As Veros and Atticus go through the third pair of homes, Erik and Zyra stay perched on their horses, watchful of any strange activity of undead presence from their slightly elevated vantage points. The noble mostly keeps his eyes on the rear of the group, where Kellar and Royd are, as Zyra keeps her focus to the north, as they could be vulnerable from that direction if the two men on point aren't around. The young pyromancer soon notices a jostling shadow from behind the veil of the mist further down the road, soon revealing itself to be another undead, armed with a sword and shield, running towards the group.

“Ahead!” Zyra yells, immediately gaining the attention of Erik, who quickly turns his horse and draws the string of his bow back.

The corpse holds its shield up to cover its chest and head as it rushes forward. Zyra extends her right arm forward and faces her palm to the undead, fingers extended and spread.

“Spherus Infernum.” She recites in a lowered voice.

A fireball erupts from her open hand and flashes across the air, hitting the rotted warrior's shield. The fiery force of the blast knocks its left shoulder back, momentarily pushing away its safe cover. Erik quickly capitalizes on the exposure of the corpse's head by loosing his arrow, which strikes the enemy directly in the eye. It falls over with a short slide due to its leftover forward momentum. Atticus, coming from the house he had just searched, walks up to the body after witnessing the short encounter. He kneels down and grabs the arrow sticking out of its eye socket by the shaft and gives a forceful tug, successfully pulling the arrow out and shaking the blood and traces of brain matter off. He walks back up to the two ranged fighters on their horses, and hands the arrow back to Erik.

“Thank you.” The noble responds, taking the arrow and placing it back in his quiver.

Atticus turns to Zyra. “That was good,” he suddenly gives her praise, “using the force of a fireball to knock his shield back as he approached and open him up. Was that a conscious decision?”

“Well...” The mage tilts her head with a bit of inner conflict showing on her face. “Not necessarily. But if it was a good choice, we'll pretend it was on purpose.”

“Well, accidental success is still success.” The knight says with a small smile.

“Hey, it wasn't a total fluke.” She responds with a slight pout. “I can do it again.”

“I'd like to see that. Just don't be too eager.”

“Yes, sir.” The mage gives her acknowledgment with a smile and sarcastic salute, and the knight turns and resumes his patrol through the road.

The slow process of searching through the main road of the village and clearing out each building lining either side of it continues for nearly an hour, with only the occasional encounter with a roaming undead that is quickly and efficiently eliminated by either the two men leading the group or the two ranged fighters on horses. None of the homes they've come across so far seems particularly suitable for an overnight stay for six people, and finding one that is grows more and more urgent as the sunlight begins to quickly disappear, and darkness starts to envelop the area. Though just as they reach the northern border of Arrenstead, they finally see it: a barn, standing sturdily in front of a small farm.

“Thank the Gods.” Veros rejoices as they approach. “This is exactly what we wanted. I was starting to worry for a moment.”

The group leader walks up to the large front double doors that are already open, and peers into the interior. The barn has high, angled ceilings with no second floor, eight stalls along two rows, each big enough to suit horses, and hay bales and various farming tools scattered about the wide aisle.

“Is it safe?” Zyra asks, approaching while still on her horse.

“Seems so.” Veros responds. “Alright, everyone. We'll be staying here for the night.”

“Finally.” Kellar voices his relief. “Tired of spinnin' my head around to make sure I'm not stabbed by an uppity corpse.”

Zyra and Erik dismount like the others, and everyone slowly guides their horses to the inside of the barn, claiming different stalls as they enter. Veros walks up to the closed double doors opposite the ones they entered, and notices that it's locked. He gives them a few forceful pushes and tugs to assure their sturdiness, and seems content with the results. No random stragglers should be taking them by surprise through the night.

“Atticus and I will do a quick patrol around the barn.” Veros announces. “You all can start unsaddling your horses and eat dinner. Remember not to gorge yourself; we have limited provisions.”

Royd heaves a sigh. “If only we had another horse to at least carry some non-perishables.” He complains, not very eager to start cutting the size of his meals down.

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Atticus and Veros temporarily exit the barn and begin their search for potential hostiles in the immediate area. They walk in a large circle around the building, with their shields on their arms and swords at their hips. Ultimately finding no threats, they return inside to unsaddle their own horses and rejoin the others.

After everyone has settled in and the double doors they came through have been shut and chained together tightly, the six Mistwalkers are sitting in a circle in the aisle between the two rows of stalls, huddled around the dim light of a latern they found hanging from a support beam. With no need to set up their tents, their bedrolls are laid out in the open around them. A sullen atmosphere shrouds them, as they're used to a bit more security than this thanks to the Legion checkpoints and Terrance.

“Boy, am I gonna miss meat for a while.” Royd laments as he bites into a peach.

“You'll live, you glutton.” Kellar responds with a barbed tone. “Do you have a second stomach where your brain should be, or what?”

Royd swallows his bite and scowls. “Sorry I'm not as used to being frugal with food as you, Mr. I-Used-To-Be-A-Traveling-Mercenary.” He then takes another bite of the peach while maintaining an annoyed expression.

Zyra is curled up into a ball with her knees against her chest. She curiously watches Atticus's horse, Annaliese, poke her head over the short wall of her stall while listlessly chewing on leftover hay.

“Atticus.” The young mage speaks up to the knight, who is sitting next to her. “How long have you had her?” She points to Annaliese.

“Since the day I joined the royal guard.” He answers honestly. “She was a gift. She's been the only horse I've ridden ever since. She's like family to me.” He then turns to the others. “Speaking of which, how did everyone here get their horses?”

“My horse has always been mine.” Royd is the first to answer. “His name is Lexen. Had him since the day he was born, because his mother lives with us, too.”

“The rest of us had to buy our horses before leaving Evatica.” Veros chimes in. “Luckily, they were going for quite cheap, because wild horses from the north – around here – ran down south when the mist showed up, making them easier to catch and bring to Evatica stables. Owned horses from around here continue to become orphaned thanks to the mist as well.”

Atticus remembers the conversation he had with the young woman, Edith, working at the stable back at Zenith Gate. She had lamented the rate at which horses were being orphaned, as well. Due to the high rate of Mistwalker deaths, many horses soon find themselves without owners after being taken across the barrier, and they usually make it back to the gates on their own, only to be sold off again there, or taken to Evatica. The knight quietly wonders if there are any horses who have been taken into the misted region multiple times by different riders.

“It's good they were so cheap.” Kellar comments. “I had only a limited amount of coin for this trip.”

“I have a question.” Royd interjects, leaning forward with inquisitive eyes. “Why did you not just spend that money on whatever it is that's forcing you to be so desperate for loot?”

“Because it ain't enough.” The roguish man answers bluntly. “I considered it an investment towards the potentially high amount of valuable items I thought I could discover while here.”

“What exactly is it that you need so much coin for, man?” The woodcutter, somewhat fed up with his comrade's dire financial straits, burns with curiosity. “You keep mentioning how much you need it, but you've never said why. What's the problem? You got shady folks after you for not paying a debt or something?”

“No, you oaf.” Kellar sighs and shakes his head. After a pause, he ultimately decides to reveal his motives. “Well, I own a house – a big one. I was able to pay for it for a while with my old mercenary work and odd jobs that were... beyond the law.”

“Are you the only one in that house?” Royd asks.

The former mercenary shakes his head. “No. My wife is there.”

“You're married?!” The brawny man throws his head back in surprise. The others are caught off guard, as well.

“What the hell's so surprisin' about that?!” Kellar yells, annoyed at the implication of Royd's shock. “You want me to tell my story or not, you big bastard?”

Royd lifts his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, okay.” He says. “I apologize. Please, continue.”

“As I was sayin'...” The irate rogue resumes. “Since givin' up the mercenary and illegal work at the behest of my wife, I haven't been able to pay for the house as well. Almost every penny I make goes towards it. We practically have no coin left for food.”

“I can't imagine there are many lucrative careers for someone whose past experiences stayed in the shadows.” Royd remarks. “You can't just move into a smaller home? It's only you two, isn't it?”

“We considered it, but...” Kellar's solemn gaze moves down, toward the lantern. “She became pregnant. Her belly swelled up like a balloon in record time, and a physician said she's probably carryin' twins.”

“Wait.” Royd narrows his eyes. “She's still pregnant? How far along is she right now?”

“Almost eight months.”

“Galliford's beard, man!” The musclebound man reels his head back again. “Your wife's about to pop any day now and you're out here?”

“I know how bad it is, alright?” Kellar scowls again. “Her parents volunteered to help pay for the house, but they're not very well-off, themselves.”

“Can she not work? After she gives birth, I mean.”

“She's...” The somber ex-mercenary heaves another sigh. “She's not very employable.”

“How so?”

“She's deaf and blind in her right ear and eye. And she's a bit slow – it takes a while for her to learn how to do things.”

“I see.” Royd nods, understanding his comrade's situation. “Yes, it does seem very difficult for a man in your position to maintain a hold on any sort of upper class property. But why come out here? Why not return to your underground or mercenary work again?”

“I'm tired of jobs that associate me with crime and criminals.” Kellar answers resolutely with a shake of his head. “I'm sick of meetin' shitty people and either havin' to work with them or work for them. I spent my whole life around dirtbags, and now that I'm a grown man, I want to take the initiative to avoid them. It's why I'm desperate to keep a nice house in a nice part of the city – so my future kids don't grow up like I did. By signin' up to be a Mistwalker, I expose myself to more danger, yes, but I avoid the grime that's been coverin' me for years, and also don't risk gettin' arrested.”