It’s strange how the world works, isn’t it? I spent several years cursing myself for ever taking up the life of a cutpurse and brigand. I spent years trying to get away from it…just like I tried to get away from being Dragonborn. And where should I end up? That’s right; I had no idea of Riften’s reputation then – a reputation which is now infamous, and now that I’m breaking my silence I can attest I played no small part in that. I look back on it now and wince, though again I don’t regret it. How well did fate lead the dance! But I didn’t know it then. All I knew was that I had a job to do, shaking down someone in the area at Aela’s behest.
So with beast blood in my veins and Skjor’s death dogging my heels, I came to a place where people believed the Dragonborn were just a rumour. Well and good, because I now came up against something I hadn't expected – everything about Riften felt all too familiar; I even ran into a woman upon a bridge shaking a fellow down for money he owed her. Yep, this place was crawling with bad influence.
I was already in enough trouble as far as I was concerned, and I didn’t want any more so I didn't spare the issue on the bridge a backwards glance. I was determined to do the Companions job and get out. All of this was too close, too near to a previous life. I tramped through the muddy, cobbled streets on the search for the smithy when I was brought to a halt.
“Well now…there’s not a single thing you’re carrying that you’ve earned honestly, eh lass?”
It was a mead-smooth voice, that one – like razorblades dipped in honey. I stiffened, sniffing the air a moment, then turned round to glare at the redheaded Nord who was leaning against the commons wall, his arms folded across his chest. He was gazing right at me, and I gazed right back. Old habits…I knew who he was, and what he was, almost immediately. Just as he did me.
“What are you on about?” I muttered – it stung I suppose, after all it was true, whether I was Circle-sworn or not. Ulterior motives, everything I did had an ulterior motive. And I was of the old school.
“You know what I’m saying, lass,” he lilted, merely giving me a knowing smile. ”I know the signs.”
“That was a long time ago,” I replied, my eyes narrowing to slits, but he was unflappable.
“Maybe not quite so long ago…and maybe you still have your skills. Care to put them to test?”
“Is there something in for me if I do?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them. I knew the drill, it was ingrained in my brain – I’d spent too many years doing that kind of work, and it showed. Besides, it called to my blood now – the old, familiar thrill, the rush of a job well done.
The instructions were simple; break into a chest, steal a gem, stick it on someone else. I wasn’t sure what the trouble was – they must have needed someone out of the way, someone who may have started to figure out who the Nord was. Who could tell? But I took the challenge. He was right – I wanted to see if I could do it. And I was still running from wyrd.
With a nod to the redhead, I made my way into position, and he filled his lungs and created the scene. ”Gather round, everyone, gather round!”
It was sweet as pie, even in broad daylight. I hadn’t lost my touch. The lock opened with each, my fingers knowing exactly how to twist the pick just so until the tumblers caught. I snatched the ring in the small jewelsbox without even looking at it, slid up behind the mark as he sat on a crate and planted it in his pocket with nary a twitch from anyone in the crowd. Done and done, and no one was the wiser. Except of course, when the ring’s owner began to cry for guards. The trouble was going to start now, but I didn’t stick around to see the outcome. Casual as ever, I strode up the steps toward the temple and then veered toward the boarded up gate, biding my time. He’d come, though he’d wait a while to be sure he wasn’t followed.
And sure enough, he did. ”That was nicely done, lass,” he murmured, blue eyes scanning my face.
I shrugged, though I grinned inwardly at the praise. ”A child could have done it…actually, that’s how I learned the trade, no one suspects a child to pull that sort of heist.”
“Well you’ve certainly got a gift. What’s your name?”
“Drim,” I said smoothly, usually one of my aliases.
The Nord didn’t bat an eyelash. ”Brynjolf, and that’s my -real- name. You play yourself close, and that’s fine. We could use someone like you, if you’re interested. But you’ll have to find us, prove your worth. If you’re interested, you’ll get rich. How’s that sound?”
I looked round at Riften, which is truthfully not much to see, and raised both brows at Brynjolf in challenge. ”Rich, you say? Here?”
Brynjolf gave me an easy, disarming smile – proper rogue, that one. ”Why flaunt it in the open? Like I said, you’ll have to find your way below, through the rat warrens of the city, and to a place called the Ragged Flagon. Follow our mark, and you’ll be able to find.”
I didn’t need telling what the mark was – the diamond and circle was well known to me – so I took my leave and decided to pay a visit to the smithy in order to clear up my Companions business. I was spiralling down into the abyss in my pursuit to escape whatever fate was leading me to being Dragonborn, but at the time, I welcomed it.
At night, I found my way to the rickety piers below Riften itself, and after searching through the slimy warrens above the moatwater, I found an entry door into the maze of aquaducts below. A few cut-throats, a few skeevers, and more than a few traps later, I found a door at the end of a hall, with the thieves’ mark scratched into the rock beside it. So, this was the place. I lifted my chin, and carefully opened the door, mindful of more traps as needed.
Suffice to say, the instant I entered the Ragged Flagon, I knew Brynjolf had been talking rubbish – there was nothing here but a dank hole with rotting boards spanning over a stone sinkhole. The Flagon was a poor excuse for a bar – dank and dark, with furtive shapes dressed in leather moving here and there. A huge Nord glared at me, folding his muscled arms as I slipped my way over the walkway. A bald man – who gave me a turn at first as he was a smaller version of Skjor – and a sharp-faced blond were standing with Brynjolf.
“Face it, mate, we’re cursed, look at this place,” the bald man said, picking bits of mould off a piece of stale bread.
“Oh not that again,” the blond groaned, and Brynjolf sighed.
“I tell you, I’ve got a good feeling about this new one – “
“What, like th’ last one?” the other man drawled round a mouthful of bread.
“And the one before that, Bryn,” the blond added with a snort. ”You keep bringing wet-ears down here, and they keep getting jailed. New blood just isn’t worth bringing in, they’re no good.”
“Really,” Brynjolf replied in that same suave voice. He then nodded toward me with a small smile on his lips. ”What do you call that, then?”
All eyes were on me now, but rather than feel intimidated, I stood my ground. I’d dealt with the Shadow-Family for too long to lose my nerve. This was my element, as much of a skeever hole as it was. This was familiar ground. This was home.
” ‘ere,” said Baldy. ”Who’s this, then?”
“That would be Drim,” Brynjolf said, smoothly finishing off his mead with a tidy gulp. ”Or at least that’s what she’s calling herself, Delvin. Right now, I don’t see the point of questioning it.”
“Brynjolf said to come and have a word,” I replied, gazing at both of them levelly. ”As long as I could find the place, and here I am.”
“That I did,” Bryn said as he gestured toward me. ”To me, lass, let’s talk.”
The blond just snorted, glaring at me as she stomped off on the rotting boards – jealous maybe? Probably – after all, Bryn was a handsome man. Still that was neither here nor there. I wasn’t interested in any of that – I just wanted to stay busy. I needed to stay busy. I needed to not think about the Companions or Dragonborn or Skjor. Just…work.
“Don’t worry about Vex,” Delvin said as he finished off his bread. ”She always gets like that when new blood comes in. Worried about being replaced, I don’t wonder. She’s our best sneak.”
“Well, if she has to up her game or not, we’ll see,” I replied, then turned my gaze to Bryn. ”So, what now?”
“Well, now I’m going to introduce you to Mercer, he’s our guild-leader for this branch…well, for the only existing branch left now.”
Bryn led me into the main ducts, and I took the opportunity to have a word with him.
“You’re a lying sod, Brynjolf,” I began with a glare.
Bryn was enough of a player to look hurt. ”That wounds me, it does, lass, why would you say that?”
“This isn’t a palace. The Family’s on pretty hard times here, and I’m surprised you’ve got any money coming in at all. What’s this about a curse?”
“Ugh, that’s just Devlin. It’s true, this is the only branch of the Thieves Guild left in Skyrim due to Imperial difficulties and the war. We keep losing ground, and we’re not sure why. Some say we’ve lost favour with the Lady…or maybe we just have plain bad luck. But I’ve a feeling you’re going to help us turn our luck around. In here, that’s Mercer.”
I said nothing about changing luck – who knew better how badly that tended to go?
Mercer was a short, sharp-eyed man with greying hair at the temples. He barely cast me a cursory glance as he riffled through papers and ledgers. ”Another mercy case, Brynjolf? Why do you waste my time with wet-ears?”
“Because my ears are anything but wet,” I responded before Brynjolf could get a word in. ”I’ve been working the Shadowed Path for years, started from the age of five, trained by my kin to be the best. I’ve been taking from purses and stealing fine trinkets for over twenty years. So no more of this ‘wet-ear’, if you please. I’m here to work – so, what say you?”
The entire aquaduct went utterly silent, all eyes on me. I could feel Brynjolf stiff and silent behind me, but I kept my eyes on Mercer – bold was the way to play it here. I knew the game. Besides, there was something about the man that was so oily, so sidestepping that I knew the only way to get on with him was to peg him where he stood.
Mercer stared back at me, his face unreadable, and then, he broke into a toothy grin.
“Bold, eh? Well…we’ll see if you can back it up after that little speech, hm? Brynjolf, this little darling is your problem. Get her kitted up and put her through her paces, usual terms.” And with that, Mercer waved his hand and dismissed us both.
Brynjolf exhaled heavily, shooting me a look as we headed back to the Flagon to get myself some guild gear. ”You just took several years off my life with that stunt, lass.”
“It wasn’t a stunt,” I replied truthfully. ”I meant it. You need someone to work the ropes, and I need the money. So, let’s get on with it.”
Brynjolf turned to face me now, and he placed his hands on his hips as the jovial smirk was gone from his face. I watched him guardedly, but stood my ground.
“Why?” He asked. ”You can see we’ve fallen on hard times. I don’t need to tell you, we’re the only presence in Skyrim now. The Guild has died a death, our luck is the worst its ever been. We’re only just managing to keep going, and that’s only by taking jobs from a primary patron. So…why do you care? Why bother? You look like you can handle yourself without us.”
I regarded Brynjolf for several moments, then sighed. ”I need the money. I want to get back to Valenwood…and this is all I know. All I’ve ever known. I’m no one special. I’m just a thief, and I’d be stupid to think otherwise.” The words were bitter, and tasted like bile on my tongue, but was true after all. I had never felt less like a Dragonborn than that moment. That I knew how to Shout meant nothing. I was just a thief, no more.
Brynjolf was silent, then he strode forward and regarded me with blue eyes gleaming. ”And your real name, lass?”
I paused a moment. ”Dreema.”
Brynjolf nodded, folding his arms across his chest, and turned upon his heel to continue on. ”I understand you. Priests say that everyone has a chance of redemption, but why bother with all that? This is what I do, and it’s what I know. That’s all. You’re among friends here, then, but you’ll have to earn your way, same as everyone else. We clear?”
“We’re clear,” I said quietly as I squared my shoulders and followed behind. ”We’re clear.”
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