Hraldir stood before the Jarl, having delivered the letter to her steward, Anuriel.
"Is this information accurate?" asked the steward.
"It is," Hraldir replied.
Anuriel handed the letter to the Jarl, who read it carefully.
"Was that boy kidnapped?"
"That's what we believe, but it's hard to be certain since he doesn't remember anything."
The Jarl pondered for a moment, weighing her options.
"Anuriel, what do you think?"
"It would be wise to investigate, my Jarl."
"I agree. Very well, the boy may enter the Honor Hall, and we'll send out patrols to investigate the area near Ivarstead. We've allowed them to act unchecked for too long."
"Thank you, Jarl Laila."
"You are dismissed."
Hraldir left the castle to deliver the good news to Lun, but as soon as he stepped outside, he couldn't find him where he had left him.
"Lun? Where are you?"
He began searching the surroundings, but Lun was nowhere to be seen.
'Could he have been kidnapped?'
Hraldir scanned the area frantically until he heard voices coming from the training grounds near Mistveil Keep.
He hurried over and saw Lun healing the leg of an injured guard.
Lun finished the healing, earning praise from several guards.
"Ha! You really did it!"
"I thought we'd need to call a priest of Mara."
"Or ask Wylandriah to help—if she even remembered."
"Shut up. Hey, kid, thanks."
Hraldir was impressed by how quickly Lun had earned the guards' respect.
'So, I know Healing Hands, or at least how to use magic by understanding its effects. I should try using Oakflesh later.'
"Wow, Lun. You're pretty good at magic."
Hraldir began asking Lun how many spells he knew and if he intended to stick with Restoration magic.
"I was just practicing."
"And you managed to heal someone on your first try. That's talent. Maybe you should go to the College of Winterhold."
"But it's far away."
"True, and it would take a long time to get there. It would probably cost a lot of septims, too."
The guards resumed training as Hraldir continued speaking with Lun.
"By the way, Jarl Laila has approved your entry into the Honor Hall," Hraldir said with a smile.
"Great," Lun replied, trying to hide his discontent.
"Come on, we need to go to the Honor Hall. You'll meet the other children living there."
"Sure, let's go."
Without much enthusiasm, Lun followed Hraldir.
Despite Riften's similar layout, it was much larger than he remembered.
The canal dividing the city was significantly wider, and the population in the lower district was much larger.
In the game, there were two doors supposedly allowing fishermen direct access to Lake Honrich, but they had been closed. Now, they were open and served their intended purpose.
The bridge connecting both sides of the city was sturdier, too.
They continued until they reached a familiar door, one Lun had entered countless times when playing as an assassin to kill Grelod the Kind.
When they entered, the orphanage was eerily silent until the sound of footsteps approached.
"Oh, a guard. What brings you here?"
An elderly woman appeared at the entrance, smiling.
'Did Grelod come out of the womb as an old woman?'
Lun stared at her, doubting the sincerity of her smile.
"I've come to place this child in the orphanage."
Grelod looked at Lun, her expression shifting to one of disgust, which Hraldir noticed before she forced another smile.
"I'm sorry, but I don't think we can accept him."
"These are the orders of Jarl Laila the Law-Giver."
Angrily, Grelod relented.
"Fine. I hope you enjoy your stay here," she said bitterly.
Hraldir watched her head inside, then turned to Lun.
"Lun, if anything happens in the orphanage, you can go to the Temple of Mara for help. They're very kind."
"I understand."
"I hope we meet again someday."
Hraldir left the orphanage, worried about the look Grelod had given Lun.
Lun glanced around the spotless orphanage, likely maintained to leave a good impression on visitors.
He noticed the door Grelod had gone through and headed toward it.
Inside, he found a small dining area with empty plates. To his right were ten beds, all unoccupied. In the middle of the room, Grelod was yelling at the children.
She noticed Lun and stormed toward him, furious.
"You! Monster! If it weren't for the Jarl's order, I would've thrown you out—no, I wouldn't have let you in at all!"
Fuming, Grelod retreated to her room, slamming the door behind her.
'Bitter old hag.'
The children stared at Lun. Some returned to their beds, others went outside through a small door leading to a tiny yard, while a few approached him.
"Hey, you're weird. What are you?"
"Those horns are ugly."
"Bad luck, ending up here."
Two girls and a boy stood before him.
"Nice to meet you. I'm Lun," he greeted, ignoring their comments.
"I'm Hjalmar," said the red-haired boy.
"I'm Celesse Veymar," said the blonde-haired girl.
"I'm Constance Michel," said the black-haired girl.
Hearing the name Constance Michel made something click in Lun's mind; she was the woman who helped Grelod in the orphanage during Skyrim.
'So, she was an orphan and stayed with Grelod even as an adult.'
He pondered this while observing the children.
Among them, Constance was clearly the oldest, which made sense considering her age in the game. However, one thing puzzled him...
'Why does everyone in the game look practically ancient?'
"Hey, what are you thinking so much about?"
Celesse waved her hand in front of his face.
"Nothing."
"What are you?" Hjalmar asked.
"He has to be an Argonian. Look at the scales and horns," said Celesse.
"But Argonians are reptiles, and he doesn't look like one."
Celesse and Hjalmar began debating Lun's origins, leaving him and Constance out of the conversation.
"Sorry about them. They're pretty impulsive," Constance apologized.
"Don't worry. It's nice to see people with so much energy," Lun replied. "By the way, I'm a hybrid, in case you were wondering."
The two children stopped their argument.
"See? I was right," Hjalmar declared.
"No, I was right!" Celesse countered.
The two resumed their argument about who had been correct. Constance explained that this was a common occurrence.
'This could be interesting, though I'll need to keep an eye on Grelod.'
And so began Lun's life at the orphanage, under the care of one of the cruelest people he had ever met—or was she?