Orel and Ándras walked to the office just in time for the meeting. Ándras walked first, guarding Orel with his large build. Without any special treatment, they waited in line until the uninterested clerk was waiting for them.

“What was it, The Voyagers? You have a scheduled meeting.” She said. “Sarah! They’re here!”

“Please come this way.” Sarah, a short and round clerk full of sunshine, smiled from cheek to cheek.

With the meeting room doors before him, Orel hesitated to step in. His breaths were short as the doors seemed to tower him like two giant shields. It was not until Andras pushed him forward that he could take a step. On the other side, a large man with muscles matching Andras, with half his stature, waited, arms crossed. Though his clothes were far from the tactical wear he was used to, the red bush on his head and cheeks was too distinguished not to recognize.

“Wait, you!” Orel’s jaw dropped.

His heart suddenly felt at ease. All the tension went up his lips to form a warm smile.

“You know this man?” Sarah asked.

“We met during our last quest.” Orel sat down around the table.

“Now that you mention it, we saw him in the castle,” Ándras sat down as well.

“You were brave out there, boy.” Diarmuid smiled.

“Ahem, let’s move on to business.” Sarah opened her case. “Please conclude in fifteen minutes or less.”

A small yet awkward silence past the room.

“Well, we don’t have a problem having you, right, Ándras?” Orel said.

“Nope.”

“Then, let me ask you. What are you guys planning to do?” Diarmuid asked.

“Um, we can’t tell here, but we’re planning for a job in Eden’s gate,” Orel said.

“Eden’s gate, huh.” Diarmuid leaned back in the chair. "What rank?"

"We haven't looked into it. Probably high rank, but just because that's all there is."

"Let me check that for you." Sarah typed on her computer. "Wait, what is this?" She stopped. "I am sorry, but that is not possible."

"What do you mean?" Orel turned.

"I apologize, but your rank is below the minimum requirement for quests in the academy."

"But what about Mr. Diarmuid?"

"I already did the calculation. Even with Mr. Cumhaill, your party rank is not high enough."

"How is that possible?" Orel slammed his hands on the table.

"Calm down. It is merely a matter of fact that your combined ranks only reach C rank."

Orel couldn't find a rebuttal. However much he worked, the Guild wouldn't raise his rank.

"Aren't there any C-rank quests?" Ándras asked.

"I am afraid there has been a change in the situation." The clerk shook her head. "Eden's gate has limited all quest submissions to be rank B or higher."

"Damn it! I thought we had enough for that." Orel gripped his fists.

"Then, could we send to a quest on Puerta Blanca?" Diarmuid stepped into the conversation.

"What's that?" Orel asked.

"Puerta Blanca is just next to Eden's gate. It's a popular tourist attraction, or that's the impression I got working on the border."

"Ooh, is there a beach?" Ándras asked.

"Is it possible to find a quest there?" Orel asked.

"Perhaps." The clerk looked away.

"What do you mean perhaps?"

"It is out of our jurisdiction. It is up to you to search for them either online or in Zabad's offices."

"We will get there, no matter what."

"We are not here to stop you. As long as you cause no trouble, that is."

"You were okay with us, right?" Orel turned to Diarmuid.

"Sure." He nodded.

“You still need to sign the papers.” Sarah tapped her fingers.

“Right.” Orel started to get sick of her.

“You too, big guy.” Diarmuid turned his head. “Glad to be working with you.”

"I feel we're going to get along just fine." Ándras smiled.

The two’s handshake was something different—muscle on muscle and a silent nod. Nothing more, nothing less, and it was just enough.

“What is the difference between a temporal and permanent member?” Orel asked.

“Same as with any other work. With a temporal member, you set a time or quest limit for the contract. Permanent, on the other hand, is by the name a permanent occupation until further notice.” Sarah explained.

“Which one were you thinking, Diarmuid?” Orel asked.

“To be honest, I'm not sure. How about we test the waters for a quest?”

“Sounds good to me.” Orel shrugged.

“That is certainly possible.” Sarah agreed.

After signing the papers and acquiring a new party member, the Voyagers were back to three members.

"Good day to you." Sarah waved.

She waited patiently for the three to leave. Soon enough, her earpiece rang.

"Yes?" She answered.

"Did you do as ordered?" Hannes asked.

"Yes, sir, but," She gulped. "I couldn't stop them from going to Puerta Blanca."

"That won't be a problem. You have done well, Sarah. You will find a bonus in your next paycheck."

"Thank you, sir."

Hannes put his phone down and opened a drawer. He took out a premium packet of cigars and lit one between his thin lips. He sighed with a big smoke cloud bursting from his mouth. The taste was great, but his mood was already sour. He could not shake the feeling of almost losing his job. If not for it, he could never lay his hands on such great cigars and wine. If it meant doing dirty a couple of members, he would not blink to cut them off.

“You don’t have a party HQ, I reckon?” Diarmuid asked, walking out of the office.

“No, we have mostly just been at my house,” Orel said.

“Since I’m only for a short while, can I stay there for a moment? I didn't book a hotel."

“Sure, we have room.”

“You’re sleeping next to me.” Ándras gave a thumbs up with a toothy grin.

“Right." Diarmuid nodded along.

The three walked out of the office as three members of the Voyagers.

“So, you two have magic?” Diarmuid asked.

“I...I create coins.” Orel looked down.

“Oh, a conjurer?” Diarmuid stroked his sideburns.

"It's just a cantrip, though."

“Well, you’re still a young lad. There’s time to grow.” Diarmuid turned to Andras. "What about you, big guy?”

“What was the word? Evocation?” Ándras scratched his head.

“What sort? You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“Fire." Ándras turned to Orel with an anticipating gaze.

They asked Orel for permission, which he silently approved with a nod.

"Also," Ándras turned back to Diarmuid. “I have a blessing that heals me and turns sunlight into mana.”

“Wow, that’s a mighty blessing.” Diarmuid nodded, throughout impressed.

“It’s just that healing takes a lot of mana. When there’s no sun, I get pooped quickly.”

“Keep a close eye on him. He's not that good at controlling it yet," Orel noted.

“Still, that sounds pretty impressive on its own,” Diarmuid said.

“What sort of magic do you have?” Ándras asked. “You use it, right?”

“Right, I almost forgot.”

“I saw the rune’s on your arms,” Orel remembered.

“You got that right.” Diarmuid rolled up his sleeves. “I’m an enchanter. My tribe makes these tattoos. Each one of these is like an automatic spell that activates when a hostile force or magic comes in contact with it. Think of them as automatic Pierce and Ward.”

“So cool.” Ándras poked at them.

“Of course, these tattoos aren’t the only thing I can do. I’ve made some magic items in the past, but they didn’t sell well, so I don’t bother anymore. Turns out people look at us like conveyer belts, and I wasn’t up to that business.”

“Could you make something for me, like a sword?” Ándras asked.

“Making a magic item isn’t easy, you know. It doesn’t work like you only scribble some lines on paper and poof! Now it’s a magic scroll. It’s like smithing a weapon while strengthening it with dynamite.”

“Sorry,” Ándras blushed.

“None taken. It’s a general assumption mages still make. They don’t care about the craftsmanship; all they want is the product.”

“Could I try making one?” Orel asked.

“Sorry, lad. It’s reserved for us enchanters, much like creating objects is to you.”

“But I could create a magic item you made, couldn’t I?”

“Well, I’ve heard it’s possible, but, you know, it’s like ordering a cheap knock-off phone. It can either not work or blow up in your hands.” Diarmuid tried his best to put it lightly. The experiments with recreating grenades were gruesome enough.

“Besides, I think you have other ways to develop your spell," He added.

“Like what?”

"How would I know? All I do know is that conjurers are supposed to be creative."

"Right." Orel frowned.

On the back seat of a limo, Norman felt squeezed between two bodyguards with rather heavy frames. On the opposite of him was his personal butler, Shauna. The black windows made the whole space dark and gloomy, very fittingly, in fact. Even if he were to look out, there was not much to see. The car was going through an underground highway, where similar expensive cars scarcely passed by in the dimly lit tunnel.

After what felt like an eternity, the car stopped for inspection. The car zoomed past it to the blinding light. The darkness subsided as the limo emerged out of the tunnel into the radiant sunshine outside.

Sun, beaches, casinos, and skyscrapers. No long pants in sight, no hotel without no vacancy, and no empty street in sight. It was the artificial oasis of the east coast, Puerta Blanca. On the northern hills with the whitest, grandest and bombastic mansions was a lone estate that could be seen from way down the busy streets. Norman fretted at sight and turned his head to the beaches. Thankfully, they were not going there yet.

“How is she?” Norman asked.

“Master Lisa has been stable,” Shauna said.

“Good, good.” Norman sighed with relief. “Did you tell her?”

Anxious silence swirled around Shauna’s edged face.

“No, there was no need.” She answered.

The car stopped around a private hospital near the more luxurious part of the city. Norman stepped out with a bundle of flowers, still covered by the bodyguards. Inside the hospital, they did not need to explain themselves. They merely walked through and entered one of its many rooms. In the room was a frail woman with a messy bush of dark hair and her body strapped to medical equipment. Her drooping eyes slowly turned from the window to meet Norman.

“Lisa, I’m back.” Norman stepped forward.

“Stay there.” She said with a hoarse voice.

There was no hint of joy on her bony face. Norman understood how hard it was to stay positive with a condition like hers.

“Lisa, it’s me, Tobias.” Norman took another step.

Her drooping eyes opened up. “Norman!” She said as she straightened her back against the headboard. “Is it truly you?"

“A lot happened while I was gone.”

“Why are you here?” She asked.

“I-”

“Master Tobias has been brought back to serve his duty as a prince of Norman.” Shauna interrupted him.

“I did not ask you, Shauna.” Lisa frowned.

“Yes, master.” Shauna backed away.

Lisa’s eyes turned back to Norman. “Go ahead.”

Norman sighed deeply. “I made a mistake. Looks like I’m back to stay.”

“Come here.” Lisa tapped the side of the bed.

Norman approached with soft steps. As he came closer, Lisa pulled him down to sit next to herself.

“Could we have a moment, please?” She asked the servants.

“As you wish.” Shauna nodded.

The two of them were left alone in the silent room.

“Did you have fun out there?” She asked.

Lisa was the only one Norman could trust, the one he could always tell everything, at least in the past and in his head.

“Yeah.” Norman looked out of the window.

“Didn't I tell you to get out of here?”

"You did."

“Then why? You won't find happiness here."

“They threatened to hurt Orel and his family.” Norman’s face dropped.

“Your friends?”

Norman nodded.

“Could you please tell me about them?”

“...If you want.”

Norman retold their fights, obstacles and triumphs, their laughs and cries. The memories warmed his heart like nothing else had done before. Lisa smiled with him, but couldn't help but cry at the same time. She was almost jealous, though more than anything, happy. For the first time ever, his brother had found people that cared about him, something he could finally call a family.

“Are you alright?” Norman asked. "Do you need a napkin?"

“It’s nothing.” Lisa wiped the tears away. “I am just happy for you.”

"But then again," Norman sniffed. "I will never see them again."

Lisa pulled Norman’s head to her lap, slowly caressing his hair.

“It must have been tough.” She said.

Norman couldn’t hold his tears anymore. They poured out his eyes, flowed across his face, and dropped from the tip of his nose. His cries were still quiet as always, though the pain was greater than ever before.

“It's alright.” Lisa wiped his tears.

“No, it isn’t. It’s all my fault.” Norman cried. “If only I was never born.”

“That's not true. I wouldn't never want to wish you away. I don't think your friends would want that either." Lisa wiped Norman's tears away. "They will come, don't they?"

Norman shook his head. "Why did I write that letter? They will just die..."

“They would have come either way. That's what I understood from your stories."

"Those fools, they shouldn't bother with me."

“You have still something you want to do, don't you? Lisa gently pushed Norman’s head away. "Never stop believing in it."

“I want to believe, but can't,” Norman stood up.

“Just wait. They will come. I am sure of it.”

“I hope and hope not."

Shauna and the others entered the room.

"I think I should go."

“Goodbye, Norman.” Lisa waved.

“Bye, Lisa.” Norman walked out.

The room went quiet yet again, yet Lisa could feel a presence lingering somewhere. In the corner of her eye was a shadow without much of a form, yet with a pair of sharp eyes staring right back at her.

“What is it?” She asked. "You never come for no reason."

“I apologize for eavesdropping. It was my orders.” The shadow spoke with a soft yet distorted voice.

“Well, did you do as I said?” Lisa frowned.

“The contract holds. Your secrets lay with me for now.”

“Good. I don’t want Norman worrying about me.” She recoiled from a sharp pain in her head. "Surely, you didn't come here to tell just that?

“I come bearing a warning, master. The family will not abide that type of behavior.”

“What behavior? Talking to him?"

“Since you are still part of the family, peaceful negotiations are still possible. That is if you cooperate.”

“You think I'll walk off otherwise?"

“I am merely reminding of you the fact."

"How nice of you."

"I would specifically advice you to not make contact with his friends."

"You are really thoughtful, aren't you, Nyx?"

"Foolish mortal! Do not cite my name in vain!" The shadow grew larger. "Or else I will eliminate you along with his friends!"

"Wait, what did you say?"

A sinister smile grew on the shadow. "You heard me. I will not repeat myself. Bear that in mind, master." Nyx disappeared.

Lisa was left in the room again. Her heart was racing. She felt the need to warn Norman but was already fearing for her own short life. There was no remorse in the shadows’ eyes. The only thing she could hope for was that it would not be the last time she and Norman would meet. Unknowns to her, it was what Norman feared himself.