All Maeva had to say about Calcelmo was that he could rot in Oblivion and be tortured by every Daedric Prince. The stubborn old man knew how to rub people the wrong way, that's all Maeva could say. Not only had he refused her the right to see his Falmer work—no matter how much she begged it of him—when she told him she needed a journal translated, he almost stole it from her because he wanted to study it. He was lucky he hadn't gotten his hand cut off!

Maeva had then been forced to sneak her way through his museum, passed the guards who weren't very aware of their surroundings, snuck by some hired mercenaries ready to kill her on sight, narrowly avoided dwemer traps of death, copied down the key to the translations, then jumped down a damned waterfall. By the Nine, it had been a long day.

Maeva was wet, cold, and near exhaustion, but there was no way she could stop to heal all of her complaints. It had taken her a whole day of nonstop riding to get to Markarth from Winterhold, and she would have to travel back. Her horse was not going to be very happy about it, but he had been faithful throughout her journey, the Breton didn't think he'd mind one more hard days travel.

But she was also taking into account a horse's feelings. She was going mad, Maeva was sure of it. She'd have to ask Karliah if there were any lasting side effects from that poison she had perfected.

"You ready for the ride back, stallion?" Maeva mumbled as she jumped onto the horse's back. He just nickered at her, because he was a beast and couldn't speak—she really needed to remember that—and he was made for this kind of thing.

With a silent click and a jab to the side, Maeva was off back through the snow and biting wind of North Skyrim, and she had to admit that she was missing Riften, and Riften was home.

For the first time in what seemed like years, the young Breton let her mind wander back to the Guild, and most importantly one person. One person who probably thought she was dead, if Mercer had indeed made it back to the Cistern, something she didn't doubt.

The bet they made before their departure flitted through her mind, making her slump her shoulders in sadness. When she finally made it back to him and cleared Karliah's name, Maeva would owe Brynjolf more than just gold. Maybe her heart would suffice for what had been done to him.

Maeva shook her head and couldn't help but smile under her mask. She was having talk of her heart and its feelings, was she? Besides that one conversation the Breton had had with Karliah so long ago, Maeva had never even thought of love and where it came into her life.

She'd always been a thief bouncing city to city, never even having much time for herself, as strange as it was to say. Who was she to settle down with someone when thieving had been her life, when thieving had been this love?

Well, maybe all she really needed was someone who understood the life she lived, or who thought the same way she did. Brynjolf was almost exactly like her and understood her like very many few people could. Maybe that was why she had let herself fall so quickly for him.

There were a lot of damn "maybes" in this thought. Nothing was for sure yet. At this point in time, Maeva's first concern was Gallus's journal and translating it before going after Mercer.

That name made her fists tighten on the reins and prod the horse on faster, who did it begrudgingly. Focus on the mission at hand, worry about the love life later.


Only a couple days had passed since Mercer's return to the Guild, and already he was walking around, feeling better but his face set in anger as his mind wandered. Some of his inferiors had tried to approach him, whether it be about his health or his job, but he pushed them away with angry words that usually came close to prodding a fight. No one was sure why he was acting the way he was, other than the fact that Karliah had gotten away, but after this happened more than once, they had all learned to just keep away from him.

While Mercer was in his own thoughts of anger, the second in command was lost in his own anger, depression, and agony. He barely let anyone through to talk to him, the only one usually being Delvin, but even he had trouble talking to him. But wasn't it warranted for him to act as so? He had lost someone so close to him that it was like losing himself in a way. He was warranted to lash out, or to sulk, or to drink.

All he wanted right now was Karliah's death, and with the failure that it had been before, he doubted justice would come to them soon. It was more than likely to happen another twenty five years from now, when the traitorous Dunmer died of natural causes. Brynjolf was fond of plotting her death, but even in his dreams it only came out in him dying the same way Maeva had—without a chance.

The first time Brynjolf had talked to anyone other than Delvin was when he had been trudging through the Cistern and had come across Mercer looking a little bit frantic, scurrying around and putting some things into a large bag. His curiosity getting the better of him, the Nord walked up to the still recovering man.

"Mercer what are you doing?"

The elder Breton seemed to jump a little bit at this, turning around to look Bryn in the eye. "I'm leaving for a little while. I'm going to try and find out more information on Karliah's new whereabouts. It will take a long time, but I think if I just immerse myself into the task, it can be done."

"Were you planning on telling anyone?" the Nord asked, offended. He had just come back from a close call at death and hadn't even thanked his friends for helping him, now he was leaving for Nocturnal knows how long without the slightest goodbye to anyone?

"Of course I was Bryn," he scoffed, waving the matter off, "I was going to go and find you as soon as I finished packing. You're my second in command, and with that and my departure, you're the senior member here. You're the one in charge of looking after them, though you've done it so well when I have neglected that part of my job."

"You were busy," the redhead defended, giving a small smile, "I'll miss you my friend. Have a safe journey."

"I will," the Breton nodded, pushing a book into his pack before closing it and head out of the Cistern. Brynjolf watched him the whole entire time until he was gone then sighed. He was in charge, huh? The man wasn't sure if he liked that or not. He had never been good at trying to fix mistakes that he or others caused, and that's what the head of the Guild was supposed to do. Brynjolf thought of himself more of a follower than a leader.

But this would only be for a little while. Once Mercer returned with more information on Karliah, the weight would be lifted off his shoulders and they could all enact their revenge again.


It was the first hour of the next day when Maeva arrived in Winterhold, her body shaking because of the cold and her eyes drooping from exhaustion. She been so focused on getting back here as quick as she could that when she had stopped, she had only given the horse some food and time to rest before she was off again. She had never done a thing for herself, and it was truly taking its toll on her.

But she was finally here, and the real mission could get started. Enthir could translate the journal and Karliah's name would be cleared in no time. Maeva would soon be home without having to worry about betrayal.

Maeva entered the inn as quietly as she could, trying not to disturb the other guests, and walked up to the keeper. Seeming to know who she was, the man motioned his head to the staircase behind him, signaling that's where she was to go. The Breton gave him a nod and moved her way around, so used to being sneaky that the door opened without a sound.

Both Enthir and Karliah were both in the cellar, looking over some books as they waited, but when they heard Maeva approaching, turned around.

"Back, eh? How was our friend Calcelmo?"

"Just as uncooperative as you said he would be," Maeva growled, thinking back on the very rude old man, "and it was almost impossible to get this, but I did it. This should help translate Gallus's journal."

"I'm curious as to how you managed to get this, but I don't think I want to know, so I won't ask," Enthir grumbled, taking the paper with the charcoal rubbed notes, "Anyway, let's take a look at this."

The elf went around to his table where he could splay the roll of paper and read the journal in the light. His eyes would move back and forth between the two, his mind processing how to read, and his brow furrowed in confusion.

"What? It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for months. It looks like he began to uncover what he calls an '…unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures'. Odd."

"Does the journal say where this so called wealth came from?" Karliah's accented voice asked.

"Yes," Enthir answered, going back through the journal, "Gallus seemed certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge."

"That bastard," Maeva whispered, "I bet he still did it, even up to this day."

"Anything else, Enthir? Anything about… the Nightingales?"

"Let me look," the man said softly, flipping through pages while looking at the paper on the table. He did this a few times before he finally seemed to find it.

"Yes, here it is. These pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales' although it doesn't go into great detail. Oh, wait. He also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher?"

"Shadows preserve us. So it's true…" Karliah gasped, sounding distressed.

"What's true Karliah?" Maeva asked, turning to look at her mentor, "What is the Twilight Sepulcher? What else has Mercer Frey done?"

"I can't talk of that now Maeva, I'm sorry," the Dunmer sighed. She turned to Enthir then. "Farewell, Enthir. Words can't express…"

"Then don't use words," the elf said with a smile, "But I do wish to have a word with your friend privately, if that's not too much to ask.

The women exchanged a glance then Karliah nodded her head. "Alright. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

Enthir waited until the door shut behind the thief before he said a word. "Listen, all I want is the truth to be revealed to the Guild. They respected Karliah, and she deserves better. Do whatever you can and I'd consider it a personal favor."

"I promise you I will clear her name Enthir. I want this just as bad as you do. She will no longer have to hide from her family. Thank you."

He nodded then and turned his back, signaling silently for her to be off. Maeva took the action and went upstairs, coming to Karliah's side.

"I think we should rest before heading back to Riften."

"I agree with that idea," the Breton woman said, letting the exhaustion seep into her voice.

Karliah escorted her friend to the room that she had bought, the large bed room enough for both of them. She sat on one side and patted the seat next to her. When Maeva was sitting, Karliah started to speak.

"You've come this far, I think you should know the secrets behind the Nightingales. The Twilight Sepulcher is the temple of Nocturnal. It's what the Nightingales are sworn to protect with their lives."

"Why does a temple need that kind of protection?"

"Everything that represents Nocturnal's influence is contained within the walls of the Sepulcher. Now it seems Mercer's broken his oath with Nocturnal and defiled the very thing he swore to protect. I know this doesn't answer everything, but it's all that I can tell you right now. I just need you to trust me."

Maeva placed her gloved hand on Karliah's and looked into her deep purple eyes. "I've always trusted you with my life, whether you were Satha or Karliah. Nothing will ever waver my trust in you."

With a relieved smile, Karliah leaned in and hugged the smaller Breton, whispering her thanks into the younger woman's ear. With that, they both went to rest and waited for the coming morning.


A/N: Sorry for not updating when I was supposed to! I was having a video game day with my sister, and I had to have some time to write my other stories. Hope this chapter makes up for it! Reviews :D?