Horace looked up from his sword, the whetstone going still in his hand. His friend was still slouched over a pile of papers, diligently scratching away on who could've done it, and who it would have been impossible for. Frowning, the knight glanced out the window, curious at the time. It's probably nearly midnight, he reasoned, why is Will still up?

Not wanting to hurt Will's feelings, Horace hesitantly put his sword to the side of the chair he was sitting in, and made his way to the kitchen table where he sat. They were alone in the small Ranger's cabin, just the two of them. Halt was out doing rounds of the fief, while Alyss was away at Araluen. Setting a hand on the Ranger's shoulder, Horace shook him a little, concerned, "Will? Why're you still up?"

Will shrugged Horace's hand off his shoulder, eyes fixed on the paper. "Hmm?" He asked distractingly. While he did so, he marked off another name on one of the lists, shaking his head.

"Will," Horace tried again, studying the dark circles underneath his eyes, and the slight jitter in his hands. "You should be resting, this is too much for you."

And it was too much for Will. A child murdered in Wensley village, on his watch. To make it all worse, they had just gotten back from an assignment, one to do with Genovesans. This time around, Will was poisoned. It was meant to be a deadly dose, but since Will normally didn't drink wine, he'd only gotten a fraction of the dispersed poison. Luckily, as well, a skilled healer was on hand at the time, and the poison didn't have the chance to do much damage.

But the fact still remained; Will had nearly died, and he was still recovering. That was why Halt was out patrolling instead of the younger Redmont Ranger. Alyss hadn't been around since they got back, so she didn't even know of Will's condition.

Shaking his head, Will marked off another name, after scribbling out a note on another sheet. "No, no," he murmured, "I have to figure out what happened. What if it happens again?"

Sighing, Horace put his hand back on Will's arm, this time gripping it so the weakened man couldn't just shake it off. "Will, listen to me," he snatched the pencil out of his friend's hand, ignoring his cry of protest, "you have to take a break. You've been at this all day, and you need a break."

He twisted in Horace's grip, trying to get free, "Horace, a kid was murdered. What the hell else am I supposed to do?"

Keeping his grip on Will, he pulled the Ranger's arm until he stood to his feet. "I'm honestly not sure Will. I don't know how to find murderers," Horace pushed Will in front of him, and lead him to his room as if he were a prisoner. "But from the way you're acting, you'll exhaust yourself, possibly relapse, and could die. Halt told me to care for you, to not let you stress yourself, so that's what I'm going to do."

At the door, Will spun. He stumbled partially at his sudden movement, and had to grip the doorway to keep from falling into Horace, who was blocking the way. "But what about the kid? We can't just let the guy get away with—"

Horace held up his hands, "And we're not going to let him get away! Halt is due back tomorrow, and you've already gotten pretty far. You'll just have to fill him in."

That made him pause. They stood silently facing each other, Horace standing in front of him to block the way back to the table, Will leaning exhausted against the doorway. And, ever so slowly, the Ranger nodded, a look of defeat mixed with weariness and fatigue. Horace nodded back, smiling, before motioned for Will to lean on him so he could help him to the bed.