Chapter 10: When Rowan has nothing to do but pile up the last straws
"Thrynn, Thrynn!" An annoying voice rang out as somebody shook his shoulder frantically.
"Huh?" The Nord mumbled, his voice rough with sleep, "Whazit?"
"Wake up, please!"
He managed to force his eyes open, sleepy gaze landing on his least favourite person in the Guild.
"You," he snapped groggily, "What in the oblivion do you want?"
Rowan stared at him wide eyed, his tone urgent as he said, "Something's happened, Mercer's called for a meeting at the Cistern."
Thrynn peered at Rowan with narrowed eyes, "What's happened?"
"I'm not too sure myself," Rowan said, looking more worried than he'd seen, "Something about an infiltration, I've heard. It must be serious if Mercer's decided to summon all of us."
Thrynn looked about the sleeping quarters, finding all the other beds empty.
Rowan stood up, heading towards the door.
"Hurry," he urged, "We don't have much time."
Thrynn sat up, alert. He'd been in the middle of an ambush before and he knew that his survival depends on his ability to deal with the attack, no matter how sick or tired he was.
He quickly slipped his feet into his boots.
Squlech squelch
He paused, his toes involuntarily wriggling at the strange soft, sticky feeling.
Thrynn slowly pulled a foot out, finding it covered in a dark substance.
It was mud.
He whipped his head over at Rowan, who looked like he was having trouble stifling his laughter.
"ROWAN!" He bellowed.
The other thief fled the room before Thrynn could throw his mud-filled boots at him.
The last he heard of the scoundrel was a bark of laughter as he scurried out of the room.
Thrynn almost forgot about the incident a week later while he found himself buried in more work than ever before.
Things were finally looking up, so much that the leaders began to complain about the increasing number of clients they're getting, especially Delvin.
He returned to the Guild all exhausted from his last job, his ass aching from horse riding all day.
He yawned, grabbing a chunk of bread from the kitchens before heading for bed.
As he walked towards the sleeping quarters, he quite literally bumped into Rowan, who appears to be hurrying off.
He was quite startled, as he hadn't seen the bastard ever since the day he had to scrape mud out of his boots, to no avail.
"Hey-"
"Sorry," Rowan blurted, barely glancing at him as he rushed in the direction of the tunnels, "Got to go!"
Thrynn blinked as he disappeared from sight.
He would chase after him to settle the score from a week ago but he decided that he's too tired to deal with anything but food and sleep for the moment.
Besides, he wasn't feeling as furious as he'd been so perhaps he won't go after Rowan... much.
Thrynn yawned, opening the door to the sleeping quarters.
There was a strange smell in there.
Thrynn frowned, realizing that it kind of smells like a pond in the room.
He scanned the room.
Cynric was sprawled out on his stomach on his bed, his arm hanging over the edge above a fallen bottle of ale where it lies in a puddle of spilled ale.
He was asleep, his mouth opened as he snored like a pig.
Niruin was sleeping in the other corner of the room, neatly tucked into his blanket and mumbling something about pretty blue eyes.
Thrynn couldn't see anything out of the ordinary and walked towards his bed where the blanket was draped over the mattress.
He paused.
He remembered folding the blanket a few days ago.
He thought he saw a wet patch on the blanket as well and flung it off to find...
Fish.
Fish, all over his bed.
Small pond fishes all over his god forsaken bed.
"ROWAN!" He roared, storming out of the room, no longer sleepy.
Of course, he was nowhere to be found, the bastard.
Thrynn swore he'll rip him a new one when he sees him next.
"Do you mind getting some flour for me?" Brynjolf asked absentmindedly as he stirred the pot.
Thrynn stood in the doorway, a stricken look on his face, "You're cooking?"
"Hm," the Guild Second nodded, tossing chopped leeks into the pot, "Venison soup and pheasant pie."
"Uh, alright," Thrynn muttered, wiping the expression off his face just before Brynjolf looked up, "I'll be in a minute."
He's definitely not staying for dinner, he thought.
Thrynn couldn't understand why a Guild Leader such as Brynjolf would even volunteer for a lowly job such as cooking duty. Throughout the years in the guild, he'd never seen any other leaders dirty their hands with charcoal even once.
Well, except for that one time Delvin tried to impress Vex by cooking her some herb-crusted venison chops.
That thing that appeared on her plate looked like it belonged in the fire pit.
It also knocked the poor man out when Vex lobbed it at his head.
While Brynjolf's food was equally bad, they'd actually looked edible until someone puts them in their mouth.
Thrynn tried not to shudder when he remembered that one time he almost died from tomato soup. He still wasn't convinced that Brynjolf didn't somehow put poison into it.
He opened the door to the pantry and headed straight for the cabinet where they stored the flour.
Thrynn wasn't expecting the sack to fall on him when he opened the door, flour raining onto his head.
He stepped back, more sacks falling and sending white flour exploding all over him, covering the floor in white.
He coughed, having accidentally inhaled some in shock.
His first thought was that someone had forgotten to seal the sacks.
His second thought reminded him that none of the flour bags in the pantry were ever opened. If someone needed flour, they'll open it in the kitchen and the stupid bags will remain in the kitchen until all the flour is gone.
His third thought told him that someone had set him up.
Then his fourth was a realization that Brynjolf never cooks bread or pie, only stews and soups.
"Did you set me up?" Thrynn demanded as soon as he returned.
Brynjolf gaped at the sight of him.
"What in the world happened to you?" He squawked.
Thrynn stared at him and realized that maybe Brynjolf had nothing to do with this.
"Someone deliberately unsealed the flour sacks," he explained, "They were leaning on the cabinet door so they'll fall on whoever opens it."
He then gave Brynjolf an accusing look, "You never baked!"
Brynjolf looked at him blankly.
A look of realization crossed his face briefly, before he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.
"Rowan," he grumbled.
Thrynn's eyes widened into a hard glare, "Ah, so it was him... I'm going to fucking catch him and shove a knife down his throat."
Brynjolf was about to say something when Cynric burst in with a snort.
"Ha!" He exclaimed, "You look like an idiot who got caught in the middle of a snow storm!"
He ran as Thrynn chased after him with loud, angry bellows.
He hadn't seen Rowan in weeks.
The rogue had somehow managed to avoid Thrynn the whole time he was plotting revenge on him. They're all in the forms of physical abuse, of course, for the man was not going to stoop as low as petty pranks.
Though, they sound like a pretty good idea at this point.
However, he had no good idea of how to get back at him. He didn't even known when he'll show up, for gods' sake!
So Thrynn spent his days at the base brimming with frustration.
He heard that Rowan had come by, judging by the dark look on Mercer's face and a couple of whispered mutters because of Mercer's rage.
But it was mostly because of Mercer's face.
It was annoying that Thrynn didn't manage to catch him.
He did check his boots before he put his feet into them, checked his bed and chests and avoided the pantry at all costs.
There was nothing out of the ordinary.
So Thrynn decided to spar with someone to vent his anger.
He managed to pick up Vipir as his opponent, the man seemed too cheerful to realize what's going to happen, specifically Thrynn wiping the floor with him from the fury pulsing under his skin.
They faced each other in the training room.
"Weapons?" Vipir offered cluelessly.
Thrynn smiled wickedly at him, "Why not?"
"Alright," he said cheerfully, his hand poised over his dagger. "We'll stop when someone holds their knife to the other's throat, yeah?"
He was planning to hit Vipir with the hilt of his dagger repeatedly just to prolong his fun.
"Yeah," he smiled.
"On the count of three, then."
Vipir got into his stance and counted to three.
Thrynn ripped his dagger out furiously as he aimed his fist to Vipir's nose, hilt first.
He found himself off-balance when he saw that his hand was empty.
Vipir accidentally elbowed his head because of his awkward position.
Thrynn's vision blanked for a second.
When it cleared, he realized Vipir was hovering over him, apologizing profusely.
He blinked at the man in confusion, looking at his dagger that's still stuck fast inside the sheath.
He ignored Vipir and tugged at it, the blade refusing to budge.
Thrynn went to Niruin after, where the man took a look at his dagger and unexpectedly, sniffed at it.
"It smells like tree sap," he informed, grunting as he tried to pull the dagger free. "Someone poured it into the sheath, they probably did something else to it because it shouldn't be so... stuck. Maybe you should try-"
The dagger slid free suddenly, flying away from them and hitting the back of Cynric's satchel before clattering to the floor.
The man in question looked at them with large eyes, "Holy- watch what you're doing. You could've killed me!"
"Maybe you should get a new blade," Niruin said, "I know a way to remove the sap but the ingredients needed is much too rare and expensive."
"Just tell me what I need," Thrynn said through gritted teeth, ignoring Cynric's shouting.
"I think... chaurus eggs, ice wraith teeth and fire salts."
Thrynn sighed and pulled at his hair.
As he walked in the direction of the Flagon with his ruined blade, he thought he saw a glimpse of Rowan.
"Hey, you!" He yelled.
The figure turned to him in surprise and he saw that it was indeed Rowan.
Expectedly, he ran.
Thrynn cursed, yelling at him as he chased after.
Rowan turned towards the tunnels, running at a ludicrously quick speed.
After Thrynn's anger had worn off, he'll realize that he'd seen for himself just how fast the little rascal could be, having only heard of his stupidly fast speeds he could reach from others' stories.
Thrynn put on as much power as he could into his legs, only seeing Rowan as he flung open a door and disappear into the tunnels, the door swinging close.
He reached the door a moment later, not allowing himself to catch his breath as he opened the door.
And was promptly smacked in the face with a broom.
Thrynn fell over, not realizing what had happened until he saw the thing above him, swaying slowly and seemingly attached to something.
He smelled and felt something on his face, wiping at it with his fingers to find them coming away with something black and sticky.
Tar.
Thrynn saw red.
Brynjolf was just minding his own business, sipping some ale and dipping his bare feet in the Cistern's cold waters when Rowan and Thrynn burst out from the tunnels on the other side.
Rowan was running for his life, right until Thrynn threw something at him that caused him to fall over.
He was alarmed as he thought it was a weapon of some sort but it turned out to be a rock.
Then Thrynn was upon him, dark streaks on his face and poised to kill.
Brynjolf rushed towards them, his bottle fell into the pool, forgotten.
A/N: Well, that was a doozy. Anyway, it took longer than usual to finish because I worked on the one after this at the same time.
It's very long, basically a mini story of its own.
Also, it'll have a more serious tone compared to everything else, on par with the 'Mercer stabs Rowan' stuff but worse.