| Nine strong, the group trotted purposefully up the Barovian road towards the Castle. The fog was overly oppressive today, providing little visibility. The sounds of the plaintive village shuffling on its way occasionally made it through the distance, ghostly echos of life.
So it was over the river, through the ruined farmhouses, and toward the gallows at the fork. Only here did the fog let up some. And it was fortunate that it did for otherwise the group may have ridden over the single man standing there. His colorful garb left no doubt he was Visanti. When he could clearly see the man, the thick tone of the Barovian speech broke the silence.
Madam Eva wish speak to you. Time for last question, says she. | 
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