Brynjolf stepped into the Guildmaster's office one summer afternoon, lamenting the stiff, muggy air of the ratways that always carried a faint, fetid stink that came with the heat.
He unbuckled his dagger from his belt and placed it on the desk, going around to check on the documents.
Brynjolf flipped opened the ledger book, eyes scanning over the balances and numbers over the last months.
As he came to the entry from the previous week, he paused.
He stared at it once and another time, standing immediately when he was certain he wasn't seeing things.
Brynjolf opened the door, peering into the Cistern where Cynric is practically buzzing around Garthar, the usually calm man looking like he's moments from ripping the other's head off.
He looked around and seeing no one else, closed the door before approaching them.
Garthar straightened up when he saw Brynjolf while Cynric went quiet, looking at him curiously.
"Have you seen Rowan?" He asked.
"No, Guildmaster," Garthar answered at the same time Cynric grinned.
"What is it?" Brynjolf turned to the other man.
"He's at the Flagon," Cynric said cheerfully, "Trying to rip poor Etienne off in dice."
Brynjolf felt a tic in his right eye but refrained from saying anything.
"That will be all," he said abruptly and turned for the Flagon, ignoring Cynric's growing gleeful look while Garthar tries to slip away before he notices.
He entered the Ragged Flagon to see Rowan and their newest recruit at a table, Tonilia and Delvin hovering over them watching the game. Vex was ignoring all of them as she sipped from a bottle of ale.
On Rowan's side of the table was a large pile of septims that easily reached a hundred while Etienne only had a handful left, the man looking absolutely dejected.
Rowan was rolling the die in a cup as Brynjolf approached them silently.
"Ten," he said, tossing them out onto the table, the two die spinning about and eventually settled on two fives.
"Dammit," Eitenne cursed, as Rowan laughed and slid the man's last coins over to him.
"Today's not your lucky day, it seems," Rowan smirked and just noticed that the others have gone quiet and are staring at something behind him.
"Hello, Bryn," he said, turning to the man who stood behind him with his arms folded.
"I don't think cheating a man of his gold makes for a good first impression," Brynjolf deadpanned.
Etienne stared looked between them, "Wait, what?"
"I wasn't cheating," Rowan said shamelessly.
Delvin laughed at that.
Brynjolf rolled his eyes, "Return him his money and come along to the study, I need to speak with you."
Rowan sighed dramatically, "Can't a man have some fun around here?"
He did leave the mount of coins for Etienne to collect and followed Brynjolf obediently back into the Cistern and into the office.
"What need do you have of me?" Rowan asked with raised brows as he placed his around Brynjolf's waist.
Brynjolf shrugged his arm off while he pointed at the ledger, at the words written in the column, "What the hell is this?"
Rowan peered down at the scrawled letter 'F' next to the letters 'H: S. N.' written next to the numbers '250' over '150'. At the bottom was the letters 'V. Fleet'.
"Here," Rowan said, pointing at the first letter, "This here refers to the fishing job, this refers to a sapphire necklace, which is an heirloom. We were paid two hundred and fifty septims, minus one hundred and fifty which is the Guild's share. This job was carried out by Vipir."
Brynjolf gave him an unhappy look, "I thought I told you to record all these properly."
"I don't see a problem-"
"Properly, Rowan," he grumbled, "And you could've written down Vipir's actual name instead of that stupid title of his."
Rowan waved at the records, "This is quite easy to understand."
"No, it is not," Brynjolf snapped, jabbing at another row that read 'B - J. D. - 350/200 - C'.
"What in the blazes does this even mean!"
"It's a burglary job, for a jeweled dagger," Rowan answered easily, "Cynric was the one to do it."
"And this?"
"A bedlam job in Whiterun," Rowan said, "Vipir was the one out on that job."
"There's not even a proper system in place!" Brynjolf yelled, "You used the letter B for two different things! And you just wrote a V for his name, there's no damn consistency with this, you clod!"
Rowan shrugged.
Brynjolf glowered at him, "I want you to do it again."
"Bryn-"
"No excuses!" He snapped, "And do it properly this time or I swear to the gods I will tan your hide!"
Rowan smirked at that, "Oh, really?"
Brynjolf looked absolutely livid, "Don't come to bed tonight."
"What? No, Brynjolf-"
"No, Rowan. In fact, if you don't do this," Brynjolf said in a low, threatening tone, "Don't even think about sleeping in our room for a week, I will jam the doors if I have to!"
The Guild Second gaped at him.
"And find those damned papers!" Brynjolf snapped as he left the room, slamming the door behind him.
Rowan stared at the door in shock.
As he made his way over to the desk a moment later, the door slammed open.
"On seconds thoughts," Brynjolf said through gritted teeth, glaring at him, "I'd better be present to make sure you don't make a mess of it another time."
Rowan didn't respond and sat at the chair in silence while he looked for the Taskmasters' results.
Needless to say, Brynjolf never let him touch the ledgers again after that.