The carriage headed towards Riften, jostling its passengers on the icy, uneven path. Ingrid, unwilling to leave Aventus in the company of Stormcloak soldiers, chose to join them. She knew too well the history between Livia and Aventus's father, Magnus, whom she disparagingly called a 'drunken swine.' Ingrid had personally witnessed his volatile temper. As they set off, Ingrid's thoughts returned to the night she first saw Magnus lose control. It was a night much like this one when she went to see Livia. The sound of shouting drew her inside the house, where she found Livia cornered and Magnus in a towering fury. The scene ignited a blend of rage and powerlessness within Ingrid. She had tried to protect Livia, only to be dismissed by Magnus with a contemptuous shove and enduring insults. That night left an indelible mark on Ingrid, a painful reminder of the abuse Livia suffered.

Staying near Aventus, Ingrid provided comforting words and two sweet rolls to sustain him on the journey. She draped a blanket over him for protection against the chilly breeze as the driver announced their departure. "Steady old girl, giddy-up," urging the horse to pull the wooden cart. The carriage traversed the uneven path, its slight rattle a testament to the frequent journeys to Riften and occasionally to Winterhold. The travelers faced a lengthy and strenuous trip, the biting cold winds assaulting their faces.

Ingrid was burdened with thoughts of Livia and her tribulations, feeling a profound sorrow for Aventus, who had endured great loss at a tender age. She made a silent pledge to remain by his side, providing whatever comfort she could in the unforgiving world. Aventus remained still, his diminutive stature enveloped in the blanket provided by Ingrid. Holding the sweet rolls close, he ate little, his gaze lost in the distance as he grappled with a tumult of emotions. The chill of the air nipped at his cheeks, a minor discomfort compared to the internal frost he experienced. Ingrid gently patted his hand, trying to offer some comfort. "Stay strong, Aventus," she whispered. "Your mother would want you to be brave."

The boy gave a faint nod, yet his gaze was distant, adrift in profound sorrow and bewilderment. Ingrid felt a pang of empathy for him, recognizing the essential nature of their voyage. The city of Riften promised to offer the necessary support and care, despite the uncertainties that lay ahead. As they progressed, the scenery transformed; the well-known vistas of Windhelm were replaced by the thick woods and harsh landscapes of Skyrim. The steady cadence of the carriage wheels echoed, marking time's advance, with every revolution edging them nearer to their goal. Reflecting on Magnus, Ingrid's mind returned to a distressing episode. She remembered Livia's terrified expression and the force of Magnus's blow that left a lasting bruise. Despite Ingrid's attempt to intervene, Magnus's inebriated fury was uncontainable. His slurred, spiteful words echoed in her memory as he expelled her from the house. This recollection strengthened Ingrid's determination to safeguard Aventus. While she couldn't alter the past, she was resolved to make the boy's future different. Remaining alert, Ingrid's gaze swept the horizon, protecting Aventus. She recognized that their trek to Riften marked the start of a challenging new phase in his life. Yet, she believed in his resilience and, with the support of allies, his capacity to prevail.

The carriage halted outside Riften's gates as dusk fell. The town, famed for its lively market and notorious underworld, presented a vivid contrast to their previous tranquil and somber travels. The gate guards scrutinized them briefly before granting access, their gaze pausing on Aventus and Ingrid. Strolling through the stone-paved streets, they were enveloped by the city's cacophony. Merchants hawked goods, residents engaged in lively conversations, and a constant buzz of activity composed an urban symphony. A glimmer of curiosity and awe pierced Aventus's sorrowful demeanor as he took in the vibrant scene. Ingrid leaned in; her voice soft but resolute. "This is Riften, Aventus. It may not look like much, but it's a place where you can start anew. Stay close to me."

They quickly reached the orphanage, a vast and daunting edifice that appeared to loom over the area. Ingrid assisted Aventus in alighting from the carriage, offering a firm and comforting hand. At the doorway stood Constance Michel, Grelod the Kind's aide, with a demeanor that radiated kindness. Her eyes, warm and inviting, offered a silent welcome. She moved toward them, her smile soft, providing a soothing presence against the orphanage's austere backdrop. Ingrid moved forward, her demeanor striking a perfect balance between politeness and confidence. "This is Aventus Aretino. He's lost his family and needs a place to stay." Constance's eyes softened as she looked at Aventus. "Of course, he's welcome here," she said kindly. "I'll make sure he feels at home."

Ingrid felt a sense of relief as Constance ushered them into the orphanage. Despite the dim lighting and the scent of decay, Constance's warm demeanor lightened the atmosphere. The children looked up with expressions blending curiosity and wariness. Constance gently led Aventus to a chair and knelt beside him, her tone comforting. "You're safe here, Aventus. We'll take good care of you." Ingrid knelt down to Aventus's level as well, her eyes softening. "Stay strong, Aventus. You'll find your place here, I promise." With a final hug, Ingrid rose and walked towards the door. Aventus observed her departure, a feeling of desertion blending with his resolve to endure. Constance remained beside him, providing solace as he embarked on this new phase of his existence.

As Ingrid emerged into the open, the crisp evening breeze enveloped her, bringing with it an ominous feeling. She had only taken a few strides when a deep, husky voice caught her attention. She turned to find a stout Nord, his face marked by a prominent scar, with lengthy brown hair secured in a basic ponytail. "You shouldn't leave him in there," He spoke in a gruff, unwavering tone. His piercing blue eyes appeared to contain a wealth of knowledge and experience. Ingrid spun around; her glare fixed on the man. "And who asked you?" She snapped, her finger an inch from his pointed nose. "I know these streets well, lass. Name's Maul. I know Riften better than anyone," He responded firmly, standing his ground. His imposing figure, with broad shoulders and a muscular build, was a testament to years of rugged living. "I'll tell you now, go back in there and get him out!"

Ingrid's voice was low and fierce as she spoke, "Mind your own affairs. He is secure, and it's best he remains distant from this turmoil." Maul, unfazed and resolute, simply shrugged. Turning back for a moment as he walked away, he cast a grave glance over his shoulder. "Take heed, the boy's predicament is far graver, and the same goes for the others." Watching his retreating figure, Ingrid's thoughts whirled. What right did this man have to issue such a foreboding caution?

In Riften, Maul was widely recognized as the bodyguard of Maven Black-Briar, a role that endowed him with considerable sway and insight into the city's shadowy corners. His reputation in Riften commanded both respect and fear. Maul's upbringing in the city had him weave through its perilous backstreets, relying on his cunning and physical prowess to survive. With time, he gained an acute awareness of Riften's more sinister aspects, including the Thieves Guild's dealings and the pervasive corruption. Maul's experiences were of the kind that many would hesitate to acknowledge publicly. His allegiance to Maven notwithstanding, Maul was cognizant of the realities within the orphanage. He was no stranger to Grelod the Kind's severe treatment and the resultant anguish of the children in her charge. Known for his rugged facade, Maul adhered to a personal honor code and harbored a profound aversion to undue cruelty. His admonitions stemmed from direct experience and keen observation.

Ingrid paused, feeling the burden of Maul's words. She yearned to trust that the orphanage would shield Aventus from harm and offer him safety. Yet, Maul's solemn caution ignited a flicker of doubt within her. Briefly, she contemplated returning inside, but then dismissed the thought, striving to overcome her uncertainties. She had vowed to both Aventus and herself to secure a haven for him. She needed to have faith that, despite its imperfections, the orphanage could offer him a measure of stability. Departing, the disquiet in her heart persisted. Maul's final words reverberated, casting a shadow of dread. Aware of Riften's clandestine nature, she harbored hope that Aventus would navigate through its obscurity. Once Ingrid had disappeared from view, Maul let out a sigh, "Poor kid," he muttered as he gazed at the wooden door of the orphanage. "Someone needs to murder that old bitch, Grelod!"