The ride from Riften was long and fairly slow for Riviere, for though she was perfectly confident being perched upon the back of a horse, she was less so when riding across frozen grounds. She had ridden across frozen terrain several times in the last few years, but it had never stopped making her feel ever so slightly uneasy. Most of this day's ride had been through the forests of the Rift, but when she had left behind her the golden foliage and moved on to the snow and ice covered mountainside, she gripped the reins tighter and tighter each time she felt her mount's hooves scrabble on the frozen ground beneath them. By the time they were in sight of her destination, Riviere's hands were sore inside of her gloves, both from the biting, icy wind and from the way she had been straining her fingers around the thin leather straps. Not wanting to lead her mount any closer, she dismounted in a small clearing that was sheltered by half a dozen tall pines. Taking the reins in her hands once more, she led the horse over to the smallest of the trees and secured the animal to its trunk. Once she had done so, she began to unpack her small bag of supplies, as well as her weapons. She carefully strapped her bow and quiver to her back, and made sure that her two daggers were secured tightly to her thighs.
"I hate to leave you out here," Riviere said as she finished making sure she had all her belongings, and that the horse was tied as tightly to the tree as she could possibly make it. "But I can't take you in there with me. Besides, this clearing looks safe enough, and you've got a nice thick blanket that should keep you warm until I get back, which hopefully wont be too long…" Riviere looked apologetically into the horse's eyes. "Oh, please don't look at me like that. I don't want to leave you out here, really I don't. I promise. But I need to go in and look for my friends, alright?"
The horse just stared blankly back at Riviere.
"I knew you'd understand," Riviere smiled as she grabbed the last of her things. "Shouldn't be more than an hour or two. Or three." She sighed loudly as she turned to leave. "I hope…"
She could see it clearly now, the ruined entrance to the place Brynjolf and Karliah had already headed to. "So this is Irkngthand, huh?" she said with a quiet whistle. "That's one hell of a doorway…" Riviere had climbed up the rocky cliffside on the outside of the ruins instead of heading for the front gateway. It was a slower and less direct approach, but nevertheless going that way was a decision that had turned out to be a very good one. "And look at that," she whispered to herself as she peeked over the top of the stone wall that ran around the outer edges of the complex. "This place is full of bandits! Absolutely bloody fantastic, that is…" Looking over the wall, Riviere scanned what she saw in front of her. A large courtyard bisected by an ancient tower long since fallen to the ground. Ramps and makeshift wooden stairways making it possible to walk from the ground to the highest levels of the impressive entranceway which was a multi-levelled facade carved into the mountainside. Dotted around the courtyard as well as the various levels of the facade were hastily-made tents and fire pits, most of which were burning brightly in the frozen air. Men and women of varying human, elf and orc varieties, all clad in the dishevelled layers of fur and leather common among bandit types, were wandering about the complex, most of whom were also carrying either a sword, axe or longbow.
Riviere sighed. "Why am I surprised this wouldn't simply be a matter of walking right up to the front doors and heading in. This is going to be interesting…"
After almost being spotted about a dozen times, nearly falling from several icy walkways and then struggling to force open the incredibly heavy doors to the entrance of Irkngthand, Riviere made it inside the ruins. As she leaned her back against the large doors to close them once more, she stood there for a moment to catch her breath.
"Divines, that was close," she whispered to herself as she leaned forwards and placed her hands on her knees for a minute while she slowed her breathing and her heartbeat back down to a normal pace, or at least as close as she could get. She was in out of the cold and had managed to sneak past all of the patrolling bandits outside, but she was now worrying that if reaching the front doors had been so difficult, what exactly was she up against inside the ruins. She had explored several of these Dwarven ruins in her life thus far, and knew that they tended to be full of deadly traps and machines that were somehow still functioning to keep the places secure.
Looking ahead of her, Riviere watched as the dust and dirt from outside swirled around and created a low haze in the small entryway, dancing in the light draft that was managing to claw its way beneath the doors. A pair of small metal braziers, one on either side of the doors, lit the room gently. At the far end of the room, an archway carved into the stone wall led into a much larger chamber. Riviere walked towards and into the next area and stopped at the edge of a small flight of stairs. Ruined pillars and archways lined the large chamber. Rubble and a thick layer of chalky stone-dust covered the floor, capturing and displaying footprints quite clearly. Heading down the small flight of stairs into a sunken area in the chamber's centre, heading in the direction of what she thought looked like a passageway on the other side of the room, Riviere stopped. In the sunken area, between two sets of stairs, had been set up a small camping area; two bedrolls, some scattered bags, books and bottles, and a still-burning fire pit, fairly standard things to find these days, for adventurers, treasure hunters and bandits alike often explored Skyrim's ancient ruins. Around these items and on the stairs up the other side, however, was something Riviere was not quite prepared to see. Three men, all wearing the same kinds of fur and leather attire as the people she had come across outside, were dead. Recently, too. As Riviere walked through the gruesome scene, she noted that all three men's throats were slit very cleanly, likely killing them all instantly. It was likely, Riviere noted, that these people had died very quickly rather than in agonizing pain, and even though they were likely bandits and therefor trouble by nature, they had not deserved such a fate as this. But Riviere's next realisation brought a sick feeling to her stomach; the pools of blood were still wet, and after bending down to place her hand gently on one of the fallen men, she learned that the body was still warm.
"Crap," she hissed, quickly standing up and placing her hands on her daggers, ready to grab them. "Whoever did this can't be far away…" Looking quickly about the room, Riviere could see no signs of anyone else there with her. Relaxing ever so slightly, she removed her hands from her daggers and knelt down beside the body once more. She wasn't usually squeamish when it came to blood or dead bodies, but Riviere was definitely feeling queasy. She was afraid, knowing that Mercer was most likely the one behind this slaughter, and therefore he wasn't far away. But Riviere was also worrying about Brynjolf and Karliah, who were supposed to be here before her. If they were far enough ahead, could they already have run into Mercer? If so, could the two of them manage to take him down? Looking back to the body beside her, Riviere had one last alarming thought.
"Or…" she whispered, taking another look at the cut in the man's throat that looked as if it had almost severed his head. "No. No, they wouldn't. They couldn't. What am I thinking, they wouldn't do this. At least, Brynjolf wouldn't… No. No, Mercer did this. Of course he did. I know he did. I'm sure he did…"