It was not long before things were packed and preparations were complete, and the time came for the new companions to undertake the next stretch of their journey. Unfortunately the number of animals available to them meant that each of the horses had to carry two riders, and Jaelnec in particular ended up spending some time obsessing over what this meant. Part of the arrangement come naturally, with Iridiel and Domhnall sharing one horse, which left only Angora and the two nightwalkers to share one horse and the donkey. Were it up to the squire either himself or Angora would ride the donkey so that Olan would be sharing the horse with whoever was left over, but as it turned out the donkey was rather adamant about not letting anyone but the explorer extraordinaire mount it. Jaelnec even contemplated going on foot just to avoid being bundled up with the scantily covered murderess, but ultimately found that he could not justify doing so; not only would it slow them down even more if he did that, but he was not entirely confident that his legs would carry him all the way to Zerul City without aggravating the strain he knew persisted – though less noticeably now – from when he had used the slayer-stance.
So it was that they rode northward, Domhnall and Iridiel on Usha’s white beast with their tame wolf in tow, Olan on the donkey and Angora and Jaelnec on Aemoten’s horse. They moved alongside the foreigners’ acquaintance, Claw, for a while, though the creature split from their group along the way. The rain, though heavy, proved true to Domhnall’s expectations and stilled not long after they had set out, leaving them wet and cold, but at least having served to wash away the mud.

Not much happened worth noting on the way aside from passing another several farmsteads which, remarkably, all seemed to still be populated and functional. This close to one of the great cities of Rodoria it seemed that not even the Withering could keep places vacant from the sheer number of people eager to ply their trade or find property to call their own. They passed a handful of farmhands at one point, apparently tending to a field of rye that seemed nearly ready for harvest, but those people seemed to scurry away and hide when they noticed the companions. Apparently the resilience to hardship evident in the farms themselves was not present in the people, who had grown wary of strangers, especially the armed kind. Indeed, had their group been of a malevolent sort, these people could probably have done little to stop even the five of them from looting every place they came across. But even if they did, would these places even have anything of value left?

It was not until they arrived at their destination that something noteworthy happened next, though their arrival in itself was a quite remarkable experience. To see first the spires of Castle Zerul appear in the distance, rising high above the grounded city, and then witness as the wall surrounding the city came into sight, spanning miles and miles to the east and west, encircling a city whose citizens numbered hundreds of thousand. The closer they came to the city, the more tightly spaced were the lesser settlements they came across, to the point where some groupings may even have qualified as villages... though it also became more and more evident that something bad had happened. Even before reaching the city proper groups of refugees could be seen at the more prosperous farmsteads, either taken in by the charitable or squatting in vacant shacks and hovels. It was the worst by the gate, where – though most had filtered into the city by now – crowds were still gathered, waiting their turn for admittance into the city or simply camping at its outskirts.
At the gate, however, someone finally interfered with their journey. A young man – almost a boy, really, likely in his middle-teens – with short hazel hair and a huge runesword on his back seemed to lock his eyes on them as they approached, seeming confused at first, but then more and more excited. Soon he was jogging toward them, his attention apparently primarily being on Jaelnec... specifically, the nightwalker realized once he got closer, on his chest. On the ghiril cuirass.

“Excuse me,” he called out, sounding cautiously hopeful as he moved up to the companions, “but you’re Jaelnec, right? Ghiril is too rare for you not to be... especially with that hat, and those eyes!”
“I am,” the squire confirmed hesitantly, uncertain what exactly was going on. “Do I know you?”
“No, but I’ve been waiting for you [I]all day[/I],” the boy laughed, seeming boundlessly relieved. Then he seemed to catch himself and let his gaze sweep over the rest of the group. “Well, you and your companions, though this doesn’t seem to be the people William said were coming [I]or[/I] who the memory sphere said you were with.”
Ah, so this was part of something William had arranged. “A lot has happened since then.”
The other nodded, then quickly turned to face the entire group and offered them as courteous a bow as he could manage with the cumbersome weapon strapped to his back. “My name is Thomas Remdal, and I’m supposed to receive you. Welcome to Zerul City.”