The knight turns to a long, red drapery hanging from the wall, covering a threshold leading into another room. He walks to it and pushes the fabric aside and finds a second body, lying neatly on a large bed that still bears its mattress and cottons, also decomposed beyond immediate recognition, just as the corpse at the table. Judging by it's shorter stature and few remaining strands of long hair, it most likely had been a woman. She's facing up, with her hands over her chest, and a blanket covering her from waist to feet.

Next to the head of the bed is something that strikes unease into the knight's heart when he sees it: a toddler's wooden cradle. He takes a few apprehensive steps forward and carefully brings the interior of the cradle into view, silently hoping to not see what he thinks he might. He spies a bundle of cloth wrapped around something, in the vague shape of a small human. He lets out a sigh of sudden, overwhelming regret, and looks back at the presumed mother, only to notice a detail he did not catch seconds before: about a centimeter of space separating her head – which rests unstirred on a feather pillow – from her body.

Having seen enough, he turns and retreats to the first room, where he leers at the body on the dining table. Remembering its wound, he realizes that it might still be capable of moving and attacking because its brain is still attached to the rest of its body and essentially undamaged. The knight draws his dagger from its sheath and holds it in an icepick grip in his right hand. He raises it above his head, and forcefully stabs it down into the back of the cadaver's neck, severing the brain stem from the rest of the spine. It twitches slightly and only utters out one short grunt in reaction, but stays quiet and motionless afterward, now properly dead.

Decided he's finished with this house, he makes his way out, and while doing so, quietly retracts the earlier thought of hoping to find coin in these abandoned homes. Part of him wants to believe that scene was just a creation of his imagination – that the mist is plaguing him with visions. He realizes his eyes are moist and removes his helmet; terrible thoughts are being brought back to the front of his mind that he wished to forget. He wipes his budding tears before they have a chance to break free from his lids, and pinches the bridge of his nose with his shuddering hand. He takes a moment to take a deep breath, collecting himself before he continues his patrol.

Over half an hour passes, and the remaining homes contain nothing else worth mentioning. They only bestowed more dirt, broken stools and chairs, overturned tables, empty chests, bare bed frames, and the occasional blood stain that left no clues as to where the victim had gone. Presumably they reanimated and began wandering beyond the near area, but if they're no longer inside the village of Newmanstead, then they are no longer the knight's immediate problem. Fully satisfied with his patrol, he lets out a loud whistle that rings through the ghost town, and faithful Annaliese comes racing to him. As the sky begins to turn a darker shade of greyish blue, daylight begins to fade. He wastes no time in mounting his horse and riding off with more haste than before, as he doesn't wish to be blinded by the imminent darkness.

As Annaliese dashes from the derelict village to make up for lost time, the knight still can't shake the terrible, gut-wrenching scene he witnessed in the sealed house with the bodies from his mind. Who were those people? It can be assumed they were a family of man, woman, and child, but they were so close to the safety of the barrier. Why did they not leave with the others as the mist moved in? Simple sentimental attachment to the land? Poorly-planned opportunism to take advantage of their neighbors' abandoned homes, goods, and belongings? At what point did they seal themselves in like that? Did the man do it on his own after his child and wife had faded away? Did they die of starvation? Did they go mad at some point? So many questions ring in Atticus's mind, and likely none will be answered.

He begins to wonder if any other families refused refuge in the south, opting for an endeavor to outlast the presence of the fog that had engulfed their home. It's of no doubt that all attempts at such have surely ended in failure by now. This leads him to consider who is to blame for such tragedies, specifically who is to blame for the mist being here for this long? The Yhordran Legion? The Mistwalkers? Whoever unleashed the mist is clearly guilty, but is the ever-increasing death count beyond the initial losses considered a responsibility heaved onto the shoulders of one institution or the other? Is the Legion incompetent? Are the Mistwalkers an ill-prepared plan? The concept of “blame” is something that's been weighing on his mind for many, many, many days, and isn't showing any signs of stopping.

Annaliese's astounding equine stamina and speed carry the two of them just shy of four miles in approximately fifteen minutes before she decides to slow down her pace and catch her breath. Thanks to this lead, the knight is confident he'll reach the first checkpoint before the sun disappears behind the horizon and an impregnable darkness absorbs the area. He notices that more trees have begun to surround the road, and the foliage has been slowly growing taller and denser since departing Newmanstead. He must now effectively be inside the Levinburg Forest, named after the town located near the center, about twenty miles past the checkpoint he's headed towards. Tomorrow, the knight will need to cut through Levinburg as he did Newmanstead, but in that instance, he isn't so sure the forest town will as free of hostile shambling corpses like the modestly small village was. Considering his lack of knowledge on the region, there's plenty of room for him to be surprised. But he'll cross that bridge when he reaches it.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

The late afternoon sun, whose light is already partially obscured by the high fog, already dyes the land an increasingly dark blue. As the black-clad knight grows more curious of his approach to the first Legion checkpoint, the mist ahead clears, and he finally sees it: a gated area with watch towers and guards wearing standard Legion armor, decorated with a cloth draped down their torso that features the Yhordran coat of arms: a ferocious blue wolf standing on its hind legs and facing to the left, inside a silver floral tressure, on a black background. Another magical barrier established by an arcane crystal is visible here, due to higher density caused by taking up a smaller area. He crosses the threshold, and suddenly feels as though the breathable air had become cleaner. As he approaches the open gates, he's stopped by one of the two Legion soldiers protecting it.

“Hold, sir. Are you a Mistwalker?” He inquires.

“I am.” Atticus replies monotonically.

“Do you have your card on you?”

“I do.”

“May I see it?”

The knight retrieves the card from his bag and hands it to the soldier, who only gives it a quick glance before being content and returning it. “First time here, then? Very well. This is Legion Checkpoint Eowerth. You'll be able to get a stamp at headquarters over there.” He points to a large cabin that has a banner hanging over the entrance with the coat of arms on it. “It's also the dining hall. You can get your fill there. There's an open barracks next to it where you can sleep if you don't have a tent of your own.”

“Thank you.” The knight responds with a nod, and doesn't waste any precious seconds making his way inside. When he passes and leaves earshot, the other soldier leans in towards the first one.

“You see that armor he's wearing?” The second soldier asks with a face that slightly twisted with curiosity and confusion.

“Yeah, it looks fancy.” The first soldier replies, admiring the knight's iron suit from afar. “You think it's foreign?”

“Definitely.” The second soldier nods his head. “It might not even be his, though.”

“Either way, I've never seen anything like it. I wish we had armor that nice.” The first soldier lets out a sigh before both of them return to their duties.

Atticus notices multiple hitching posts in front of the headquarters, which are in front of their own troughs of water and large piles of hay for the horses to stuff themselves with. There's several horses already there, some of which he feels he's seen before. He brings Annaliese to join them, and she wastes no time in filling her belly.

Atticus frees his head from his stifling plumed helmet and enters Eowerth headquarters, finding himself in a lobby with a single counter to the left manned by another Legion soldier, and two others standing guard next to a closed door ahead. To the right is open double doors that seem to lead into the dining hall. He attends to his official Mistwalker business first by stepping towards the counter with his sortie card in hand.

“A Mistwalker?” The lone soldier at the counter asks.

“Yes.” The knight slides his card over, and the soldier examines it.

“Reached Eowerth on your first outing, huh? That's a bit rare. At least, on days other than today.” He begins to ink a stamp that's much smaller than what the sortie booth managers back at Zenith Gate use.

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, a group of five came a bit earlier. All of them are on their first ever venture into the mist, as well. They're in the dining hall.” The soldier firmly presses the stamp on the corner of the left-most top square of the card, slightly overlapping the stamp received from the booth at Zenith Gate.

Atticus becomes noticeably interested in the aforementioned group that arrived before him. “Do they have a mage with them?”

“They do, actually. A young woman – red stones in her bracelet, so I assume a pyromancer?” The soldier slides the card back to the knight. “I can count on one hand the number of mages that I've seen here. Do you know her?”

Atticus hesitates for a brief moment before exaggerating his personal affiliation with the mage. “We're acquainted.” He says. “Where is she now?”

“She and her group should still be in the dining hall, back there.” The soldier points to the open double doors across the room. “They came in a little bit ago. Haven't seen them leave yet.”

“Alright. Thank you.” The knight takes his card back and looks at the two soldiers guarding the single closed door at the wall facing the entrance. “By the way, where does that door lead?”

“Oh, that's the captain's quarters, which also leads to the armory. He's a very private man; doesn't come out much unless he has to, or he wants to eat.”

“I see.” Atticus quietly decides what lies beyond the door has nothing to do with him and pays it no mind. “Well, I'll be having my dinner, then. Thank you for the stamp.”

“No problem, sir. Enjoy your meal.” Both men exchange departing nods, and the knight turns to enter the dining hall.