Chapter 5

Riviere burst through the wooden door at the outer edge of the large circular room and proceeded to stride across the right side of the Ragged Flagon, home of the Skyrim chapter of the Thieves' Guild, and the place where Riviere called home. A tall, fair haired, muscular man stood by the short ramp up beside a large stack of crates as Riviere walked up.

"Hey, where have you-" he began.

"Sorry, Dirge, can't talk," Riviere responded as she walked straight past the large man and continued through to the bar area at the back of the room. There were several other people seated at various tables around the bar: Delvin Mallory, a bald headed Breton, and Vex, a feisty blonde Imperial, were seated together at one. At a barstool sat a Redguard woman by the name of Tonilia who was chatting to the bartender. When Riviere rounded the corner, the bartender immediately called out to her.

"Well, if it isn't Brynjolf's little protégé," he called with a smirk. "Been wondering where you'd run off to…"

The rest of the people turned and looked at the girl with looks of surprise, contempt, or even a little bit of relief.

"Vekel, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I really need to speak to Brynjolf," Riviere replied. "Where is he?"

The Breton, Delvin, turned around in his seat. "He should be out back, with Mercer. Hey, are you alright, love?" he queried with an air of concern in his voice. "Did somethin' happen?"

"I'm fine, Delvin," Riviere forced a smile as she headed towards the passageway beyond the bar. "I'll tell you later. But I have something important to speak to Bryn about." With a nod to the rest of the people seated around the Flagon, Riviere wandered out into the passageway. Behind her, the bar patrons sat quietly thinking for a moment until the near silence was broken by a soft thump and a yelp from the bartender.

"Ow! Hey, what was that for?" Vekel complained as he rubbed his arm, looking at the Reguard woman who had just slapped him.

"Don't be so rude to the kid!" Tonilia scolded. "You've always been like that for, what, four years now? I don't see what your problem is at the best of times, but couldn't you see there was something wrong?!"

"Well, I-" the bartender stammered sheepishly.

"Just leave her alone, alright?" Tonilia asked.

"Yes, dear…" sighed Vekel as he went back to tending his bar. Vex, the Imperial woman seated beside Delvin, let out a snort of amusement.

"You two are just adorable!" Vex grinned.

"Oh shut up," snapped Tonilia.

"Yes, ma'am."

"BRYNJOLF!" Riviere yelled across the cistern. Two men, both standing beside a wooden desk in front of a series of shelves, looked towards the sound of the girl's voice. The man on the left, a tall, strongly built Nord with shoulder length auburn hair, put down the pieces of paper that were in his hand before he moved quickly towards Riviere, taking her in a tight embrace as soon as she was near enough.

"Whoah! Easy there!" squealed the girl who had quite literally been picked up off her feet.

"Where the hell have you been, lass?!" Brynjolf demanded as he let go of Riviere. "You were gone for days, no one knew where!"

"Well, I was supposed to be doing a job for Mercer, but something… happened…" Riviere looked behind Brynjolf to the man still standing by the desk, a man who was a fair few years older than most of the others around. Like Delvin out by the bar, he was Breton, though his head supported a considerably larger amount of hair, despite the fact that it was greying all over. As she waved a quick greeting to the older man, thought she detected an odd expression on his face, an expression of surprise and shock mixed with what looked almost like disappointment. But that strange countenance soon faded into an odd kind of concern, almost as if it was being forced.

Odd… thought Riviere.

"Welcome back," the man by the desk said. "You were gone for quite a while. I hope that means you finished that job I gave you…"

"Actually, Mercer," began Riviere. "About that…"

"Of course you didn't. I should have known," sighed Mercer. "I knew I should have sent someone with more experience. And talent."

At that remark, Riviere clenched her fists beside her body and glared furiously at the Mercer.

"Hey!" she objected. She was about to defend herself verbally when Brynjolf gently laid a hand on her shoulder.

"That's enough, you two," he declared, though his eyes were trained angrily on the older Breton. He looked down at Riviere. "Now, you wanted to talk to me, lass?"

"Yes, I do," Riviere replied, still glaring at Mercer. "But I need a drink."

"Well, let's go sit down in the Flagon and we can talk, alright?" Brynjolf

Riviere nodded and turned back towards the passageway between the Cistern and the bar.

Brynjolf turned to Mercer. "I'll be back. Boss."

"Yes, well, you two go have a nice little reunion while I do your work for you…"

"I won't be too long, Mercer. But it's not as if the Guild is going to completely dissolve into Oblivion in the next hour or so."

With a nod, Brynjolf turned to follow Riviere to the bar. Mercer stared after him, a crooked smile appearing on his lined face before he went back to glancing over the pile of papers on his desk.

"Wait, WHAT?!" Brynjolf exclaimed, nearly choking on his mouthful of mead.

"I know, right? What the hell the Thalmor thought they were doing in Rorikstead is beyond me… But they were there nonetheless." Riviere took a drink from her own mead bottle, followed by a bite of sweetroll. "Anyway, I was following Mercer's instructions, and waiting in Frostfruit Inn like he said. But instead of that contact of his showing up, a Thalmor patrol decided to stop in for a drink. Or so I thought…" Riviere took another swig of mead. "As soon as I saw them, I ducked my head down and waited for them to pass me. I then stood up as quietly as I could and made my way to the door. When I got outside, I made a run for it. But I didn't get very far before they somehow found me and took me prisoner… I was sure they hadn't seen me, but apparently they did. Which either means that I am somehow out of practice at evading detection, or that they were looking for me, but that can't be right."

"No, that isn't right…" frowned Brynjolf. "You've been covering your tracks for years, and not once did they come after you until now."

"That's what I thought. I mean, how would they even know where to find me? I was halfway across Skyrim, working a job, for Madgod's sake…"

"This is all very peculiar," Brynjolf agreed. "But now for the most important question, lass. Are you alright?" His sage-green eyes looked anxiously at the young Imperial's face, which relaxed into an expression of peaceful happiness.

"I will be, Bryn," Riviere assured her friend. "And, amazingly, it wasn't all bad. If this hadn't happened, I wouldn't have met this really nice young Imperial soldier who-"

"You met a boy, didn't you lass…" Brynjolf rolled his eyes.

"Hey!" she protested, somewhat louder than she had anticipated as she thumped the table with her right fist. She then began to chuckle softly, thankful that the rest of the bar's patrons had either left or were too far away and had appeared not to have heard anything. "You're sounding like my Dad again," she continued. "Besides, he's a total sweetheart! That and he's the one who let me out of the cell at Helgen and then escorted me to safety. I owe him my life."

"Well," countered Brynjolf. "Perhaps I had better pay the lad a visit…"

"Brynjolf. No. Don't go scaring my potential friends away! That's just mean!"

"I meant to say thanks for saving you!"

"No, you meant to go interrogate him and assess his intentions. Just like the last time I said I made a friend with that Dunmer in Windhelm, and you scared him so much that he wouldn't talk to me again!"

"I said I was sorry," shrugged Brynjolf.

"I know, and I'm over that now. But please please please promise me that you won't go and interrogate him. Please?"

"Fine. I promise I won't scare your friend. But will you at least tell me his name?"

Riviere looked suspiciously at her red haired friend. "Why?"

"Because," Brynjolf answered, "Now that you've told me all about your new hero, I'm curious. And while I promise not to scare him off, I would still like to thank him."

Riviere sighed. "Fine. But you swear on your life that you will not interrogate him? Deal?" She extended her hand towards her friend.

"Aye, lass," Brynjolf replied as he shook Riviere's hand.

"Good. His name is Hadvar, and he's a legionnaire."

"Well, of all the men to take a liking to, I suppose an Imperial soldier is as smart a choice as any…"

"Bryn, really?" retorted the girl. "I met him a day ago, and we barely know anything beyond each other's names. So don't look at me like that!"

"Ahem…" Delvin Mallory emerged from the hallway and seated himself beside Riviere at the table. "Hate to intrude on such an intriguing conversation, but Mercer's gettin' very impatient." He looked at Brynjolf. "For all of our sakes, I might advise that you get back to whatever it is he wanted you to be doin'." Delvin then turned to Riviere and put a hand on her shoulder. "Not that it's more important than you, love. Not to us. But Mercer's, well, Mercer…"

"Ah, right," remembered Brynjolf. "I had probably better get back to work. Delvin, you keep Riva company."

"Sure thing," Delvin replied.

Brynjolf took one final mouthful of mead. He smiled apologetically at Riviere. "Sorry, lass. But apparently I have important business to attend to."