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The ferry rocks gently over the cold, gray waves, the distant white of the ice island already gleaming through the mist. The young man leaning against the railing turns to you, salt clinging to his dark hair, and taps the worn map in his hands. "Let's chat a bit now that we haven't made it to the cold island yet." He gives you a sharp, cautious smile. "You also came here for the great food, didn't you?"