"This may not go our way." Karliah's voice was soft as the two of them crept silently down the damp entrance to the Ragged Flagon. Arsha nodded in the dark, even though the action would be hidden by the gloom. Her thoughts turned to the past few days as she stepped around a puddle, the water mirroring her shadowy figure.
Arsha had barely had time to breathe these last few days. After she had spoken to Enthir at the College, she had been sent to collect a rubbing of some translation because the language that Gallus had written his journal in was the language of the Falmer. The Falmer! Arsha had to admit the lengths that Gallus had gone through to keep the contents of his journal secret were rather impressive. After a fair amount of sneaking and several close calls with some dwemer machinery, Arsha had finally obtained the information that Enthir had needed.
When she had returned to the mage, Karliah had been there. The two of them had waited with baited breath as Enthir had translated the small journal. After what had seemed like an eternity, Enthir had let out a low whistle. He had gone on to explain that had Gallus thought that Mercer had been stealing from the Guild vault for years. He also said the Frey had desecrated something called the Twilight Sepulcher. Karliah had murmured something to Enthir and then the two of them had left for Riften, evidence of Mercer's extreme betrayal in hand.
On the way back, Arsha had asked about the Twilight Sepulcher. Karliah had given a deep sigh before saying, "You've come this far, I don't see a reason to hide it from you any longer. The Twilight Sepulcher is a temple to the goddess Nocturnal that the Nightingales are sworn to protect. If Mercer truly has defiled it, we are in much graver danger than I had thought."
The rest of the trip had been silent, which had left Arsha to her unpleasant thoughts. With each step that they had taken towards Riften, the memories of her time as the Dragonborn had become more and more prominent in her mind. Now that they were standing outside of the door to the Cistern, her mind felt as if it were on fire. Each memory was a blazing beacon of pain for her, and she knew that seeing Brynjolf would only make it worse. As Karliah slowly pushed the door open, Arsha wondered if it would have been better for Brynjolf if he never knew that she was actually alive. It was too late now, and so Arsha stepped firmly through the door, pushing her pain to the back of her mind. She had more important things to worry about.
Brynjolf heard the door to the Cistern creak open and his eyes immediately shot that direction. When he saw the two figures standing in the doorway, he stood angrily and strode towards them, fury in every step.
"You!" Brynjolf's voice was venom as he spat the word at the woman in the front. "How dare you come here after all you've done! You took Gallus and now you've taken Arsha too. Isn't that enough, Karliah?" Karliah flinched slightly at Gallus's name.
"Brynjolf, please just listen to me. I have proof that you've all been deceived," Karliah pleaded, but her words fell on deaf ears.
"Why would I believe a single word you say? All you've ever done is lie to us!" If Karliah seriously thought that Brynjolf would fall for her trickery again, she had another thing coming.
From the shadows behind Karliah, the other figure stepped forward, seeming hesitant to do so. "Bryn," the voice was soft, but Brynjolf still recognized it. How could he not? "Please, just listen to Karliah. Please, hear her out," Arsha sounded sincere, but Brynjolf barely heard her. He was too focused on the fact that the lass wasn't dead. Mercer had said that she was dead!
"How…" Brynjolf didn't even know how to ask what was happening. "You're supposed to be dead!"
Arsha visibly flinched at his words, which made a bolt of shame flash through him. He hadn't meant to sound so harsh. "That sounded bad. I'm sorry, lass. Mercer told me that Karliah had killed you."
At those words, Karliah spoke up again. "That's what I need to speak to you about. Mercer has been lying to the Guild, and I have proof," Karliah held out a leather bound journal, which Brynjolf took suspiciously.
Brynjolf read the journal, and as he read a sense of dread began to fill him. If this was true, then the small puzzle pieces he had discovered would make a very clear picture. A picture that he did not like in the slightest.
"Let's pretend for a moment that I believe that this journal belonged to Gallus. What proof do you have that Mercer actually committed these supposed crimes?" Brynjolf asked. He needed solid proof, something he could see before he would believe that his entire world was a lie and that his mentor had betrayed the Guild.
"I have no proof that Mercer killed Gallus, only my word. I would never have killed my beloved." Karliah's voice was pained, and Brynjolf found that he believed her, despite his personal efforts not to. "I can, however, prove that Mercer has been stealing from the Guild. I need you to open the vault, Brynjolf."
At Brynjolf's side, Delvin let out a disbelieving chuckle. "That vault takes two keys to open. The only way that Mercer could have opened it was by asking Bryn or me to open it with him. And that didn't happen."
Brynjolf shook his head slowly. He had a bad feeling about all of this. "Let's open it, Del. It won't hurt to check," Delvin nodded and the two of them strode over to the large vault doors Karliah, Vex, and Arsha following close behind.
Brynjolf watched as Delvin inserted his key into one of the locks and turned it. The door was still locked tight. Brynjolf stepped forward, a strange nervousness filling him, as he carefully turned his key in the lock. There was a loud click, the sound deafening in the tense silence of the Cistern, and Brynjolf cautiously pushed the door open. Next to him, Delvin gasped as they all saw the contents of the vault, or rather, the lack of them.
"It's gone." Brynjolf's voice sounded devastated even to his own ears. Everything that the Guild had been working toward was now gone. Vex and Delvin quickly stepped into the room and began looking for something, anything, that Mercer had missed. Brynjolf didn't bother moving. Mercer had robbed them blind, plain and simple, there was no way that he left anything of value behind.
"I'm sorry, Brynjolf," Arsha's voice was barely above a whisper as she stepped forward to stand next to him.
Brynjolf shook his head, too stunned to really speak. Mercer had taken everything. Brynjolf had trusted him, even if Mercer was temperamental at times. Brynjolf had thought that Mercer truly cared for the Guild, for Gallus. He was wrong. Brynjolf felt a gloved hand slip into his softly. He looked over at Arsha, surprised. The lass typically refrained from physical contact, especially after the bandit incident.
Arsha's amber eyes met his, and Brynjolf found a strange sense of comfort in them. Even though they had all been betrayed, Arsha was standing with an air of confidence around her. "Mercer will pay for this, Brynjolf. He will."
From inside the vault, Vex spoke up and there was rage in every syllable as she ground out between her teeth, "I will kill Mercer for this!" Delvin, who was standing next to the silver-haired thief, held out his hands in a cautionary gesture.
"Put the daggers down, Vex. Losin' our heads won't do any good," he pointed out, his voice somehow calm despite the situation. Vex lowered the blades slowly and sheathed them, the enraged snarl never leaving her face.
"Delvin is right, losing our heads won't help, but staying on guard will." Brynjolf turned to the two thieves. "Vex, Del, I want you to get a few of the other members and guard all of the entrances to both the Flagon and the Cistern," he said.
Vex and Delvin nodded. "If Mercer steps even one foot in the Cistern, I'll cut it off," Vex threatened with a low growl. Brynjolf only nodded in response; that was exactly how he was feeling. Vex and Delvin left, leaving only Karliah and Arsha standing with Brynjolf in the infuriatingly empty room.
Brynjolf turned to Arsha and a strange feeling entered his chest. Brynjolf barely heard Karliah excuse herself in a murmur. As soon as she had slipped out the door Brynjolf strode forward until he and Arsha were only inches apart. Their eyes met, and Brynjolf saw swirling emotions in Arsha's golden irises. "Arsha…" Brynjolf didn't know what to say. How was he supposed to explain the way he had felt when Mercer had returned and told the Guild that she was dead? How did he explain that pain? How did he explain the way that her face had been the only thing that he had been able to see when he closed his eyes? How did he tell her that when she had been gone, his world had stopped?
Arsha's eyes twinkled in the dim light, and Brynjolf could tell that under her mask, she was smiling. "Thank you, Brynjolf."
"What for, lass?" Brynjolf hadn't done anything. In fact, before he had recognized her, he had been ready to strike her down simply because she stood with Karliah.
"For caring. When Mercer stabbed me, all I could think of was you, and the pain that you might feel once he told you I was dead. But I was happy because I knew you cared. I've brushed death many times," she said, and Brynjolf could practically hear the memories in her voice. "But this was the first time that I felt someone would miss me being in their life. So thank you for that," Arsha explained. Her voice held more emotion in it than Brynjolf had ever heard in it before, and he wasn't sure how to respond.
"Lass...I…" Brynjolf paused and took a deep breath before he pushed on, "You never have to thank me. I should be thanking you. You have brought this Guild out of the hole it was in, even with Mercer undermining our efforts. You have brought the life and spirit back to us, back to me," Brynjolf took a small step closer and grabbed one of Arsha's gloved hands in his own. "Thank you," he repeated softly, and Arsha's eyes shone a little brighter.
"You're welcome, Bryn," Arsha said softly, and in the back of his mind, Brynjolf hoped that that voice would stay in his mind forever. "Now, you should catch a few hours of sleep, you need it, while I go find some kind of lead on Mercer."
Brynjolf chuckled. "Is it that obvious?" he asked in reference to his current sleep deprived state. He really hadn't been able to catch more than an hour of sleep since Mercer had returned with the news. He had tried multiple times, but in the end, the memories of Arsha were too painful for him to endure. Now, however, the only thing he would have to worry about was dreaming of Mercer. Brynjolf had a feeling that as long as his dream supplied him with at least a knife, he wouldn't mind seeing Mercer. Not in the slightest.
Arsha let out one of her quiet laughs that Brynjolf loved as she responded with a simple, "Yes."
Brynjolf shook his head with a smile before replying seriously. "Alright, lass. I suggest checking out Riftweald Manor. It's Mercer's house here in town. If there's a trace of him anywhere, it'll be in there." He paused. "Just be careful." Who knew what Mercer kept in that house? It had been a gift from Maven Blackbriar, but Mercer never stayed there.
"I always am, Bryn. Sleep well," Arsha replied and sent him a final look that Brynjolf couldn't quite read before she was gone. Despite all that had happened, Brynjolf felt a small smile on his face. It was good to have Arsha back.