Old Sainte-Anne is the closest inhabited land to the Fleur Sea — and the last place most sailors ever see willingly.
The city rests atop a colossal sea-mountain, a sheer stone pillar rising straight from the depths. At its summit sits an island plateau crowned with stone walls, terraced docks, and wind-carved towers. Beneath it lies Kraken’s Valley, a vast abyssal basin where krakens and other colossal cephalopods are known to breed.
Sainte-Anne should not exist.
That it does is considered proof that audacity can rival the gods.
Old Sainte-Anne was founded by Marco Polo, the first mortal said to have traveled the entire world — all continents, all seas, all skies known and unknown.
When asked why he chose this place, Marco Polo famously said only:
“This is where the sun rises and sets most beautifully.”
He never mentioned the krakens.
Only later did sailors realize that the mountain stands in a natural dead zone of currents and pressure — a rare calm eye surrounded by the most dangerous breeding waters on the planet. The city was built above a monster nursery, protected only by height, stone, and nerve.
Marco Polo vanished shortly after the city’s completion. No grave exists.
The mountain itself is called the Worldspire — a near-vertical column of black stone veined with faint bioluminescence from deep-sea minerals.
Lower Slopes: Sheer cliffs constantly lashed by wind and spray. No natural docks exist.
Chain Harbors: Ships are anchored by massive chain systems lowered from above. Only Sainte-Anne crews know the timing and angles to approach safely.
Summit Island: A wide, bowl-shaped plateau with fertile soil, fresh springs, and unobstructed horizons in every direction.
From the city walls, one can see:
Endless ocean
Bloom Zones glowing at night
Massive shadows moving far below, slow and patient
Most citizens are descendants of legends:
Children of world-sailors who never returned home
Heirs of warriors who chased monsters instead of thrones
Bastards of nobles who fled courts and crowns
Bloodlines here are not measured by titles, but by stories.
Common traits among Sainte-Anne folk:
Weather-scarred but sharp-eyed
Casual about danger
Deeply superstitious, deeply pragmatic
No one comes here by accident.
Few are born ordinary.
Life in Old Sainte-Anne follows a simple, unspoken rule:
You eat what you find.
You drink what you can.
You stay as long as the weather allows.
Food is scavenged, fished, or grown in terrace gardens. Drink ranges from refined spirits to dangerous home brews distilled from strange fruits and sea-organisms.
Sainte-Anne is a city of obsessive pursuits:
Digging into the mountain for rare minerals
Salvaging monster remains that drift upward
Gambling with bone dice, kraken ivory, and memory tokens
No one agrees on the rules.
Everyone agrees on the stakes.
The city is best remembered through song, not record.
The most famous is simply called “Old Sainte-Anne.”
It is sung in taverns across the world, always slightly different, always unfinished.
The song paints the city as:
A place you survive, not conquer
A place where names don’t matter
A place where you lose teeth, gold, and time
A place you swear you’ll return to — once the weather clears
In Sainte-Anne itself, the song is sung quietly.
Some say each verse corresponds to a real event.
Others say the city adds verses when it takes something from you.
Beneath the Worldspire lies Kraken’s Valley, a pressure-locked abyss where krakens gather to mate, hunt, and die.
Tremors are common
The sea occasionally rises unnaturally calm
Entire shadows blot out the bioluminescent blooms below
Sainte-Anne survives because:
The krakens rarely look up
The mountain disrupts sonar and pressure sense
The city has learned when not to move
When the krakens rise, bells ring across the city — not to warn, but to remind people to stay still.
Arnot: Considers Sainte-Anne a curiosity and a warning. Even giant-blooded admirals refuse to test the valley.
Banana: Sailors sing of it, merchants romanticize it, pirates dream of it — few attempt the journey.
Scholars: Argue whether the city exists at all, citing conflicting maps and impossible distances.
Every reliable map marks the area differently.
Some omit it entirely.
Old Sainte-Anne represents:
The romance of the impossible
Survival without illusion
Legacy without empire
Beauty bought with proximity to extinction
It is not a safe haven.
It is not a final destination.
It is a place you pass through —
if the sea allows.
Sainte-Anne should feel half-remembered, like a place you visited in another life. It is sung about more than it is described. Any story set here should feel weather-bound, temporary, and heavy with unspoken danger — where the sunrise is perfect because it might be your last.
Most Famous Song about Sainte-Anne
[Verse 1: Soloist, Choir]
Say, were you ever in old Sainte-Anne?
Sainte-Anne, old Sainte-Anne
You eat what you find and you drink what you can
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
[Verse 2: Soloist, Choir]
Who did you meet there and what was her name?
Sainte-Anne, old Sainte-Anne
I don't know her name, but she played a good game
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
[Verse 3: Soloist, Choir]
What did you do? Did you dig for your gold?
Sainte-Anne, old Sainte-Anne
I guess I'll keep digging until I get old
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
[Verse 4: Soloist, Choir]
What did you drink? Did it make you go blind?
Sainte-Anne, old Saintе-Anne
I only get drunk on the vеry best kind
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
[Verse 5: Soloist, Choir]
Did it cost you a tooth?
Sainte-Anne, old Sainte-Anne
I don't know how many, to tell you the truth
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
[Verse 6: Soloist, Choir]
And when will you go back to old Sainte-Anne?
Sainte-Anne, old Sainte-Anne
I'm watching the weather, as soon as I can
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey
Only in old Sainte-Anne - hey