I glance over to see if my Housecarl Lydia is still awake. She's standing near the bar, obviously alert but not particularly happy about our extended stay. When the Jarl assigned her as my guardian I scoffed at the idea of allowing her to come with me; how is an assassin supposed to sneak up on his mark with a noisy warrior rattling along behind in heavy armor? On the other hand, someone else to put between myself and the enemy is always a good idea. I ordered her to follow, and for most of our journey she's stuck by my side. She's saved my life several times and has since proven an invaluable ally. The murderous deeds I've committed for the Brotherhood in her presence has only proven that her loyalty is unwavering.
Maro rises from his seat, takes one last swig of his ale and then heads towards the door. I can't believe it, but he's moving on to the next Hold. The man hasn't slept in three days, so of course neither have I. He's been sitting here drinking ale for the last ten hours straight, and now apparently feels like a long ride to Riftin will sober him up. Imperials aren't the smartest residents of Skrim, that much is certain. Maro bids the innkeeper a fond farewell and then heads out into the cold air. Lydia and I slowly follow, keeping him in our sites but staying far enough behind to not attract attention. The streets are nearly empty, save for guards making their nightly rounds. Maro winds his way down the road and then exits out the front gate. I whisper to Lydia to head home, then slip through right behind him.
He's heading back out into the wilds; either I make my move now or I'll have to wait until we reach the next Hold and hope he actually sleeps. The road out of Whiterun winds down through several open gates with several guard manning each one. I glance up at them as we pass through each gate; so far I've counted at least six. Not really that many, but still more than I would care to deal with. I left Lydia in the city opting for a silent kill, but I may need her if I have to fight off a few guards. I can tell from the sky that daybreak is imminent. Maro nears the next gate, which leaves only one more to go. It's now or never; I slowly draw my blade and move in behind him.
We're about midway between the last two when I strike, plunging the blade deep into his back. His armor affords little protection, as I've been trained to find it's weak points. Maro screams, then instantly falls backward into my arms. I gently lay him to the ground and slide the incriminating letter into his pouch. His eyes go wide as I kneel over him; he attempts to speak, but only manages a couple gurgling gasps for breath before choking to death on his own blood. The deed is done, but the guards above heard Maro's scream and are coming to investigate. Fortunately I managed to gut the Imperial with no witnesses, so I slip away before anyone arrives. While hidden I remove the mix of Dark Brotherhood garb and replace it with ancient Nightingale Armor, a symbol of leadership for Skyrim's Thieves Guild. I emerge from the trees near Whiterun stables, sun now shining and a loud commotion coming from above. The plan worked perfectly, the Night Mother will be pleased. I head over to the trough where Shadowmere is waiting, then we begin the long journey back to the Brotherhood's sanctuary deep in the southern Pine Forest of Falkreath Hold. Astrid will no doubt have the next phase of the contract ready; Sithis willing the Emperor himself will die by my hand.
