Meanwhile, Veros is still in the dining hall, already in the middle of a conversation with the two other Mistwalkers he saw during dinner, who seem to be unsure of how seriously to take his words about the encounter in Legarthat.

“You're saying you were attacked by undead who were burned to death?” The first of the two Mistwalkers – an atheltic-looking fellow with short blonde hair and short beard – asks.

“Right.” Veros says with a firm nod. “They were completely charred – impossible to tell what they looked like while they were alive.”

“And they still got up and attacked?” The second Mistwalker – a man of slim build and long black hair tied in ponytail – inquires.

“Yes.” Veros nods again. “You're sure you've heard about nothing of the sort? You two didn't go through Legarthat, right?”

The two other men simply look at each other, dumbfounded. “No, we came from the west because we went around Tumarda River and Lake Hyperion.” The first shakes his head. “It's not that I think you're lying – I'm sure that shit is possible thanks to this mist, but that hasn't happened to anyone else I've talked to. What's your name again?”

“Veros.”

“I'm Ewan.” The first Mistwalker introduces himself. “This is Seth, my younger brother. You said these burnt undead were at Legarthat, right?”

“Yes, but they wouldn't be there now.” Veros explains with a slightly strained expression, as though he's aware he may be coming off as difficult to believe. “After we killed them, they simply turned to ash.”

“What direction did you lot come from?” Seth asks.

“We came from the south. From Zenith Gate.”

“Have you been along the eastern route at all?”

“No, we took a straight path from there to here.”

“Damn.” Seth curses under his breath. “I was hoping you came from the east.”

“Why's that?”

“We're from Yulestead, about a hundred miles east of here.” Ewan answers. “We're heading back there to see what's left of it.”

“Did you two escape as the mist began spreading?” Veros wonders.

“No. We left Yulestead about a year ago. Our cousin bought some farm land closer to Evatica, and invited us out there to work with him, make some money. We had no real reason to say no.”

“We would've came sooner.” Seth interjects. “But we didn't know how dangerous is was, so we decided to wait and see if the Legion could do anything. But as you can see, they couldn't do a damn thing outside of setting up these checkpoints, so we got impatient.”

“I see.” Veros is a bit curious as to what it is they're looking for specifically, but ultimately decides not to pry, and changes the subject. “Have either of you visited Armasstadt before you left for your cousin's farm? Do you know of any event there that might be related to the mist?”

“No way.” Ewan shakes his head with fervor. “We haven't been up there in fifteen years, since the coronation of Archduke Westshire. We have about as much of an idea of what went on over there as you do.”

“Well, there were those rumors about the Archduke before we left Yulestead.” Seth speaks up. “Remember? Apparently Westshire was refusing to leave his keep for some reason, starting almost a year before the mist showed up.”

“How the hell is that related to this plague?” Ewan speaks in a scolding tone.

“I just thought it was worth bringing up.”

“Have either of you encountered any undead wearing religious clothing?” Veros continues his questions, paying no mind to the budding sibling squabble.

“You mean like monks?” Ewan asks for clarification.

“Monks, squires, anything of the sort.”

“Actually, we didn't see any of them personally, but we heard a guy talk about something like that over at Checkpoint Evansward a couple days ago.” The elder sibling recalls. “Said he found a body in blue monastery robes near Aethelburg – way out west, near the coast.”

Veros's eyes widen a bit at the news. Blue robes likely mean another monk, which means there's a confirmed minimum of three on this side of the barrier, yet the monastery at Evatica made no news of this. Furthermore, the third was incredibly far away from the first two, out near the west coast. It's possible it could've wandered there in the many days the mist has been around, but there's a chance it could be there on purpose due to the monk being discovered at Aethelburg, which is one of the larger towns of the region. Veros tries to process all of this information and all possible meanings, both coincidental or purposeful, but at the end of the day, there's still more questions than answers.

“Did you see any?” The younger sibling asks.

“Sorry?” Veros snaps out of his trance.

“Did you see any undead wearing monastery robes?”

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“We did, actually – two of them. About sixty miles south.” Veros answers, half-invested in the conversation, and half-way still stuck in his thoughts.

“That's odd.” Ewan chimes in. “You'd think the clergy would make a bit of noise about three of their boys being dead over here.”

“Guess they don't want people to start freaking out in Evatica.” Seth hypothesizes. “People are already worried about the mist. Don't need to add more wood to that fire.”

“Probably.”

“Well, that's all I wanted to ask about.” Veros wraps up the discussion and begins to excuse himself from the table. “We're going in different directions, so I don't know if we'll meet again, but I hope you both find what you're looking for in Yulestead.”

“Ah, yeah, cheers, friend.” Ewan raises his near-empty cup of mead. “I hope you and your lot make it out in one piece.”

“Have a good one, mate.” Seth bids farewell, too. Veros gives one more polite nod before leaving the dining hall.

As the team captain was conversing with fellow Mistwalkers, the trio of Royd, Kellar, and Erik were casually resting by a small bonfire they built in front of their tents. They stare blankly at the flame, with Royd lethargically making marks in the dirt with a random stick he found earlier. All of the men are obviously quite bored, but also not tired enough to call it a night just yet.

“Say, Erik.” Kellar abruptly speaks up with a very slight glint of curiosity in his eye. “I was wonderin' how you knew about that ritual we saw back in Legarthat. You said very few people knew about it, so how do you know?”

“My father owns the Bebbenborrow Memorial Library in Evatica.” Erik responds matter-of-factly. “I've spent a lot of time reading there. Some of the books cover religious history. That's where I learned about it.”

“Ah.” Kellar wasn't expecting such a straightforward answer, but accepts it with no hesitation. “Fair enough. I guess that means you come from a pretty well-off family then, yeah?”

“You can say that.”

“So why are you here?” The curious glint in Kellar's eyes returns in an instant. “Why is a noble's son riskin' his life out here? You could be eatin' a big dinner in the comfort of your own home right now, but you're campin' in the dirt and mud, with the loomin' dangers of the undead that could end your life in a snap. What gives?”

Royd quietly and timidly looks up with raised eyebrows between this two teammates, clearly interested in where this conversation goes, though he still unwittingly continues to doodle in the dirt.

“No real reason.” Erik begins his modest explanation with a straight face, staring blankly into the red and orange glow of the fire. “My older brother is going to be inheriting most of the properties my father owns, including the library I spent all of my free time in that he never really cared about. The only real hobby that I have is my bow and archery competitions, but even they aren't always so fulfilling.”

“So you're bored?” Kellar, puzzled, tries to parse a simpler summary out of Erik's words.

“Not necessarily bored.” Erik shakes his head slightly. “I feel like I'm looking for something, but I don't know what it is.”

“So you're just soul searchin'?” The bald rogue looks even more confused than earlier. “You couldn't have done it in a more safe way that doesn't involve possibly gettin' ripped apart by walkin' corpses?”

“Well, for some reason, I don't particularly care about self-preservation.” Erik elaborates with a wry smile. “So I figured I'd put myself to use by helping the people of Yhordran.”

Kellar stares at Erik for a moment, unsure of what to make of him. He's almost in complete disbelief that someone would throw themselves into an abyss of unknown dangers on a whim like this, without any sort of need to do it – financial or otherwise. After a pensive moment, he just scoffs.

“Guy's out here lookin' for himself.” He gripes facetiously under his breath. “And he's got a death wish about it too. Fuckin' nobles.”

“Well...” Erik continues with a half-smile. “I guess if I had to be more specific, I'd say I want to find a way to be my own person and create my own influence without the help of my family's name or income. I don't want to just be known as the 'second Rocheford son' my whole life. I want to find my own calling and create a legacy out of it.”

“Well, you shoulda just said that before!” Kellar, shrugging exaggeratedly, gripes even more. “You didn't need to get all existential. Goodness fuckin' gracious.”

Erik can't help but chuckle. “Sorry. I just wanted to sound interesting.” The archer admits. Royd, who has been listening in, laughs under his breath too. As their conversation comes to a close, Veros finally returns from his talks with the other Mistwalkers. He joins the three men in sitting around the fire.

“Well?” Kellar starts. “Did they say anything useful?”

“A bit.” Veros answers with a nod. “Apparently there was another undead monk found out west, at Aethelburg.”

“Aethelburg, huh? That's way out there.” Kellar leans forward with intent. “You're not planning on having us go there, are you?”

“No.” Veros answers immediately. “I still intend to go straight to Armasstadt. Aethelburg would be a six-day trip, at least. It's too far out of our way.”

“Did they see any other hints of Aldrua being performed elsewhere?” Erik interrupts with his own question pertaining to the ritual.

“No.” Veros shakes his head. “They seemed hesitant to believe me when I described the encounter in Legarthat.”

“I don't blame 'em.” Kellar comments. “I was right there in the middle of the action and even I still can't believe it happened. Charred bodies, burnt to a crisp, just standin' up and chargin' at us. Then turning into ash after we kill 'em. It's odd, even by the standards of what we've seen so far.”

“Just goes to show that any corpse we see that's still in one piece could still be deadly.” Royd chimes in with a bit of wisdom to keep in mind for the future. “We'll have to keep our guard up even more from now on.”

“So what's our plan for tomorrow?” Kellar asks. “What do we expect?”

“According to the map,” Veros begins, “there's no villages or towns between this checkpoint and the next. Just some farms, few and far between.”

“That's good. I think.” Kellar contorts his face a bit, remembering that he thought Legarthat would be a quick and easy passage, too. He considers it's probably best to just assume the worst from now on.

The four men return to staring at the mesmerizing flame of their bonfire. Veros especially has many thoughts spinning in his head about the dead monks, the sacrificial ritual, and the clergy in general. As a man of strong convictions, he feels like he's morally obligated to search for answers if no one else will. However, he doesn't want to butt heads with the promise he's made his comrades about going straight for Armasstadt. He quietly resolves to simply cross his fingers and hope that he can discover more clues along the way.

“By the way.” Royd suddenly breaks the somber silence. “Is there a pond or lake on our route?

“Uh, I think there is a pond somewhere near the next checkpoint.” Veros answer, perplexed at the question. “Why?”

“I'd really like a bath.” Royd responds, with an expression of deep longing.

“You know what?” Kellar speaks up too, hanging his head to sniff his own armpit. “Same here.” His face twists slightly in disgust at his own strong musk.

Veros and Erik quietly nod in agreement. After several days of traveling to and through the misted region, they undoubtedly would enjoy a chance to sit in a body of water and cleanse themselves. Until the moment comes, they'll simply have to take their quest one grimy day at a time.