A pair of shivering foreigners sat in a warmed booth. One of them turned his gaze outside, where a strong breeze kept beating against the window panel. Alanland, the frozen north of the Pohjola continent, was indeed an unwelcoming country. This was why the Aleian people loved their food and drink, hot and filling, so they would endure the harsh outdoors, which the two were already enjoying.

"So, how does it sound?" Norman asked, turning back to the table. "Ready to recruit this theological physicist? Seem that an advisor is just what you need."

"A theological physicist? What a weird way to say a wizard." Orel raised an eyebrow.

"Don't mock it! That's a master's degree. Took me seven years."

"Well, if you really know where the realm is, you could be helpful."

"It's not an if. I have a pretty good theory about it."

"Yeah yeah, about the bridge guard. But do you really know where Väinölä is?"

Norman guzzled his drink only to find it empty, which reminded him that something else felt like bursting.

"Oh dear," He said with round, open eyes. "I need to go to the bathroom."

Orel squinted his eyes as Norman turned the corner averting his gaze. A young waitress delivering their meals interrupted his stare.

"Here, your order." She put down the kid's meal.

"No, that's for my friend." Orel pushed it aside.

"Oh," She looked down at the young boy. "Then, here." She put down the other hamburger and stepped away.

Orel had no intention of waiting for Norman back and started eating alone. The crisp fish burger reminded him of the seafood around his home in the Gulf of Tanlen, though not in a good way. Orel could barely finish his burger before Norman returned with a satisfied expression.

"Ooh, the food's here!" Norman sat down, rummaged through the packet, and took out a small plastic toy. "Look, Orel, it's one of the giant brothers, Skismith." He pushed the statue in Orel's face.

"Right." Orel receded further in his chair. "But why did you order the kid's meal? Don't you have money to spare?"

"But just look at this! These people are so fond of the national saga that they made it into a culture week! You won't find toys of Lapetus like this." Norman fiddled with the toy in his hands.

"Okay." Orel was not feeling the excitement. "I'm going to refill my soda."

"Sure, sure." Norman began gorging on the burger.

Orel felt a bit snoozy without the sun shining, so much so that he bumped into someone walking by. Orel's oversize beanie fell clean off his head, revealing his wavy, blonde hair.

"Hey, watch it!" The tall man snapped.

"Sorry." Orel backed away and leaned to pick up his beanie. As he straightened back up, his head hit someone entirely different. "Sorry-"

Orel turned and saw a crude gentleman dressed in a dark coat with a small cape over his shoulders and an eyepatch covering his right eye. His long face rose, and his single eye locked with Orel's. It glimmered like marble, with a mix of red and orange, yet the allure felt treacherous, like a cursed gem. The fierce glare he gave made Orel freeze in place. The man dusted off the part of his chest that Orel hit, carefully examining that the large gilded buttons were still in place and shining.

"Watch where you're going, kid." The man took his hand off the buttons and swept his well-kept hair.

"Trying to push us around, eh?" The tall man walked over, making his open coat flutter. His tall yet skinny figure loomed over Orel, with his long hair dangling freely.

"Fynn! You're causing a scene." The gentleman grunted.

"Sorry, Dan." The tall man immediately took down his bravado.

Orel turned the corner and ran back to the booth without further notice, where Norman was fondling his tanned hands on the radiator's heat.

"What's the matter?" Norman asked, still rubbing them together.

"I- I saw some weird people." Orel sat down, catching his breath.

"Weird people?" Norman looked around.

"There were these two men in black, and they spoke Commal, but one had this weird eye and-"

"Slow down, now." Norman waved his hands. "Where are they?"

"Right there." Orel pointed at the door.

The two men walked past the window, led by the gentleman with the eyepatch. Norman's face dropped as he noticed the emblem printed on their breast pockets. The gentleman glanced at him before the two disappeared into the crowd.

"A chaplet wreath with a ring of chain," Norman muttered. "The mark of the Magistrate."

"You know them?"

"They're some mean people, Orel. I wouldn't want to mess with them."

"What are they doing here?"

"I don't know, but I know for a fact that they're up to no good." Norman shrugged.

"What bad can two aristocrats do? Wait, don't answer that."

"Those two are mages from the Magistrate. They don't value the lives of anything but themselves. Any place those cloaks lay shadows upon will never be the same."

"So, is there a problem?"

"Well, we were bound to run to danger at some point looking for the seven hidden realms. We'll have a tough time if the first realm already gives us obstacles like this." Norman gave a nervous smile.

"We? Since when have we been we?"

"Didn't we shake on it already?" Norman made a face.

"No."

"Then, here." Norman stretched out his hand. "I, Tobias Norman, am offering to help you find these realms for both of our benefit."

"I guess it's too late to back down." Orel sighed. "Orel Eislandr. Good to have you on board." He shook on it.

"And that makes us even. Now, let's get out of here."

"Should we take the train?" Orel asked.

"Yes, we need to get as north as possible." Norman put on his oversized jacket.

The commute was anything but pleasant. Orel felt like his ears were going to burst from the noise while the crowd felt like a labyrinth. His face felt like it would freeze as snow and wind blew on the streets, while Norman had already prepared by using a bandana. The two finally emerged from it unscathed to a grand granite building with the statues of giants holding up the roof around the outer walls.

Orel was in awe. He could very well picture it as a house of giants where the rough grey statues stomped over the smooth glimmering marble floors. For a mere train station, the building was beyond a spectacle.

The two passed through the main doors into the giant hall filled with echoing noise. The dome roof the giants held high had lights like a fake sky, while inscriptions and murals along the walls and pillars felt like they were in a museum. The two held their heads up to the point that their necks ached. After taking in the breathtaking architecture, they lowered their heads and navigated to the ticket booth.

"We would like tickets, please," Norman said to the clerk.

"Good day. Where would you be traveling?" The clerk asked.

"Where does the track end?" Orel stood on his toes to reach the booth.

"The last station is in Ulea, but it is under maintenance. The last current stop is Savmid."

"Then two tickets to there," Norman said.

"Alright." The clerk counted. "One adult and one children's ticket from Helburg to Savmid would be 56 Eer."

"I'm fifteen-" Orel frowned.

"Hush, Orel." Norman covered his mouth. "56, you say?"

"We take both cash and card." The clerk smiled.

"Mind if we split it?" Norman took out his card.

"Fine." Orel took out his wallet.

The two waited on a warmed bench for their train to arrive. Though the country's train network was vast, most of it was for cargo, transporting raw oil from the vast oil fields of the desolate tundras. On the other hand, passenger trains traveled few and far between.

As one arrived, Orel could only marvel at the magnitude of the vehicle. Apart from barely fitting inside the station, it was wide and tall, as if it were four buses, two on each side and another two on top. It had its metal shell painted red and yellow, where the sharp contrast made it easier to notice from the dark and white landscape, and the engine cars had massive snowplows so that no weather stopped them from being on time.

However, as Orel was about to board the train, he noticed something at the end of his vision. On the adjacent train car, a familiar pair of dark cloaks stepped inside their train. Only with the tug from Norman could he dodge the other passengers getting off.

"Sorry." Orel returned to his senses.

"What was that about?" Norman asked.

"Those mages, they are here," Orel whispered.

"On the train?" Norman pointed down.

"I just saw them step in."

"Damn. I have a bad feeling about this. At least they're in another car."

"Where are they going?" Orel asked.

"Again, how the hells would I know? But I don't like where this is going. We better keep an eye out for them."

The two walked to their seats. It was a set of four seats, two opposite each other, separated by a table. Fortunately, it did not cost any more than any other seat but had more room for Norman's long legs.

Orel took the window seat and gazed at the northern landscape that opened as soon as they left the city while Norman slept loudly on the opposite side bench. He couldn't understand how Norman could sleep after all that, but the floppy bags under his eyes proved him wrong. All they could do was wait, as Savmid was still a couple of hours away. Orel watched as the city lights dimmer and dimmer until there was nothing other than darkness and the ever-growing amount of snow, turning the frozen plains bumpy like a bedsheet. The woods could barely emerge from it, while the houses did not try at all, as only their chimneys breached the surface. Orel could feel in his very soul that they were getting closer to Väinölä, the isle of giants, yet the lingering sense of danger kept his heart racing.