind, making him stumble forward, and Mead tries to slip in unnoticed. He takes a seat in the very back corner, running his hands over the smooth wood of the desk before lifting it up. Inside are sheets of paper—the thin kind, cut prettily, not the thick parchments like the mayor uses at home to hang up notices—along with a few pencils and even an inkwell and pen. His eyes go even wider at the sight. He’s never even seen a real pen before.

“Boys and girls, have a seat!” The teacher walks in, a tall and imposing woman with birdlike features and her hair pulled back into a severe bun. Her black robes swirl around her, the uniform that signifies her status as full professor, and she stands at the desk in the front as the children scramble for seats. Within thirty seconds they are seated and still, everyone’s hands folded on the desk, so Mead sits up and does the same.

“We will start with the pledge.”

Everyone stands, Mead jumping up as well, and he follows suit as they place their right hands over hearts. The recitation begins, and this he mostly knows, although in Bernia they say it a bit differently, not so stiff and formal.

We pledge allegiance to Liones, To the king and to the kingdom, Hearts and minds devoted to peace, And justice for all men.

“And women!” one of the girls proclaims, earning a round of giggles. The professor gives a sharp look that quiets them down immediately before the children take their seats.

“Name and date at the top, then I want at least one hundred words on The Brave Knight and its themes.”

The blood drains from Mead’s face as he frantically looks around. The other children open their desks and store their sacks away, which he does as well; then they remove a piece of paper and a pencil and begin working, the only sound is the scratching of writing.

Mead writes his name and the date at the top, and then stops. Nana Mary had read him The Brave Knight just the other day, but what is he supposed to do now? And one hundred words? Mead only knows about twenty, tops!

Biting his lip, he puts his pencil to paper, and immediately the tip snaps off. Mead looks around in alarm, wondering what to do, when a voice beside him whispers, “It’s that one.”

He looks over to see a boy with light hair and a sunny smile pointing to the side of the desk. “There is a little knife to carve. Be sure not to get scrapings on the floor, Professor gets cross when you make a mess.”

“Thanks!” he whispers back. Mead slips the little carving tool from the side of the desk and quickly whittles another point. His desk is now covered in little slivers of graphite, so not knowing what to do he scoops them into his hand and dumps them into his desk.

The boy beside him giggles, and Mead crooks a brow at him. “What?”

“You’re funny. What’s your name?” he asks.

Leaning over he says, “Mead. What’s yours?”

“Zeal. Are you new?”

“Yeah. I just moved here from Bernia. This knight guy named Meliodas said I had to come here and go to school.”

“Woah! You know Meliodas?”

Mead smiles smugly. “Yup. He made me one of the Seven Deadly Sins and everything. We stopped the evil Holy Knights.”

Zeal frowns. “Nuh uh. My sister is a Holy Knight, I would have heard about that.”

His mouth twists as he tries to think up a retort and fails. Meanwhile, his eyes lift to Zeal’s paper, which has a proper paragraph already written. “What’s the answer?”

Zeal laughs behind his hand. “It’s whatever you think. There’s no right or wrong. Professor wants to know what you think the story is about. Just say why.”

Mead nods. He sits back up and writes: “The Brave Knight” is about a knight who is brave.

“Damn,” he mutters. “Only ten words.”

Quickly he erases brave and writes very very very very very very over and over until he triumphantly counts up to one hundred, then adds brave on the end with a flourish.

“Done!” he murmurs. Then he turns to Zeal and asks, “How many words you got?”

Eight-four, Zeal mimes.

“Not bad.” He props his elbow on the desk and says smugly, “I’m at one hundred and ten.”

“No way!” Zeal protests, holding out his arm. “Let me see!”

Proudly Mead hands over his paper, but his grin turns sour when Zeal snorts loudly. “This isn’t a theme! The Professor will—”

“In all my years, I have never seen such a blatant display of cheating! How disgraceful!”

Both boys look up to see the Professor glaring down at them. Mead feels as though he is pinned by her glare, shrinking into his seat. This is worse than any of the time the old villagers yelled at him. “We weren’t!” Zeal protests. “Promise!”

“Boys chatting and sharing papers is the very definition of cheating,” she scolds. “You’ll both stay after in detention and write three hundred words on why cheaters are a drain on society.”

She turns and stalks back to the front of the room, leaving Mead blinking in her wake. That’s it? Detention? She didn’t even hit him! He turns and grins at Zeal, who has completely sild down in his seat. “Hey! I thought we were goners for sure. Detention don’t seem so bad.”

“It’s worse than it sounds,” Zeal groans. “She makes us clean the whole room and now we gotta write three hundred words? This will take forever!”

“I’ll clean if you write?” Mead offers.

The teacher hisses at them, and both boys shrink back. “Deal,” Mead hears him whisper, and he smiles to himself.

#nnt #nanatsu no taizai #zeal #mead #sidecastweek #myfic

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han100894 · 6 years ago

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Lexember day 10-11/ NNT Wizard

Day 10-11: Food and related words

I figured food was a pretty big category where I could get a lot of words. Even so I may have gone a bit overboard. Some of these words aren’t actually food, like tree (Which I’ve italicized), but I needed to make the word, to make the related food item word, so I figured I’ll keep them on here. I tried to look up what kind of food was eaten in 2500 BC in England since that more or less is when Belialuin existed last.

ṇe̤bwe̤ṣ /ṇe̤ṣ b̤wė—Food

ṇe̤möb̤wėṣ / ṇe̤ṣ möb̤wė --drink, water

b̤e̤n̈okil/ b̤e̤m̈il n̈ok—Nuts, seeds

ṇe̤n̈oke̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ n̈ok—Nut shells, plant by-products

b̤e̤m̈aṣad̤el/ b̤e̤m̈il aṣad̤e—Hazel tree

b̤e̤del/ b̤e̤m̈il de—Tree

b̤e̤n̈okasal/ b̤e̤m̈il n̈okasa—Hazelnuts

ṡab̤wėkonu/ ṡau b̤wėkon—Shellfish

ṇe̤kone̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ kon—Shell (Clam like shells or crab like shells)

ṡab̤wėmöriu/ ṡau b̤wėmöri—Fish

ṡainjo̤u/ ṡau injo̤—Salmon

ṡamiru/ ṡau mir—Trout

ṡabwosu/ ṡau bwȯs—Deer

ṡapȯsu/ ṡau pȯs—Cow

ṡabwịsu / ṡau bwịs—Sheep

ṡakȯsu/ ṡau kȯs—Pig

ṡakịsu/ ṡau kịs—Elk

ṇe̤me̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ me—Meat

ṇe̤sm̈ue̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ sm̈u—fat/lard

ṡamebwȯsu/ ṡau mebwȯs —Venison

ṇe̤mepȯse̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mepȯs —Beef

ṇe̤mebwịse̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mebwịs —Mutton

ṇe̤mekȯse̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mekȯs —Pork

ṇe̤mekịse̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mekịs —Elk meat

b̤e̤m̈aṇol/ b̤e̤m̈il aṇo—Grain

b̤e̤jaṇol/ b̤e̤m̈il jaṇo—Barley

b̤e̤bhaṇol/ b̤e̤m̈il bhaṇo—Wheat

k̇haṇoï/ k̇höï aṇo—Flour

ṇaṇoe̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ aṇoä—Bread

k̇haṇoäï / k̇höï aṇoä—Pancake

b̤e̤ḃhaḃal/ b̤e̤m̈il ḃhaḃa—broad beans/ beans

ṇe̤jo̤se̤ṣ / ṇe̤ṣ jo̤s—Cheese

k̇höjo̤sï/ k̇höï jo̤s—Curd

ṇe̤mo̤jo̤e̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mo̤jo̤—Milk

k̇hömo̤jo̤ï/ k̇höï mo̤jo̤—Whey

ṇe̤jo̤e̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ jo̤—butter

b̤wusar̈un/ b̤wun sa—Salt

ṇe̤mel̇ie̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mel̇i—Honey

ṇe̤mel̇iṙoe̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ mel̇iṙo—Honeycomb

b̤e̤ṁusil / b̤e̤m̈il ṁus—Mustard

b̤e̤m̈eṁol/ b̤e̤m̈il eṁo—Garlic

b̤e̤lustul/ b̤e̤m̈il lustu—Herb/spice

b̤e̤l̈ẹndel/ b̤e̤m̈il l̈ẹnde—Juniper tree

b̤e̤roml̈ẹnil/ b̤e̤m̈il roml̈ẹn—Juniper berries

b̤e̤roṁil / b̤e̤m̈il roṁ—Berries

b̤e̤roṁril/ b̤e̤m̈il roṁri—Blackberry

b̤e̤roṁelil/ b̤e̤m̈il roṁel—Mulberry

b̤e̤subil/ b̤e̤m̈il subi—Strawberries

ṡaḃau/ ṡau aḃa—Goose

ṡaḃu/ ṡau aḃu—Chicken

ṡaṫou/ ṡau aṫo—Duck

ṇe̤maḃae̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ maḃa —Goose meat

ṇe̤maḃue̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ maḃu —Chicken Meat

ṇe̤maṫoe̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ maṫo —Duck meat

ṡajöu/ ṡau jö—egg

ṡajöaḃau/ ṡau jöaḃa —Goose egg

ṡajöaḃu/ ṡau jöaḃu —Chicken egg

ṡajöaṫou/ ṡau jöaṫo —Duck egg

ṡajöaḃiu/ ṡau jöaḃi —Fowl egg

ṡaḃiu/ ṡau aḃi—wild fowl

ṇe̤maḃie̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ maḃi —Fowl meat

ṇe̤laṭie̤ṣ / ṇe̤ṣ laṭi—Ale/alcohol

ṇe̤maṭie̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ maṭi—Mead

k̇hölaṭï/ k̇höï laṭi—Malt

ṡak̇oṇou/ ṡau k̇oṇo—Oysters

ṡaṇk̇ou/ṡau aṇk̇o—Crab

b̤e̤kil/ b̤e̤m̈il ki—Peas

b̤e̤m̈aṇal/ b̤e̤m̈il aṇa—Oats

ṇe̤pol̈e̤ṣ / ṇe̤ṣ pol̈—Porridge

ṇe̤sup̤ae̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ sup̤a—Stew/soup

ṇe̤jup̤ae̤ṣ/ ṇe̤ṣ jup̤a—Broth

b̤e̤kaḷil/ b̤e̤m̈il kaḷ –Kale, cabbage

b̤e̤ku̇nail/ b̤e̤m̈il ku̇na—Onion

b̤e̤du̇ḷil/ b̤e̤m̈il du̇ḷi—Edible Seaweed

b̤e̤ku̇nol/ b̤e̤m̈il ku̇no—Crop

Day 12—Food verbs

Verbs often are either straight up stems on their own, such as to eat being the stem for food, or built from the stems.

b̤we--To eat/to chew

möb̤we--To swallow/to drink

Pạku—To cook

möku—To boil

Pa̤ku—To bake, to roast, to toast

laṭi --To make alcohol

o̤m—To till, to prepare soil for planting

o̤mku —To plant

ku̇no—to harvest

Pa—to dry, to heat

Mol—To mill, to grind

#seven deadly sins #nanatsu no taizai #merlin (nnt)#conlang #lexember

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