Arthael's suggestion to Ponulia is met with acquiescence. She frowns, almost to a pout, but nods her head. "Of course, you are right. I'm not of any help to you here and if he turns up at home, I should be there or we'd not know of it. Thank you all for helping me and please bring any news as soon as you find it out."
With that she leaves and the adventurers can go about their search unhindered by concerns of her looking over their shoulders.
Danmor's pondering of using his healing skill to determine the origin of the blood is driven from his mind as not a likely venture, though it does pop into his head that some sort of divination would be more appropriate to the task. His light lends to the work of the others as they examine the signs before them more closely.
The blood, of which there are only a few drops, is not so fresh as to be wet and proves to be tacky to Haggerty's touch. It might be a few hours old, which would coincide with the last known time that the chandler had been seen. It is not a welcome sign at all.
Arim's closer look at the dust on the floor shows a heel of a boot, pointed toward the crate, but the toe would have to have been placed under where the large crate now rests. It must have been moved at some time since the footfall left its mark.
Crow leans in on Arthael's shoulder and replaces a strand of hair that has fallen down into the mage's eyes, tucking it back into its proper place on his head. It is at this time that his hand, brushing across the barrel's obscured mark, removes some of the soot. His knowledge of brewing comes in handy and he can discern enough of the emblem to account for the brand. It is surely that of Lymoor, of Resolvent Refreshments, a brewer in Upper Jalston. It also bears the significance of being his special ale made solely for the House of Quontellin, the powerful merchant. What it might be doing in this supposedly unused warehouse, gathering dust, is truly a mystery.