In Which Dalston Follows a Rusty Odor

March 2, 1164

"So, let me get this straight," choked Dalston between chuckles as he followed Severin down the slope and into the edge of the forest, "you've been dragging me around the kingdom all day just because of a tip from your eight-year-old daughter? For an indulgence, you're sure taking this seriously--going soft in your old age?"

Severin sent a brief glance his way, a spark of annoyance in his brown eyes. "Let me remind you that you are two years older than I am--and I'll have you know that this is no indulgence. A tenant expressed a concern, and I am therefore compelled to take it seriously."

Dalston sniffed; the concept made sense from an administrative standpoint, but there had to be some bias here. "A tenant who just so happens to be your little girl, that is."

"She knows better than to send her father on a wild goose chase just for her own amusement, Dalston. Good Lord, I hope you don't think your own children would do anything like that; I'll have you know for a fact that they're all much better behaved than any of mine are."

Well, that was certainly believable. Dalston and Celina had the most well-behaved children of everyone they knew--and of course, they wouldn't dare think it if everyone they knew hadn't told them so in the first place. However, it did worry him somewhat that his children were so unfailingly, almost blindly obedient, and while Lorn was not the worst of them, he was the one that made Dalston the most anxious. Would the boy be able to step up and take charge come the morning Dalston did not rise? If he was to be honest with himself, Dalston wasn't sure; in some ways, he might have breathed easier if Lorn had always been something of an unruly scamp.

"Does that smell like blood to you?" asked Severin, interrupting Dalston's thoughts as he proceeded further into the gully.

With a frown, Dalston stopped, allowing the rusty odor to waft into his nostrils. "You know, now that you mention it, it does."

The other man took a moment to scan the area. Dalston watched as his lip curled inward; he had found nothing. "I'll do a quick search of the area. You try to find the source of that smell, all right?"

Dalston nodded. "All right."

He continued along the slope's plateau for a minute or two, his nose guiding him further into the woods. The putrid aroma was growing stronger by the second; any moment now, he would see what it was. Perhaps a stray cat, or the remains of a rabbit or squirrel, or...

"Uh... Severin?" he called, unable to peel his eyes from the gruesome sight. "You'd better come see this..."

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