[A/N] Hello dear readers and welcome to my first (and hopefully not last) fanfiction. I am just starting out, so any and all criticism and/or feedback will be extremely helpful for me to allow me to improve my writing. Big thank you to BrunetteAuthorette99 for editing and encouraging me in my writing endeavour.

Obligatory Disclaimer: I don't own the copyright to the Elder Scrolls Universe or the characters within. I do own my OCs etc.


Prologue: You Never Should've Come Here

It was the dead of night when the bandits slipped over the eastern wall of Whiterun. There were four of them, dressed in cloaks that hid their faces. Taking care to avoid the guards, they made for the central marketplace in a single file line, the last and largest one dragging a sack behind him. The stalls of the marketplace and the dark streets of Whiterun were silent; there wasn't a guard in sight. The only noise came from a lone Cyrodilic owl perched upon the roof of the Bannered Mare.

One of the bandits smiled. "Seems like our friend has a good eye for where the guards are," he muttered quietly.

The foremost bandit took out a deer pelt pouch, rifled through it, and fished out a small iron key from its depths. He crept to the door of Belethor's General Goods and fit the key into the lock. With a swift turn of the key, the door swung open with a quiet creak and the bandits slipped inside.

In the murky blackness of the darkened shop, Belethor woke with a start from his slumped position on his counter. He stayed stock still for a moment, before mustering his courage.

"Who's there?" he called into the darkness, trying to hide the quaver in his voice as he reached for the steel dagger in his belt.

"Go for that blade, and we'll both regret it," the bandit leader replied in an even tone edging on amusement. "Relax Bel, it's me, Agryn."

Belethor breathed a sigh of relief and wiped the nervous sweat from his forehead. "You had me scared there," he remarked and, finding a torch, proceeded to light it, illuminating the room with a yellow glow.

He motioned to the rest of the bandits. "Who're these fellows?"

Agryn pulled back his hood, and motioned for the others to do the same. He had light brown hair and the same piercing brown eyes and wide nose as Belethor's. In fact, it would be difficult to tell them apart, save for the fact that Agryn had a scar running from the middle of his brow down to the side of his jawline.

The bandit leader pointed to the nearest one, a hulking, brute of a Nord with a bald head, a thick, braided black beard, a face like the side of a mountain, and more scars than could be counted in a lifetime. "This is Wilgunn, my second in command, and our strong man in case things go wrong." Wilgunn grunted in confirmation and made a motion with his face that could be considered a smile with some heavy use of imagination.

Agryn moved on, Indicating a short, pudgy dark elf with a long thin nose, square chin, and characteristic red Dunmer eyes. He looked young, but his face was marred by premature frown lines. "is Van – Vaniki – Vanikim –" Agryn fumbled as he struggled to pronounce the name.

"Vanikimar," the dark elf rasped, sending a chill down Belethor's spine.

"Right," Agryn cut in, "What he said. He's our mage."

Vanikimar scowled at Agryn, and Belethor shivered; there was something unsettling about the dark elf. "Don't let his looks fool you; he is wonderful at knitting," He continued blithely.

A hiss escaped Vanikimar's throat, and the bandit leader glanced over and saw the Dunmer's scowl. "And magic, especially magic," Agryn finished.

"And this is our newest addition, Cyllandra; Bosmer thief extraordinaire," he said, indicating a tall, female Bosmer with bright red hair and light green eyes.

Belethor gave a tight smile. "This is all well and good," he said dryly, "but you are hardly here for a courtesy call. What do you want?"

"Wilgunn," Agryn said sharply, suddenly all business.

Wilgunn hefted the sack that had previously sat unnoticed by Belethor on the floor onto the counter, and then stepped back. "Keep this hidden for three days," Agryn continued. "You will be visited by a Justiciar, and you are to give this to him or her. Simplicity itself."

"I have an item that I give to the Thalmor: what's the catch?" Belethor inquired.

"The catch is that what you are giving to the Justiciar is not an 'it,' 'it' is a 'he.'"

Belethor froze. "You're giving people to the Thalmor?"

Agryn shrugged. "It pays the taxes"

"You don't pay taxes."

"If I did, this would be paying them."

"You do realize this poses a substantial risk to me? What if he escapes?" Belethor asked slowly.

Agryn smiled, and produced form one of his numerous pockets an impossibly large bag and dropping it onto the counter with a loud clanging. "Ten thousand septims," he said, making eye contact with Belethor.

"And besides, he won't escape. He is tied up nice and tight and is firmly gagged."

Belethor was conflicted. On one hand the money would be nice, but on the other hand... if he was found out it would ruin him. He would be imprisoned, his items would seized by the Jarl, and his shop would be sold to another merchant looking to make a living. Everything he had worked for would be gone, and when he was released, he would have nothing, that's what had happened to Brenuin, the former owner of what later became the Drunken Huntsman. However, it just was three days, and nothing would resurface about him doing this, because if the Thalmor get you, you disappear. A bead of sweat trickled down his face.

"Easiest money you'll ever make," said Agryn. "Probably more coin than you'll see in a year otherwise. I'm sure other shopkeepers would accept that money, if you're not willing."

Belethor relented. "Fine. I'll do it. You are quite convincing. I wonder why you didn't go into the merchant's trade?"

"Bandits and pawnbrokers they're the same thing. They're questionable, disliked, and they want your money. No difference, really. No offense."

Belethor just rolled his eyes, his brother was annoying sometimes.

"Honestly, I'd love to stay and talk, but we have things to do" Agryn said, and him, and his merry band of bandits left in a hurry, before Belethor had a chance to reconsider.

The sack moaned and shifted. He stared at the sack as the torchlight began to fail. It was going to be a long three days.


[A/N] Thank you for reading, and again, it would be totally awesome if you left your reviews, etc. As likely I will update faster if I know that people are actually going to read and (hopefully) enjoy my writing.