It was eerily quiet that night. Only two figures dashed through the daunting darkness. Sarila and Kharjo made their way to the lower levels of Riften. They crossed a small board over the canal to get to the Ratway entrance. Before the duo entered Sarila turned to Kharjo. "Here's the plan. Keep quiet, and if you suspect you've been detected, don't hesitate to put them down." Sarila notified her companion, who nodded in acknowledgement. Slowly, she pulled the metal knob of the door and entered the darkness of the Ratway with her new friend.
Sarila felt the humid air of the sewers caress her skin. She shook off any disgust she felt and snuck into the halls. She grew more and more nervous with each step she took. Sarila wasn't the strong, warrior type. In fact, she had never directly killed a person, not even a thief or bandit. She was able to hold her own in a small fight, but with no more than two people against her. Sarila mainly used her surrounding environment to her advantage, like hiding behind rocks, climbing up trees, or dashing away from any threat in large, open spaces. In the Ratway, there were few places to hide behind, there were no ledges or anything she could climb, and the tunnels seemed to be getting smaller and smaller.
Kharjo, however, was very tough, and could easily kill any threat if he tried. One perfect strike from Kharjo's sword could fatally wound or even kill an attacker on the spot. He was not quick, small, or agile like Sarila, though, and would have to find other means of safety in close scrapes.
Sarila was walking alongside the wall of the Ratway when she heard a slight growl very close by. Kharjo did not seem to hear it, and continued walking. "Kharjo! Quick! Get back!" Sarila hissed. Kharjo's eyes widened in surprise as he ducked behind the wall, just as the nearby skeever turned its head in their direction. The furry fiend sniffed the air a few times and continued about its merry way, failing to detect Sarila and Kharjo.
Sarila unsheathed her ebony dagger, snuck up behind the skeever, and quickly plunged her weapon into the ratlike creature's skull and pulled it out all in one movement. "Excellent work." Kharjo praised. "Now to keep an eye out for more of those things…and people, too." Sarila murmured.
Thankfully, their travel in the Ratway had been quick and simple. The duo approached the door next to the sign that read "The Ragged Flagon." Sarila chuckled. "Sounds like some kind of tavern. Interesting façade choice." Sarila noted.
Sarila told Kharjo to head back up to the Inn and keep an eye on Lyvette. "Take care, and do be careful. This one does not want one of his only friends to perish." Kharjo warned. Sarila slowly and quietly opened the door to the Flagon. She had heard laughter and voices of several men. One of them she had immediately recognized as Brynjolf, due to his unmistakable accent.
"You're kiddin' yourself, Bryn. You remember what happened to those other protégés you rounded up? Gone. Done. Finished." Someone laughed. "Yeah, and that one guy…what was his name…Druvyen? The bloodstains are still a permanent part of that wall, Brynjolf!" Another person joked. "What makes you think this new one is so special? She can't be better than me, that's for sure." A snooty woman sneered. "In fact, she's probably lying dead in the Ratway right now." The same voice added. Sarila then approached their area of conversation. "I don't think I'm dead. Do I seem dead to you?" Sarila grinned in accomplishment. "Actually, you do look like something that crawled out of the graveyard up there…so you actually do seem dead to me." The snooty woman grumbled. "Say that again and I'll show you who's dead." Sarila glared at the woman with her violet eyes. Her eyes darted to Brynjolf when he began speaking. "Well, well, lass. Color me impressed. You made it all the way down here, and you're still in one piece." He acknowledged, clearly impressed. "Heh, thanks! I wasn't really aware there was going to be a welcoming committee waiting for me in the Ratway, though." Sarila joked, earning a little bit of laughter from the thieves. Sarila looked around the Ragged Flagon. "This place is really neat. It actually almost looks like a genuine tavern!" Sarila complimented. "It is a genuine tavern!" A man with a broom and an apron glared at her intensely. "Oops…sorry…" Sarila trailed off, embarrassed. "Easy, lass. Vekel's a bit overly-defensive of this place. He didn't mean to upset you." Brynjolf reassured.
"Now, let's get down to business. I have a final test for you. It should be no trouble for you, seeing your skill so far. There are some deadbeats who owe our organization some serious coin, and they've decided not to pay. I need you to collect their debts. Just one more rule, and it is of utmost importance. Don't. Kill. Anybody." Brynjolf sternly commanded. Sarila nodded in agreement. "Just tell me who they are, and I'll be back with the debts." Sarila eagerly urged him. "The people who owe us are Keerava, Haelga, and Bersi Honey-Hand. They're all very stubborn, so you have your work cut out for you. Good luck." Brynjolf informed her as she was going out the door.