Innocence Lost

Chapter 1: Innocence Lost

13 Rain's Hand, 4E203

Not this house.

And not this one.

She should have known. It was stupid to come to the Gray Quarter. These dilapidated houses would hold nothing of value, nothing worth risking breaking into for. She sighed and turned on her heel to head back the way she came. Unless…

Her head whipped round to the one residence she had not passed yet. In fact, it was in the middle of the city yet she had somehow missed it. She kicked herself mentally. Why was it she could never remember the layout of this city? The high stone walls, the narrow passageways and the ever-present cold and gloom of Windhelm made this one of Noela's least favourite places to visit. But she had heard whispers from the mouths of passing travellers that there was much to be had in the houses of Windhelm. And so, she had come to see for herself.

Ever since she had defeated Alduin more than a year prior, Noela had surely but gradually drifted back to her old life, her life of creatively sourcing stolen goods to barter off in exchange for an increasingly growing pile of gold. Helping the citizens of Skyrim was good, sure, and for some time she had found satisfaction in retrieving lost items and reuniting estranged lovers. But still, there was something more she craved.

Perhaps it was gold, she did not know herself. Yet she lived in a modest and none-too-extraordinary house in Whiterun and felt no need for more. She did not need more things. The accumulated mountain of septims in her room just sat there, untouched and unloved, lest she return with even more to sprinkle over the top.

No, it was not the coin she was after. Rather, her fortune was the by-product of her activities. Her payment for the act itself. Acts of the illegal sort, that made her heart pump fast and set her soul ablaze as she struggled to evade authorities and the people unfortunate enough to be her targets.

Yet she couldn't help it. Her life had always been that of a criminal. Becoming the Dragonborn was certainly a nice change of pace in the moral arena, and it had served as a new purpose to fill the void of the life she otherwise lived. She had no qualms with helping people, but it wasn't something she was partial to either. She was simply doing what made her happy, as much as many man or mer.

Noela stretched her back. Sometimes creeping around was exhausting. Not to mention the dim light of the night environment did not agree with her eyes. She squinted at the house that had caught her attention and sticking to the shadows, made her way across the stone-covered street toward it.

She wasn't sure who lived here. It was probably written on her map, but she didn't feel like getting it out and using Magelight or Candlelight to read it would just attract unwanted attention. Gazing up, she marvelled at the unique structure. The house was literally built over the road like a bridge, except it also extended along either side of it where its walls met the ground. It resembled something of an eagle overlooking its prey from above and gave the residence a certain grandiose magnificence.

Undoubtedly, it would hold something of value.

She then spotted the front door on the left, hidden well in shadow beneath the eaves, and stopped to think. Normally she wasn't so bold as to break in without at least scouting a little more, or searching for more information on its inhabitants and what treasures they might possess that she could lift. She adjusted her hood and looked around her for people or guards, but not a soul was in sight.

It had been too long, weeks, since her last 'job'. Fingers itching in restlessness, she fumbled in her pocket for a lockpick and began working the mechanism in the door that would allow her access.

The lock yielded with a soft click. Slowly opening the door, Noela crept inside and shut it with practiced silence. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the dimly lit interior of the residence. Before her were a flight of wooden stairs that led to the rest of the house. At the top of the stairs a soft glow of light emanated from another room within.

Dropping into a sneak, she tiptoed up the stairs, hands ready to cast a spell if needed. As she neared the top of the stairs, she made out the room beyond to be some sort of combined living and sleeping space. It was then that she heard movement.

Noela froze. In the next second, she had her hand in the front pocket of her robes and fished out the invisibility potion she always kept there. Just as she was deciding on whether or not it was necessary to waste it, she heard someone draw breath and begin to mutter words, low and urgent. Almost simultaneously, she heard repeated strikes on wood accompanied by a weird squelching sound.

The voice sounded like it belonged to a child, a young boy if she had to guess. She couldn't make out the words from this distance, but the person in question was most likely in a room off the main one she now occupied. Making a quick decision to stay rather than leave, she downed the potion in one gulp.

Almost as soon as the viscous liquid passed through to her esophagus, she felt a familiar fuzzy sensation and her body disappeared. Now hidden by the veil of the potion and muffled by the enchantments in her boots, she was undetectable, invisible and silent.

Straightening up somewhat and walking comfortably toward the source of the voice, she began to make out words.

Sweet mother, sweet mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptised in blood and fear.

The young voice then took a breath and repeated the line, the sound of strikes continuing along with it. A few steps further and she saw a door frame leading to an alcove beyond. And what she saw as her line of sight became clear of any walls or obstacles made her heart stop.

It was indeed a boy, probably around ten years of age with short, brown, cropped hair. He was kneeling in what appeared to be a circular configuration of candles, though the candles formed more of a three-quarter circle with an incomplete side. What lay within the circle though was something of horrors. Noela was no stranger to dead bodies and human parts, she had seen plenty of that throughout her adventures. But what lay there, the target of the boy's attention and aggression, was a skeleton of human bones, a heart and flesh. Within his hand he held a foot-long blade wrapped in purple petals from what she suspected was a Nightshade plant. An open book lay on the floor beside him.

Noela observed the scene before her, steadying her breath. This was no doubt some kind of dark ritual of malicious intent. Droplets of sweat were visible beneath the boy's hairline as he continued uttering the same sentence over and over and driving his knife into the remains before pulling it back out again. As she continued watching with curiosity it became apparent that he was waiting for something to happen. With each iteration of the chant he grew slightly more impatient, driving his knife more forcefully into the long dead heart. When at last he stopped, he looked up to the entrance of the small room where she stood and his eyes widened.

Noela frowned at his expression; surely he could not see her in her currently invisible state? It was then she noticed with a horrible jolt of her stomach that the black fabric of her torso was visible in the lower portion of her peripheral vision. The potion had worn off and she had not even realised. That was incredibly stupid, the potion lasted for a good thirty seconds and she was so engrossed in watching the boy she had completely lost track of time.

Berating herself for making such a dangerous mistake, she prepared a small ball of magical fire within each palm in case a fight were to ensue. The boy stood and she watched with great caution as he turned to face her. And then suddenly, his face broke into a wide grin.

"It worked!" he exclaimed in unmistakable excitement. "I knew you'd come, I just knew it! I did the Black Sacrament over and over. With the body and, the things." He gestured to the assortment of grisly items by his feet. "And then you came! An assassin from the Dark Brotherhood."

Noela blinked at the boy, wondering what in Oblivion he was talking about.

When she failed to respond, he continued. "You don't have to say anything, there's no need," he said, smiling up at her. "You're here, so I know you'll accept my contract."

"Contract?" She finally found herself speaking.

The boy's expression turned crestfallen. "My mother, she died. I'm all alone now, so they sent me to that terrible orphanage in Riften—Honorhall." Noela inclined her head ever so slightly. She knew of that orphanage, having visited Riften a number of times, though had never set foot within it herself. The boy went on, "The headmistress is an evil, cruel woman. They call her Grelod the Kind, but she's not kind, she's terrible, to all of us. So I ran away and came home and performed the Black Sacrament". Triumph then returned to his features. "Now you're here, and you can kill Grelod the Kind!"

"Kill Grelod? The Kind?" Noela repeated slowly. The name seemed familiar, she was sure she had heard of it before. She then shook her head, trying to work out exactly what he was telling her. "What are you saying boy, you want a woman murdered? This Grelod… Are you insane? You sure you know what you're asking?"

She eyed him with incredulity. She had no idea if he was indeed serious, or just plain mad. The boy nodded earnestly. "Yes, I've never been more sure about anything in my entire life. Someone like Grelod doesn't deserve to live one more day. She's a monster," he stated with clear loathing.

Noela took a breath and began to sort through all the information she was hearing. This boy thought she was from the Dark Brotherhood, a cult of assassins who in fact had sent one of their number after her in the past, during her Dragonborn days. Apparently someone had wanted her dead, though she had no idea who that may have been. The Dragonborn had many enemies, it could have been virtually anyone and she would likely never find out. The young assassin had been easy enough for Lydia and herself to take out though, and since then she was fortunate enough to have never had the pleasure of crossing paths with one of the red and black-clad foes again.

She had also heard about the Black Sacrament. To most it was a rumour more than anything and she barely knew a thing about it, except that it was used to summon the Dark Brotherhood. The details of the Black Sacrament, let alone witnessing the ritual performed in person, was not something that had ever occurred to her to find out about, much less expected to see.

Yet now she stood here, mistaken for one of the elusive killers, with a boy's happiness on the line. Not that she particularly cared. A child's happiness wasn't any kind of responsibility she willingly took upon herself; there was no point in shouldering other people's troubles when she could find better things to do with her time.

But still, there was something curious about the boy. A part of her liked him for his gall in soliciting aid from the Dark Brotherhood. That was brave enough for a person of maturity to attempt, but a child? He was something else. Whoever had said that children were innocent was severely mistaken.

A child asking for someone to be murdered, it was disturbing, and messed up, and even a tad… fascinating. If he was serious, and he certainly seemed so, then she might just investigate the matter. She had to admit the situation had greatly aroused her interest. She wanted to meet this Grelod, to see if this boy's claims held true. Just what did Grelod do to cause such an intense hate in a child as young as he that he would go so far as to wish death upon her?

She knew it was not her place to meddle in such matters. This was a matter for the Dark Brotherhood and its agents to contend with. But now that she had come across this peculiar situation, she couldn't walk away. She wanted to know, to find out why this kid wanted this woman dead. Otherwise it would swim in her mind for Divines knows how long and if there was one thing she hated, it was unsolved mysteries.

She looked at the boy and sighed heavily; she would surely regret this. "Alright, I'll go to Honorhall and pay this Grelod of yours a visit." The boy instantly brightened and began to open his mouth to thank her. "And what is your name, boy?"

"Aventus Aretino," the child replied enthusiastically. "Thank you, and please hurry. To be honest, I'm kind of lonely here. As much as I hated getting sent to Honorhall, I really miss my friends there".

Noela nodded. "Sit tight Aventus, I'll be back soon."

Aventus smiled and she turned to leave before he remembered something. "Oh, and please don't kill Constance Michel. She really is kind."

She acknowledged his request with a wave and departed the residence.

15 Rain's Hand, 4E203

The sound of boots crunching on the gravel path beneath her feet filled her ears. Up ahead, Noela could see the familiar gates of Riften. She had just passed the stables on her right, and was brought back to the one and only time she had been here previously.

The first time, the Riften guard had stopped Lydia and her from entering the city, demanding a 'visitor's tax' be paid. That was when they had come to find the old man named Esbern, one of the last remaining Blades at the time.

It seemed like so long ago, though it was probably just under two years since she'd undertaken that task. Noela remembered completing her 'arrangement' with Brynjolf, the Nord man with red hair who was from the Thieves Guild that lived in the sewers beneath the city. She had successfully framed one of the marketplace merchants at his request in order to gain information on Esbern's whereabouts.

She and Lydia had then fought through the Ratway, finding themselves in the tavern called The Ragged Flagon. Even though it wasn't spelled out, she knew that the people occupying it were thieves, and when she met Brynjolf again in the Flagon he had offered her membership as part of the Guild.

But, as tempted as she was to take it, Lydia had reminded her in earnest that they had a task to complete. The woman had literally shaken her shoulders in front of everyone in the tavern and yelled in her face that this was not the time to get side-tracked.

And so, Noela had politely refused, as Lydia did have a point—saving the world did have a much higher priority. Though she reminded herself that it was probably more to do with the fact that it was an illegal organisation and, Lydia being Lydia, would always be against anything that was even the slightest bit morally corrupt.

Noela was brought out of her thoughts as she approached the city gates. The guard outside once again asked her to pay visitor's tax, but she simply mentioned she knew Brynjolf, and he let her in.

Riften was blanketed with a layer of fog, the same as last time she had visited. It was around noon, judging from the position of the sun through the haze. She walked down the main street of the city, keeping her hood up. It wouldn't do to have someone see her face, seeing as what she was about to do.

Truthfully though, Noela hadn't decided what to do once she found the orphanage. She supposed she would just do a little investigating for now, to see what the fuss was about.

It took her a while, and after about a half hour of roaming about the city Noela located Honorhall Orphanage in the southwestern corner and adjacent to Mistveil Keep.

She observed for a moment the carved letters above the main door, wondering what she would find inside. And, finding the door unlocked, she slipped into the building.

The first thing she was met with was an empty room. Through the open doorway ahead, she could see a wooden dining table and bench seats in the next room. Even though the door had been unlocked, she was sure she wasn't supposed to be in here. So, she assumed sneak position and crept along the wall.

She could hear an old woman's voice and peered around the next doorway to her left to where it was coming from.

There, she saw an elderly woman with four children standing around her. They were in a sleeping area and Noela counted five beds which were placed along the walls. The woman was a Nord with a long face, her arms crossed and an expression of utter distaste on her features.

"Those who shirk their duties will get an extra beating. Do I make myself clear?" the old woman reprimanded the children.

A chorus of "Yes, Grelod!" followed.

"And one more thing! I will hear no more talk of adoptions! None of you riff-raff is getting adopted. Nobody needs you, nobody wants you. That, my darlings, is why you're here. Why you'll always be here, until you come of age and get thrown into that wide, horrible world. Now, what do you all say?"

The children responded in a unified, unnatural recitation of, "We love you, Grelod. Thank you for your kindness," that was so mechanical it made Noela cringe.

It was clear that Grelod was called 'The Kind' for none other than that she appeared the exact opposite. Noela then saw one of the children, the girl, begin to walk her way and she quickly decided whether or not she wanted to be seen. There were only three invisibility potions left in her pouch and she did not feel like wasting another. She straightened up as the girl strolled into the room.

The girl had dusty brown hair formed into braids on the sides of her head. Upon seeing Noela, the girl spoke. "I hate it here! Grelod the Kind is the meanest person in all of Skyrim."

Noela, surprised at the outburst and that she was not being kicked out for being on the premises, replied, "Oh? Why do you hate her?"

The girl shook her fists. "Everyone hates her. She's the meanest person I ever met. Sometimes she locks us in the… room. Constance tries to stop her, and is real good to us, but it's never enough."

The girl was angry and her voice was raised. Noela quickly peered around the corner to see if anyone in the next room had heard her but the boys were busy conversing and Grelod was nowhere to be seen.

"Room… What room?" Noela brought her attention back to the girl.

The girl pointed through the shared bedroom to another closed door on the opposite side. "That room."

The girl turned to leave but Noela wasn't done. "Who is Aventus?" she asked. After all, she had to make sure the boy was actually from this orphanage.

"A little boy who lived here. He was nice but really quiet, and sad, because his mother just died. He ran away back home to Windhelm." She then lowered her voice some and whispered to Noela. "Samuel told me he's trying to get some murderer people to come here and kill Grelod."

Noela just stared at her. So, it was all true.

It was what the girl said next that sent chills up Noela's spine. "I really hope he does." And with a somewhat sadistic grin, she left.

Noela stood and stared for a second at the spot the girl had occupied. She shook her head. There was something seriously wrong here. She had never in her days come across a child that prayed for murder, let alone two. She headed for the three boys in the bedroom.

They saw her and turned to watch as she approached. Randomly selecting the blond one, she said, "Tell me about Grelod the Kind".

The boy hesitated, most likely taken by surprise at the direct request of the stranger before him. "Miss Grelod is—well, she's a terrible old crone. No person could be that cruel." The other boys nodded. "I think she's part hagraven. She only lets us out in the yard once, in the morning. And she just stands there watching us."

There were mutters of agreement from the other two boys and Noela thanked him for talking to her. They went off to where the other girl was in the dining area and Noela turned to the doors that the little girl had indicated earlier. Wondering what she would find inside, she opened the doors, stepped in, and shut them quietly behind her.

It was a small room, more akin to a closet. Noela then gasped. Lining the walls on either side were four shackles. There were also two buckets, one tipped over, the other still standing and almost full to the brim with piss. Thin patches of damp straw littered the floor.

This was, beyond doubt, a torture room. Noela suddenly felt nauseous as she imagined the old hag chaining the kids up in here, beating them and leaving them for hours or possibly days to stand on the urine-soaked floor. She felt sick rise up in her throat and quickly returned to the bedroom.

With the smell greatly reduced though she could still smell a bit from the gap under the door, she deliberated.

It wasn't something she was likely to admit aloud to anyone anytime soon, but she did feel sort of bad for the kids. Sort of.

So, what was she going to do about it?

Noela crept to the other set of closed doors and listened for a moment. This must be Grelod's room, she could hear the old woman speaking or rather, reading from a book, inside.

She then made an impulse decision that would forever change her life.

She too, wanted this Grelod dead, if not for the kids, then for her own satisfaction. The world was a rotten place, and though she harboured no dreams to change it—in fact, she wasn't stupid enough to believe it was possible, then at least she knew she was ridding the world of one less evil. She was going to give it to the woman.

Noela opened the door.

Grelod was sitting on a chair opposite a double bed. Noela closed the door with a snap, causing the woman to cease her reading and look up at the intruder.

"Yes?" the crone croaked. "What do you want? You have no business being in here."

Noela remained passive. "Aventus Aretino says hello."

She watched the old woman's reaction with amusement. "Aretino? Why that little bastard! You tell him I'm coming for him! And when I find him, it will be the beating of his miserable life!"

"So you admit it?" Noela interrogated. "You beat the kids, torture them?"

Grelod sat back and rearranged her features into a horrible, wicked smile. "They need to be punished! How else will they learn how to survive in this cruel, wretched world?"

Noela had to admit Grelod had a point, but only regarding her worldview. As for the other thing—"You have no right, you old hag," she spat at the older woman.

"It's my orphanage, I can do whatever I want with the little brats! No one will love them, no one ever will, and without me they'd be dead on the streets!"

Noela shook her head. "I hear Constance will treat them well. At least I hope so, after I'm done with you." She let a thin and long shard of ice begin materialising in her right hand.

Grelod's eyes widened at the magic. "What are you—"

"The Dark Brotherhood has come for you, Grelod," Noela declared, and with a burst of magicka within her body forced the icicle to shoot out and pierce Grelod directly in the heart.

The elderly woman glared at the mage as the anger, then life, faded from her eyes. Noela watched with satisfaction when at last the body slumped off the chair and to the floor.