The Checkpoint Eowerth dining hall features a large of selection of food at the end of the room, not too dissimilar from Tarvus's eatery back at Zenith Gate, but only a tad smaller. Mistwalkers and Legion soldiers are free to grab what they wish, and a cook is on hand to make specially ordered dishes or to put meat on the fire. There are many long tables to sit at with enough room for every soldier stationed at the checkpoint, plus a certain number of Mistwalker guests.

Upon first entering, the knight sees about a dozen soldiers already feasting on their dinner; most of them in groups, some alone. They seem to be in slightly higher spirits compared to the Mistwalkers at Tarvus's place, which is odd considering their location, but perhaps they're making the most of it. The group in the hall that stands out most to Atticus, however, is the five he saw earlier that morning, before finally departing Zenith Gate: the mage and her comrades, sitting together near the middle of the room; the man with dreadlocks, the rogue Kellar, and the archer on one side of the table, and the mage and the brawny Royd opposite them. Trying not to make a spectacle of himself, the knight goes to the library of food at the end of the hall, picks up a plate, and slowly begins to put together his meal. His attempt at being low-profile doesn't work much, however, as they begin to stare at and whisper about him regardless.

“Didn't we see that knight earlier this morning?” Kellar, the slim man with daggers on his waist asks aloud to no particular person.

“We did.” The supposed leader with dreadlocks and thick goatee responds in his low, commanding voice. “I clearly remember his armor, at least. We left Zenith Gate before he did, but he seems to have made it this far just fine.”

“He seems to be alone.” Kellar adds. “Want to ask him to join up with us?”

“I'm not against it. Does anyone have issue with the idea?” He asks the remaining members of the team.

“He looks more than capable.” Royd responds. “If he can at least make it this far on his own, I'd say he's worth having.”

“I have no issue with it.” The archer succinctly gives his thoughts.

“And you, girl?” Kellar asks the mage, who has yet to say anything. “You alright with inviting the fella in the black armor to accompany us from now on?”

She doesn't respond immediately, instead deciding to look over at Atticus, who is still perusing the collection of foods, his back facing her. After a considerate moment, she turns to Kellar and merely nods.

“Guess that's decided then.” Kellar summarizes with some enthusiasm. “I'll get his attention when he fills his plate.”

“Try not to annoy him to the point where he rejects our offer just so he doesn't have to hear you talk, Kellar.” The muscular Royd slides in an barbed comment with a smirk.

“I have more charisma is my little toe than you do in your whole body.” Kellar fires back. “What are you going to do, try and bond over all the fuckin' raw elk meat you eat while thumping your chest like a gorilla, you buffoon?”

“I don't eat elk meat raw, you damned–”

“Excuse me, knight!” The leader overpowers the bickering to catch the attention of Atticus, who had gathered his food and was fixing to pass the group by. “Would you mind joining us?”

The knight is very surprised at the invitation, which causes him to hesitate, but he notices the young mage woman looking at him with an expectant gaze. “Sure.” He responds.

“Have a seat.” The unknown man gestures towards the empty stool next to the mage.

Atticus obliges and sits down. “What is it that you need of me?”

“First of all, I'd like to introduce myself.” The man with dreadlocks begins in a very polite, diplomatic manner. “I am Veros Quintum, a Mistwalker, like you. Obviously. My band and I were wondering if you were willing to ride with us.”

“This is sudden.” The knight can't help but voice his thoughts. “Why the invitation? Do you know me from somewhere?”

“No, no. I do not.” Veros shakes his head. “I simply recall seeing you back at Zenith Gate this morning. I figured if you could make it this far into the mist without a scratch on you in a single day, you may be worth inviting.” Veros offers his explanation while Royd quietly nods along for some reason.

“I'm sure you probably noticed just as well as I did that there weren't many undead wandering along the road on the way here.” Atticus retorts, downplaying his own self-reliance and skill to try and dig at any deeper meaning to the request. “It wouldn't be much of a feat to make it this far.”

“True enough, but the mist does expose those who are weak of mind early on. And it breaks them. Here you are, having a conversation with me without the slightest hint of mental or emotional exhaustion. You don't seem fazed in the slightest at the journey you just had, and you made it in one day, alone. I assume you are traveling alone, yes?”

“I am.” The knight answers, and then scans the other faces around him at the table. Kellar and Royd seem optimistic, the archer looks quite listless as though he doesn't care one way or the other. The mage, who is right next to Atticus, is staring at him so intently that he almost begins to wonder if her pyromancy extends to heat vision, because her explicit gaze is beginning to make him feel a bit flustered. “What exactly is it that you wish to accomplish here, in the fog?” He continues the discussion with an honest question.

“Well, we all have our different reasons, but personally, I do want to save Yhordran, first and foremost.”

“So you intend to go reach the source of the mist, which is allegedly at or around Armasstadt, correct?”

“Correct.”

“We're open to having our minds changed, though.” Kellar cracks what may or may not be a joke, which is met with complete, silent inattention by Veros, and a threatening stare by Royd.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

“Is there any reason I should doubt the integrity of you or your men?” The knight asks with stone-faced seriousness. “Does anyone here have a history that would make me second-guess placing my life in their hands?”

“Good question.” Royd interjects. “Do you, Kellar?” He shoots a poisonous glare at the bald man.

“Hey, I may jape and give voice to my... less fearless thoughts, but I've been part of several different bands of people – mercenaries and, yes, even thieves – but I ain't never let anyone die.” Kellar stands his ground resolutely.

“Do you have any rules regarding loot or plunder?” Atticus asks.

“Well, we're not necessarily going out of our way to loot anything,” Veros begins, “but if we come across any valuables by chance that we can keep for the duration of the journey, then we will split it evenly.”

Atticus seems content with the answer. He looks at everyone's faces once more, and nothing has changed from the last time he did it – their expressions remain the same. Frankly, he doesn't know why he's being so reluctant. Isn't this what he wanted? He surmises that this caution simply comes from habit.

“Okay.” Atticus says. “I will join you.”

“Fantastic!” Veros rejoices. “I'll give a quick introduction to everyone else. This is Kellar Weylan.” He points to the bald man with a patch of hair on his chin.

“Good to meet ya.” Greets Kellar.

“This big fellow over here is Royd Darvenson.”

“Welcome aboard, knight!” Royd says with a lift of his pint.

“The one with the bow over here is Erik Rocheford.”

“Greetings.” Erik says with one courteous bow of his head.

“And the quiet girl here is called Zyra.”

The mage only nods while maintaining her very strong leer.

“I am Atticus Dayne.” The knight speaks. “I look forward to working with you all.”

“The pleasure is ours, Atticus.” Veros offers one last bow of the head. “Now, I apologize for delaying your meal. Please, go ahead and begin eating. We've a big day ahead of us tomorrow.”

“We hope to make it to the second checkpoint by sun down, but going through Levinburg might prove burdensome.” Royd adds on to tomorrow's plan while Atticus finally begins to eat his dinner.

“Indeed.” Veros continues. “Newmanstead was the only village in our path on our way from Zenith Gate, and it wasn't a very populated little speck on the map to begin with. Levinburg is much larger, so the threat of undead will be much, much higher than today.”

“And the surrounding forest isn't going to help our already-limited visibility on our way to – and from – there.” Royd tacks on another detail. “Our second day on the journey will be quite a challenge. We could certainly use the assistance of as many able-bodied Mistwalkers as we can get.”

“Are you familiar with this part of Yhordran, Atticus?” Veros asks.

The knight swallows his mouthful of food before answering. “No, I'm not. I was given a map at Zenith Gate, though.”

“As were we, but together, we have varying knowledge of this region, both and first and second hand, and we're simply heading directly north to Armasstadt, so have no fear about getting lost.”

“That's good to hear.” The knight voices appreciation while taking in another mouthful of his dinner.

“Our goal is to reach one checkpoint per day until we get half way into the mist. It's after that point that's still a mystery.”

“They say damn near no one's passed the final checkpoint and returned.” Kellar chimes in with a foreboding tone.

“That's something that we can't confirm for ourselves until we get there.” Royd interjects. “Until then, all this talk of 'no one returns' shite is just rumors.”

“What else would explain the fact that there aren't any checkpoints beyond the fifth one?” The bald man retorts. “If the Legion managed to set one up, surely we'd know about it, right?”

“But what proof do we have that no Mistwalker had gone beyond that point? Because there aren't any checkpoints there, it would be unlikely that we'd know for sure if a Mistwalker had been in that area. They'd only get a stamp at the forth checkpoint – the only proof of progress for anyone returning.”

“Then by that logic, why the hell would anyone bother goin' beyond the forth checkpoint anyway?” Kellar fires back in increased volume.

“Because we're not the only ones who want to sodding save Yhordran instead of loot dead bodies and abandoned homes!” Royd returns his point with his own explosion of voice.

“Enough, you two.” Vero raises his hand between the two men angrily leering at each other. “We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, and we won't be getting to it for at least three more days. We have plenty of time to think about it, especially once we actually reach the final checkpoint.”

Atticus was in the middle of chewing his food as the argument broke out. He remembers the two men casually exchanging insults back in Tarvus's place, and quietly begins to wonder if this is going to be a regular thing he'll have to put up with for the remainder of his mission.

“So, dark knight,” Veros directs his attention back to Atticus once the two squabbler settle down, “where is it that you hail from?”

The knight doesn't wish to go too deeply into his background, but he's going to willingly place his life in their hands, so he should be open about certain things in order to establish trust.

“Rhodanion.” He answers; Yhordran's neighboring continent to the east, across the Tumarda Ocean.

“No kiddin'?” Kellar can't help but speak up in surprise. “So people over there know of our mist troubles too, huh?”

“They do.” The knight confirms with a nod. “At least at the coast, where Yhordran's trade ships stop. I was at Port Durley when I first heard the news.”

“Guess it'll be a matter of time before more Rhodish folk come to test their mettle.” Royd comments.

“Can you imagine a band of Rhodishmen coming and saving Yhordran?” Kellar laments in disgust. “It'd make us all look like complete fuckin' fools to rest of the world. The Legion would look especially bad; like they don't have what it takes to save their own people.”

“It'd be a blow to their reputation, but it hasn't been very high recently to begin with.” Veros contemplates with a sullen gaze pointed toward the table. “But I'm sure if you ask your average the citizen of Yhordran, they'd say they don't care who saves them, as long as they're saved.” He dwells on it for another moment, oddly mindful of the subject, then changes direction of his previous thought. “Still though, it'd be in Yhordran's best interest from a geopolitical perspective if people within our borders managed it. Not that I'm against help from a Rhodishman.” Veros directs his last sentence to Atticus with a bow of his head, intending to not mean any offense. The knight doesn't take any.

“You being from across the pond explains your unique armor, though.” Kellar speaks of the knight's eye-catching, but heavily worn black iron suit. “I haven't seen anything like it before. Is it custom made?”

Atticus wasn't expecting to discuss his armor, but he can tell Veros and Royd are interested in it too. “In sizing, yes. But the design is standard-issue. As is my shield and sword.”

“So it's been your armor since the day it was made?” The bald man asks.

“It has.” The knight replies quickly. “Why? Did you ponder the possibility that I stole it, or perhaps it's second-hand?”

“I'll admit, I did.” Kellar lifts his hands with his palms facing forward, as if surrendering to the assumption. “Can't blame me, though. It looks sturdy and expensive. Either you're an important fellow, or a lucky bandit or buyer.” Atticus doesn't make any additional comments, but Kellar continues to pry. “So... are you an important person?”

Noticing the knight's subtle discomfort with the conversation, Veros chimes in. “That's enough, Kellar. If our new friend doesn't wish to talk about his past, then he shouldn't have to. Don't stick your nose where it isn't welcome.”

“Fair enough.” Kellar backs down from his interrogation.