Chapter Sixty-Five: A Group of People Idly Chattering Away About All Sorts of Miscellaneous Matters

“…How about calling it ‘Research Center for the New Ethical Trends and the Construction of an Anarchist Moral System Triggered by Digital Anxiety and Alienation Among Marginalized Groups on the Edge of the Information Industry in the Online Era’?” The one proposing this, hand raised while leaning against a tree, was Serene Song. What I admired most about this erudite elf was that he managed to utter that entire string of words in the most standard, common dialect, yet I understood not a single word. Frankly, I doubted whether he himself could repeat this name verbatim if asked to do so again.

Serene Song’s proposal immediately aroused a strong reaction. The first to jump up in opposition was our dwarven devotee, Longbow Sunstriker.

“This name won’t do; it’s too bookish and lacks any sense of awe. We need something powerful and intimidating, a name that’ll make people tremble at its mention—how about ‘The First Correspondence Class of the Joint Public Army Command Academy of the Farvey Continent for the Total Annihilation of Invaders and the Reclamation of the Withered Lands by Armed Might’?”

Whatever you may think, personally I felt not a shred of awe or grandeur in that name.

“I object! A name reeking of gunpowder is no good, and it’s likely to provoke hostility from Imperial players in the wild—far too dangerous, and it’s out of step with the times. The two great themes of today’s world are peace and development; conflict and war are but local phenomena. I propose we call ourselves ‘The Karst Ecological Self-Guided Nature Tour Group of the Withered Lands.’” Yangtze Delta shook his head as he spoke.

“I think…”

“My opinion is…”

“Let’s just call it…”

…

We all knew our brave friend in justice, the living embodiment and messenger of Fortune’s favor, supreme devotee among minotaurs, nemesis of all things sneaky and rodent—Holy Knight Niu Million—had found a “Stone of Conviction,” essential for establishing a guild, on the corpse of a dead rat. However much this seemed a twisted interpretation of the Supreme God’s will, it had nonetheless happened, filling us with wild hopes for the future. Once Longbow Sunstriker had returned from buying some mysterious “lottery ticket” from who knows where, and Serene Song and Wild Goose Formation had finished their message delivery quest and come back to Carle Town, we had a brief discussion and quickly reached a consensus: we would form a brand-new guild ourselves.

My own thought was: since the Supreme God allowed this stroke of impossible luck to befall us, he must have his reasons. We ought to follow the divine will.

With a clear common goal, the five of us opened our adventure journals and began combing through our long lists of contacts, hoping to select like-minded friends and quickly gather enough people to meet the guild’s minimum requirements.

To our surprise, very few people were interested in joining a new guild. Most were already members of large guilds and unable to accept our invitation; some told us outright they were laid-back types who didn’t spend much time adventuring in Farvey and didn’t want any added commitments; others gave polite, non-committal replies, promising to help if we needed anything—a skillful way of declining, meaning: joining your guild is out of the question.

In the end, we managed to contact only a handful: Niu Million was first to recruit the adorable elf druid girl, Fairy Descends Face-First; Longbow Sunstriker found the half-orc shadow rogue, Yangtze Delta; I sent an invitation to Ding Ding Little Spear, the half-orc warlock who’d changed specialties so often I’d lost track, but received no reply for ages. Just as I’d given up hope, his reluctant response finally arrived, promising he’d be there “soon”—though I had little faith in his warped sense of time.

I also invited the bard Ruminant Ballad in B-Flat Minor, but he immediately replied that another friend had just invited him to join a guild, and he’d agreed. As I regretfully struck him from my list, Niu Million told us he’d succeeded in recruiting a bard, making me immediately realize who that “other friend” was.

Wild Goose Formation brought in her good friend Fei Yin—though Longbow Sunstriker, Serene Song, and I were all well acquainted with this esteemed human mage, we’d unanimously relegated her to the bottom of our lists, inviting her only as a last resort—a sign of our desperation.

Even so, we were still only halfway to the required twenty members. Soon, those who’d gathered for the new guild’s founding assembled in one place, launching into a heated debate about the guild’s bright yet winding future.

The first topic of contention was the guild’s name. Spurred by everyone’s enthusiasm, we collected plenty of suggestions, but to my dismay, every one was a bizarre, convoluted mouthful—names like “Farvey Continent’s Amorous Liaisons and Heartbroken Lovers Mutual Consent Emotional Support Association,” or “The Sole Legally Recognized Violent Organization with Mafia Ties under the Delanmea Law Aid Center,” or “The Secret Fan Club for His Majesty Darrenthiel, King of the Apocalypse, in Pursuit of Love and Peace Amidst the Ethical Margins of Morality—Beloved Among Countless Fandom Girls.” After round upon round of lively, friendly debate, I realized something: everyone I knew could only come up with names that were obscure, quirky, and long-winded. Not one could suggest something brief and clear.

It soon became clear that once the naming debate began, it could never be stopped. This unfortunate reality quickly led us to a consensus: perhaps we should set the naming issue aside for now and tackle other pressing problems—like how to gather the twenty people required.

Fei Yin promptly proposed assigning quotas to the ten present: each of us must entice at least one person to join within a set timeframe. Those who succeeded would have this achievement counted toward future guild contributions; those who failed would be fined. Although it seemed a somewhat unprofessional approach to guild founding, it was strikingly apt for our current predicament. The proposal was quickly passed—though we all overlooked a minor detail: if we never did manage to gather twenty people, who would collect the fines? For some reason, everyone seemed to tacitly agree that only Lady Fei Yin herself was qualified to receive them.

“But if someone asks what our guild is, what should we say?” Yangtze Delta suddenly remembered this crucial question.

“How about ‘The United Greenpeace for the Survival Rights of Wild Animals Under the Same Blue Sky Across the Continent’?” Wild Goose Formation piped up, little realizing her words would trigger another bout of chaos.

“Might as well call it ‘Classics Sing-Along Society for Lovers of Nostalgic Oldies,’” came Ruminant Ballad in B-Flat Minor’s suggestion—the name speaks for itself.

“Could we be named ‘Get Rich International Economic and Trade Group Ltd., Farvey Continent Branch’?” Fei Yin suddenly interjected.

“I still think…”

“It should be…”

“Let’s call it…”

And so we were back to square one. The room returned to its original cacophony as an endless stream of weird, unwieldy names—each taking at least two or three minutes just to decipher—were hurled back and forth like daggers and javelins. In truth, their lifespans were even shorter than the time required to understand them. As soon as someone suggested a name, it was instantly shot down by others, only to be replaced by the next equally absurd candidate.

“Jeff, don’t you have any suggestions?” At last, Serene Song managed to drag himself out of this seemingly endless, ever-dumber dispute, and naturally turned to the only sane person who’d yet to speak—me!

“Me?” Caught off-guard, I hesitated, then shrugged. “I was hoping for something cool and sharp, like ‘Whisperers of the Night Wind’ or ‘Silent Blade,’ but looking at us now, words like ‘whisper,’ ‘murmur,’ ‘quiet,’ or ‘silence’ just don’t fit. We’re nothing but a bunch of idlers bickering endlessly over a mess of nonsense. So… I really can’t think of any suitable name…”

At my answer, Serene Song’s eyes suddenly lit up. He interrupted me: “Wait, what did you just say?”

“I said I really can’t think of any suitable name.”

“No, before that—the previous sentence!”

“The previous sentence? Um… what did I say?”

“You don’t even remember what you just said?”

“Who remembers every offhand remark they make?”

“It was that one—we’re what kind of people?”

“Oh, just a bunch of idlers chattering endlessly over a mess of nonsense, that’s all. Why?”

Serene Song clapped his hands and, turning to the still-bickering group, shouted, “Everyone, quiet! Jeffritz just came up with a great name!”

The previously buzzing crowd fell instantly silent, as if some strange magic had frozen every sound into blocks of ice, unable to move through the air. The silence was so complete that even the rustling of grass in the wind seemed loud. The sudden hush startled me.

Eight pairs of curious, expectant eyes fixed on my face. If stares could focus light and heat like a magnifying glass, my face would already be scorched. Helplessly, I glanced at Serene Song beside me, wondering: what on earth did I just say?

“A bunch of idlers chattering endlessly over a mess of nonsense—how about it?” Serene Song declared excitedly.

How about it? What do you mean, how about it? I grew increasingly bewildered. My head, still muddled from the earlier uproar, had yet to clear, and I had no idea what Serene Song was getting at.

Everyone else looked at each other, first in blank, idiotic confusion, then gradually some faces showed dawning comprehension, even approving smiles.

“I see…” said Ruminant Ballad in B-Flat Minor. “It sounds a little odd, but it really does capture who we are—we’re just a bunch of idlers, after all. Who else would be here if they had anything better to do?”

What? Seriously? Did he mean…? My head swam.

“And since we spend our days grinding and leveling up, it’s all a mess of nonsense anyway!” Yangtze Delta chimed in.

What in the world… Are they really planning…? This is too ridiculous! What a bunch of nutcases.

“And we were, in fact, just now endlessly bickering and chattering, weren’t we?” the elf druid girl Fairy Descends Face-First said, blushing as she reflected on their earlier chaos.

“And…” Yangtze Delta glanced around at the group, finally admitting in defeat, “I fear we’ll keep on being this way.”

“So…”

“Therefore…”

“In that case…”

“I agree…”

“Is it settled at last…”

“Having the name decided is such a relief…”

Help! No! By the all-seeing gaze of the Supreme God, is there truly no other sane soul here but me?

“Well then…” Serene Song cleared his throat and, with a voice brimming with enthusiasm, proclaimed, “…I hereby officially announce that our guild’s name is: ‘A Bunch of Idlers Chattering Endlessly Over a Mess of Nonsense!’” A smattering of scattered applause followed.