It was a distraction that the trio of Nightingales had not needed, that final dwarven automaton, as the gap between them and Mercer had been widened once more. It had also been a rather hard fight against the giant metal soldier, and though their armour was strong, each thief now had a couple of painful wounds to show for their troubles. Nothing serious, thankfully, though they each had a collection of cuts, bruises and, in Riviere's case, a sprained left wrist sustained while attempting to dive out of the way of a steam blast.
"Well," Riviere said, wincing slightly as she gently rubbed her arm. "No more bow for me today." She sighed loudly in frustration. "At least it's not broken, I don't think."
"And you are right handed, aye lass?" Brynjolf said.
"Yes, so I can still swing a blade. I'm not completely out of the fight," Riviere chuckled. "Yet."
"Just be careful, alright?" Brynjolf cautioned.
"Stand by me," Karliah said. "Let Brynjolf go first, then you and I together. You can watch my back and I can hit from a distance."
Riviere nodded. "Sounds good. I'll, uh, stab anything that gets close enough…"
The Nightingales had come to the point of the ruins where the ruins were hardly ruins anymore, and instead had dissolved into the darkness, trading walls of carved stone for damp, moss-covered caves and caverns. The place smelled awful, but the trio were more concerned with avoiding the creatures that dwelled within than worrying about the stench that stung their nostrils. Dark, eerie chamber after damp, murky cavern they plodded on until once again they stood by a pair of those large, golden doors common within the dwarven ruins. Karliah made swift work of the locks and soon the trio were quietly opening the doors.
The three thieves stealthily stepped through the doors and instantly they found themselves mesmerised by the sight before them. A giant cavern sprawled out in front of and around them, and despite the damp walls and tumbling cascade of water pouring from the ceiling, the air was crisp and clean. But the natural splendour of the cavern was nothing compared to the gigantic stone statue at its centre. It was a huge figure, unmistakably bearing the regal countenance of an elf, and its lavish attire further added to its majesty. The figure was seated straight-backed upon the floor; a large torch blazed in its right hand while its left hand rested upon what appeared to be a large stone book. Time and nature had begun to bury the figure's legs in mud, moss, and stone, but it still held its head high into the air. And it was up there, upon the figure's face, that the three thieves spotted the reason why they were there in the ruins that day.
Mercer Frey had perched himself upon the right cheek of the giant elf, and as the others watched in cautious silence, he hacked and chipped away at the eye socket. The others could not not tell what he was trying to remove, or even that he was taking anything at all, but assumed that it, whatever it was, must be the reason Mercer came here in the first place. Confident that they had not yet been spotted, Riviere, Karliah and Brynjolf all stepped forwards ever so slightly, just in time to watch Mercer pull something from the statue and stuff it inside his coat. Then, without turning around, Mercer began to laugh before calling out into the cavern.
"Karliah, you really ought to know by now that you can't sneak up on me!" he yelled, a tone of arrogant satisfaction evident in each of his words.
Karliah opened her mouth to respond, but before she could speak a loud rumbling erupted from throughout the cavern. The floor began to shake, and the stone ledge they were standing upon began to tremble and crack.
"Everyone back to the door!" karliah cried. She and Brynjolf managed to leap back in time, but Riviere was too slow. Brynjolf attempted to reach his hand out to grab her, but their hands did not meet in time to prevent Riviere from tumbling to the floor of the cavern along with the front half of the stone ledge. Luckily, she rolled as she hit the ground below, and so with the exception of a few more bruises along her back and left side, she was not injured, at least not seriously.
"Lass!" Brynjolf called out worriedly.
"Ugh," Riviere groaned as she picked herself up from the floor. "I'm alright, I'm fine."
Mercer, still standing upon the statue, had his arms crossed over his chest as he began to laugh once more. Then, he climbed down the statue until he had reached the stone book. Standing proudly, he looked down at Riviere and smirked as he watched the young thief fumbling to unfasten the dagger from her right thigh.
"Cute," he chuckled when Riviere had managed to free her blade from its scabbard. "But mine are bigger." Mercer gestured to his pair of swords, each respectively fastened to the left and right sides of his belt.
Riviere said nothing, but just glared up at Mercer, her hazel eyes flashing angrily.
"I'll admit, I am surprised you made it this far," Mercer continued. "Even when Brynjolf introduced us, and when I learned more about you, I was still skeptical."
"What?" Riviere queried. "What do you even mean-"
"Hell, I'm disappointed, really. You could have been such an asset to me, but instead you had to stick your nose in my business and ruin my little operation."
"Well, boo hoo for you," Riviere said. "But I don't see how having a little soliloquy up there is going to help you in the slightest."
"So what do you suggest I do, then?" Mercer asked.
"Oh, gee, I don't know. How about we have a little dance party, or maybe we hug and make up?" Riviere said sarcastically. "What do you think, dumb-arse. Come down here and fight me."
"Wow, you're in a real mood today, aren't you kid?" Mercer laughed.
"A combination of considerable pain and being really, really pissed of at someone do that, apparently. Now are you going to stop pontificating or not? Because I think we've all had enough of this nonsense. And we all know this is going to end here. Now. Someone at the end of someone else's blade."
"You really want to go through that again? I thought I stabbed you once before. Actually, that said, how the hell are you even alive?"
"Helped by the friends you abandoned and betrayed."
"Sweetheart, in case you haven't figured out, they were never my friends."
"I suppose they weren't. In any case, we're here to bring you to justice for all that you've done. I'll ask you once and once only, Mercer; give me the key."
"Or what, kid, you'll throw your little toothpick at me. I'm trembling in my boots. No really, I'm sure Karliah has been telling you all sorts of fairytales about thieves having honour, keeping their oaths? About how we'll be punished for any broken promises and other falsehoods and fabrications? In case you needed someone to clarify it for you, Nocturnal doesn't give a damn about you, about the Guild, or about her little trinket key. Why would she?"
"Hey, I don't really care about what she wants any more than I care what you want. For a number of reasons, all fairly obvious I'm sure, this is personal."
"Oh, look, the kitten wants revenge! Seriously, have you learned nothing from your time with the Guild? How blind you must be to keep ignoring the fact that the difference between your actions and mine is not that great. We've both lied, cheated and stolen where we deemed it necessary to further our own ends."
"Be that as it may, for I'll not deny being a thief and what that entails, I can at least say that I have retained my honour and sense of loyalty. You've well and truly lost both."
"Well... As much fun as this argument is, there's no point in trying to dissuade you from those romantic ideals you seem to believe so strongly. I also know there's no point in getting you to see things the way I see them."
"Damn right."
Mercer tapped a small pocket on the breast of his jacket. "Therefore I doubt I'll be able to convince you to see the Key how I see it; a key to limitless opportunity. Wealth, power, knowledge. The list goes on…"
"Just like your speech," Riviere scoffed.
"Hmph. Well, if you're so desperate to cling to the Guild's foolish code or whatever you think you're trying to uphold, you might want this." Mercer reached down his right hip and pulled one of his swords from its sheath. He tossed it down towards Riviere, and it landed with a loud clang upon the damp stone floor. "After all, I'd hate to leave you without having a little fun first."
"How kind," Riviere muttered as she leaned forwards and picked up the blade. It was larger and heavier than she was used to working with, but she was glad to have something more substantial to rely on than her own small dagger. With a smirk, she looked back up at the man standing over her. "You do realise you just added to your own disadvantages, don't you?"
"And what, pray tell, would those be?" Mercer asked, before looking up to the ledge where Riviere had fallen from. Karliah and Brynjolf had been up there the whole time, keeping one eye on Mercer and another scanning around for a way down. "Oh," Mercer smiled. "Those two. Don't you worry, kid. I've got them under control."