"The nose bleed isn't the real issue," he replied. "In fact, despite my current state of weakness, I don't believe my body is in danger. I bandaged my hand and the flow of blood exiting my body has been reduced to naught. What I worry about is this entire thing. This scheme." The man retrieved his medical kit and allowed Duncan to help him up and towards the door, leaning on the man for assistance. He could walk. His legs hadn't been harmed in any way, nor his torso. "I can," he said. "You don't need to carry me. That'll be quite the weight." Going across Andaris with a man who weighed at least almost as much as him in his arms would be difficult. He wouldn't put that laborious task onto him. Instead, the man had something else in mind. There was something more important than his current physical condition, as he mentioned moments prior.
He noticed it not long after entering the home, but by the time it clicked he was already being wrestled to the ground. "I can smell something familair in there," he told him. "You might have noticed. The smell of corpses. It was resonating from what must have been upstairs." That put his suspicions forward as factual; they must have murdered the previous owners and began using this house as a base of operations. But they hadn't been disposed of yet - that was not a coincidence. There had to be a reason they'd left the corpses lying around despite the fact that it could potentially raise alarm. "There's a dead family here in this home, Duncan. An affluent family. We cannot leave yet." He tapped Duncan's back to gesture that he could let go. Alistair would close the door before anyone saw them, shutting them inside and locking the door.
"An investigation will pursue. If this assassin is as skilled as he could be, this 'Axton', we must ensure he left nothing that would link me to this crime. The bandits might have letters - things relating to me. The corpses of the family, even. We can't abandon this home until we scour it out." He winced. Pain from his hand. Another spell of dizziness coming about. But there was so much more to do. "Can you find the corpses of the family members? I'll investigate the bodies of the dead bandits. There must be something pertaining to this . . . insanity." He was worried - almost paranoid, despite his aversion to needless fear. But this was something real, not an illusion; not him crying wolf to a dangerous plot. This was the second assassination attempt on him in the past few months, with the last claiming the life of his slave Alaric. This was no coincidence - and he had a feeling that these attempts would only multiply in their velocity over time. A clue needed to be found, and something to absolve him of his connection to this massacre.
"Please. I know this is too much to ask, but I can't do this without your help." He frowned. He was very clearly in a desperate situation. As much as he wanted Duncan to merely carry him home, there was no future in which that was the wise decision. "When we're done, we can leave under the cover of the night. And perhaps I'll have toughened up a bit by then. I'm not getting any worse. We should take our time."