Immediately following the small battle with the undead members of the mercenary band, The Hand of Armas, the Mistwalkers are continuing the search for a building rest of the night, but the situation has become urgent due to Atticus suffering a cut to the neck. Fortunately, it's not deep enough to kill him, but he's bleeding at a somewhat high rate. Due to his mild incapacitation, he's back on his horse for the duration of the search.

“Kellar.” Veros calls out from the front of the party. “Do you know how many members there are in The Hand of Armas?” He asks, hoping to not encounter any more.

“I don't, sadly.” Kellar answers, following with a small sigh. “I do know that they're not very big – pretty damn small, in fact. Wouldn't be surprised if those six were the only members. Even if they're not, there can't be more than a few left.”

“If they're based here, then that means their headquarters should be here, too.” The veteran thinks aloud. “That would be the perfect place to stay for the night, I'm sure.”

They continue north, sticking to the main road that cuts through Ervine. Some minutes later, the group comes across a two-story, inn-like structure, with a wooden sign in front of the short staircase leading up to the front door: covered in black paint, except for a white handprint in the center. No words are present on it.

“Oh, shit.” Kellar exclaims. “Here it is. It's alongside the main road leadin' to Armasstadt. Guess that makes sense.”

“Let's take point.” Veros responds, readying his sword and shield and approaching the wooden steps that lead to the front door. Kellar follows, taking his own sword and shield, too. The others are left to wait for the results of their inspection, with Atticus clasping his neck, and Zyra worryingly watching him as blood slowly seeps between his fingers. Royd takes the opportunity to quickly secure the immediate vicinity and starts riding around the perimeter of the building.

The team leader is first through the door, greeted by an interior reminiscent to taverns, but with a second floor of several rooms. The first floor is clear, containing only tables, chairs, stools, a fire pit, casks of aged drinks, and rotten food that's decayed nearly into dust. The two men walk past the furniture and cautiously approach the stairs near the bar counter leading to the second floor. When they reach the top, they enter a hallway that leads to six rooms – four along the western side of the building, their doors facing away from the street, and two on the eastern side, sandwiching the top of the staircase. Starting from the room that's to the left of the top of the stairs, they're numbered in order, going clockwise.

Veros and Kellar look through each one, confirming that they're filled with various gear belonging to the past members of the company, plus dust and unkempt beds that haven't been used in months. With the knowledge that the building is indeed safe, the men return outside.

“It's safe.” Veros announces. “I'll take Atticus in and tend to his injury.”

“There're stables behind the building.” Royd comments. “We'll take your horses back there.”

“Thanks.” The team leader expresses his gratitude as he grabs his bag of medical supplies and helps Atticus dismount from his horse.

The two men enter the headquarters while the others take their horses to the stalls behind the building. Inside, Atticus is quick to take a seat and get off his feet.

“Take off your armor.” Veros commands as he lays out the supplies on the nearest table.

The knight complies and slowly sheds his cuirass and gauntlets, making sure to not irritate his injury further in the process. The snug wool shirt he had been wearing under his armor is stained, as well as the skin on his neck and shoulder. With a small cloth in hand, Veros gently pushes the knight's head to the right to clearly examine the cut. He wipes away to blood to check the condition of the skin.

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“It's a surprisingly clean cut.” The veteran remarks. “No jagged, torn skin. I don't think you'll need stitches for this.” He grabs and uncorks the bottle of disinfectant. “This'll sting for a bit.”

He brings the small bottle up to the cut, and slowly pours the clear, burning liquid onto it. Atticus doesn't groan, but he does furrow his brow in reaction. Veros lets the disinfectant set for a moment before wiping the few emerging drops of blood.

“Bleeding's already showing signs of slowing down.” He comments. “I'll just seal the cut with some adhesive.”

Veros takes a second bottle, uncorks it, and slowly pours a tiny, pea-sized amount of the thick, viscous fluid with an almost honey-like consistency onto the tip of his middle finger, and begins to spread it over the entire area of Atticus's cut. The feeling of the substance being rubbed on the wound somewhat irritates it at first, but the process is finished before it becomes annoying.

“There.” The veteran announces the completion of his treatment. “That should be enough. Try not to stretch your neck or you might reopen it.”

He corks the bottles of disinfectant and adhesive and places them back in his bag of medical items. The other four Mistwalkers enter the building after bringing the horses to the stalls in the backyard. Zyra is the first to rush in, making a bee line to Atticus to bend over and examine his neck.

“So was it bad?” The mage asks before even noticing that the cut has been cleaned and sealed already.

“No, it wasn't.” Atticus answers, with a half-smile, amused at her frantic behavior. “I won't even need stitches.”

Royd scoffs. “Well, aren't you lucky?” He asks facetiously.

“Other than that cut, did you have much trouble with those undead sellswords?” Veros asks as he sits in a nearby stool.

“A little.” Atticus confesses after a small sigh. “They were shockingly coordinated for a pair of walking corpses. They knew exactly how to cover each other's weaknesses.” He glances up at Zyra. “I would've had a much harder time if it weren't for Zyra's assistance.”

The pyromancer smiles bashfully, but quickly tries to hide her embarrassment. “You almost got hit by my fireball, you know.” She feigns a complaint, referring to the risky maneuver he pulled to attack one of his enemy's vulnerable sides while it blocked Zyra's spells.

“Are these casks still full, you think?” Royd chimes in, approaching the wooden barrels behind the bar counter. His face is brimming with curiosity about the consumability of whatever's inside them.

“Well, I don't think anyone's been around to drink from 'em.” Kellar responds, walking up to the kegs, as well. He grabs a stein from a shelf underneath the countertop and wipes the interior of it with the fabric of his cotton undershirt. “Let's try it out.”

He holds the large mug underneath the tap of one of the barrels and twists it open. Ale begins to pour out. It still maintains a healthy amber color, and golden foam begins to collect at the surface. When the stein is full, Kellar holds it under his nose.

“Smells fine.” The rogue notices, and presses the rim of the stein to his lips and slowly tips it up. He drinks a tiny thimble-full of the brew and smacks his lips. After a moment of savoring, he looks at his brawny comrade and shrugs. “Tastes fine, too.”

Curious of the other barrels, Royd grabs a stein of his own, wipes it to get rid of any dust inside, and places it underneath the tap of the next keg, and twists it. This time, a dark purple liquid pours out.

“Oh, this one seems to be wine.” Royd announces. He continues to let the liquid fill the mug about three-quarters before closing the tap. As Kellar did, he smells the wine and slowly takes a meager sip. “This tastes fine, as well.” The woodcutter confirms.

“Don't guzzle that stuff down just yet.” Veros interrupts them. “You'll dehydrate yourselves. Check if one of those barrels has water in them first, just in case.”

While paying to mind to making any mess, Royd reaches to the next tap and turns it. A very light amber liquid comes out. “That one looks like mead.” He says, closing the tap. He reaches to the fourth one and turns it slightly. A transparent liquid drips out. “Oh, this might be it.” He comments, putting his free hand under the tap, letting the fluid collect in his cupped palm. After a tiny puddle is created, he brings his hand to his mouth and drinks it. “Yup, this one's water.” He announces.

“Well, in that case, give me a mug of mead, then.” Veros retracts his authoritative tone and loosens up.

“Sure thing.” Kellar answers, prepping another drink. “Anyone else want something?” He asks no one in particular.

“I'll take a cup of wine.” Erik answers.

“Some ale.” Atticus responds.

“I'll take mead.” Zyra replies.

“Two meads, wine, and ale, coming right up!” Royd announces as he and Kellar eagerly begin to grab additional steins, wipe them, and fill them with drinks to serve their teammates.