'There's not much more I can do here, Bryn,' replied Tonilia. 'That potion the Elf gave you did blasted miracles on your bone. Can't fathom where he learned that.'
'He's got many aces up his sleeve,' commented old Delvin from his table, sipping at some mead.
'Thanks for pointing that out Delvin. I hadn't noticed,' she replied, sardonic. 'I guess he only yelled at us creating blue hurricanes that killed two of our pals, took on six people by himself and shot an arrow into a flying body. I've seen that a hundred times.'
'Better you don't jest 'bout him, Ton. He's, ah… Oh, here you are, Azrael.'
Tonilia turned her head around and saw the Assassin walking on the wooden bridge just two meters away from her. She had heard some muffled thuds, but she never would have thought it was him. That Elf was very silent, and that kept ringing in her mind as she looked at him walking closely and stealing an amused glance at her.
'Thanks for the compliments,' he said, lapidary. 'Brynjolf, got your things.'
'So,' said the man, raising both eyebrows in a satisfied look. 'Job's done and you even brought the coin. Best of all you did it clean. I like that. Dumping bodies and keeping the guards quiet can be expensive.'
'You'll need to do neither,' said Azrael, putting a fat purse on the table.
'Well done, lad. Judging from how well you've handled those shopkeepers, I'd say you've done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit.'
'Well, the faster I get out of here, the better. Point me to whatever you need, and I'll do that.'
'That's the spirit!' Brynjolf encouraged him. 'Larceny's is in your blood. The telltale sign of a practiced thief. I think you'll do more than just repay your debt while around here.'
'Listen, Bryn, one thing…'
'What's on your mind?'
'The round of bad luck your organization, or Thieves Guild, has had… What about that?'
'If you really want to get out of the Guild influence in little time, that will not be your problem. If you do what we tell you to do, and do it well, the Guild might be better by the time you leave.'
'Fine, I guess.'
'Good. Now, since you're in a hurry, how about following me and I'll show you what we're all about?'
Brynjolf struggled to get up, but didn't ask for any help. Azrael, immediately empathizing, didn't offer him any. The thief just stood up and smiled wearily at him. The Assassin, at that point only, walked closer to him and threw the man's arm over his shoulders. Slowly but steadily, Brynjolf started limping forward.
'That way, lad.'
'Doesn't this remind you of something? Just from five hours ago?'
'It does, lad. It really does.'
The thief and the Assassin laughed together. Vex and Tonilia stole quick glances at them, half amazed and half irritated by the merry behavior of their second in command and their new temporary friend. The two had almost killed each other not half a day ago, and now there were laughing about. Lunatics. Vex in particular found that trait especially annoying in men, and yet strangely welcome and warming. She had seen her fair share of winters on her shoulders, but she had never been with a man.
Meanwhile Brynjolf had taken the key from his pocket and unlocked the door that led to the Cistern. He opened it wide with a little help from the Elf, and then they both set foot in the hall, with the same circular pool that the Ragged Flagon also had. There were a lot of people walking by, all donning the Thieves Guild armor. Out of all of them, only Etienne waved briefly at him. Azrael replied with a slight nod. The yellow light that got through the grate on the ceiling dyed all things of a strange milky tint.
'Aedra and Daedra, good thing I didn't try to kill all the people in the other room,' whispered Azrael.
'Why is that?'
'Because there was another hefty amount here. I could have killed them, but… You know, none of us is exactly invulnerable. Certainly not me.'
'How can I argue with that?' the man tittered. 'Anyway, now we'll meet with Mercer and receive further instruction. Just don't drop my arm all of a sudden.'
'Don't you worry. By the way, you talk to that idiot. I'd sooner drown in one of your pools here than have business with him.'
'Mercer!' called out Brynjolf, still smiling weakly at the blunt sincerity of the Dunmer. 'The new recruit is ready to receive further orders.'
'Oh, finally,' murmured Mercer, in his unpleasant tone. 'Before we continue, murderer, I want to make things perfectly clear. If you play by the rules, you'll walk away alive. You break those rules and you'll neck will answer for it. No debates, no discussions. You'll do what we say, when we say it. Do I make myself clear?'
'Yes, your eminence,' sneered the Dunmer. Brynjolf ate right back the snigger that got to his mouth. That lad made him cry with laughter at times. Mercer just overlooked the insolence.
'Good, then I think it's time to put your expertise to the test.'
Brynjolf's face went darker all of a sudden.
'Wait a minute… You're not truly talking about Goldenglow, are you? Even our little Vex couldn't get in.'
'You claim this killer posses an aptitude for our line of work, and old Delvin says it's worth Lark and Drak both. So, let him prove it. I'll not use him for lower priority assignment. Goldenglow Estate is critically important to one of our largest clients,' he continued, now looking at the Assassin. 'However, the owner has suddenly decided to take matters into his own hands and shut us out. He needs to be taught a lesson. Brynjolf will provide you with the details.'
'Mercer, aren't you forgetting something?' said Brynjolf.
'Hm… Oh yes,' grumbled the man. 'As long as you need to repay your debt, you're in. Welcome to the Thieves Guild.'
'You can leave me here, lad.'
'Good. See you, Bryn.'
Azrael walked off, leaving Brynjolf alone on a chair in the Ragged Flagon. Old Delvin immediately approached the colleague and sat at his table. The Assassin had to talk to another person before he could depart. He couldn't say "hi" before the fair-haired thief began her lecture.
'Before we begin,' said Vex, bossily, 'I want to make two things perfectly clear: One, I'm the best infiltrator this rathole of a Guild's got, so if you think you're here to replace me, you're dead wrong. And two, you follow my lead and do exactly as I say. No question, no excuses.'
'Yes, your eminence number two.'
'Excuse me?' snapped the woman.
Thieves have developed a nasty allergy to sarcasm these days… Azrael said to himself, suppressing a quiet laugh.
'Yes, Vex. It's all clear. Just spare me your lecture. I'll only be here for half a month at most.'
'In that case, we understand each other perfectly,' she replied, surprisingly more courteous all of a sudden. 'Now… It's time to get your feet wet and I don't waste a lot of time talking about anything but business.'
'The more we discuss business, the faster I'm out of this crumbling ruin. What sort of business?'
'I'm not going to sugarcoat it for you. We're in a bad way down here. For the time you'll be here, you'll help us get out of it.'
'And how did you manage to drop this low?'
'Who knows…' she sighed. Azrael had been surprised by how her mood became increasingly better as she talked. Not that she was friendly in any way, but enough not to be irritating. 'Many have tried to figure it out. Old Delvin thinks it's some kind of curse. I think he's crazy. If you want my opinion, I think it's just plain old bad luck.'
'Well, that was interesting. Now, business. Goldenglow Estate. I need details.'
'Oh, they're sending you there? Be ready, or you'll be chopped like it's nothing.'
'Yeah, I heard you ran into trouble.'
'Hm… Yeah, I did,' she admitted. 'That Wood Elf's wit. He's a lot smarted than I expected. Can you believe that fetcher had more than tripled the guards? There must have been eight of them in there, plus the ones outside. It was like he was daring us to come and get him.'
'Details, Vex. Any specific obstacles, ways to get in unnoticed?'
'Well, there's and old sewer tunnel that dumps into the lake on the Northeast side of the island. That's how I slipped in there. Should be unguarded. That's all I know that could help you.'
'That will do. Thanks, Vex.'
'Good luck, even though it's run dry as of late.'
The expertise gained in previous assassination missions proved invaluable to Azrael as he crept into Goldenglow Estate. That place was locked up better than the Jarl's bedchambers, but even that amount of mercenaries couldn't patrol the whole extent of the lakeshore. The Assassin had swum there and used the sewer as Vex had suggested. Aside from a few skeevers there hadn't been that much trouble. The troubles had appeared inside, once the mercenaries noticed one of them missing. Troubles for the sellswords, definitely not for Azrael. Nobody had said anything against killing them.
Four of the mercenaries already lied lifeless on the main floor, while two more had just been dealt with in the upper one. One more leaned against the wall, facing a corner and mumbling quietly. A dagger reached his neck, and the stab cracked the first three vertebrae, killing the sellsword immediately and without even giving him the time to scream. Azrael knew that what he was searching for was in the basement, but he could not open it without the key. It could have been far beyond his ability in picking locks. He needed the key, and only Aringoth had it, according to what Brynjolf had told him.
So he went to Aringoth. Had he not given him the key of his own will, it would have been taken simply from him. Azrael trusted that it wouldn't have been necessary. He always trusted in the fact that you can get what you want more easily with a kind word and a blade to the throat than with just a kind word. Either way, he didn't plan to kill him. Brynjolf hadn't said anything about that, but if they needed the honey to keep coming, they also needed someone who could pay the workers and deal with them and that mysterious client Brynjolf had talked about. The Assassin, however, could not imagine who other than Maven Black-Briar, the greatest produced of mead in all of Skyrim, could want a steady supply of honey.
After a while of walking from the last corpse he arrived at the door of Aringoth's bedroom. He knocked, courteously. Professionals have standards.
'Anybody in?' he asked.
'Who goes there?' a Wood Elf's voice questioned back.
'Someone who wants the key to your safe. I can't open it by myself.'
'Are you… You're joking. How did you…? Guards! Bring this man out! He's not allowed here.'
'We're alone, Aringoth.'
'What… What do you mean? And where are they? I did not pay them to take strolls.'
'Well, you paid them for the risk of making a stroll in one specific place.'
'And where might that be?'
'The afterlife.'
The Dark Elf kicked the door and opened it wide. He entered the room, and immediately found a frightened Arningoth waiting for him with a bow drawn. The Bosmer released the shot as soon as he saw the Dunmer coming in, but the Assassin easily predicted the trajectory and ducked just low enough to avoid the tip of the projectile. He ran forward, and swung the Blade of Woe. The Bosmer parried with the elven bow he held, but the dagger cut through the moonstone and shattered the weapon.
Azrael gave the Elf a fist to the face, grabbed him by the neck and hurled him down violently.
'Always down to rough manners…' he sneered, searching the pockets of the fainted Bosmer.
Here's the key. What else? Let's look at his quiver. Good arrows. Orcish, quite deadly. Let's see how much can fit in here… he thought, while putting as many projectiles as he can in his quiver. He always kept a little spare space, and he had lost two arrows while making his way in. They broke while piercing the armor of the mercenaries. Five, six… Seven, perfect. Anything else? Not on your body, but this room looks filled with riches. I guess nobody will mind if I get a little extra from my trips.
The Assassin looked around, and his gaze rested for a bit on a strange statue. It was a quite big figurine of a bee. He took it and fastened it to his belt. Maybe someone in the Guild would have been interested in something like this. After a few more moments of robbing and looting, he got out of the room and went downstairs. The next objective was the basement. However, three mercenaries had entered the main floor to check with their mates. Unfortunately, they only found corpses. When the Assassin found them, they were quite upset already.
'A ghost! A ghost haunts this place!'
'What're you on about?' snapped his pal, less frightened but equally worried. 'A killer got through here. Move, might still catch him.'
'I'm out! I'm not getting back anytime soon!'
'Stop that! They paid you to guard this place, so let's bloody do it!'
Meanwhile the third of them had mysteriously vanished. They stopped arguing after a while, without really resolving anything, but turning around different corners for long enough to be picked off one by one. Nothing easier than killing someone from the shadow when you've got poorly illuminated corridors and rooms that form a labyrinth. It's enough to wait for someone behind the corner, and if you really hate using weapons you can even smash their faces against the wall. The Assassin resigned to that method only one time, before proceeding into the basement.
He went through the gate that led down. While descending he was deep in thought.
Another secret and criminal organization, joined by pure accident and that contains enough good people to keep me from eradicating it. History repeating itself. I guess there's nothing wrong with it, as long as Esbern is safe and Dragons don't shred Tamriel to smithereens in the next couple of weeks. Oh well, just do the job and do it well, and Bryn says. Let's tackle with these mercenaries and finish the job in the basement.
He turned around and looked in the first room, peaking from a corner. Two sellswords were there, one sitting and the other one standing and looking at his mate.
Speak of the devil…
There was some oil on the floor; that would have been the win condition. Azrael took one of the arrows he had taken from Aringoth, nocked it and released. The mercenary who showed him the back got hit in the calf, plainly exposed. The greave covered the front of the leg, the side that was supposed to take damage. But hitting when and where people are not expecting it is an assassin's specialty.
The sellsword howled in pain as the arrow hit his leg.
'Divines, what happened to you?' cried the other one, raising and stepping onto the oil.
Azrael freed his left hand and focused. Magicka ran through his arm, and a bright flame sparkled in his hands. He stretched his forearm, and the small blaze flared intensely. A stream of flames raged forward and touched the oil. The explosion was almost as bad as the barrels that had destroyed the Falkreath Sanctuary. The mercenaries got charred in their own armor, and dropped dead on the floor without further encouragement.
'Hey, what happened?' said a voice from a corridor on the right.
Azrael looked forward. There was a junction, with two doors. One led left and the other right. He needed to go towards the latter, if there was someone there. The door opened, and a worried warrior sprinted in the room, looking astonished at his two burned mates on the ground. He looked ahead, but saw nothing there.
'What happened to you?' he mumbled at the corpses.
A gloved hand covered his nose and mouth and gripped his neck. He couldn't breathe.
'I wanted some roast, but I cooked the wrong thing. I apologize,' said a voice from behind him.
The sellsword fainted as the last bit of air left his lungs. Azrael strengthened the grip, and after a moment the man's heart slowed, until it completely stopped. The Assassin put it on the ground, and without any more fuss continued along his route. He walked through a corridor, peaking at every corner. According to his observations, all the mercenaries in the building were dead, but it cost nothing to be a little bit surer. At the end of the corridor there was a flight of stairs, which led down in the room the Assassin had been looking for.
Fine, now the plundering begins. It's not that boring, actually.
Azrael grabbed the coin purse on the table, quickly picked the lock and grabbed the few things he found inside. Lastly, he took out the key Aringoth carried and opened the safe. Aside from a hefty amount of gold, he found a sheet of paper. He took a last glance into the safe to make sure he got everything, and then used the trapdoor on the side to return to the sewers. He knew that was there from the information he gathered. That sewer system had really helped him throughout the task.
'Hey, Limp Leg is missing. You seen him?'
'No. Wait… The beehives! They're burning!'
'What? How? Oblivion, man, run! We need to put out the fire!'
The two mercenaries ran to the hives. Two of them were blazing already, and a third one seemed to have been set alight as well. The island where the beehives were was quite long and far away from the others. The footbridges were stretched out, and once they got past them there was still some distance left to cover. The Assassin used it as much as he could, waiting patiently before sticking an arrow into the throat of one of them.
'Mara's Mercy!' cried the other, ducking behind one of the beehives. He saw where the arrow had come from, and tried to avoid the next. He crashed again something, guess what, and angry bees immediately started nipping at every bit of exposed skin he had. He started swaying and hurling around his arms. 'Damned bees! Stop bloody stinging me!'
A blade got stuck in between his shoulders.
'Come on, bees aren't that bad compared to daggers.'
Azrael looked at the burning beehives and sighed with satisfaction. The task was done; all had been executed to the best of both the Guild's expectations and his abilities. He walked towards the main gate, which he made sure was unguarded by the time he got out of the Estate. Mind you, he assured of it by dispatching of the poor soul that was sitting on the chair beside it.
As he walked out, he opened the sheet of paper that he found, and the title surprised him quite a lot. It was bill of sale. By how Brynjolf had talked to him about the Estate, it wasn't like Aringoth was going to sell it anytime soon. There was a little symbol on the top that looked like a sword with a small, black circle in the background. He kept on reading.
Aringoth,
This document acknowledges the sale
of Goldenglow Estate and all property,
asset and materials contained within.
Payment of the property has been made
in full by Gajul-Lei as an agent of behalf
of the buyer. All dealings with the Thieves
Guild is to cease immediately. To deter any
possible retribution for this act, you are to
take immediate steps to protect our assets
in any way you see fit. I think you'll find that
the Thieves Guild is far more bark than bite
and will likely avoid Goldenglow Estate rather
than thin their already dwindling numbers.
Good luck and may this be the start
to a long and lucrative partnership.
The Assassin sighed deeply.
"More bark than bite"… Yeah, until a random Dunmer sweeps in. No signature, no name of the buyer. Daedra, not another blasted mystery…
