“Lisa...” Norman uttered. “I didn’t mean to…”

Norman swayed in his seat. His eyes squinted because of some bright light. He felt his head wobble from side to side while his whole body seemed to shake. Norman started seeing shapes and colors and a figure on his side. His sight slowly returned as he ascended from his slumber.

“Sorry, but our stop is next.” Orel let go of Norman’s shoulder. “Is something wrong?”

“Ah, what? Nothing. So next stop is Savmid?”

“Yeah, they just announced it, but you were still sleeping.”

“My bad. I am probably feeling some jet lag.”

“Oh, how far do you come from?” Orel asked.

“I come from Zabad, South Indies. Do you know it?”

“Haven’t heard of it, but my grandpa said he came from Zabad.”

“Ah, you did mention that,” Norman yawned. “The Indies is a quite nice coastal state, though it’s always full of tourists.”

“Isn’t it quite warm there?” Orel subtly pointed out Norman’s tanned skin.

“We get around thirty degrees during the summer, but the rains have made them colder. The tourists always come for the sandy shores and sunshine, but never expect the irregular rain.”

Orel resisted his urge to question whose name Norman was repeating in his sleep. He figured that Norman had many things he would like to keep to himself for now, at least. Gathering their clothes, the two waited for the train to stop. Orel wore a bouncy bomber jacket and a woolen beanie he had gotten for his birthday last year. The beanie was made by his grandmother, while the coat was a gift from his father.

Meanwhile, Norman wore thick winter pants with an oversized dark green parka, which seemed at least one size too large. He also had woolen mittens covering his hands almost to his elbows, and a black fur hat that looked like a full-sized rabbit was sitting on his head. Even with all those layers, Norman shivered like a shaved dog.

“You don’t seem to enjoy the weather here?” Orel asked.

“I’m not too fond of it. South Indies never have much snow. I feel like freezing to death here.”

Norman chuckled to himself. “I thought it wouldn’t be like the rumors said, but it was all on point. Maybe I should have gone elsewhere.”

The train stopped, and the doors opened swiftly. The two stepped out of the train, which soon continued its route, disappearing into the darkness. Orel was slightly baffled by the sight, as Savmid was not like the large town he had imagined. The train station wasn’t even a building, just a pier with benches. Not far from it started a line of terraced houses on each side of the road. Few people were outside, with even fewer cars going by too.

“It’s awfully dark for 3 pm,” Orel said.

“That is how long days last in Pohjola.”

The streets were lit by lamps, though dim and often flickering. Dark clouds blocked the night sky so that no star shined through. The white snow made the bleak scenery at least a bit brighter, but mud and oil from the driveways dyed it to fit the depressing darkness. Neither one looked forward while walking through the sidewalk, as they were too concentrated on the brochure they had picked up from the train station.

Norman leaned over Orel’s shoulder to take a peek.

“That thing seems outdated. We are better off using our phones.”

“I mean, yeah, but this does have some nice information.” Orel kept reading.

“Did you know that this town holds one of the largest prisons in the country?” Orel found the fact section.

“That’s very reassuring. Are you going to tell me next that this town holds the record for the lowest temperature measured?”

“No, but this does mention something called the annual...Firefox festival?” Orel raised an eyebrow.

“Many places worship foxes, but I have to say that I haven’t heard about this. It sounds like a local celebration.”

Orel read the advertisement, “All gather and come together, for it is the only time of the year one can get themselves a firefox hide here at Savmid. Participants can only hunt one, and the price you can sell it for is 1000 eer. The participation fee is 50-”

Norman interrupted. “I see, so it’s just a hunting festival. But why a fox of all things. That sounds much too old-fashioned.”

Norman showed his phone screen. “I found a place to stay. Gehaku reviews give it 3.7 stars.”

“You searched for the cheapest one, didn’t you?”

“What else did you expect? Neither of us have that much money to spare. There are only three options anyway.”

“Fine. Better hope there’s heating.”

“You and me both.”

With Norman leading, the two reached their destination, going around corners filled with dark buildings, some run-down, some a bit less. The so-called hotel was a two-story building with a small grocery shop on the ground floor. They entered the downstairs lobby, where a middle-aged man was sitting at the counter. He looked bored out of his mind, like he had been waiting for customers since the opening. Orel tried not to look at the bright spot on the man’s bald head as he couldn’t help himself giggling at it. The place did not seem that cheap but was nothing spectacular either. The wallpaper was bland, but the place was clean. It could very well be an impoverished part of a larger hotel chain.

“Piev. Mit teil?” The man asked in a foreign language.

“Excuse me,” Norman couldn’t understand a word he said.

“Aaa, Sorry. So, a two-person room, perhaps? how many nights?” The man was surprised by the sight of foreigners.

“Two,” Norman said.

“Alright. Are you going someplace?” The man tried to make some small talk.

“North,” Orel kept their objective hidden.

“Then, you should stay longer—bad weather for this week: Blizzard and pakkanen.” The man tried to remember the words.

“pachanen?” Orel was not familiar with the pronunciation.

“Yes, pakkanen. Cold. minus 35 at least.”

“Then, guess we should stay a week,” Norman shivered from the thought.

“Okay, I give you a special price. You have bad luck. 105 Eer.”

“Fine. Orel, give half.” Norman took every opportunity to split the bill.

“Here.” Orel reluctantly gave his share.

The two wrote their signatures on the guest book, which had quite a lot of space. Orel looked over and saw that Norman kept his signature to only his initials, which themselves were hard to figure out from the formal cursive.

“Good.” The man gave Norman the keys.

“Room four on this floor. TV and toilet. Good food from Marko’s over there.” He pointed at a building on the other side of the road.

“Oh, and we have a sauna, if interested.” The man remembered.

“Oh, I’ve always wanted to try one,” Norman said.

“What’s that?” Orel asked.

“You’ll see.”

They went to the left dimly lit hallway and found their room. The door revealed a sleazy hotel room colored in light brown and off-white. They put their coats on the dusty hanger next to the door and settled in. There were two single beds, a workstation with a seat, two bedside tables, and a small tv on the wall—no candy on the pillows. Norman fell on the bed like a wet noodle and turned on the television. Orel sat on his bed as well, feeling the worn-out springs. There was not much to gain from watching the TV, as most programs were in Aleian, though some had foreign subtitles.

“What are we going to do meanwhile?” Orel asked.

“I was going to take a nap first,” Norman turned on his side.

“I’m going to make a call.”

“Knock yourself out.” Norman yawned.

Orel went to the bathroom and opened his phone. Norman tried to ignore the beeping sound of a call coming through the paper-thin walls. After a minute, it finally connected. Tuja, Orel’s mother, was eager to answer as soon as possible. Like any other mother, she bombarded him with questions. She asked how his trip had been, that everything was alright, and so on. Orel could hear the sound of cooking in the background, which made him a bit hungry as well. Usually, calls from her were mandatory, but it seemed appropriate and something he wanted to do this time.

“How’s grandma?” Orel asked.

“Fine. I think she’s in the attic cleaning.” Tuja saw some dust dropping from the roof. “When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. It depends.” Orel had no idea.

“I see.” Tuja sighed. “We’ll be waiting for you here.”

“Oh, hi, Deras.” She greeted as he barged inside.

“Hi, Tuja. Who are you talking to? Orel?” Deras took off his jacket.

Deras was soaked like a wet dog and smelled like one too. The sound of the rain became muffled as he closed the door, drizzling against the windows.

“Yes. Oh, sorry, honey. Deras just came in.”

“Say hi to him for me.”

“Okay. I’ll hang up for now, but remember to call if anything happens!” Tuja reminded.

“Yeah yeah.” Orel didn’t like the pampering.

“Love you!” Tuja ended the call.

Deras stomped on the smooth wooden floor and sat down on the living room sofa, still wet from the weather outside. He turned towards the kitchen, where Tuja was finishing her cooking.

“What did you two talk about?”

“Just checking. He is doing fine, I guess.”

“I wasn’t worried or anything. I saw that glimmer in his eye when he took off.”

“You sound so sure.”

“After being with pops and Emil, there’s no doubt in my mind. He’s got what it takes.”

“Well, Orel is resourceful for his age. Still, it took some time to actually believe what Emil kept telling me about your travels.” Tuja smiled.

Deras jumped as he heard a loud bang upstairs. Tuja already knew what it meant but still almost spilled the soup.

“Is Ymir going through pop’s stuff again?” Deras followed the sound of footsteps.

Tuja prepared the food on the table.

“I think she was looking for something and decided to clean while there.”

“Maybe we should let her rest some more. She is getting old, after all.”

“Who are you calling old?” Ymir walked down the stairs with a papyrus scroll in her hand. “Oh, Tuja, that smells lovely.”

The steps creaked a bit, even under her weight. An outsider would be fearful about an old lady going down steps by herself without any railing, but she knew every step she took like the back of her old wrinkled hands.

“You know it. It’s one of your recipes.” Tuja smirked.

“Ooh, is it mumble stew?” The aroma reached Deras’ round nose.

“Is that what you were looking for in the attic?” Tuja looked at the large piece of paper Ymir was carrying.

“Yes. Deras, you should come here too.” Ymir sat down at the end of the dinner table.

“You don’t need to ask.” Deras lifted himself from the sofa.

His loud steps were muffed only by various colorful rugs on the floor, some weaved by Ymir, some bought, and some that Eli brought from his travels.

After removing the ribbon, Ymir carefully spread the papyrus over the table and put some cups on the edges to keep it from curling.

“Ah, this map! I always wondered where you put it.” Deras’s eyes sparkled.

“What is it?” Tuja looked at the blank piece of paper.

“This was my dear husband's, Eli's map. He called it the memoir paper,” Ymir explained.

“There’s nothing on it.” Tuja didn’t understand.

“This map draws itself as the carrier explores. It gives names to places as they are discovered.”

“I see, so it only shows what each person discovers.”

“Yes. Deras and Emil last used it on their travels.”

“This brings back so many memories.” Deras said.

He soon snapped out of his nostalgic memories. “Wait, why didn’t we give this to Orel?”

“You see, this paper is ancient and frail. It would crumble to dust before too long.” Ymir reminded. “Also, I forgot where I put it until now,” Ymir confessed with a slight blush.

“So, did Eli find this, or did he ever tell how he got his hands on it?” Tuja asked.

Deras laughed with short breaths.

“I remember that he got it by trade in the Azura continent. He thought it was a map of the region by some salesperson and was so mad at first when he opened it.”

“You still remember after all those years? Weren’t you still quite young then?” Tuja questioned.

“I can never forget my first and last travel with pops. Mom didn’t want me to go with him, but he took me anyway.” Deras smiled blissfully.

“You and Emil were so reckless, but at least you came home safely,” Ymir remembered.

“Oh, and of course, I know that Orel will come back safe when he’s done, just like his father.” She comforted Tuja.

“Thank you, I don’t doubt it. I trust both of them.”

“I think it’s interesting, that thing Emil's doing. It was high time someone tried to map out where Eislandr’s come from. Pops didn’t know much himself.” Deras commented.

“But why were you looking for this exactly?” Tuja asked.

“I happened to find it when cleaning, and considering what it does, marking those realms on a map could be historical.”

“Hmmm. Now that I think about it, I don’t know anymore. It’s pretty old, like you said.” Deras said.

“Well, there’s still plenty of time to think about that, but I think that we should eat before the food gets cold.” Tuja said.

“You’re right. Oh, my stomach’s rumbling,” Deras took his plate.

While the family enjoyed the meal, far away across the open sea, Orel felt more hungry than ever.

“I’ll go check out that place the owner mentioned. Do you want to come with me?” Orel asked Norman.

“Go by yourself. I’m way too conformable right now.” Norman was already half-asleep.

Orel took his clothes and went outside, where a strong breeze had started to blow. He went to the other side of the street, where the restaurant stood firm on the stone foundation. Going under the painted sign reading “Markom,” Orel entered through a pair of automated doors and saw that the restaurant was pretty popular with the locals. The style was very homey and akin to a ski lodge.

Orel waited his turn at the counter, though most customers had already ordered and were just waiting.

The young yet bored-of-life cashier greeted Orel with a cold gaze.

“What would it be?” He asked in commal.

“How did you know I was not a local?”

“You don’t see new faces around here often, especially during the off-season. Also, the afternoon train just went by.”

“Alright.” Orel was surprised by the level of deduction.

Orel looked at the menu on the wall. Thankfully, the items were all translated, though a bit simpler than the original.

“I’ll take a... chicken basket.”

“That’s mighty popular here. That’ll be 8.50 Eer. Drinks included.”

“Here, keep the change.” Orel tried to show hospitality.

“Thanks, but we don’t tip the staff.” The cashier pushed the coins back. “Here’s your order number. We will bring it to you once it’s ready.”

“Thank you...Toko.” Orel read the cashier’s name tag.

“Enjoy your meal.” Toko’s tone said otherwise.

Orel sat down at a free table and looked around him. The music playing on the stereos was foreign to him, and he could not make anything out of what others were talking about, but could notice some wondering gazes cast upon him.

The food arrived steaming hot, provided by a middle-aged yet kind waiter, the polar opposite of the cashier. Orel ate his food at peace and decided to loiter around after finishing. He had free drinks, after all.

Orel directed his attention to a pair of figures entering the restaurant. They were strange since they spoke commal, and a weird dialect of it none the less. Orel concentrated on their outfits, two similar black cotton coats with short capelets, like school uniforms, one much more well-kept than the other. Orel was not very keen on fashion, but the logos patterned on the chests of the coats looked foreign and unique. The men wearing them were arguing about something, and soon Orel could make up what they were saying.

“Why did you turn down that offer, Dan? It was a good deal.” Said the one with the rugged coat.

His slim body didn’t match his sluggish movement, making his long dark hair flail around like dark seaweed. It reminded Orel of the time he saw someone walking on stilts.

“We don’t need it. It would have been a waste of money, Fynn.” Daniel answered calmly.

While his hair had the same color, it was shorter and well maintained, brushed back like a wolf’s mane. He had but one eye, while the other was covered with a dark eye patch. The two strange foreigners had an upper-class air around them, but Orel couldn’t tell what their business was.

“I would have liked a place with electricity...” Fynn complained childishly.

There was something off about this one’s face. It was similar to mugshots of criminals. It had a specific unnerving factor that made you feel uneasy, like he could jump at you at any moment. One reason could be the way his head twitched when irritated. The man was like an enigma, covered by a veil of dark hair.

“You and your electronics...” Daniel scoffed.

The two came to the counter and ordered straight away. The short one’s face never gave away much emotion, though he seemed the type of person you would rather not anger.

“Coffee and a bun,” Daniel said.

“Ummm, That sandwich over there. Oh, you got juice boxes? I’ll take apple flavor.” Fynn twiddled his long unkempt hair.

“Oh, alright. Here you go.” The cashier took them out of the counter. “Anything else?”

“No.” said both.

“Alright. That’ll be 12 Eer.”

“Do you take credit?” Daniel asked.

“Yes, we do.”

“Good.” He took out his card.

After paying, the two went by Orel. Daniel gave a stare as they did. It made Orel feel more than uneasy. The menacing look on the man’s face and the empty gaze of his green eye imposed a sense of dread on Orel that made him want to flee. There was something about that eye. It did not seem normal. It felt unreal, like a doll’s eye, similar to the real thing, but not quite. Orel couldn’t tell if it was real or not, but Daniel did turn his head from the blindside to take a look. Looking at it felt like gazing deeply into the dark woods, and whatever lurked there watched back from the darkness.

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” Fynn grimaced with his round, owlish eyes.

He passed next to Orel with a sandwich in his hand and the juice in the other. Orel quickly looked away, and so did Daniel. It was a sense of relief, being able to escape the man’s sight. Orel still felt the need to run, but doing so right now felt guilty.

“Kids are so rude these days. Right, Dan?” Fynn complained.

“It’s not a problem, Fynn. It’s your fault for trying to cause a scene.” Daniel shook his head with disappointment.

As the men sat down, Orel was already gone. He sneaked out quickly, yet silently.

After reaching the hotel and getting back to his room, Norman, who seemed to have just woken up from his slumber, stretched his long body like a cat, making his joints crack very unsettlingly.

“Norman, I was just at the restaurant and-”

“Oh, you’re back. I was thinking of going to the sauna while it’s still open. Want to join me?” Norman interrupted him.

“Umm, sure.” Orel saw how excited Norman was and didn’t want to ruin his mood.

The two headed to the basement level with towels in their arms. The steam pipes on the walls made Orel feel that they were going the wrong way until he saw a door with the word sauna. Behind it was a set of lockers and a door leading to another room. Orel had been to a bathhouse before and somewhat knew what to do. There wasn’t anyone else there, which made Orel less anxious but also a bit uneasy about using an empty public bath. They stripped off their clothes, stored them in the lockers, and headed to the next room.

The two washed in the showers next room with towels over their hips. They were presented with a couple of doors, each with a different nameplate. Orel couldn’t see inside, as the glass doors were all heavily fogged, and the small lamps barely lit them up.

“Steam sauna, Türk sauna, regular sauna, smoke sauna. What do these mean?” Orel was confused.

“Let’s just take the regular one,” Norman said.

Once Norman opened the door, Orel could feel a strong wave of heat and moisture escaping from the opening. There was not much inside, just a row of benches ascending next to the door, a button on the wall, and what seemed like a stove with rocks on top in the far corner.

Norman used the steps next to the door to climb higher on the chairs, where Orel followed. After sitting down, Orel noticed a small wooden door next to the stove.

“What’s that?”

“Oh, that? It’s the sauna elf’s door.” Norman said nonchalantly.

“A what?”

“It’s a household spirit that lives in the sauna. People here believe in quite the many elves and other spirits. It’s customary to throw some water on the stove before you leave so that the elf can bathe too.” Norman explained.

“You throw water on that?”

“I’ll show you.”

Norman pressed the round red button, and after a few seconds, water sprinkled to the hot stove from holes in the ceiling above, and a wave of heat ran to their backs. Even though he was sweating, Orel felt his muscles relax and his pores open. Surprisingly, it was not harsh but a gentle embrace. Norman felt years of stiffness in his back go away, even though only momentarily.

“Ah, this hits just right after all that cold.” Norman took it all in. “You were saying something earlier.”

“I was eating, and these two people came in weird clothes. One of them had an eyepatch, and his stare felt weird.”

“Weird clothes?” Norman caught the detail.

“Yeah, they had these weird dark jackets with a logo. A castle and a lion.”

Norman was shocked upon hearing that.

“Are you sure about that? Was it a blue lion and a yellow castle?”

“I think so. How did you know?”

Norman was left without words.

“Norman?” Orel tried to snap him out.

“Those people are dangerous,” Norman said seriously.

“Wait, what?” Orel was surprised by the sudden change in tone.

“Trust me here; those two are bad people.”

“Could you explain?”

Norman gritted his teeth and thought for a while.

“You may have been right about magic,” Norman confessed.

Orel stayed silent. He could see that Norman was not joking around. He would have otherwise commented on that, but given the situation, he chose not to.

“Those two are most certainly certified mages from a school of magic called the Magistrate. What makes them scary for mages from different academies like me is that they practice a policy called ‘silence and conceal,’ meaning they want to keep magic a secret and a well-guarded privilege from the public in countries that agree on that policy. The more dangerous part comes when they are given a chance in other countries with no clear policy. The Magistrate does not formally accept this, but rumors show that they do allow it. If they suspect that I would teach you or give you information, they could kill both of us.” Norman explained.

“What should we do?” Orel asked.

“I don’t think they suspect anything yet, but we aren’t safe here. I’m glad that I don’t wear my formal outfit out as those freaks do. They are obliged to do so as a warning to those around them. Usually, their arrival means that they are on business and that it is already too late, or so they say.”

“What are they doing here?”

“I don’t know. It seems far-fetched that those mages would have a mission here. Did you hear anything they said?”

“They were arguing about buying something. I think it was about a house.”

“They could be investigating something or doing research. Whatever it is, it seems those two are here to stay.”

Norman paused to think.

“Orel, I have to be frank with you.” He continued verily.

Orel stood in silence and listened.

“You should give up on your journey,” Norman said with the most sincere face Orel had ever seen.

The releasing steam was the only thing breaking the silence. Orel was more than surprised and more than anxious. He felt his heart tighten so much that it hurt. Norman also hurt to say it but knew it was the safest option. A person without magic wouldn’t stand a chance against them, not that Norman would be safe either.