"Hey, Baleg, you called?" Morris gave Baleg a wide grin. He was pretty sure they were not in trouble. Or, at least, he hoped they were not.

"It came to my attention that you have not put down a leader for your party," Baleg showed them their registration form, where the position of leader was empty.

"Do we need to? I mean, there are plenty of parties that don't have an official leader," the Budding Lilies, for example, changed their leadership role according to the need of the quest.

"New rules, coming straight from the guild master. He doesn't want another Firebolts accident to happen. So, the chain of command has to be clear, from now on," Baleg looked pointedly at Jean, who was staring at his feet.

"Andors was the leader, most of the time," Jean informed them. And now, Andors was going to become a farmer. The realization that his fate could have been Jean's was not missed on him.

"Anyway, you do your huddle thing and decide," Baleg, like everyone else, knew the two famous rituals of the Try Hard Party. All four blushed and huddled together.

"I say we let Dorian lead. I mean, he is the tank, he calls the formations," Morris said and, when he saw Dorian's startled expression, winked at him. "And he is competent at it, too."

"Yes, Dorian knows all the formations and has been very decisive. A good sign for a leader," Jean agreed. Sure, the tank was a lower rank than him, but he could lead. And Jean was not going to kid himself that he was in a position to lead a new party when he hadn't led the Firebolts.

"Dorian, you are always going to call the shots, because of you being the tank. You give the commands for switch, cover and, once I learn quick healing spells, heal. There is no one else," Leander smiled at Dorian, giving him an encouraging look.

"But, you are the healer. In perfect position to command from the sidelines," Dorian argued. He didn't want to be the leader. That meant being responsible for the lives of his partners. Could he even live up to something like that?

"I don't know how to do all the signs fast enough. And, have you ever heard of a healer dividing their attention from healing? I mean, I am already stretching it with my archery," Morris and Jean nodded at that. Dorian looked to Jean next.

"As the highest ranked adventurer..." the tank began, but Jean snorted.

"I am B rank now, remember? And, I would have to do quests for years until what happened in Samkiel's tomb gets washed away from my record. We need a good, dependable, leader. Or the clients are going to show us the door," Dorian's face became ashen at that. He, too, had heard that Jean had been turned down for a dog walking job.

And, if the stable boy had not been desperate to get the dung golems out of the stables, he would have turned them down because of Jean, too.

But, he had given them a chance and, later, spread the word that Jean had been incredibly careful with his new partners. That had calmed some clients some. But, there were still others who requested that the Try Hard Party was not offered their quest.

"Morris, you," Morris clapped Dorian on the shoulder and sighed.

"Look, Dorian, you might not believe that you have what it takes to keep us all alive, but you do. We have been on a couple of missions with you leading us, but you do a better job than when my ego made me pull rank on you. Besides, you have this professional feeling to you," Dorian blushed at that. He had not thought that Morris would ever say something even half as nice.

"So, it is decided. We pick Dorian for the leader of the Try Hard Party," Jean looked at each of them in turn and Morris and Leander nodded, with Dorian sighing and then nodding slowly. As if unsure still, despite the kind words of his partners.

Morris was about to place his hand in the middle, when he coughed and looked at Dorian pointedly.

"Come on. Do the honors," Morris urged, and Dorian placed his hand in the middle. Leander placed his hand over it, Morris over his and, finally, Jean placed his hand over Morris's.

"I can't believe you do this," Jean muttered. He found the childlike ritual funny, but nice.

"We do this, Jean. You are a part of the party," Leander corrected, and Jean got a happy expression.

"And I am grateful for that, lemon cake. Honestly," Jean lightly patted Leander's shoulder, and they went back to Baleg.

"Did you pick?" The half-orc asked.

"Dorian," Morris, Leander and Jean said at the same time.

"The most logical choice, then," Baleg's face relaxed into a smile. He had expected that Jean was going to raise a stink, but the archer had kept himself in line. Respecting his new partner's prowess.

"Well, your name goes here," Baleg showed Dorian the space again. "And you need to write the date, sign, and write your phrase for the clients."

Dorian gulped. A phrase? He had dreaded that. Now, he would have to parrot it before every quest. It would be expected of him. What if he forgot it? What if it was something that turned clients off?

"You got this," Leander's hand found itself on Dorian's shoulder. Presently, Dorian wanted to confess him everything. How he was looking forward to Leander being cleared by Morris for dating so that Morris and Dorian himself could sweep him off his feet.

But he had to be patient. Because Leander was just seven kilograms below his starting weight and his self-esteem was still as fragile as glass.

"How about: We leave no one behind, no quest undone?" Dorian suggested, and he received three grins.

"Because we are the Try Hard Party," Morris agreed, eyes so soft and impossibly blue that Dorian wanted for the ginger to look at him like that more often.

"And we are stubborn as mules," piped in Jean. A slight smirk playing on his lips that brought out his roguish charm.

"We don't ask how many enemies there are, for we can't change that. We ask where they are," Leander finished, giving off such a happy vibe that all the doubts in Dorian's head went away like a cloud after a storm.

"Well, I wrote all that down. I hope you can remember it," Baleg was smirking down at them as the four grew ashen. Well, now they would come off as the most obnoxious party in the guild. For, once the words of a party were written, there was no correcting them.

doravg

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