Dragon of the East - Arc 2, Chapter 2

• Posted by Okan-Zeeus October 31, 2014 - 1,305 views

  Dar-Meena

  ~ ~ ~

  I strummed a claw across the bristles of my arrow’s fletching. If there’s one thing I hate about highway robberies, it’s the waiting time. Having to loaf around for minutes or hours on end until somebody worth half a Septim passes by. But we were waiting with a purpose. The caravan was on a tight schedule and it wouldn’t dare be late.

  In fact, it came right on time.

  “I see the cart down the road. It’s coming this way,” I whispered down the rocks to the ground below me. A fellow thief was crouching behind a bush buried in snow. His outfit matched mine – russet leather armor brimming with pockets, pouches and bags, along with a hood and fur snow gear. Standard guild attire. The Thieves Guild knew how to dress for work, I’ll give them that much.

  “Remember, let them make the first move,” Thrynn whispered back. “Try to give ‘em a good scare, eh?”

  “I’ll do my part if you do yours,” I muttered.

  The four of us were poised near the mouth of a mountain pass. Crags funneled down the path like a deep ravine. We flanked the road on both sides; me and Thrynn on the left, Vex and Niruin on the right. I was nestled in a wedge of rock high up, leaning on powdered snow. The vantage point hid me from below. My footing wasn’t great, but I could still shoot. If anything was going to hamper my aim, the burn on my shoulder would. It felt crusty and stiff beneath my clothes, still painful as ever. Damned thing.

  The sky was packed with grey hazy clouds. I wondered if dragons could fly high enough to hide behind them. Wasn’t a stretch to think they might be roaming about the region. We were near the Jerall mountains but not technically in Skyrim. This was the wilderness frontier of Cyrodiil; an off-beaten trail miles away from the Silver Road north of Bruma. I hadn’t expected to come back to the province so soon, though it didn’t exactly feel like I was home.

  The Thieves’ Guild had been prepping for this heist around the day I joined up with them. Good timing, too. They needed another archer. Brynjolf wasn’t ready for me to tackle official assignments and Vex would’ve had me stay in the sewers, but I managed to argue my case. I can be very persuasive when I need to be. Besides, they were lucky to have me along. I was better with a bow than most of the guild’s long standing members.

  I’ll admit it was a little tough finding the courage to travel again, knowing dragons were roaming the skies. But the thought of cowering in Riften till my scales turned leathery didn’t exactly appeal to me. So I built up the nerve.

  Niruin was set up on a flank opposite to me. The Wood Elf readied his bow. I grabbed mine leaning against the rocks and followed his lead.

  There were three men with the caravan. Two steered the carriage while the other rode his own horse, a sellsword escort from the looks of it. There was nothing peculiar about their clothing, just fur and animal skins to keep out the cold. As they rode into our trap, I stared at the load in the back of their carriage, confused. It looked like a pile of long beams covered over with a tarp.

  Were they disguising the shipment? Didn’t seem too far-fetched, but something was off.

  Thrynn set the plan in motion. He stumbled out into the road right in front of the caravan, acting the part of a drunk with an empty bottle in his hand. The drawing horses came to halt and the riders exclaimed their surprise. Thrynn pretended to fall over and shuffled back on his feet, spitting curses at the men. It was a good performance, but not without its flaws. If you stopped to think about it, you’d realize that no one would actually be drinking out in the mountains. The men had good reason to be suspicious.

  But the point wasn’t for Thrynn to be convincing. All we needed was to take the men by surprise. And buy Vex the time she needed.

  The caravan guard dismounted. He wasn’t buying the act. He drew his sword and demanded that Thrynn step aside. A shadowy figure appeared behind him. Vex had snuck out of sight around the side of the carriage. Before the riders could spot her, she was at the sellsword’s back and quickly disarmed him. Thrynn jumped in and seized the man, overpowering him handily. They say the Nord used to be a marauder with some bandit clan in the Pale. He had more meat on his bones than most.

  Things picked up. The riders jumped down from their seats and almost slipped in the snow as they brandished their weapons. That was our cue. Niruin and I rose from our hiding spots and took aim.

  “Eyes up, boys! That’s far enough!”  Niruin called out.

  The riders whipped their attention to the rocks above and froze at the sight of our ambush. Vex reigned in the guard’s timid horse and calmed it down, before walking slowly back and forth across the front of the carriage, carrying the sword she’d disarmed. Thrynn kept the caravan guard pinned down in the slush.

  “I don’t think I need to tell you you’re outnumbered,” she spoke coolly, before her voice became sharp like the crack of a whip. “Drop your weapons and face the cart.”

  Like dogs on a leash, the riders obeyed. Vex bound their hands. I smiled, thoroughly impressed. These guild thieves are efficient! Within minutes the caravan was at our mercy. The plan was off to a rousing start.

  Vex looked up at me. “New girl, get down here. Check the goods. Make sure everything’s in order.”

  I passed a sideways glance to Niruin. He nodded, keeping his bow aimed down. That wood elf could handle the men if they tried anything. Better for him to keep to the crags than me; my aim wouldn’t compare to his. He was a much better talent. For some reason Wood Elves and bows go together like forks and knives. Stereotype my ass. I knew an awful lot of people who’d been trained in archery by Bosmer. They must make a big deal of it in Valenwood.

  Tsariba got taught by a Wood Elf, now that I think of it. She’s the one who trained me. That Khajiit was a damn good shot. Fast too. If she nocked and loosed an arrow in two seconds, she’d tell you she was having an off day. Her feline reflexes were a sight to behold, climbing rooftops or slinking past guard patrols. She couldn’t dodge the sword that killed her but I’m pretty sure she’d have brushed it off and boasted the tale later if she had. You know, to add to her legend. Tsariba was the kind of person who could walk in a room and just… radiate. Like sunshine, always spry and lively.

  Most people like that annoy the crap out of me, but I made an exception for her. We used to get along so well. I still miss that cat.

  I touched down on the ground and searched for a way to remove the carriage’s tarp. It was fastened by ropes. I picked a knot and started cutting with my knife. One of the riders was nearby. Vex came over to keep an eye on him.

  “What in Oblivion do you want with us!? We ain’t got nothing worth stealing!” the rider on the other side cried out.

  “Shut up. We’ll be the ones deciding that,” Vex growled.

  “Damned thieves… You think you can take whatever you want,” the man nearby swore.

  “You’re welcome to try and stop us,” I chided, finishing one rope before moving to the next. The rider spat on the ground.

  “Oh, just you wait boot,” he said, “you’ll get yours! I’ve got friends in the Legion. They’re gonna’ hear about this!”

  I stopped cutting and looked over at the furious man, grinning in amusement.

  “Good for you,” I chirped, giving him a pat on the head. Every now and then I’d catch myself acting like Tsariba used to. She really rubbed off on me.

  After a few seconds of sawing with my blade, the rope came undone. I eagerly lifted the tarp. My claws tapped on hard wood. I could hardly believe my eyes.

  “Is this a joke!?” I snapped, turning to Vex. “What am I looking at!?”

  “Huh? What are you on about?” the woman groaned. She quickly came beside me and saw the carriage’s contents for herself. I thought for sure she’d pop a blood vessel. You could feel the outrage boiling up inside her.

  “Delvin, that stupid son of a bitch…!” she hissed.

  ~ooooo~

  Delvin Mallory was one of the Thieves Guild’s oldest and most valued members, equal in stature to Vex and Brynjolf. They were leaders without formal title. The guild’s concept of hierarchy is mostly built around performance. Folks who bring in the most coin get to lead if they want to. Only the guildmaster has any official stature. Fences too, I guess, but that’s just because they’re fences. We kind of need them.

  To cut a long story short, Delvin screwed us over. Our group returned to Riften a few days after the heist, empty handed. We took a hidden route that led to the city’s underground sewers – the Ratway. That’s where the guild keeps its base of operations. Their methods involve secrecy and discretion, as Brynjolf would tell you.

  Honest shit? The place is a dump. A charming kind of dump, but still a dump. It’s a dark and dank alcove where the thieves of Skyrim find safe haven.

  From what I’ve been told, the Ratway used to be a city beneath the city. All sorts of seedy folks and merchants would crowd its canals and waterways. It was easy enough to imagine. The sewer system is massive, practically a labyrinth. But the Ratway was nearly barren now. You’d be lucky to trip on a skeever.

  We arrived at the Ragged Flagon, a tavern built inside a cistern. It was the last remnant of the guild’s supposed city, a checkpoint and lookout for the guild’s inner chambers. Most of their muscle can be found loitering around. Slimy brick walls vault up in a dome to the pipe of a boarded well, with a large circular pool siting below, fringed with walkways. The tavern itself is on one far end with a wooden pier built over the pool to make extra space for seats and tables. They keep a furnace and plenty of candles lit. It’s scenic in its own disgusting way.

  No one from the surface comes down to the Flagon for spirits, though. Just members of the guild. Vex stormed over to Delvin sitting at a table and slammed her hands on it, her long platinum hair falling down over her face.

  “Delvin, that shipment on the Cyrodiil frontier was worthless!” she barked. The old codger nearly fell out of his seat. I think he was nodding off. He returned a blank stare.

  “That’s impossible,” the bald old Breton said. “I distinctly heard that lout in the tavern say it was a full shipment of furs. They should be worth a fortune.”

  I groaned, rubbing the scales on my snout. You’ve got to be kidding me…

  Vex was livid. “You idiot! He meant fir trees, not animal furs! It was a damn logging caravan!”

  Delvin’s eyes grew wide with embarrassment. He caught the angry stares of Thrynn and Niruin standing close by.

  “Oh my… Umm… you won’t let the boss hear about this, will you?” The man cleared his throat, eyes darting off. Vex let out a sigh and turned to the three of us.

  “You all go do whatever you want,” she said, glaring back at Delvin. “You’re coming with me. Right now.”

  Not one to incur Vex’s wrath, Delvin followed the woman down a passage to the inner guild hall. I sat down in one of the Tavern’s wooden chairs, unslinging my bow and resting it against a table. Its dark wood looked oily in the lamp-light. I’d have to return the bow soon – it was a loan from the guild. I still couldn’t afford one for myself.

  “I was hoping for a little more closure than that,” Niruin muttered.      

  “Vex’ll chew Delvin out. Nothin’ for us to do but get back to business,” Thrynn replied. Niruin stretched his arms lazily.

  “Business can wait,” he yawned. “I’m signing off for the night.” The wood elf made for the guild’s living chambers.

  “Bah… I’m too pissed off to sleep,” Thrynn said, before glancing my way. “Thinkin’ I might go knock some heads up top. You interested?”

  As if…

  “I’ll pass,” I said.

  The Nord shrugged and went on his way. I laid my head on the table, arms crossed beneath my chin, and heaved a sigh. Lisaa sure did a bang-up job touting the guild. How nice of her not to mention their late streak of terrible luck. I almost wished I’d stayed back in Cyrodiil, though I had my doubts that would’ve made a difference.

  By this point I was ready to accept my part in some cosmic prank. It didn’t matter where I went. I couldn’t find a single band of thieves that wasn’t riddled with incompetence or mediocrity somehow. Nothing ever went right.

  If you see something wrong…

  Damn it all. Even now, years later, my mother harps on. Her old lessons and proverbs were drilled into my head. I would always imagine myself at home again, arguing with her.

  …take control…

  Why tell me this? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing? I’ve been searching for two years to find a group I can settle with! Don’t preach to me about opportunity and society! I’m told to come inside, but nobody opens their door! My career as a thief is all I have. It’s kept me alive! The world doesn’t care how starving you are or how many friends you’ve lost. It expects you to get by. And it doesn’t care how.

  …before control gets taken from you.                          

  Was guild somehow my responsibility? Was I supposed to be the one to fix it? To Oblivion with that. I couldn’t even fix my own problems.

  Even back then… I couldn’t…

  “Bad break, lass?” a voice suddenly spoke nearby. Brynjolf. He always caught me in my worst moods.

  “Oh, of course not,” I hissed, head still on the table. “I’ve always dreamed of building a log cabin.”

  “We’ll set things straight with Delvin. That old man should have known better.”

  I sat up in my seat, eyeing the red-headed Nord.

  “You know, when you told me this guild was hitting a ‘rough patch,’ I wasn’t picturing a sinking ship,” I said.

  “Barely a few days in and that’s your picture?” Brynjolf did not look pleased.

  “Oh I’m sorry, should I be seeing pots of gold and rainbows?”

  “Maybe you’d rather keep bellyaching like a child. This organization is far from dying, I can promise you that.”

  “Daedra and Divines, just look at this place! Your guild’s got all the skill and talent in the world, but nothing to show for it. Just what kind of operation are you running here?”

  “One that’s going to come around again,” Brynjolf said, softening somewhat. “Look lass, this wasn’t the first impression I hoped to give. How about we try something different tomorrow?”

  My head thumped back on the table. “Different how?” I asked.

  “We happen to have a few deadbeats here in Riften. They owe our organization some serious coin, and they’ve decided not to pay. How would you like to… explain to them the error of their ways?”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “Seriously? You’re asking me to be some kind of debt collector?”

  “Problem, lass?”

  “We’re thieves, dammit! Whatever happened to secrecy or discretion? If they won’t give us the money, let’s just go and take it from them!”

  Brynjolf glared at me. His patience was past the point of being tested. I had to get a hold of my tongue.

  “Look, I know when I’m being bitchy,” I said, sitting up again. “Could you just explain why we need to do this?”

  Brynjolf folded his arms. “Honestly, the debt is secondary here. What’s more important is that we get the message across that we aren’t to be ignored.”

  “So it’s a control tactic.”

  “Exactly.”

  I could see why a guild of thieves might need that. They weren’t going to get very far on good looks and a charming personality. Still, debt collecting? That seemed brutish. Barnaxi would’ve fit right in with these people…

  “Who are the marks?” I asked.         

  “Bersi Honey-Hand, Haelga, and Keerava,” Brynjolf replied. “Familiar with them?”

  Keerava…?

  “Yeah… I know who they are.” Bersi was a small-time salesman, prayed a lot in the temple of Mara for Riften’s corruption to go away. Haelga owned a boarding house. I learned from certain circles that she’s a practitioner of the Dibellan arts, which is really just to say she whores around. As for Keerava…

  “How much do they owe?”

  “Six hundred each,” Brynjolf said. “They know their numbers. You’ll get a fair cut for doing this, lass, don’t worry.”

  Six hundred? Damn… That’s more than I would have guessed.

  “Method?”

  “Up to you. So long as nobody gets killed.”

  “Right… Bad for business...”

  “You’ve got a silver tongue and a fair bit of wit, lass. I’m confident you’ll figure it out.”

  I stood up from my seat, brushing a bit of dirt off my tail.

  “Fine. I’ll do it,” I said. “Give me a day or two. I need to talk to some people.”                 

  Brynjolf nodded, walking away to the guild’s inner chamber. “You know where to find me when the job’s done.”

  And that was that. From lumber theft to debt collecting. I decided I was done with the Ratway for the rest of the evening. After a change of clothes, I made for the quickest exit – a secret entrance in Riften’s graveyard. The night was still young but the trip back from Cyrodiil left me tired. I actually missed the bed I had at the Bee and Barb. A drink and a good night’s sleep sounded pretty good. I wound my way to the inn through the city streets.

  How is Keerava tied up in this debt business? Dammit, she and Talen are already hard pressed! The other two deadbeats weren’t well-off either, though. Nobody was. The guild didn’t play favorites. They just took what they wanted from who they wanted to. It was all about power and money.

  I’d actually hoped that coming to Riften would put things the way they used to be. Turn the clock back two years. But these thieves weren’t the same. What was I expecting? You can’t just go and replace all the people you ever cared about. I could never find another Tsariba, or Mindil, or Livia, or even that bastard Barnaxi. I had something with them, a better life. I’d never get that back. It was high time I accepted the truth.

  Bersi and Haelga. Those two were going to get the short end of this stick. The caravan heist failed and I still had expenses to pay. I decided I’d get the money from them one way or another. But not from Keerava. Not Talen. They put a roof over my head after I’d lost everything. I owed them a debt, and I always repay my debts.

  I would find another way to get the money for them. Somehow.

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