Ch. 3
"Hey, you. We've arrived," Ridley slowly opened his eyes. As they came into focus, he became aware of small flakes of white drifting down from the heavens. He shook his head, and looked around. The carriage had stopped in front of a large, stone bridge which led into a town. "Windhelm?" he asked the driver. "In all her glory. This is the main base for Ulfric and his Stormcloak rebels," the driver replied. Ridley gave a grunt. He could really care less about politics. He thanked the driver, and hopped down off of the cart. He began to walk across the bridge, the early morning air crisp against his face.
He had evaded those guards, but it was close. Had they caught him, it would have been his word against that deceiving hunter, and he had a sickening feeling of who would win the courts favor. On the ride over, he had thought long and hard about what had to be done about her. It had not taken him long to decide that she would need to die. He would not allow her to continue to stain his already shady reputation.
He had thought about how he would do the deed. He reasoned that she must live in Whiterun, or she wouldn't have gone there to ask for help. He supposed that if he were to "ask" the nord from the tavern, he would know where she lived. He also decided that he would wake her up before he ended her miserable life. He wanted her to see the blade gleam in the candlelight before it plunged into her flesh.
Without realizing it, Ridley had reached the main gate of the town. The guards posted outside dutifully shoved it open, permitting him entry. He stepped in, and the first thing he noticed was just how old the city was. The stonework was well put together, of course, but was worn and cracked. Even the people seemed faded somehow. He walked by some strong looking Nords harassing a Dunmer, and stepped into the inn directly across from the main entrance.
He dusted the snow off of his shoulders, and pulled his hood back off of his head. He walked to the inn keeper, and asked for a room. The sleep he had gotten on the carriage had done little to soothe his weary body. The inn keeper gave him the room for the night, as well as a free meal.
"You'll find the dining hall upstairs to your right," she told him. He took his piping hot venison stew, and followed her directions. He sat down in a large armchair by the fire, hoping to warm his feet. Once he had relaxed, he took in his surroundings. There were several other people in the room with him, all going about their own business. There was a bard in a corner, singing 'Ragnar the Red', and a pair of Dunmer talking in hushed voices nearby. Seeing nothing of interest, Ridley turned his attention to his stew, which he had to admit was very well made. He was on his fifth bite when he began to listen in on the elves across from him. While he could not make out exactly what they were saying, he could understand the urgency in their voices.
He surreptitiously stalked over to the cooking pot, to get closer to them. He threw a carrot into the pot, not mindful of what on earth he was doing.
"Are you sure? I don't think you can possibly be correct…"
"It's true, I tell you! The boy is dealing with them!" Their voices were very quiet, but just loud enough for Ridley to listen with interest.
"Oh, come now! The boy has had a tough time of late," spoke the elf closest to him.
"No one is denying that Aventus has had a real bad time, but its the truth," insisted the mer across the table.
"Oh, stop that! You seriously are trying to convince me that a little boy would be capable of-" The dunmer's voice dropped even lower, and Ridley had to strain to hear-
"-the sacrament?" The other elf sat quietly for a moment, his red eyes gleaming by the fire.
"Yes. Aventus Arretino is summoning the Dark Brotherhood." The bard stopped singing. The entire room went quiet. Ridley nearly dropped his spoon into the pot, he was so stunned. The dunmer looked about uneasily, then walked downstairs. Slowly, the murmur of the room came back, as the others who stayed there whispered uneasily.
'The Brotherhood? This couldn't be more perfect!' Ridley thought to himself. 'I must find this Arretino boy… find him before they do.' With that, he left the burned carrot floating in the pot, and walked to his room. 'But first, I must rest.' He walked to his bed, shedding bits of armor as he stumbled. He fell into bed, only his gloves still on, and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.