Following another few hours of riding, the Mistwalkers finally come across a roadside sign, aged by time and weather, that bears the words: 'ARRENSTEAD, 3 MILES'. Taking notice of the sign, Veros turns to Atticus to prepare for their approach to the village.
“We'll be coming up on Arrenstead soon. How should we approach?” The team leader asks.
“I guess we'll do what we've usually done.” The knight responds. “We'll dismount once we reach the village proper and progress through it. We do have to make sure it's reasonably safe if we plan on staying the night.”
Veros nods in agreement. “True. Once we find a house suitable to hole up in for the night, we'll do one last patrol around it to ensure it's safe.”
Settling on a plan, they proceed north, unsure of the undead activity that might meet them in the forsaken village almost totally untouched by the living since the mist arrived. Before long, the first buildings of Arrenstead emerge from the grey veil ahead of them. Before crossing over into the village limits entirely, Veros stops the group to discuss with the others how they will proceed.
“We're here.” He begins. “We're going to do what we normally do. Atticus and I will dismount and guide the group from the front, looking through buildings and making sure they're free of threats. Royd and Kellar, you two will dismount and guide from the rear to ensure nothing sneaks up on us. Erik and Zyra will stay on their horses and act as lookouts, particularly for when Atticus and I are busy going through a house. Is everyone alright with this?”
The plan is met with nods and affirmative groans, plus the usual, confident “aye” from Royd.
“Alright, let's start.” The team leader announces as he dismounts his horse and arms himself with a shield on his left arm and a sword in his right hand. Atticus, Royd, and Kellar do the same. Together, they guide the horses to the interior of Arrenstead's perimeter, keeping keen eyes on their surroundings. Royd and Kellar, being in the most vulnerable positions, find themselves constantly looking behind them.
They come across the first set of houses; Veros and Atticus momentarily deviate from the dirt road leading towards the center of the village to inspect them. The veteran pushes open the home's already-ajar front door. Nothing of note is spotted in the first room, aside from the usual mess of remnants of a family trying to make a hasty retreat – knocked over chairs and stools, various household items strewn about haphazardly. He makes his way to a doorway leading to a single bedroom. Nothing interesting there, either; only a messy bed and a few articles of clothing left behind.
In Atticus's house, he's greeted with a similar sight in the first room. He quietly takes note of the fact that there are more normal household items lying around here than there were way back south, in Newmanstead, the first village he came across before he joined with the others. It makes him realize that Mistwalkers who signed up for the job to loot were willing to stoop so low as to take wooden plates, eating utensils, and used kitchen cloths – things that would have to be looted by the carriageload to be worth anything significant. It seems desperate, but if you're willing to risk your life for only a few pieces of copper, then you must be past the point of caring about how desperate you appear.
The knight opens a cloth threshold to a second room, and jerks his head back in surprise at the first thing he sees: a heavily deteriorated corpse whose head had already been relieved of its body, as the withered cranium lies mere inches from the body's feet. Curious, Atticus gives the head a light kick, sending it rolling a short distance to the other side of the room. It and the body remain unmoving. Other than that, the humble home was another building with nothing worth staying for. He leaves to continue down the road.
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Soon after, the two leading the group divide once again to approach two more houses. Veros walks up to the front door, which is closed shut completely. He presses against it gently with his left arm, but it doesn't budge. He tries again by leaning his shoulder against it and slowly pushing against it with the weight of his body with increasing force, and the door manages to budge slightly, accompanied by the sound of whatever's barricading it being budged as well. For an instant, he hears hard thuds reminiscent of boots taking steps on a wooden floor. He pauses, hoping to hear the noise cleanly, but it doesn't show up again.
Deciding to make haste, Veros takes a step back, heaves a long breath, and quickly lifts his left leg to bash open the door with the bottom of his boot. The door flies open, practically off its hinges, and the chair propped against the door snaps in half from the pressure as well. As the veteran is about to take a step into the building, the grotesque yell of an undead is heard, and he turns his head into the living room in time to catch a hostile corpse lunging forward with a sword. Veros steps back frantically, barely able to dodge the tapered point of the being's rusted blade.
“Gods!” He yells, totally taken by surprise.
The undead, now led outside by its own momentum, quickly turns to follow up its thrust with a wide horizontal sweep. Veros, however, blocks it with his shield with ease. Taking immediate advantage of the fact that the undead doesn't have a shield of its own, he follows through with a thrust directly to its neck. The corpse slumps over and hits the ground with an audible thud. The veteran lets out a sigh. Behind him, Erik undraws his bow, as he was ready to shoot the undead had Veros began to struggle with it.
“Are you okay, Veros?” Zyra asks, still perched on her horse.
“I'm fine.” Veros responds with a small wave. Not bothering to inspect the corpse's body, he resumes his inspection of the home. The debris from his kick to the door covers a small section of the first room, and on the opposite wall, he notices the only window is boarded up. He continues to the only bedroom in the house, noticing another broaded up window. Other than the strange implication that the corpse he just encountered was trapped in the house for months, there's nothing else of note. Thus, he exits.
Atticus's second house is initially more of the same. He enters with his shield raised, anticipating an attack, but no enemies seem to lurk inside. Only more turned over stools and worthless items thrown to the ground greet him. He walks to a short hallway that leads to two bedrooms facing each other. He peers into one, finding only more evidence of hasty retreat, including an open chest at the foot of the bed.
He turns to look into the opposite room to see a similar scene. However, for no particular reason, he's drawn by a small table next to the head of the bed. A short drawer hangs underneath the top, closed shut. Not knowing what to expect, he casually pulls it open, and a single golden ring rolls forward from the backmost part of it. The knight picks it up to inspect it, notices a tiny, intricate pattern etched onto the exterior side. He turns his head to examine the rest of the room, and nothing else draws his interest, so he leaves.
Once outside, the knight approaches Kellar, who continues to swing his head and body around in desperate attempts to stay alert and aware of his surrounding.
“Kellar.” Atticus calls out.
“Huh?” The skinny rogue snaps out of his awkward dance. “What is it?”
“Here.” The knight holds his hand out towards his comrade, the golden ring resting on his open palm. “Take it.”
Kellar, surprised at sudden gesture, shows hesitation. “Are you sure?” He asks. “You found it, so you could keep it for yourself, if you want.”
“I didn't come here for anything other than to reach Armasstadt.” Atticus replies, showing no interest in the ring. “You've mentioned how badly you need to take home something to sell. Take it. A ring does no one any good by sitting in a drawer where no one can see it for months on end.”
Accepting the knight's blunt reasoning for offering the small accessory, Kellar slowly picks it up from Atticus's palm and holds it close to his face to admire its craftsmanship. While not anything especially spectacular, the ring indeed seems like it would hold a serviceable amount of value.
Kellar nods his head as he pockets the ring. “Thanks, Atticus. I appreciate that.” His eyes show a humble sincerity that he's yet to display on the journey thus far.
Content with his companion's reaction, the knight continues his inspection of the houses that line the main path cutting through the center of Arrenstead.