"Easy enough" Turned out to be "Fight a thousand lunatics and ruffians that make you seem wealthy in comparison". I had never been much of a fighter. By that, I meant that I had never been good at fighting. I was willing to fight just about anything. I had fought many things, but I usually lost. The fact that these opponents had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, that they didn't seem to feel pain, and that they were completely wet was enough motivation for me to get away quickly. I pushed open the door to what I hoped was the ragged flagon.

Inside it was, just as I feared, wet.

"I'm telling you, this one's different"

"You, Vex, Mercer, you're all part of a dying breed"

I followed the path around the grimy water to the bar. I tried not to flinch under the gaze of the enormous bouncer as I scurried over to Brynjolf, who had swapped his fine clothes for a set of intricate looking leather armor, covered in pouches and belts.

"Then what do you call that?" he said, jerking his chin towards me. He turned in the stool to face me. "Didn't think I'd be seeing you again"

"You obviously did, I'm different" Did he really not notice me come in? "Besides, getting here was easy"

He smiled. "Reliable and headstrong? You're turning out to be quite the catch".

"I'm only here for the gold" I said flatly, crossing my arms.

"Well, it turns out that I have a job for you right now".

I leaned forward.

"Not like your work last time. There's some shopkeepers that owe us money and have decided not to pay. You're to go get the gold" He handed me a list of names. "I don't care what you do but I don't want to hear about any killings, got it?"

I nodded, turning around, not looking forward to having to navigate the ratway again.

"You can tell Brynjolf that he won't be seeing a single rusty septim from me"

I crossed my hands behind my back, pouting a little, but I nodded. The other shopkeepers hadn't been this difficult, but I knew how to get him. "I understand…" I sighed, looking around the shop. Bersi Honey-Hand was being less than generous with his 'handouts'. "He's not gonna be happy with me but I guess that's not your fault" I sighed, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.

He relaxed against the wall. "You seem like a good kid. Take my advice, get out of there as soon as you can. No good will come from being a part of the beggars' guild"

"I think you'd be a bit more willing to pay if we were the beggars guild" I said with a smile, eliciting a laugh.

"Is there anything I can do for you while you're here?"

I narrowed my eyes. His guard was down. I walked over to the dwarven urn on the shelf, the one his wife told me about.

"Is this for sale?"

"Ah- no, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't-"

I ran a hand over it, my smile turning wicked. "Then I guess it wouldn't hurt to lose it"

"What- no it's very-"

I picked it up. "Oh- wow, this is really heavy"

"If you would just set that-" He was moving around the counter now.

"Not another move, Bersi"

He froze, face pale, eyes glued to the urn.

"The money"

His eyes flicked up to me. "You-"

"Better hurry. I don't know how much longer I can hold it"

"Ah- I think I have some coin, a hundred was it?" He filled the pouch quickly. "Now please"

I set the urn back in its place, holding my hand out for the coin.

He pulled it back. "I knew you were bluffing. Sweet girl like you wouldn't do that to-"

His words were cut off by the sound of shattering porcelain. I used the shock to snatch the coin away, pausing at the door. "Your wife will thank me".

I stood outside the door to the ratway, holding the three coin purses in my hand. I could leave now. Simply disappear. I was four hundred septims richer than I was yesterday, four hundred septims richer than I had been in a long time. With this money I might even be able to get to Daggerfall, see if my mother, if I, had any remaining family. Besides, four hundred septims in one day was lucky, and I tried not to push my luck.

"I heard you were quite crafty in dealing with them" Brynjolf said when I finally made the decision to return.

I shrugged, exchanging my three hundred for one hundred had been hard, but my gut told me to. My gut was usually right.

"I guess it's time for you to meet the boss".

"Good, you're finally here" The guildmaster, Mercer Frey, said, snapping a book shut.

I looked up at him. He certainly didn't fit the image of what 'guild master' inspired in me. I had thought it would be some old man with white hair and leathery skin, maybe even blind, but a legend. Or perhaps some sort of prodigy, younger, with rugged and chiseled features. Mercer didn't fit either of those. He was rugged, sure, but more in a 'I lost a fight' way than a 'I fought fifty saber cats with nothing but a rusty dagger and didn't even break a sweat' kind of way. Still, his eyes were a nice shade of green and I could tell he was at least fit beneath his armor. His hair was only beginning to gray. All in all, I probably wouldn't have noticed him in a crowd, but then again, that was probably the point.

I didn't pay much attention to whatever speech he was giving. I was a bit distracted by water dripping from the ceiling. His voice was also a little nasally and rough. I did make one comment about how I didn't think that thieves should have rules. I could have sworn he smirked right before berating me.

"Do I make myself clear?" He growled.

"Yes Sir" I said in my best impression of an imperial soldier.

The guildmaster rolled his eyes and turned away.

"I'd say that went well"

I turned to Brynjolf. "He seems grumpy"

The nord chuckled. "Don't let him hear you say that. You can go see Tonilia for your armor, you're one of us now. You seem competent enough but training will still do you some good. We can start tomorrow. Oh, and that bed and chest are yours" He pointed across the room.