Azrael looked above him, at the suspicious holes in the ceiling. He slowly moved left, placed a hand on the doorknob and lowered it. He expected it to be locked, but the door opened without posing any kind of resistance. Meanwhile, after a short clinging, a hail of arrows got shot out of the holes. That explained the opened door in a very clear way. Mercer must have kept something very precious in that room to put all those traps to protect it. As soon as the rain of projectiles had stopped, the Assassin walked into the room and closed the door behind him. He didn't think more people would have gotten to that point with all their limbs still attached to their bodies, but he never took nothing for granted, mostly out of habit.

So, what do we have here? Papers, gold, gold jewels, a bowl filled with gold… And gems. "If you want to hide something, put it in plain sight" is a saying Mercer keeps at heart. Well, or not very since these things are in plain sight in the bottom of a trap-filled hole that smells like it hasn't been aired for decades. This is… A statue of the Grey Fox? Seriously? Suppose Delvin would like it. Here, a letter… Doesn't concern me. Ok, papers then.

Azrael looked at the sheet, and tried to understand something of it. There were maps, intricate, and a representation of a statue with crossed legs. A red gem was hand-drawing near it, and arrows connected it to more maps and writings, which were either too small or in a language Azrael's didn't know. Maybe it was some special Nord handwriting he had never see or given much attention to. Aside from that, the nature of the piece of paper was clear. It was some kind of plan, of which Brynjolf might have known more. Azrael wrapped it and fastened it to his belt. He casted one last glance around, just to be sure, and his eyes stopped on a display case which he had not given much attention as he entered. A mysterious ice blue glow came from under the opaque glass.

I think they can wait just a little bit more. This is no life or death situation, not yet, so I may as well check.

The Assassin grabbed two lockpicks and kneeled. His short thief career and his longer assassin one required that ability. While in the Guild he had further advanced that skill, mainly thanks to the short challenges with Vex and the slightly longer talks they had about jobs. Azrael had noticed that, for a person that supposedly doesn't talk about anything else than business, she did enjoy petty talk about jobs and techniques of robbery and burglary. The Assassin cleared his head and focused, noticing that the lock was very hard to pick. He had a vague idea of where the soft spot was, but had to be careful. He felt one of the two picks almost breaking, and he tried to finish before it snapped.

It worked.

The Dunmer opened the display case slowly, almost with reverence, and looked inside. He arched an eyebrow, and a cruel grin took shape on his lips.

Karliah, your blade might be good, but this one? By Mephala, this one is a sword fit for killing gods.

It had the distinctive design of a blade made of malachite, but this one wasn't dark green like those. It was light blue, the color of ice, and it seemed to be sublimating. Vapor was coming out of the case. The edges were smooth and sharp, the handle looked easy to grip. The Assassin grabbed the hilt and raised the weapon, looking at the long blade with satisfaction. At long last something that impressed him truly. That sword was really a sight to behold.

Happy with his discovery, the Assassin went further down. Brynjolf told him that there was an exit that led to the Ratway.

'Where did you get that sword, lad?'

'I'll tell you, eventually. Now, regarding Mercer…'

'We've scoured the town and I've spoken to every contact we have left,' Brynjolf explained, shaking his head. 'No sign of Mercer. Any luck on your end?'

'Found these.'

Azrael almost couldn't undo the wrap before Brynjolf spied the hand drawing of the statue with crossed legs and the red gem near it. He took the sheet away from the hands of the Assassin and stared at it in shock.

'Shor's beard! He's going after the Eyes of the Falmer? That was Gallus's pet project. If he gets his hands on them, you can be certain he'll be gone for good and set up for life.'

'I assume they're quite valuable.'

'More than you can possibly imagine.'

'I guess we'll have to stop him.'

'Agreed. He's taken everything the Guild has left, and to go after one of the last greatest heists is just an insult. I've spoken to Karliah, and made amends for how the Guild's treated her. Now she wishes to speak with both of us. Just…' he added, as Azrael was already leaving for the center of the Cistern where the Dark Elf awaited them. 'Just one last thing, lad. A welcome home present, or rather the completion of our previous deal. The guy you've been looking for, your Esbern, hides down in the Ratway Warrens. If you go further down there's an old room with holding cells. He's holed up there. He's been paying us good coin for no one to know about it.'

'Thanks,' replied the Assassin, but it was impossible to tell if he was being ironic or not. 'Either way, we've got another mess to resolve. As long as your men remain here to protect him from the Thalmor, I'll help you. I owe both you and Karliah that much.'

Brynjolf moved from Mercer's desk, which he had searched eagerly for clues, and went by the side of the Assassin as they walked towards Karliah, who stood in the middle of the Cistern. However, Brynjolf had one last thing to ask Azrael.

'What, lad? What do you owe me for?'

'I don't think you're quite able to understand, Bryn, but you've done something important for me. You've made me reevaluate myself and my abilities. Before I met you, I believed myself the lonely type whose fate will be being alone for eternity. You proved me wrong, on myself. You showed me that the same instinct that makes me good in one to one conversation is also something I can use to a larger scale. You awoke the dormant leader that slept within me. Or, as you say it, the Alpha Wolf instinct hat slept within me. I'll never be able to be the one who takes orders, but I have grown to be someone who can give orders to himself and to other people. I will be a loner, but I will also be a leader. I'll owe you forever for that.'

Brynjolf felt crushed. He did not understand people that confessed important things while emphasizing those with the tone of the voice. The result was that one remembered the feeling rather than the information that came with words. Azrael's voice had been glacial, maybe except the weak, ever-present sarcastic spark, that had turned into self-irony for that very brief monologue. He had said things that mean the world to Brynjolf and that carried an incredible emotional weight, but he had spoken them without a single hesitation. Worst thing was that Azrael was not done.

'Irrelevant as it may be coming from me, well done, Bryn.'

The magic words seemed to echo in the head of the man: "well done", the phrase Mercer had never told him. Deep inside him, his egotism brewed and whispered that if what happened was the necessary price to dispatch of Mercer and put Azrael in his place, it had been worth it. But there was no more time to think, Karliah was in front of them and already addressing him.

'Brynjolf, the time has come to decide Mercer's fate. Until a new Guild Master is chosen, the decision falls to you.'

'Aye, lass…' he answered. 'I've come to a decision: Mercer Frey tried to kill both of you, he betrayed the Guild, murdered Gallus and made us question our future. He needs to die.'

'We have to be very careful, Brynjolf,' Karliah warned him. 'Mercer is a Nightingale, an Agent of Nocturnal.'

'Then it's all true… everything I heard in the stories. The Nightingales, their allegiance to Nocturnal and the Twilight Sepulcher.'

Azrael narrowed his eyes and looked at both of them. It seemed that was common knowledge among the Guild, and he was the only one that knew nothing of it. Funny, but it seemed the story of the arrival of the Night Mother was playing out again. Mercer was Cicero, Karliah played Babette and Nocturnal could have very well played the Unholy Matron. The Assassin hadn't talked to her or anything, but the two had some things in common for sure; aside from being inhuman entities, obviously. He resigned to listen to Karliah's response, knowing it involved more mystery.

'Yes. That's why we need to prepare ourselves an meet Mercer on equal footing. Just outside of Riften, beyond the Southeast Gate is a small path cut up the mountainside. At the end of that path is a clearing and an old standing stone. I'd ask you both meet me there.'

'We'll be there,' Azrael assured her. 'You can go.'

'We could go there all together,' Brynjolf proposed, but Azrael shook his head.

'No. She needs some time alone.'

Karliah looked at the Assassin, gave him a grateful smirk and then turned back, going to the ladder that led outside. The two males were left by themselves as they looked at her walking further away from them. They exchanged glances and then turned towards one another.

'Do we go there together, lad?'

'Gladly. You need anything?'

'No, I'm fine. You?'

'Need to bring a couple of assets to old Delvin. Meet me just outside in a few minutes.'

'Now tell me where you got that sword. You didn't have that when you came here with Karliah.'

'Found it in the same room where Mercer kept his plans and some other stuff.'

'Ran into any trouble?'

'No.'

'And the boy that stood guard outside?'

'Eating dirt.'

Needless to say, Brynjolf liked those quick and right-to-the-point responses. No time wasted on explanation, and less on justifications or excuses. They both knew the job would have involved risks, and Brynjolf knew how to circumvent it. He said to him that he was allowed to kill anyone that posed resistance. A person works best when the environment suits them, and the permission to kill rendered the Assassin twice as fast. He dispatched of threats quickly, and he gained precious time by doing so. Not very in line with the Guild's style, but given the circumstances it had to be done. Brynjolf would have trusted no other with the mission of recovering the plans from Mercer's home. Had he sent anyone else, he would have felt guilty. He was sending them to a very difficult task. With Azrael… It was not the same. He could take care of himself better than Bryn could of him. Protecting him was redundant, and overprotecting him backfired terribly.

While the Dunmer had been away, he had talked for a long time to Karliah about him. He was waiting for his informers to come back, and he needed to do something to ease the tension. He went over and spoke to the she-Elf that he only saw as a child, and that seemed to haven't aged one day since. She was still the one Brynjolf remembered, although the signs of her twenty-five years spent fleeing were visible. Her voice was always tired, she talked about most things as if she was bored by them. This attitude vanished immediately as the subject of their conversation shifted on Azrael. Her violet eyes suddenly brightened up, and her shrill and faint voice returned exactly like the one Brynjolf remembered. They talked about how good of a companion he was and how effective as an agent. Karliah told Brynjolf the story of their encounter, their discussions and the bond that kept them close.

'We went from strangers, to allies, to recognizing our mutual status of siblings in blood, and then straight to friends,' she had explained. 'I didn't plan on it, but I couldn't help it. I drop all defenses while I'm with him. He just reminds me so much of Gallus…'

'Is there anything romantic between the two of you?' Brynjolf had inquired, curious.

'No,' replied Karliah, 'absolutely not. Gallus was similar to him in the effects, the ability to give orders and gain respect. But the means and goals… They are completely different. Gallus rarely joked, his solemn tone and serious expression were the things I loved of him. Azrael is different. He has a mind like Gallus never had. When met with something new, he doesn't face it head on. He studies it, understands it and then controls it or annihilates it. I assure you that, if he had been in Gallus' place, he wouldn't have waited to expose Mercer to the Guild. He would have trampled everything, kill him if need be, to save the Guild. Again, Gallus' discretion was a thing of him I adored, but that was rather impractical sometimes. His death proved it.'

The conversation slowly shifted subject. Now that Karliah had made a mention of Azrael being in Gallus and Mercer's place, Brynjolf started again to think how good Azrael would have been in the position of Guild Master. He shared his thoughts with Karliah, who he was finding incredibly agreeable and reasonable for a person he had spent his whole life despising. She confessed that the idea went through her head as well. They decided they needed to try and talk him into becoming the new Guild Master. They agreed that Brynjolf should have done that, since he was the one that the Assassin had known as the one mixed in the Guild's business up to the neck.

As he and Azrael were walking to the meeting point, Brynjolf looked for the moment to ask him. He tried with some tactical questions, that would have hopefully led where he wanted.

'What do you think about this whole mess, lad? I mean, you're seeing it from the outside, so it should be different in your eyes.'

'Not to be hard on you, the sight of that empty vault must have been quite the shock, but it's Karliah that has had the worst part to play in the tragedy. Lucky her she was born a Dunmer. Spending twenty-five years planning vengeance? That's not in the blood of your kind. Besides, you wouldn't have had the time.'

'Aye, you're right. I remember when Gallus was killed… What a mess it was. I was just a chap, not even a grown man yet. Mercer took over, we immediately decided he was to be the new leader. It was damn confusing. I remember Delvin screaming and giving orders left and right. To think he was not bald at the time… He was always there, ever present, a fair-haired man with long a bushy blonde mustaches that barked instructions all over the place. Man, it's so long ago and yet it feels like it was yesterday.'

They had just went past the small hill beyond the city and entered the woods. The South Gate had disappeared behind them. Azrael knew the stone they were going to, he saw it one time from a ridge near the city when doing shady work for the grandson of Maven Black-Briar. Thinking of what he had done in those two weeks to fill in the empty time was incredible. He had aided people in Riften, dispatched of drug dealers and also stole horses for someone. Horses that, by the way, he had kept. His hirer wasn't truly happy, but handed him the payment and let go of the horse without saying much else. Azrael had imagined that his colleagues in the Brotherhood might have liked a horse of their property to move around quicker. While pulling off the break-in that he was supposed to do in that mission, Azrael had also spied the standing stone where they were headed.

'Lad, listen,' said Brynjolf suddenly. 'There's one more piece of business we need to discuss before we get caught in some other mess with Mercer. The leadership of the Guild.'

'The leadership of the Guild…' whispered the Assassin, looking sideways at the man. 'And you're telling me this because…?'

'While you were at Mercer's home, Karliah and I had a long discussion. I know that you didn't come here thinking of doing anything for the Guild and only for your own business, but thanks to your efforts Mercer has been exposed. After we deal with him, all we have to do is restoring the Guild back to its full strength. As a result, I and Karliah felt like you'd have the potential of replacing Mercer as the leader of the Thieves Guild.'

'Me?' asked the Assassin, laughing heartily. 'Of course, any day now. What would be wrong with you, for a start?'

'I've been at this game a long time, my friend. A long time. I believe I've already told you about that. I've kept the Guild together for years, aided Mercer in his every effort, managed heists and organized the Guild's activities. I've stolen trinkets from nobles and framed priests for murder. I'm good at what I do, maybe one of the best. But it's all I know. I've never been one to lead. Never desired it, never cared for it. Don't want it.'

Confessions done, now it was time for the Assassin to take his decision. Brynjolf knew he was offering him something strange. He was offering the lead of the Guild to a person that was practically a stranger, which was a good thing. They needed someone new, with a fresh perspective. He couldn't know if Azrael would have accepted the offer. He had no affairs with the Guild, never wanted to have any and was pursuing his own business. Brynjolf, however, had discussed this with Karliah. He hoped that the Assassin wouldn't have renounced to an offer that would have allowed him to gain further help and, most of all, to test his abilities. He waited.

'A tempting offer,' said the Assassin, glacial. Bryn waited for more, but that was all he said.

'And so what?' he pressed.

'I just need a moment to think.'

Brynjolf lowered his gaze and they went forward. He was a bit tense. They were now very close to the stone, the trees were becoming fewer and fewer and they saw Karliah not too long after they had finished talking. She was leaning against a large monolith in the center of a small clearing, and looked in their direction. She noticed the tense face of Brynjolf, and wondered what could have happened, only to realized that he must had offered her brother in blood the place of Guild Master. She looked at Azrael, searching for answers to her questions in his eyes, but they were unreadable and shining red, as always, and his gaze was ice-cold and impenetrable, as always.

Given who she was facing, she could afford to be blunt.

'What's up with those grim faces?' she asked.

'Bryn asked me to take the lead of the Guild,' explained the Assassin. 'I believe you had a hand in that, as well.'

'I had. And what of it?'

'He said that he needs time,' replied Brynjolf.

'I did, now scratch that,' rejoined Azrael. 'I accept.'

Brynjolf looked at the Dunmer sideways in confusion. Karliah gave a faint grin and looked at the two.

'What?' asked the man. 'You said you needed time to think!'

'And you gave me some. It's been two minutes since I said that.'

Karliah chuckled quietly. The gaze of Azrael and the astonished face of Brynjolf were really a sight to behold. The thief looked like he didn't believe his own years, and the Assassin seemed to be restraining himself from laughing.

'Well, well…' intervened Karliah. 'I suppose you don't have anything more to worry about, Brynjolf. And you, Azrael, that's some quick decision making. We'll need that once we're back into business.'

'Azrael the Assassin,' he sighed, laughing grimly and raising both eyebrows for a moment. 'Master of the Guild of Kleptomaniacs… If somebody had told me that story, I'd probably have killed him.'

Karliah and Brynjolf laughed.