The Wolf of Riften Saga continues with Part Two/Season Two: Sons of Fate and Fortune
Story Summary
(This is an all new Season Two/Second Installment of "The Wolf of Riften saga", an on-going adventure saga set in Skyrim that builds upon itself. In this season, the stakes are higher, the risks are greater, and betrayal is everywhere. Bryn and Felnore will finally have it out with each other and I cannot wait!)
After an attack by the Stormcloak army endangers the lives of his two daughters, Felnore Greymane walks away from the false protection of the Companions and leads his family onto paths unknown. Meanwhile, the Thieves Guild is facing the possibility of extinction while Brynjolf finds himself in dire straits as a Skooma addiction eats away at his sanity. He needs a cure before it's too late and he is willing to do whatever it takes to get it, even if it means jeopardizing the Guild in the process.
When fates collide under a full moon Felnore, Brynjolf, and the Guild will find themselves at a crossroads where one wrong decision could lead them all to ruin.
Step off the familiar path and take a walk on the wild side in...The Wolf of Riften.
**Note: The storyline takes a dark turn in certain chapters and some themes/content may be triggering so please heed the Trigger Warnings when they are posted. These characters have shown up and understood the assignment as they deliver a wild ride along paths forbidden and unknown. Werewolves don't play around and neither does the Thieves Guild so brace yourselves because things are going to escalate quickly. Enjoy!
***The Wolf of Riften Series Soundtrack is now on Spotify. Enjoy a running playlist of all things Skyrim and character inspired tracks to enhance your reading experience. Search Spotify: Wolf of Riften (user: CalamityQuinn)***
- "The Wolf of Riften" Series Theme Song: Óró by Seo Linn
- "Season Two: Sons of Fate and Fortune" Theme Song: Become the Beast by Karliene
- Felnore's Theme Song: The Wolf and the Moon by BrunuhVille
- Brynjolf's Theme Song: Red by The 69 Eyes
They were cursed. Well and truly cursed.
That was the only explanation Delvin could come up with that was remotely plausible. Nothing else made any damned sense because no matter which way he turned there was always a constant reminder of just how far and how fast the Thieves Guild had fallen. His entire life had been dedicated to protecting and enhancing the influence the Guild held across the Nine Holds but in a matter of years, it had all come crashing down around them.
The prosperity and renown the Guild's name once carried was now little better than mud. Their numbers had dwindled down to a handful of hangers-ons that had nowhere else to go or else they would have gone there already. A smart rat knew when to abandon a sinking ship.
And to make matters worse, Brynjolf had gotten himself caught in the crosshairs with a blacksmith of all people.
Now Delvin's best thief was out of commission, possibly permanently, with a broken hand that would not heal. What little coin could be scraped together to buy the services of a back-alley healer did absolutely nothing to help fix the problem. If the bones didn't mend soon, the only thing left would be to remove the hand. Maybe even the entire arm if need be. But in this line of work there was no such thing as a one-armed thief. It would be a kindness to slip a dagger between Brynjolf's ribs in his sleep and let him die amongst friends instead of allowing Fate to run its course because the Guild's enemies would not be so merciful.
Blast it all to Oblivion and beyond! Everything had gone to utter shite and at this rate, Delvin would have better luck rejoining the Dark Brotherhood than to stay on as the Guild's Second-in-Command. But there was no telling if the ill-luck that plagued the Guild would follow him elsewhere.
That was the funny thing about curses. They were almost impossible to break unless you knew the exact cause behind them.
A sigh escaped Delvin as he pressed his calloused palms into his tired eyes, trying to ease the strain that was making him see double. He had been at the books again, digging through every ledger, every account file, as he tried to find a way to balance their finances. In the last six months, the Guild had hemorrhaged funds on the basic necessities as next to nothing came in to supplement all of the outgoing costs that kept bread on the table and the local city authorities looking the other way.
The small bump in coin that fated Brynjolf to spend the rest of his days as a cripple dried up quickly once the city's Jarl was given his cut, with interest. No matter how many times Delvin crunched the numbers, they were in the red and in debt to their allies. If they did not pay up soon, and by soon Delvin estimated a few weeks at the most, the Guild would no longer have any allies left and that meant they were dead in the water.
A Guild without sway was a target ripe for the taking and the Thieves Guild had enemies. It was only a matter of time before their base of operation was taken over and every last one of them killed by hired agents of rival guilds. The Cistern was their sanctuary but it was going to become their tomb unless a miracle could be found.
Delvin dropped his head in hands, almost upsetting the half-empty tankard that he had been nursing for the last hour. He was going to have to tell Mercer Frey the news and their leader did not accept bad news.
"We're well and truly fucked."
"C'mon now, Delvin. We've all been through the shit before and came out the other end in one piece, more or less. How bad off can we be this time?" A voice that held a warmth that was out of place in the bowels of the city's sewers hummed in Delvin's ear as his drink was topped up.
"Bad." Devlin growled his thanks as he picked up the tankard and took a sip. He couldn't help but grimace at the taste, which made the Ragged Flagon's barkeep chuckle. "Worse now that you've watered down the ale and served up the dregs."
"Lean times call for slim pickings." Vekel shrugged as he tossed a cleaning rag over his shoulder and pulled up a chair. "Price of barley has gone up and it's getting harder to get hops from uptop. From what I've heard, it's not just a Riften thing but it's like this everywhere. The trade routes are being blocked, merchants aren't getting their shipments in on time or at all. People are blaming the Empire for not protecting the roads. People are also blaming the Stormcloaks for taking everything by order of the Great Bear himself. It's a mess right now and we're caught up in the middle of it. At least there's no shortage of skeever meat. If I put enough salt on it and roast it long enough, you can't really tell what it is."
Delvin shook his head as he knocked back the weak brew and scowled at the notion that the Guild was now surviving on mouldy crusts and roasted skeever until their fortunes changed.
"There's no point in avoidin' the unavoidable. Mercer has to make a decision on what we do next. There's no sense in leavin' this place because we'd be picked off the moment we stuck our noses topside. The Jarl has been waitin' years to get rid of us and now he has a chance to do so. No point in makin' it easy for him. Maybe we need to look at combinin' forces with another guild. Or the Brotherhood even. But most won't go for that. We're thieves, not murderers. There's honour in that."
Vekel eyed the leather-bound volumes that covered the table. "But is it an honour worth starving for?"
Delvin closed the ledger that held the Guild's latest figures and pressed his hand across the worn cover. "Wish I bloody knew."
"Well, dare I say it but -"
"Don't. Things can always get worse and there's no sense in inviting worse luck to come knockin' on our door. Mercer will figure somethin' out. There's a reason why he gets a share of the profits, when there are profits. By Nocturnal's grace, he'll lead us through this mess."
The barkeep scratched his chin, not looking all that convinced but thought it best to keep his opinion to himself.
"There's no use in putin' this off. Better to get this over with." Delvin did not miss the look of sympathy Vekel gave him. "Best to make sure there's somethin' extra on standby in case I need it. Don't fancy gettin' chewed out but Mercer's likely in a mood."
"Delvin! Where's Delvin? Has anyone seen Delvin?"
A frantic voice, followed by running footsteps and a tell-tale splash of a body hitting water, drew the men's attention away from the books and slim possibilities of surviving out the year.
"Gods bollocks. What now?"
Hearing his name, Delvin rose to his feet as Vekel followed suit. There was only one member of the Guild who could never keep his feet under him when the pressure was on and it came as no surprise when a sopping wet thief stumbled into the underground tavern looking more like a drowned rat than an actual drowned rat.
Only Rune could manage to trip into a reflecting pool that was utterly avoidable.
"Delvin!" Rune shook himself violently, sending a spray of sewer water flying every which way. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You're needed."
Of course he was needed. There wasn't a moment that could go by in this place where he wasn't called on to solve ten problems and a quarrel. "What's the emergency this time Rune? I'm just about to talk to Mercer so this better be important."
"It is." Rune blinked water out of his eyes and pointed to the ceiling, "It's Brynjolf."
"Wot about Brynjolf?"
At the mention of the Guild's favourite son, Vekel went over to the long bar counter and pulled out a bottle of distilled spirits and a wooden container filled with small crystal vials that was only ever brought out in an emergency. "What's happened?"
"It's happened again and it doesn't look good. Vex told me to tell you to get your old ass topside as fast as you can. And bring the hard stuff. Her exact words. They're in the cemetery. In the mausoleum."
"The mausoleum? What in the name of Nocturnal's blessed skivvies are they doin' topside on a full bloody moon! Has everyone lost their bleedin' minds? Were they seen? Are the city guards alerted? Why the-" Delvin was just getting started when Rune flinched at his rising tone.
There was no time to interrogate the messenger. If Vex wanted Delvin up top then Delvin knew he had to get up there. She would not call on him unless it was serious. Either Brynjolf got himself killed or he was well on the way to crossing the mortal divide into Nocturnal's evernight. Those were the only two reasons why a seasons-hardened professional like Vex would remain out in the open above ground on the most dangerous night of the month.
The Guild made it a point to never run local jobs on a full moon and tonight was a clear one, without any cloud cover. Riften would be completely awash in moonlight and even a blind man would be able to see where he was going. Weak shadows meant that there was no place to hide from the guards that were paid a small bag of gold for every dead thief that was accounted for at daybreak.
It was a cardinal rule to never be above ground during a full moon and for whatever reason Brynjolf had broken it.
"If that red-headed step-child gets Vex killed, I'll kill 'im myself." Delvin growled as he patted down the bandolier across his chest to make sure his throwing knives were accounted for. "Vekel, wake up Dirge and tell 'im to scout the Ratway to make sure no one's sneakin' about where they shouldn't. Last thing we need tonight is an ambush. Why are you still standin' around? C'mon!"
Rune may be knocked-kneed as a newborn colt when the nerves set in but his hands worked perfectly well and he caught the wooden container that Vekel tossed him as he hurried after Delvin.
Inside the box was a set of crystal vials filled with Skooma that were securely packed in a bed of dried moss to prevent them from moving around. The distilled moon sugar narcotic was more potent and fast-acting than any drug that could be found in Riften. The side effects were never pleasant but if they needed to shut Brynjolf up before he woke up half the city, this stuff would do the trick.
Delvin did not storm so much as barreled his way through the Cistern as the two of them headed for the second entry point into the Guild's headquarters. Eyes followed them as people stirred, the urgency in Devlin's stride rising more than a few eyebrows.
The mausoleum entrance was more or less a secret bolthole. It was too risky to use during the day as anyone could easily be followed or spotted coming and going out of the city's cemetery. But at night it was the fastest way to get to the surface.
"Whatever happens, not a sound." Delvin warned before he grabbed onto the metal rungs and began the long climb up the secret entryway that was expertly disguised as a huge granite sarcophagus that moved when triggered.
Rune was quick to follow, the box tucked under one arm for safe keeping. Rune may be half the size of Delvin but the man moved like an alley cat without a whisper of breath to give him away.
Easing through the wooden hatch, Delvin was bent almost double as he brushed a hand along the hand-carved stone wall until his fingers curled around a large iron ring. He waited until Rune was off the ladder before he tugged on the pull chain and triggered the locking mechanism. A deep grinding sound filled the space as the stone slab over their heads pulled back slowly to reveal the fine carved interior of a mausoleum dedicated to no one in particular. Neither thief made a sound as Delvin motioned for Rune to stay where he was.
It was a good thing that he did because the scene that greeted them was something that made the pit of Delvin's stomach drop. If there ever was a worst case scenario that Delvin did not want to deal with, this was it
Pale beams of coloured moonlight streamed through the stained glass windows that lined the walls as black figures moved about outside the small enclosure. Low voices could be heard as the city guards searched the cemetery. On the stone floor, wedged up against the far wall, were two people so twisted into each other it was impossible to see where one body ended and the other began. Vex, a flint-eyed woman with an unreadable face, had snaked herself around Brynjolf in a body-lock with both her arms wrapped around his head and neck. Her legs were threaded around his in a desperate attempt to prevent him from flailing about.
Delvin made a mental note to commend her on her expert form as everyone held their breath and remained frozen in place until the voices receded. Even then, no one moved until enough time had passed to ensure that the guards had moved elsewhere in search of an easier target.
"Wot?" Devlin mouthed to Vex as he gestured to the mausoleum's doorway. The heavy iron door had been unlocked from the inside.
Vex rolled her eyes as her arms shook from the amount of pressure she had to use to keep Brynjolf from giving away their positions.
"Hurry up!" She mouthed back, not speaking a word as she winced from the strain. She could only keep this up for so long before something gave way.
It took Delvin less than a moment to take stock of the situation. He gestured at Rune and a small crystal vial was carefully removed from its protective nest and handed over. Taking care to stay as low to the ground as possible, Delvin scuttled over to the far corner and withdrew a scrap of cloth from one of the many hidden pockets that lined his uniform. Skooma had a very distinctive heady smell to it that made his eyes water as he poured the contents of the vial onto the rag until it was soaked through.
"Ready?" Delvin remained silent as he tapped Vex on the wrist and they locked eyes as they counted down in unison. On three, Vex shifted her hand from Brynjolf's mouth as the rag covered his nose and mouth. It came as a bit of a shock when Delvin felt Brynjolf bite down on the cloth with force and jerk to the side. Vex swallowed a curse when she clocked her skull against the wall but even still, her body-lock remained fixed and tight.
Long minutes passed in strained silence as Delvin waited for a sign from Vex. It wasn't until she blinked twice that he knew Brynjolf had passed out from the effects of the Skooma.
"Down the ladder. Quick now. I got 'im."
Vex moved like a snake in wet grass as she unwrapped herself and slid across the floor, vanishing down the ladder without having to be told twice. Rune was already in position with the pull chain in hand as Delvin grabbed hold of Brynjolf and slung him across his shoulders. It was tricky maneuvering down the ladder but this was not the first nor would it be the last time that Delvin had to carry an unconscious or wounded member of the Guild to safety.
It wasn't until the stone slab slid back into place with a grinding halt that the three thieves allowed themselves to breathe deeply.
"Took you long enough." Vex hissed through her teeth as she massaged her shoulder.
"Mind tellin' me wot the two of you were doing up there? Do you have a death wish or somethin' Vex?" Delvin grunted as his measured steps ate up the distance from the base of the ladder to the sleeping quarters that circumnavigated the Cisterns circular interior.
Rune was right behind them with the box in hand, beads of sweat covering his brow. Stress management was not one of his finer points as a thief.
"I do not. But your boy most certainly does. If I had not been quick enough, you'd be digging his grave right now. I don't know what set him off but one minute he was complaining of a headache and then the next he was growling like an animal and went up the ladder faster than I've ever seen him move. The iron door stopped him. He couldn't get it open with only one hand and I had to take him down before he figured out that those windows were wide enough to break through. This is the third time in two weeks. Delvin, believe me when I say in all honesty that there is something terribly wrong with him. I think it's his mind. It's starting to go."
As much as Delvin wanted to deny Vex's claim, he could not bring himself to do so. It was painfully obvious that Brynjolf was suffering because when Delvin laid the man down on an empty bed, all he saw was a shadow of the man he knew. The hollowed cheeks and dark circles under the eyes were a testament to sleepless nights filled with pain. Half an ear was missing, bitten off by the blacksmith who had smashed Brynjolf's hand beyond repair. And that hand, it hurt to look at it. It was inflamed and twisted, a clubbed claw of red-veined flesh and broken bone.
"Rune." Delvin motioned for the box to be brought over.
"A-another one? Are you sure?" Rune swallowed as he carefully handed over the wooden container.
"Wot choice do we have? He'll come round, screaming in pain again, making everyone nervous, and for what? Best we try to give the poor bastard some peace if we can tonight. I'll let Mercer know and tomorrow, we'll see if things improve or not."
"And if the don't?" Vex crossed her arms as she gave Delvin a calculated look that spoke words she did not dare utter within earshot of the other thieves. Everyone knew that Brynjolf had not been himself since the incident with the blacksmith but no one had a better understanding of the impact that altercation had on him than Vex and Delvin. Even Mercer Frey refused to believe that Brynjolf was as bad off as he was.
Devlin busied himself with the vials. This time he was careful to pour only a few drops into Brynjolf's mouth before he replaced the stopper on a new vial and tucked it back into the container. "I dunno, Vex. I don't have a god-forsaken clue as to wot's wrong with him. It's been a month and some days he gets better and other days, it's like this. Not a blood infection. Not poisonin'. I've never seen a broken bone not heal and not turn septic because of it. Makes no damn sense but I'm no healer. I dunno if gettin' rid of that hand will even help at this point."
"Maybe he's beyond help. Eventually Delvin, the Skooma will run out and when it does..."
They all knew what the withdrawal looked like and Vex had little doubt that the process could very well kill the injured thief. Was that a sort of hell they were prepared to put him through while they stood by and watched?
"We've got about a month's supply, if we ration it carefully. If Bryn doesn't show signs of improvin' by the time the next full moon comes around, or if he gets even worse off than he is now, I'll get Mercer to make the call. But we don't give up on him. We don't turn our backs on our own. Brynjolf's a fighter and the luckiest bastard I've ever known. We do what we can for him and give him another month. If he's got it in him to survive, he'll fight for it. I know he will. But in the meantime, we watch him. I don't want him left alone, not even to take a piss. And if we have to, we tie him down to the bed at night."
Rune took back the container, cradling it as if it were a precious artifact. "What do we tell the others?"
"Leave that to me. I'll run it all by Mercer first and then tell everyone in the mornin'. But for now, give that box back to Vekel and you both try to get some sleep. I'll keep watch tonight. Vex, you did good and thank you. You saved his life, even if he doesn't know it yet." Delvin nodded in respect before he maneuvered past the two to where a large heavy chest sat at the foot of the bed. Inside were fresh linen bandage rolls, pots of healing salve and other herb mixtures used for poultices and tinctures to cure the ails of the Guild.
"Well, I know if the situation were different, he would do the same for any of us." Vex made no mention of the fact that Brynjolf had managed to dislocate her shoulder the last time he had made a break for the surface or that this time when she had cornered him, he had lunged at her and tried to bite her like some rabid animal. Delvin had enough to deal with and would have his hands full with nursing Brynjolf through the worst of it.
"C'mon Rune. I'll buy you a drink." Vex nudged the man with her hip as they left Delvin to play mother hen to a comatose thief that had once been a prince among their number.
Delvin watched them go before he grabbed a chair and settled himself beside the bed. That hand needed to be tended to and dressed in new bandages. As long as Brynjolf remained in a drugged stupor, it should not take Delvin long to put things to rights. After that, it would be a long wait until morning to see if the day was going to be a good one or a bad one.
Good days for the Guild were becoming a rare and distant memory. The longer this streak of ill-luck held out, the more Delvin truly believed that they really were cursed.