Daffodils are out of Season

In Tarethis' inn room, Wren found his journal, a bag containing a bloody, white leather suit (something a surgeon would wear, including corresponding tools), and a little box full of documents, letters, and notes. His trash bin was full of shredded up paper, most of which was blank, but there were remnants of his writing on some of the bits. The scraps looked like pieces of some sort of draft, as sections were scribbled out. Lastly, he kept a little bottle of daffodil-scented cologne and a dirty, sooty shirt that smelled like a blacksmith's forge near the bed. The shirt was much too big to be his. One might also find that Tarethis had dropped his fan somewhere along the north road. Perhaps someone already picked it up.