“You're saying that the undead up north are capable of fighting like living men despite still being undead?” Veros, perplexed, asks for further clarification.

“Exactly.” Lena nods solemnly. “They wield swords and shields. They use bows. For all the I know, they might even be able to still use magic.”

Again, the six Mistwalkers become quietly pensive. Such news was not something they were anticipating. They're not even sure if they should believe her, even though she's been a hospitable host who's given no reason to draw suspicion thus far. However, considering the massive brute they encountered the other day, they've already seen an undead who can wield weapons, but they simply thought he was a special case.

Lena continues. “I know you're reluctant to take my word for it, and I can't offer proof other than the word of my own scouts. I'm not trying to convince you to return to the barrier, either. I simply want you to hear what I've heard. You deserve to, especially if you're continuing north.”

Veros, still blindsided by the sudden information and shift in expectations, forces out a reply. “We appreciate you telling us this. It's better to know of these new enemies going forward rather than be surprised. However, would it be possible to talk to these scouts themselves? Are they still in Terrance?”

“They are.” The chief answers with a nod. “Unfortunately, they're late to dinner, but they oftentimes are. I'm sure they'll be here any minute now.”

“Thank you.”

“In the meantime, please continue your meal.” She urges them to finish their plates, and the group wastes no time in complying. However, their demeanor isn't as enthusiastic as it was when they first began eating. Caught off guard by the revelation of more intelligent, dangerous undead waiting for them beyond Terrance, they've shrouded themselves in second thoughts regarding the progression of their quest towards Armasstadt. Veros, especially, is beginning to come around on the idea of staying in Terrance an extra night to give the team an opportunity to get adequate rest and prepare themselves for the road ahead. The more he thinks about it, the more impatient he becomes to get information out of the surviving scouts.

As the group nears the end of their dinner, the Mistwalker residents of Terrance also start finishing theirs. They begin to walk outside, one by one, stacking their plates on the table nearest to the door for eventual washing. Slowly, the eatery becomes emptied out of third parties, leaving Lena and the six guests by themselves. However, before the awkward silence becomes too overbearing, the door swings open again, and two residents enter: Vincent and Misha.

Lena sighs, annoyed by the current circumstances. “About time. You're far later than you usually are.”

“Sorry, chief.” Misha apologizes. “We lost track of time.”

“Hurry and grab your plates.” Lena orders. “You have something important to discuss with our guests.”

Vincent sighs. “I figured we'd have to talk about this when they said they were going all the way to Armasstadt.” His tone is rather aloof despite the topic. The couple gather their food and sit at the same table as the others, occupying the last two seats at the end that's opposite Lena.

Vincent continues. “So, you want to know about the undead up the road, huh?” He asks almost dismissively while taking the first bite of his dinner. It's doubtful this is the first time he's had to talk about it.

“Yes.” Veros replies, narrowing his eyes and leaning forward intently. “What did you two see up there?”

Vincent turns to Misha. “You mind taking it this time?”

She nods. “Sure.” She turns back to the group. “Sorry, chief has us tell this story every time a Mistwalker passes through with the intent of continuing north.”

“I'm only trying to minimize casualties.” Lena interjects matter-of-factly. “I don't want others dying due to a lack of information when I probably could have prevented it. Go on.” She urges Misha to continue.

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She begins her recollection while her husband eats casually. “Not long after Vincent and I arrived, we volunteered to be part of a scouting party going north in order to find another village to fortify. We were already told about the last scouting party not coming back, but we figured we'd do alright, since we made it this far already without any issues.”

“How big was your scouting party?” Veros asks.

“There were five of us. Everyone was pretty experienced with dealing with the dangers of the mist already. I don't think any of us were really afraid to take the job. Our destination was the village of Arrenstead, which is about thirty-five miles north. We were just about the reach it until we saw a rider on a horse off in the distance, shrouded in the mist. We assumed it was another Mistwalker, but when we approached, we noticed they were undead. Very undead. Most of its flesh had fallen off its body, and it was damn near just bones. And it was riding.”

“Was the horse undead too?” Kellar interrupts with curious, but also deeply concerned expression.

Misha nods. “It was. The horse was also necrotic, its skin grey and dry. Most of its mane had been shed. It was hideous. The rider wasn't alone. It was leading a small group of other armed undead, about eight to ten more – didn't really have time to count. Some of them had bows and loosed arrows upon us. One of our men was hit right in the eye; he fell dead instantly. Another hit Vincent right under the collarbone.”

Vincent raises his head from his meal. “About two more inches up and to the right, and it would've got me square in the throat.”

Misha continues. “We immediately turned and ran. There was no way we were anticipating such an enemy, and we don't know for sure if they expected us, but it sure looked as if they did. The ones with swords tried to rush us, but we were able to outpace them. Unfortunately, the ones with bows got the better of two more men. I didn't see how they fell, but after a couple miles, when I finally turned my head to see who was still there, it was just Vincent.”

“Ned got two in the back and fell off his horse.” Vincent describes the violent details that Misha couldn't cover, without putting his fork down. “Arrin got swiped on the neck and bled out, then fell off his horse.” He resumes eating.

“We came back to Terrance, told the chief about what happened, and got Vincent healed up. We haven't sent another scouting party since then.”

“I got a question.” Kellar interjects again, his face twisted in sheer bewilderment. “Why the hell are you two still here? Any normal person would've taken that as a sign to go back south and stay there.”

“We told you why, already.” Vincent answers. “We live out here for free and get a wage for doing it, plus offer a service to Mistwalkers who actually want to continue north.”

“We're stubborn.” Misha suddenly gives a more concise answer, almost proud of their bullheadedness.

Veros, looking sligthly anxious, asks a question to whoever can answer. “Have these intelligent undead ever come south? Have they tried to attack Terrance?”

“Not at all.” Lena responds. “Strangely, none have come south enough for anyone here to encounter one. They seem to have little interest in coming down here. For now.” She leans forward, her eyes growing more intense. “But now that you know of these smarter undead, I want to urge you again to stay one extra night here and deliberate amongst yourselves about how to proceed. I know you don't want to stay long enough for your determination to be shaken, but I truly believe that holding off for one extra day can benefit you.”

Veros looks down at the table, then up at his comrades, who look about as unsure as he does. He looks directly to Atticus. “What do you think?” He asks, seeking some sort of safety line.

The knight ponders for a moment, looking down at his now empty plate. He silently weighs the benefits of rushing north versus an extra day's rest, soon concluding that no matter how he views it, the smarter choice is obvious. After the pensive pause, he lifts his head again.

“Make haste slowly.” He says with confidence. “Nothing good comes from sacrificing diligence for speed. I say we wait.”

Veros takes one more look around the table and sees no expression of disagreement on anyone's faces. “Very well.” The team leader announces. “We'll stay an extra day.”

Lena leans back and heaves a small sigh of relief. “Thank the Gods.” She utters under her breath. “It's not uncommon for other Mistwalkers eager to play hero to continue north at the soonest possible opportunity, despite so few reaching it this far to begin with. They think passing the Rosemont line is as bad as it gets.”

“True.” Veros nods. “Complacency is the first step towards making a crucial mistake.”

“I'm glad you see where I'm coming from.” Lena smiles warmly, happy that she was able to prevent the group from leaping into unknown dangers too soon. She stands up, preparing to leave the table. “Now, I won't keep you all to myself. Please, do as you will here, in Terrance. Consider it your home for the duration of your stay. I'll be at the manor should anyone need me.”

Veros stands as well, unable to not show courtesy to his host. “Thank you, Lena.” He bows slightly. She returns it, and exits the eatery.