While he ponders, the waitress from earlier makes a sudden appearance before him.

“Here's your water, sir.” She sets his newly filled bottle at the table. “Your steak will be ready shortly.” Then she departs once more before Atticus can express his gratitude.

“Did you enjoy your meal?” A different, booming voice is heard from the knight's side. Atticus turns his head to see Tarvus speaking to Royd.

“Very much, cousin. It was the best pig I've eaten in months. Give my regards to the cook, would you?” Royd replies.

“Of course! Are you heading out into the mist again?”

“Aye, we're starting our adventure proper today. Don't know when we'll be back.” Royd's voice, which was quite a roar earlier while exhcanging insults with Kellar, becomes a bit softer.

“It is indeed dangerous out there, but I have faith in you. Just be careful and don't do anything rash.” Tarvus's voice similarly becomes a bit low. It's quite a sight seeing a man as huge as Royd being lectured by someone else.

“I won't, cousin. I do have a long list of food we plan on taking with us, though.” Royd hands over a small sheet of paper and several grocery sacks, one containing multiple empty bottles.

Tarvus looks at the paper and becomes gobsmacked. “Goodness sakes, man. You might as well be lifting my store off the ground and hauling it off with you!”

“Don't worry, I'm good for it.” Royd playfully waves off Tarvus's by showing a small bag of coins, carefully dumping out its contents of many coppers and some silvers onto the counter. The store owner begins picking out a big collection of fruits and vegetables, and fills the bottles with water.

Once done, Royd carries all of the stuffed sacks with one hand with no visible effort. “Well, I should hope to see you again sometime soon.” The blonde warrior states.

“Come back in one piece, you hear?” Tarvus replies with a stern point of his finger. “Autumn equinox is around the corner, and I won't allow you to not get drunk with me. I'll find your corpse and drag you home if I have to.”

“Haha! Aye, Tarvus!” Royd responds jovially. “I'll come back after saving Yhordran, I promise you! Goodbye for now.”

“Safe travels.” The two bulky men bid farewell, with Royd hauling his collection of food sacks with him.

Atticus considers the new interesting development: Tarvus and Royd being family – cousins, specifically. It begs the question of why Tarvus isn't crossing the threshold into the mist, himself. Is his job at the eatery so important? Perhaps, despite his size and stature, he has no combat experience? Any guess as good as another. However, considering Royd's eagerness and demeanor, it's no tall order to expect him to take care of himself. Still, it must quite a burden on one's mind to know you have family attempting to overcome the hardships of the mysterious fog, especially when you're here, at the border.

The pensive knight's face changes into that of immediate realization when he remembers the friendly faces that he too has left behind, at his home across the ocean. He quietly justifies it to himself by thinking that some people need to spend time trying to find themselves before they commit to a new life afterward. If he hadn't left, he'd simply be a burden – a dead weight on everyone's shoulders, too caught up in dwelling on past failures. Atticus wouldn't allow that. Thus, he departed. They don't know he's here, prepared to dive head-first into what is possibly the greatest threat to the civilized world. In fact, he's been gone so long, they likely don't even know if he's still alive. He feels a pang of guilt strike his heart, but he silently shakes it off.

“Here's your steak, sir.” The remarkably efficient waitress appears once again, with a plate and eating utensils in hand. She sets them down neatly and carefully in front of the knight. “We hope you enjoy it.” She gives a slight, courteous bow, and yet again hastily leaves as abruptly as she appeared. Tarvus must be a strict boss for her to be so expeditious.

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The knight has a big day ahead, so he figures it would be a good idea to scarf down the respectably-sized, inticing steak in front of him and begin his mission. With no more hesitation due to busy thoughts, he cuts a bite-sized piece of meat and chews it slowly to savor the taste. It's cooked just how he likes it: with a light pink tint in the very center. Flavorful juices seep from it with each slice, and the delicious scent is strong enough to make you mistake a strong whiff for an actual bite. The last time he treated himself to such a professionally prepared meal was long before he even arrived in Yhordran. His diet had mostly been small game he caught himself, fruits, vegetables, and bread since then. The knight definitely doesn't want to let this opportunity go to waste, and decides to relish in the meat's delectable taste at a deliberate speed. After all, it might be the last chance he gets.

About thirty minutes later, Atticus finally clears his plate and leaves the eatery. The sun still burns brightly in the pre-noon sky. With his belly full thanks to a hefty breakfast, he hauls his saddlebag and grocery sack to the stable, which is a bit vacant now due to many Mistwalkers having taken their horses into the fog. The knight soon follows suit by entering Annaliese's stall, greeting her with a gentle caress, and quickly saddling and equipping her. Before he can mount his loyal mare, he hears a familiar voice call out to him.

“Well, if it isn't the scary-looking knight.” Edith Hollis walks up to the stall with a warm and welcoming smile. She leans against the top of the open stall gate, her chin resting on her crossed arms. “I was surprised to come out earlier this morning and still see your mare here. You struck me as the type to leave at the crack of dawn like the more serious types.”

“'Make haste slowly.'” Responds the knight. “Have you heard of that saying?”

“I haven't.” The farm girl replies with a small shake of her head.

“It means that the fastest way to accomplish something is to perform at a measured pace.”

“That sounds reasonable. Where'd you learn it?”

“I had it beaten into my head – both figuratively and literally – by an old instructor many years ago.”

“Does it also mean you intend to spend quite some time beyond the gate?” Edith's face becomes a bit serious. “Alone?”

“Probably.” The knight bluntly responds. “I'm not against the possibility of joining up with others I come across, but most of the time, I perform better when I'm on my own.”

There's a brief pause of the young woman continuing her dejected stare at the knight. “I used to consider myself lucky that I have no obligation to walk into the mist like Legion soldiers do.” Edith begins. “But eventually I realized that my safety is one hole in the wall away from being endangered.” Her head hangs slightly, and her eyes drift toward a ground. Atticus doesn't respond, and instead watches her, giving her room to continue. “I'm reminded of the fact every day, when I watch dozens of people walk through the gates in the morning, but only a fraction return by nightfall; and when riderless horses make their way back on their own. I've spoken to many Mistwalkers, like I do with you now.” Her eyes come back up and meet with the knight's. “I would like to finally meet someone I can speak to a second time.”

There's another short lull in the exchange as Atticus examines the quiet desperation on Edith's face. “I can't make any promises. All I can give you is my intent to reach the source of the mist, destroy it, and return.”

A sad smile crosses the young woman's face. “I feel like I can believe you when you say that. That's the one difference you have from many others – you look more than capable.”

The knight takes in her hopeful gaze for a brief moment before finally mounting his four-legged companion. He finally dons his helmet, and is now fully equipped to depart. Annaliese trots out of the stall, and stops for Atticus to bid farewell.

“I do hope to achieve my goal and return in good health. If I do, I'll tell you all about my journey.”

“I'd like that.” Edith responds with an encouraging smile. “Good luck, and stay safe.”

Atticus nods, and quietly rides out of the stable, with Edith watching him depart. Back on the dirt path to the big gate, he walks up to the slightly elevated sortie booth, where two men work together to stamp cards. They both have a strong resemblance to each other, each with wavy brown hair, brown eyes, and similar faces. They both have a short line before them, so the knight simply stands at the one closest to him, retrieving his card from one of his bags and proceeding to wait. Most of the other Mistwalkers waiting to receive a stamp don't have horses like he does, and the horses that are there are being used as simple beasts of burden to carry various items as opposed to riding.

Considering the amount of miles one would have to cover to reach the source of the mist, it's not recommended to travel solely on foot, but perhaps they have their reasons. Most of the land to the north is open fields, farms, and forests; hardly any large stretch of area is totally void of foliage. If it's true that the fog doesn't affect plants, as the stern-looking man with dreadlocks mentioned earlier, then traveling by foot could be perfectly viable with frequent foraging. However, due to the amount of equipment the knight has with him, not having a horse to carry it all could open the door for quite a hassle.