Maul carried out his daily duties, guarding the Riften gates and using his formidable presence to intimidate newcomers. His strength and reputation for extortion were well-known to both residents and visitors of Riften. As a constant presence in the city, Maul was like a shadow monitoring the comings and goings closely. The morning was fresh, with the sun casting elongated shadows on the cobblestone streets. The city was waking up; vendors were opening their shops, and the townspeople were beginning their day. Despite the morning chill, the city's rhythm was undisturbed. Amidst his shift, Maul's attention was captured by a sharp scream, a child's cry of distress, followed by Grelod the Kind's thunderous voice from the orphanage. Maul clenched his jaw, his hands trembling as he overheard the commotion. It seemed that another of Grelod's charges had felt the sting of her discipline.
Maul's hold on his weapon grew firmer, his body bracing as he readied himself to confront the orphanage. His instinct to protect was ignited by a profound anger towards Grelod's harshness. The suffering she caused the children was something he was intimately familiar with, and the thought of it was almost enough to spur him into action. Grelod the Kind, an ironic moniker for a woman whose rule over the orphanage was tyrannical. Her severe methods and omnipresent voice instilled fear in the children, who visibly cowered in her presence, their gazes filled with fear and surrender. Maul had witnessed the impact of her tyranny, feeling a powerful compulsion to step in. However, as he was poised to act, a commanding voice stopped him.
"Back to your post," Maven Black-Briar commanded with an unyielding presence, notorious for her iron-fisted rule over Riften and her indifference to anything beyond her self-interest. Her own kin were of little consequence to her, evidenced by her neglect of an offspring languishing in prison for murder. Maul, seething with barely suppressed rage, had no alternative but to obey. He returned to his post at the gates, his mind in turmoil. The agony Grelod had inflicted was all too familiar to him, and the sound of a child's screams had almost driven him to intervene. Maven Black-Briar's name was a byword for dominance and sway in Riften, her family's extensive wealth and connections enabling them to orchestrate events in their favor. Maven, a figure both feared and esteemed, wielded her relentless will and merciless disposition as potent instruments of power.
Despite Maven's imposing presence, few were aware of the depths of her cruelty. Maul was among the few, having observed her callous disregard for others' suffering. He had witnessed her dealings with those who dared to defy her, delivering swift and unforgiving punishment. Her own kin were not exempt from her harshness, living under the weight of her expectations and the constant threat of her anger. Maul's grip on his weapon faltered as he muttered, "Someone must take a stand against her," his voice a low growl, laden with a fervent yearning for justice. Beneath his tough exterior, Maul's heart was heavy with sorrow for the children oppressed by Grelod's despotism. He stood watch at the gates, yet his thoughts were besieged by the morning's harrowing occurrences. The prospect of the children suffering further ignited a fire of helplessness and fury within him.
Throughout the day, Maul's mind repeatedly wandered to the orphanage. The sound of children's laughter or the sight of a passing family highlighted the harsh reality faced by those in Grelod's charge. Despite the city's lively hustle, Maul felt increasingly detached, preoccupied with the suffering he had witnessed. As dusk settled, Maul's patrol through the now shadow-veiled streets of Riften was burdened by the weight of the day's events. The city's nocturnal stirrings unfolded around him, but his focus was elsewhere. It was then that he spotted Mjoll the Lioness, a warrior esteemed for her commitment to justice and the safety of Riften's residents. Maul had frequently observed her aiding the vulnerable and confronting oppressors.
Although they had never exchanged words, Maul could feel that Mjoll shared his indignation and frustration towards Grelod's deeds. He had observed her near the orphanage on several occasions, her gaze ablaze with barely restrained rage. Mjoll's presence served as a reminder that his quest for justice was not a solitary one. As Maul's heart raced with determination, he knew action was imperative, yet he was aware that he could not undertake this alone. He required allies, individuals prepared to confront the entrenched corruption in Riften. That night, as Maul retreated to his quarters, a firm sense of purpose enveloped him. Despite the perils that lay ahead, he was poised to confront them. The plight of the children would not be ignored, and Maul was resolute in his pursuit of justice.
Deep into the night, Maul stood guard outside, his shift almost over. It was approximately 2am. Just as he received instructions to head home, he spotted a diminutive silhouette scaling the stone barrier of the orphanage. It was the new arrival, a boy, trying to flee. With a black eye evident, the boy leapt from the fence and broke into a run, only halting when Maul's voice pierced the silence.
"Hey, kid!" He spoke in a firm voice, yet soft enough not to draw attention. Aventus stopped in his tracks, raising his eyes to Maul with an expression that blended fear and desperation. The boy was intimidated by Maul's size and imposing demeanor, yet he was taken aback by the Nord's unforeseen gesture. Maul stooped to Aventus's height, extending a piece of paper and an iron dagger towards him. "You can make a difference," Maul spoke, his tone taking on an unusual hint of encouragement. "Now scram before the guards notice you're missing."
Aventus didn't need to be told twice. Seizing the items, he dashed into the wilderness, making for night's chill was sharp, yet Aventus persevered, his heart thumping within. The forest ahead was dark and foreboding, yet he had no alternative. Into the woods he went, the dense foliage overhead obscuring the scant moonlight. With every step, he battled against the ensnaring roots and undergrowth, but Aventus continued, fueled by both fear and resolve.
His clothing caught on branches, his skin marred by thorns, he ignored these trifles. His breathing was labored, the frigid air biting at his lungs. The slightest rustle or snap in the underbrush sent his heart racing, yet he dared not halt. He had to advance, to widen the gap between himself and the orphanage. Exhaustion was setting in. Aventus stumbled and braced himself against a tree, his legs shaking from the exertion. He took a moment to regain his breath, his thoughts whirling with Maul's instructions. He unfolded the note again, its words faintly lit by the sparse starlight filtering through the canopy above.
The note outlined the steps to contact the Dark Brotherhood. He had to find an isolated spot, free from unwanted attention. In that solitude, he would light a black sacramental candle to signify his desire to call upon the Brotherhood. Following that, he was to recite the Black Sacrament. "Sweet Mother, Sweet Mother, send your child unto me, for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear." Finally, he was required to place an effigy that represented the target, crafted from bones, flesh, and a heart, and then await a response from the Brotherhood. With his plan firmly in mind, Aventus concealed the note within his garments and proceeded on his path. As the first light of dawn began to emerge, he arrived at the outskirts of Windhelm. The formidable city walls stood in stark relief against the dense woods he had just left behind. With a gaze filled with hatred, Aventus gripped the dagger firmly. He was resolute in his quest for vengeance against Grelod the Kind, the woman responsible for his and many others' sufferings.
In the meantime, Grelod's anger was tangible, her voice echoing through the halls of the orphanage. "Where is he!" she bellowed, her eyes ablaze with fury as she glared at her assistant. Constance Michel, the assistant, stood trembling, attempting to gather the courage to speak. "I-I don't know, Grelod. Aventus has vanished," she stammered, her voice shaking with fear. "Find him, you useless girl!" Grelod's scream pierced the air, her fury reaching its peak as she brought her fist down hard on the table. "If he thinks he can escape from me, he has another thing coming!" In the orphanage, the children shrank into their corners, wary of attracting attention. They were familiar with Grelod's temper, yet her current rage seemed unprecedented in its intensity. A palpable tension filled the air, with each child silently praying to avoid becoming her next victim. Constance, with a quick nod, retreated from the storm of Grelod's fury. She had noted Aventus's resolve and suspected his escape from the city, but kept her suspicions to herself. With haste, she exited, her concerns for the boy's safety weighing heavily on her. Grelod, meanwhile, stalked the room, her anger at a slow boil. The idea that Aventus had eluded her grasp was unthinkable. She took pride in her strict oversight of the children, and the notion of one outsmarting her provoked her ire. Throughout the night, her obsession with recapturing and disciplining Aventus only intensified.
