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[h2][color=#fcba03]Callum Prosser[/color][/h2][/center]
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[color=#fcba03]"Dead? [i]All of them?[/i] Horse cock. His Grace [i]just[/i] accepted my father's request that they take me on a few days ago, and you're telling me [i]every last one of them[/i] is dead? That's ridiculous."[/color]

[b]"Don't know what to tell you, kid—not one person inside the estate survived the night. Whole place was on edge after..."[/b] At the inquisitive eyes of the red-haired young man standing before him, the guard trailed off rather than finish his sentence. Certain comings and goings likely weren't the sort of thing to be mentioned at will. [b]"Well, either way, I'm just glad I wasn't on duty to watch the gate. Rather an unpleasant morning than a few new holes in my skin."[/b]

The young man grit his teeth at the response he was getting. Blocked as soon as he arrived, despite the response from Duke Nathan—with the man's seal, no less!—proving that he was meant to be there. Guardsman of the sort always seemed to enjoy these petty games, until the point someone offered a bribe to them, or could utter a threat they'd actually accept...[color=#fcba03][i]I knew I should've taken the opportunity to just get portaled over here, but no, smart as I am, I decided I'd rather travel the[/i] mundane [i]way, take in the sights a bit, enjoy the travel up and around the lake. [b]Stupid.[/b][/i][/color]

He clenched his fist, the sword sheathed at his belt twitching sympathetically to the movement before he brought his temper back under control. [color=#fcba03]"I'm afraid, [i]goodman,[/i] that I don't have time to play around,"[/color] he forced out through gritted teeth. Unspoken, of course, was that getting back home would prove a difficulty. A day's travel for a single man and his horse, lengthened to two by a leisurely pace. He'd only set out with as much feed as he needed for the one-way trip, both for himself [i]and[/i] his horse. He couldn't well return by boat across the lake with the animal, and to get enough food for it to head back home the opposite direction without chancing foraging would leave [i]him[/i] skint and having to hope that [i]he[/i] could forage or hunt instead.

But he'd have to chance it if he did have to leave, because taking the way he came, returning home at a faster pace with nothing to show for it...[i]that[/i] was a shame he refused to bear.

Refused to believe he might [i]have[/i] to bear.

[color=#fcba03]"As the son of [i]The Right Honourable[/i] Seumas Prosser, [i]Viscount Dinbevin,[/i] here at his request and on the invitation of His Grace, Nathan Corrin, Duke of Vaili [i]and head of this estate,[/i] I must [i]insist[/i] that I—the Callum Prosser written here in His Grace's own hand—be granted the entry that I am due!"[/color]

The guard looked at him tiredly, and sighed—leaning unprofessionally against his halberd, Callum noted with an utterly uncharitable and growing ire—letting his head hang for a moment. Throwing around titles was a dirty trick, both of them there knew it...Callum was embarrassed enough he'd had to resort to it, likely as embarrassed as the guard was having to listen to it, let alone knowing that at that point there was no real recourse to keep denying him entry. What the young man hadn't expected, though, was the sympathetic, exhausted smile he got, rather than the guard falling to the same ill temper as himself.

Somehow, that look made the worry start to gnaw in his gut where nothing else had managed yet.

[b]"Here, sir, I'll take a moment to show you since it's such official business,"[/b] he said; clearly, he was growing exasperated with the entire situation, it showed in his tone, but his patience had yet to run out, giving the younger yet more pause before he gave a small nod, following along at the guard's beckon.

He still wasn't granted entry to the estate, but looking through a clear window into the chapel showed, clear as the sky above them, that nothing he'd been told had been a lie after all. The duke and his wife lay in state in the center of the chapel, their corpses flanked by those of Sir Roland and Lady Gwyneth. He blinked once, momentarily uncomprehending...before backing away from the window, giving mumbled apology for his rudeness to the guard.

Who waved it off as though it hadn't bothered him at all. [b]"Find your lordship something to eat, aye?"[/b] he suggested to the dejected-looking redhead, gesturing off towards the city center. [b]"But hanging around here isn't likely to do you any good, unless you're hoping for more investigative type of folks to come and start asking [i]you[/i] about it all."[/b]

With that, he was escorted back to the gate of the estate, where he led his horse quietly back into the city...bought a meat pie from a baker, cracking open the hard crust and scooping the filling out with a spoon. [color=#fcba03]"The hell am I to do now?"[/color] he asked, pointlessly, to nobody in particular—his horse, maybe, as that was the only living thing that seemed to be listening to him there in the center of Tarin.