The sun was setting and the moon was rising, bathing the street in a silvery light. Now Mordelia was thankful to have worn her Nightingale armour; it was pure black with no metal to reflect the moonlight.
The Honourhall Orphanage wasn't far from the Ratway entrance, just a jot up some wooden stairs and over a bridge by the marketplace. All the windows in the orphanage were dark. Unfortunately, however, there was only one way in; through the front door. The back door was surrounded by a tall metal fence tipped with spikes.
Seeing no guards nearby, Mordelia slowly crept up to the front door, trying to keep in the shadows as much as possible. Before she attempted to pick the lock, she held her ear against the door. Silence. She picked the lock as quickly and quietly as she could and was rewarded with a satisfying click. And she had only broken one lockpick. Mordelia was getting better at this lockpicking business. She swung the door open gently, remaining in a crouch, and snuck in.
It was dark, the only light was from the moonlight shining in through the windows. Mordelia was in what seemed to be the kitchen; there was a fireplace, a table, and a few cupboards. At the far end of the room was a door and on the left wall there was an opening to another room. Peeking into the room on the left, she saw a row of beds with kids sleeping on them and two more doorways. One of the doorways led outside into the fenced-in yard and the other opened onto a small office with a chair, desk, and shackles on the wall. Poor kids...
Everyone was asleep, making Mordelia's investigating much easier. But she still hadn't found Grelod. She went back to the only door she hadn't checked yet, the one in the kitchen. Inside the room was a bed, and on that bed was her target, sleeping soundly.
Mordelia took a deep breath and pulled out a dagger. She crept around to the bedside and before she could change her mind, plunged the dagger into Grelod's heart.
Immediately, Grelod's eyes snapped open and she let out a blood-chilling scream. Then she went limp and silent.
Mordelia quickly wiped her dagger on the blanket and slipped outside. Before she was even out the door, she heard footsteps and the sound of someone hastily lighting a match.
She just had to scream. Mordelia thought, irritated. It had all gone so well up to that point.
Escaping from Riften was easy enough. The guards were very lax, especially at night, and there were plenty of shadows from the overhanging buildings to hide in.
When she left Riften, Mordelia made for Goldenglow Estate. She knew she would be safe there, after all, it was under Thieve's Guild control.
She fell asleep in one of the guard towers along the wall.
Mordelia awoke early the next morning to get a good start back to Windhelm. This time she had no stops to make along the way; she simply wanted to get there and back home as fast as she could.
Mordelia arrived in Windhelm six days later.
Rumour spreads fast. Upon entering Windhelm, she heard two Nords mention something about a murder in Riften.
"Some old lady who ran an orphanage." One of them was saying.
She smiled to herself and made her way to Aventus's house.
Aventus was nibbling on a stale loaf of bread and leafing through a book when Mordelia walked in. He looked up in surprise and a smile quickly spread across his face.
"I knew you would do it!" He said in his excited little voice. "Here is your payment as promised." Aventus grabbed a silver plate from a shelf behind him and handed it to her.
"Don't worry," he said as Mordelia put the plate in her pack. "I'll go back to the orphanage in a few weeks. Once everything has settled down." He went back to his book as if nothing had happened.
As Mordelia was about to leave Windhelm, a courier ran up to her. How they always found her, she'd never know.
"Have something for you." He said. "Let's see..." He looked through his satchel. "Ah! Here it is." He handed her a yellowed piece of paper sealed with bright red wax and jogged off.
Mordelia turned the paper over in her hands, looking for any writing or marks that might tell her who it was from. She knew it wasn't from Etienne; he always sealed his letters to her with black wax. Strangely there were no marks anywhere.
Mordelia stepped into the shadows near the gate and opened the letter. Inside was simply a black hand print with the words, "We Know."
This has got to be a mistake. Mordelia thought. Who knows what? I hope this doesn't have anything to do with Grelod's death. She tucked the mysterious note into her pack and left Windhelm.
She was hoping to get to the Valtheim Towers before nightfall. Mordelia had recently cleared the towers of bandits and had claimed them as her new home, until she moved all the junk to Breezehome.
It was well past sunset when she reached the Valtheim Towers, utterly exhausted. Mordelia tossed her pack on the ground and lay down on her bed; a pile of straw with pelts lain over the top. Soon, she was asleep.