Orel walked into the quiet hospital waiting room. He went to the desk, where an uninterested night-shift worker fiddled their thumbs.

"Excuse me." Orel raised his voice.

"Oh?" The worker lifted their head. "What are you here for?"

"I am here to see Tobias Norman."

"Let's see." They typed on the computer. "Yes, we have him here. Are you with the family?"

"No, I'm just here to check on him."

"Visitor hours start at 7 am, or do you have a reservation?"

"I'm here to see my friend. What do I need a reservation for?" Orel slammed his hand on the desk.

"Either wait until visitor hours or get out." The worker pointed at the door.

"Orel?" A familiar voice asked.

Orel turned toward the voice and saw none other than Ándras.

"Ándras!" Orel hugged him tightly. "Is Norman alright?"

"...Sure, he is fine, for now."

The answer came a bit later than Orel would have wanted, not that it was anything good.

"Well, can we see him?" Orel asked.

"Did you get past that clerk?"

"No?"

"Then, no." Ándras shook his head. "They threw me out after I delivered him here."

So, the two waited. Hours passed, sitting in chairs, watching the looping commercials on TV, and getting food and drinks from a nearby store. Though it was still an hour until they could enter, a strangely familiar figure walked in from the front door. A white suit and dark bangs, yet missing the mask.

The woman walked to the desk, and Orel took the opportunity.

"Orel?" Ándras stood up.

"Follow me." Orel waved his hand. "Excuse me, Viola?" Orel tapped her on the shoulder.

Viola turned with a perplexed face. "Have we met before?"

Orel was about to say something until he remembered their promise.

"...No, but are you here to see Norman too?"

"As a matter of fact, I am."

"Are these two bothering you, miss?" The clerk asked.

"No, these two are with me." Viola turned.

"Then, go to room 254."

The three walked past the quiet, humming corridors. Suddenly, Viola stopped before the door.

"Do not think this as a favor." She said.

Orel nodded.

"Good." She opened the door.

In the far corner next to the window was Norman, wrapped in bandages and sleeping with a pained expression.

Orel and Ándras immediately rushed to his side.

"Norman!" They both yelled.

"Do not bother his sleep." Viola walked closer as well.

Norman's eyes flickered. Slowly and with great effort, they opened and looked around. "Orel?"

"We're here." Orel leaned closer.

Norman's gaze turned to Viola. "What are you doing here?"

"I would ask the same, master Tobias," Viola answered with a sour face. "How will I explain these wounds to miss Annabelle?"

"The doctors told me most of it would heal."

"The family grows bored watching you only gather scars with your research. I am here to take you home."

"But we found it." Norman raised himself, bearing the pain from grasping the bedsides with his wrapped hands. "Didn't you, Orel?"

"Exactly. You tell me to believe this boy found it without you? Is there anything more to prove it other than his words?"

Orel reached into his backpack. "I have this." He took out a snow-filled jar.

"You must be joking. What is there to this jar of snow?"

"Let me have it." Norman reached with his hands.

Orel lent the jar to Norman, who painstakingly opened the lid and took out the ball of snow. Holding it in his hands, he felt the same piercing cold as Orel, yet there was something else.

"See?" Norman held it high. "It does not melt."

"Give me that." Viola snatched it, yet holding it in her hands; she could only come to the same conclusion. "It really is, unfreezing snow. Where did you get this from?"

"From Väinölä." Orel stepped closer. "You can keep it if you want."

Viola glanced at the honest face of Orel. There was no chance of them having found a mage that could produce the effect, and by his expression, even if she would bring it back, chug it in the oven or let it out in the sun, it would not melt.

"Here. It is yours." She dropped the snow back into the jar.

Orel smiled warmly, yet Viola was not about to return the gesture.

"But we cannot still let these wild adventures continue." She shook her head. "Who knows where you are going next."

"You should ask Orel. He is the leader of our party." Norman forced a grin through his chapped lips.

"A party?" Viola raised her brow.

"We are the Voyagers, ain't that right, boys?"

"Right, we talked about that," Ándras remembered.

"Sure?" Orel glanced around.

"You do understand I can check that at the Guild? Never mind that." Viola turned to Orel. "Where are you going next? At least tell me that."

"Avalon," Orel answered.

"Avalon, as in the island from the legends of Albion?" Viola was perplexed.

"Yeah." Orel nodded.

"I see." Viola rubbed her chin. "Can you promise there will be no further harm to master Tobias?"

"Shouldn't you ask me that?" Norman asked.

"A party leader is in charge of the lives of their members." Viola snapped back.

"Well, I can't really promise anything for sure, but I don't want him getting hurt any more than you do," Orel said.

"As long as you give your word as the party leader, I will be satisfied."

"Sure, as Orel Eislandr of the Voyagers, I give my word." Orel put his hands out.

"Good. Now we know who to blame if something were to happen." Viola turned to the door.

Orel gulped. Ándras did not know what to say, so he just sat down on a chair.

"Don't you do anything to Orel, you hear me?" Norman pointed at Viola.

"Do not worry. It was ultimately your decision to join him. Thus the greatest burden is upon you."

"Well, thanks, Sheyla." Norman shrugged as Viola walked through the door.

"Sheyla?" Orel made a face.

"What, did she give you a fake name? Well, that's to be expected." Norman lay against the end of the bed.

"Well, what are we going to do now?" Ándras asked.

"I'm not going anywhere for some time." Norman slapped the bed. "I know I'm not in the best position to say this, but I need you to do a favor for me."

"Sure, what is it?" Orel asked.

"You two can go back to your home, but I need you to stop by the Guild office on the way there." Norman took a piece of paper and a pen and scribbled on it. "You can register us as a real party there. Else my family will find out I bluffed."

"I don't have much money or anything." Orel was still processing the idea.

"Give them this. It will get you covered for the most part." Norman handed the note.

"Okay." Orel took it and put it in his backpack.

"What about you?" Ándras asked.

"I will notify you when I'm getting out. You just get yourself sorted."

Orel and Ándras looked at Norman without an expression.

"I will be fine, guys. Just go now." Norman glanced at the two.

"You will come back, right?" Orel asked.

"I promise." Norman nodded.

"Then, let's go, Ándras." Orel waved.

"Sure, sure." Ándras stood up.

Norman sighed as the door closed, leaving him alone, or so it seemed. He looked into the far corner, where the light from the window or door window would not reach. The darkness gathered into an obscure shape, but Norman knew precisely what it was.

"What do you want?" Norman did not bother to look at it.

"Shall I tell the family what I happened to hear?" the sinister voice asked.

"Would it change the situation?"

"Then, what if, by chance, something were to happen to your newly acquired friends?"

"Don't you dare!" Norman slammed his thigh.

"What would you be able to give in exchange, master?"

Norman thought for a moment. "A year."

"Five." The voice objected.

"Three, take it or leave it."

The voice laughed with a low bellow. "You have become better at this, master."

"Shut it, just do it."

"With pleasure, master." Norman could very well picture the shadow smiling.

Orel and Ándras made their way back to Helburg. Thankfully, the trains were in total working order again, and the travel only took a few hours.

It was already day when the two stepped out of the train station into the busy streets. With the miracle of phones and GPS, they quickly found the Guild office. A gray building upon many, inconspicuous and dull, through and through.

The two stepped in and found themselves at the back of a long line. As one of the only few offices in the Pohjola continent, it was almost always busy.

Waiting in line was almost as excruciating as waiting for Norman. The grayish-brown tiles on the walls and floor were unintrusive as a plastic knife. The smell of paper and a hint of dust were as exciting as smelling water-washed clothes. The two would have fallen asleep if they were not made to stand, but luckily their turn finally came.

"Next." The clerk dinged a bell.

"Here." Orel and Ándras stepped forward.

"Looking to form a party?"

"How did you know?" Orel asked.

"You looked like it." The clerk sighed. "Okay. Wait in room three. A consultant will be there to work it out with you."

The two opened the door to a smaller version of the clerk booth. They sat on the hard chairs opposite the computer and waited yet again.

Finally, a worker with glasses barely holding onto the tip of their nose walked in and sat down. "Good day. How may I help you?"

"We are here to form a party," Orel said.

"Alright." The worker tapped on their computer. "Sign this form." They took out a freshly printed piece of paperwork.

Orel and Ándras did their best to fill in the criteria and returned the form. The worker glanced at the paper while working on the computer.

"I am sorry, but we cannot accept this registration." They looked over with unimpressed eyes.

"Why?" Orel asked.

"Criteria 4B: All members must be present when forming a party." The worker explained in a monotone.

"Wait, I got something." Orel searched his backpack.

"Please, there is no paper that would change your situation." The worker facepalmed.

"Here." Orel took out the note and slid it against the counter.

"Sigh, alright. Let me take a look." The worker dropped their hand and dragged the note to them.

Orel could see the worker's eyes filling up like deflated balloons as they read the paper. They immediately took out their phone and took a firm grip on their earpiece.

"Sir, there might be something that interests you." They said with sweat flowing down their forehead. "There is a request from a royal. A Norman. Yes, I will tell them."

"What happened?" Orel asked.

"Please, this way." The worker stood up.

The two were escorted up a flight of stairs before a set of large, carved doors.

"They have arrived, Mr. Parameum." The worker knocked on the door.

"Then please, let them in." A joyful voice requested from the inside.

The worker opened the two doors and gestured for Orel and Ándras to step inside.

The room was anything but office space, far from it. The ceiling was twice as high, yet the windows stretched from top to bottom with the best view of the city and sea. Orel could see the shipyard from there. The lacquered floorboards shone like ice, while luxurious fur carpets dampened Orel's steps. The main desk towering over everything was at the room's far end, like a guard tower. On the sides were various bookcases, halfway filled with liquor and other drinks. It reminded Orel of his grandma's room. In the center was a round glass table surrounded by premium leather seats. The table had glasses for three. Sitting in a high chair behind the desk was a short yet lean man dressed in a black and red suit. Brushing his slick yet few hairs to the back of his head, he lowered his chair and walked over to the two.

"Good day, gentlemen. I am the humble keeper of this office. Hannes Parameum." The man reached his white-gloved hand.

"I'm Orel, Orel Eislandr." Orel shook the hand.

"Please, sit down." Hannes gestured over to the chairs.

Orel and Ándras sat on the comfortable sofas and seats while Hannes stepped over to the wine cabinet.

"You were in mind to form a party, yes?" He asked while searching for a fitting bottle.

"Yes, the sooner, the better," Orel said.

"Well, of course!" Hannes laughed as he opened a dark bottle.

Hannes returned with his own glass and poured the vine to himself, then Ándras, Orel, yet stopped at the third glass.

"Right, where is this, Norman?" He asked, lifting his curly eyebrows.

"He couldn't make it here," Orel explained.

"I see." Hannes put the bottle away. "Did you have another way to sign the paper?"

"Here." Orel gave their paper and Norman's note.

Hannes took out his slim reading glasses and took a look. "Hmm, I see, I see. Sir Tobias Norman-Alcaeus. Married to, was it, lady Annabelle Norman-Alcaeus?" He took off his glasses.

"Married?" Ándras spat out the wine.

"Viola, I mean, Sheyla, did mention her name," Orel remembered.

"Oh? Did you not know?" Hannes asked. "What is your relation to sir Tobias, then?"

"We have the same goals," Orel answered.

"Oh, I see." Hannes nodded. "I will not pry myself further into these matters." He walked over to his desk. "So, Voyagers, was it?"

"Yes." Orel nodded.

"There are a few things we still need to ask of you." Hannes jumped onto his chair. "Company policy, nothing more."

"Go ahead."

"Firstly, is it correct that you are the party leader?" Hannes checked the paper. "This is just to confirm that I should ask you these questions."

"Yes." Orel nodded.

"Alright. Firstly, what do you pursue with this party?"

"We want to discover. Do I need to say more?"

"No, no, no, that is fine. Then, what do you wish to use this party for? Why did you want to form this party?"

"Um, for the benefits and job offers?" Orel tried to come up with something other than Norman's reason.

"I see." Hannes took a moment to stare back at Orel.

"Is something wrong?" Orel asked.

"No. By the name of Hannes Parameum, your request has been granted." Hannes took out his stamp and pressed it into the paper. It had the emblem of the Guild, a burning circle with countless starts along the inner rim.

"Are we officially a party now?" Orel asked.

"Well, technically, yes, but there is still another phase you need to complete before you are allowed to accept a quest."

"What is it?" Orel hadn't heard anything about it.

"An exam."

"Exam?" Ándras asked.

"Do not worry. You have already passed as a party. The exam is to calculate your party rank."

"Rank?" Orel turned his head.

"Yes. Parties are ranked from F to A, and then there are S and other unique ranks. These ranks measure how difficult or complex of a quest you can accept. Various challenging job opportunities are not for everyone, and this is our way of keeping our workers safe and assuring our customers that they receive quality."

"What do you test?" Orel asked.

"You will see in the exam, but generally, you are tested for general and job-related knowledge, aptitude for both physical and mental challenges, and other unique factors. Think of it as an entrance exam for a school. After completing it for the first time, each party member is given a personal rank that they can raise by work or other accomplishments recognized by the Guild. Then these scores are calculated together to form your party rank."

"Okay, where can we do that?"

"We will deliver the location and time you can complete it. No rush. You have two months after registering, and every member can do it separately."

"Right." Orel felt a bit overwhelmed.

"I have a question for you, mister Parameum." Ándras stood up with a stone-cold face.

"Yes?"

"Where did you get this vine?" Ándras turned the empty glass in his hand.

"Oh," Hannes shook his head with relief. "That is Ashen Turf, a fine choice for any celebration. It is available in most liquor stores."

"Thank you." Ándras sat down.

"If you have no further questions, I will wish you a good day," Hannes said.

"Um, I have one," Orel said.

"Yes?" Hannes looked down.

"Are there any other parties with Eislandrs?"

"Interesting question. Let me check." Hannes opened his computer. "I remembered seeing such a surname somewhere."

"Well?" Orel was eager to know.

"Yes, the Argonauts. Dispanded twenty years ago. Led by Eli Eislandr."

"That's my grandpa," Orel said.

"I see. There is only one current party with an Eislandr, but company policy is not to deliver more information about active parties without permission."

"That's fine."

"Then, that is all?" Hannes asked.

"Yes, thank you for your time." Orel went to the door.

"Thank you." Ándras followed him.

"No, thank you, Voyagers." Hannes waved. "We will be in touch."

The two walked out of the office with other stares than when they walked in. Those who understood the importance of being called to the manager's office could not see why such a boy would be called for the life of them. Some were eager to try, or at least until they saw Ándras.

"So, we are going to your home?" Ándras asked.

"Yes, I have to call uncle Deras to get us there."

"While we wait, could we maybe visit some places?"

"Like what?" Orel asked.

Ándras' eyes glanced both ways with a childish smile. "Maybe we could get some wine."

"Sigh, fine. But that will be when Norman comes back, alright?"

"Okay," Ándras said with a slightly defeated frown.

After a visit to the store and some waiting, Orel saw a familiar ship reach the port. The two walked into the hangar, where he saw the name printed on its side.

"Nautilus." Orel read with a nostalgic feeling.

"Orel!" Deras waved his hand from the deck.

"Deras!" Orel waved back.

"One moment. Trafalgar, get the stairs!"

Belding the wood under him, Deras shuffled down to the concrete pier.

"Good to see you safe and sound." He smiled.

"You too." Orel felt heartwarmingly warm seeing his family again.

"Who is the big guy?" Trafalgar walked down, measuring himself against Ándras.

"He's Ándras. It's a long story, but I'll explain it later."

"Well, any friend of Orel's is a friend of mine. Come on board."

"Thank you, sir." Ándras walked first with groceries in hand.

"So, Orel. Since you're back, did you find it?" Deras whispered.

Orel nodded.

"Atta boy!" Deras laughed. "I'll hear more when we get home, right?"

"Of course," Orel said. "Oh, and there's also this other thing."

"Oh?" Deras was ready to walk back.

"My other friend got hurt, and he'll come later."

"Sure. Just give me a call when he gets better." Deras nodded. "Now, let's get going. Tuja will be pissed if we get home late."

Orel had gotten enough of waiting already, but there was else he could do. The boat sailed off from the dark waters of the cold Depth Sea and entered the Gulf of Tanlen.

Though the islands were many yet far in between, Orel could tell which was their home. It was all too familiar to him, from the ocean-swept rocks to the dark green lawn leading into the scarce forest where a small stream of smoke rose above the treetops.

"I'm home," Orel said, holding in tears.