Chapter 7
As expected, the normal, hardworking people of Riften aren't particularly fond of the Thieves Guild. In particular, the owner of the general store, Bersi, and the innkeeper, Keerava, seemed particularly distressed. Apparently some fellow who had arrived a few days before I did had been harassing their businesses on behalf of the Thieves Guild. It took some careful probing - I don't want them to know I intend to join the Guild, of all things - to establish who exactly could get me into the Guild itself.
Brynjolf, a red haired Nord - I wasn't even aware Nords could have red hair - who runs a stall in the market during the day.
And so, I'm discussing jewellery-making with an Argonian named Madesi. I can see Brynjolf's stall from the corner of my eye, and most of my attention is directed at trying to figure out the best way to approach him. The Nord is trying to sell some kind of "Falmer Blood Elixir" to an unfortunate passerby. I'm trying to be discreet, but if Brynjolf really is a person of power inside the Guild, he's likely to have already noticed me.
Madesi brings up the person who ran the - currently empty - stall opposite him, and how he had recently been arrested for being in possession of stolen goods. Madesi expresses that said person - I think his name was Brand-Shei - didn't appear to be the thieving type and may have been the victim of foul play. I suppose I'd be more concerned if I weren't actively trying to join the group who were, most likely, responsible.
I notice that whoever was talking to Brynjolf has finally moved on, and use this opportunity to approach the stall.
"What about you, lass? Do you have a man in your life in need of a miracle elixir?"
It takes quite a bit of my self control to not burst into laughter right then and there.
"May I ask what's in it?" Why do Nords have to be so tall; I have to arch my neck just to look him in the eyes.
"Nothing but the purest, genuine Falmer blood, only 20 septim for a taste, lass." He has a very interesting accent, and I can definitely see how people could get charmed by this man, but his promotional techniques are lacking. Anyone with even rudimentary knowledge of Alchemy should know that on its own, Falmer blood doesn't do very much.
"You know what would make you more money..," His eyes narrow, trying to figure out what exactly I'm getting at.
"If you bottled some kind of inexpensive draught of, for example's sake, crushed mountain flowers, and marketed that as your," - I raise my index and middle fingers, - "'Elixir', then you would have a lot more repeat customers; drinking the potion would make their bodies feel all tingly temporarily, which is all they need to believe that your concoction does what you say it does."
For several moments, we both say nothing. Brynjolf's arms are crossed, and he's sizing me up, weighing options in his mind. He takes a step closer, making sure that we aren't within earshot of any passersby.
"I happen to be part of an organisation that appreciates enterprising individuals." His voice is low, conspiratorial, far smoother than when he was peddling his wares, and not at all unpleasant.
"Shall we talk business, then?"