Chester sat deep in thought on the ride back. The smell didn't particularly disturb him, since living in Fannen-Dar tended to condition one to atmospheric grossness. It was true that murders happened almost every day there, but Chester had been a member of the guard for nine months, and had only noticed these random killings in the past one. A woman who was the wife of a merchant, an elderly noble man who had retired from the town court, and now this boy who was barely sixteen. None had any of the hallmark signs of a run-of-the-mill murder. None looked run-of-the-bank, run-of-an-estate, or run-of-a-guild-hall either. Yet, there was no connection among the three victims.
Darrik grumbled as Chester leaped back into his seat. He almost complained, but he stopped when he saw the look on Chester's face. His eyes were wide and grim, like an inventor on the brink of a discovery. Or like a madman with a conspiracy theory.
He came to a stop in front of the door to the captain's quarters. A cold sweat began to form on the back of his neck. Even with an important find, talking to the captain still sounded preferable only to a thorough leech treatment.
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Chapter 3, Poison >>