Please note, this book will contain NO lemons. There are plenty of steamy scenes but NO graphic sexual scenes. You can find plenty of those elsewhere on the internet, but you won't find them here.
…
((12th of Last Seed/August, 4E 202))
I hate walking. I will always hate walking. Goddammit. I hate walking a hundred miles and running into just as many bandits on the way. I ran the back of my hand against my forehead, then wiped the sweat off onto the toughened wolflike armor I wore. It was a miracle I'd made it out of Jorrvaskr with it, even if I hated the heavy plates.
At the sound of a horse's whinny, my eyes flicked up. I was nearing Riften, a dirty town filled with criminals. For a moment, I envied the thieves within. "At least they'd have the cost for a carriage ride covered," I muttered irritably. Brigands didn't have a thing in their hideouts but traps and candlesticks.
I kicked up dust on my way down the path, giving a brief nod to the Khajiit merchants on the side. Twisting my back around to pop the joints, I proceeded to approach the great wooden gate. To my surprise, the guard on the right shoved me backward when I tried to push through. My mood soured further, and I absently wished I could simply sock him one and get into Riften. Unfortunately for me, I was stuck listening to him drone on.
"Hold there! Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitor's tax!" The guard held out his hand. Even though his face was being covered by the standard steel helmet provided by the city, I had no doubt he was grinning. Despite my aggravation, I forced a smile onto my face.
"What's the tax for?" I queried, annoyance clear in my voice. I hadn't been stopped anywhere else before, so this was a bit odd for me. Even so, I'd still rather deal with a pesky, greedy guard than a walk from Markarth to Riften.
"For the privilege of entering the city," he snorted, crossing his arms as he broke me out of my thoughts. "What does it matter?" I scowled at him and decided to try an intimidation tactic.
"This is obviously a shakedown," I stated boldly through clenched teeth, one hand on my sword. It wasn't exactly wise to threaten a guard, but my judgment was lacking, as was my sleep. "Riften's sunk low if a guard is trying to rob a citizen." I leaned in, pursing my lips in disappointment. "Trying to rob a Companion." The guard winced and took a step back.
"You can't be serious." My glare told him all he needed to know. "All right, keep your voice down. Do you want everyone to hear you? I'll let you in; just let me unlock the gate. Pardon me," the guard apologized as he unhooked the keys from his belt. I wasn't about to tell him that I hadn't been inside Jorrvaskr for months and likely wouldn't step foot in it ever again.
"You need to stop extorting visitors," the other guard insisted as I pushed my way through the gates. "Unmid Snow-Shod's going to have your guts for garters one of these days, and that's if Mjoll doesn't get you first." I hardly managed to take three steps inside the gates before I was again stopped. This time, it was a ragged-looking man leaning up against a post, fingers wrapped tightly around my bicep. I shook him off and raised a questioning brow at the near-assault.
"I don't know you. You in Riften looking for trouble?" he grunted, eyeing me with distaste as if I was something he'd found between his teeth. I've been to Riften before. What in Oblivion is going on? I bit back a harsh response and shoved him aside, half-expecting him to come after me. I wasn't in the mood to deal with anyone else.
My feet took me around the various shops and homes. The town itself was fairly underwhelming, nothing like the beautiful forests it was surrounded by. Most townsfolk were somewhat hostile and distrusting, such as the armor-seller. All she did was insult the armor I wore and demand that I either buy something or keep moving. Even though I needed a change, I wouldn't have gotten anything from her solely based on her attitude. The Dark Elf in the marketplace was kind enough, though he did tell me to keep away from any red-haired male Nords in the city. I didn't know what would prompt it, but I didn't see any as it was.
The final person I spoke to was the blacksmith. He had a strained smile on his face when I approached. "Come to see Balimund perform miracles with steel, eh?" He laughed weakly and set an iron sword onto a grindstone. His feet pumped the pedal, the metal making small squeaks each time it went around. "What can I do for you?"
"Nothing. Just looking around the city." Balimund nodded and continued sharpening the blade. "Any recommendations?"
"Yeah." He stood up. "Drink at the Bee and Barb, and try Talen-Jei's special drinks. Not bad for an Argonian." Balimund cleared his throat again and lifted the iron sword from the grindstone, inspecting it critically. The incessant creaking of the grindstone quieted. "Avoid Brynjolf like he's got a disease, and don't get in the Black-Briars' way."
"Uh... okay." I tipped my head. "Out of curiosity, is this Brynjolf fellow a tall Nord with red hair?"
"That's him." Balimund glanced up with alarmed eyes. "Why? Do you see him?" He sounded uneasy, almost scared.
"No. You're just not the first person to tell me to keep away." The blacksmith visibly relaxed before his hand tightened on the blade once again.
"We all know he's a criminal," Balimund growled, "but he'll never get put away for his crimes. Someway, somehow, he always manages to escape punishment." The smith looked around and leaned in. "Depending on who you ask, some folks in Riften think Maven Black-Briar's got his back." He appeared regretful. "Our Jarl is Laila Law-Giver, but to tell you the truth, I think Maven's the real one running the town."
I didn't really have anything else to say. "Well, it was nice talking to you." Balimund nodded before returning to his work.
"You, too." I continued to walk around the town, keeping an eye out for anything interesting.
The faint voice of a woman hit my ears, and I felt compelled to follow. "...I'm really getting tired of your excuses," came an irritated hiss. "When you borrowed the money, you said you'd pay it back on time and for double the usual fee." I found the source. A woman in sturdy leather armor was leaning against a bridge while staring at a thin Redguard man. Of course, 'man' was a strong word. He couldn't have been much older than eighteen.
"I know I did, but how was I supposed to know the shipment would get robbed?" the Redguard pleaded, clasping his hands in desperation.
The woman shifted her weight, and I detected the malicious glint of avarice in her eyes. "Next time, keep your plans quieter, and nothing would have happened to it." The Redguard male paused, the gears in his head turning as he processed the words of his debtor.
"Wha- are you saying you robbed it? Why? Why are you doing this to me?" I could hear tears in the Redguard's voice. He was obviously on the verge of crying.
"Look, Shadr. Last warning. Pay up or else. All I care about is the gold. Everything else is your problem." The woman sauntered away without a care, clearly finished on her end. The man she called Shadr continued to mope on the bench, melancholy radiating from him. I carefully approached, feeling bad for the kid.
He jumped when I tapped his shoulder, apparently not having realized I was there. "Wha- oh. Are you with her? Are you with Sapphire? Look, I told her already-"
"No, I'm not with her." The tension in Shadr's shoulders lessened somewhat. "I just wanted to know what was going on. You look like you're in trouble."
"What? Oh. It's just that I owe a great deal of money to someone, and I think they cheated me." His lower lip quivered. "I don't know what to do. I was able to work out a deal with the stables in Whiterun to sell me some of their tack and harnesses. I borrowed some gold from Sapphire to pay for the shipment, but it got robbed before it even arrived." His eyes shone from unshed tears while his voice cracked, and I couldn't help feeling sorry for the lad. "Now Sapphire wants her money back, and if I don't pay her, I- I think she's going to k-kill me!" His nose had begun to run as he started to cry.
I patted his shoulder, not knowing quite what to say. Well, I didn't have any spare septims for him; I had my own business. I also didn't know this 'Sapphire' he seemed to be so terrified of. She'd definitely given off a dangerous air, but I hadn't taken the time to scrutinize her enough to know much else. After a minute of letting the boy cry underneath my hand, I considered leaving without doing anything. While it wasn't really my place to get involved, I quickly recognized that the Sapphire character had played a part in the shipment's disappearance. If Riften was still the location of the Thieves Guild, she was probably part of it.
"I suppose I could try to talk to Sapphire," I said uncertainly, hoping I was making the right decision.
The Redguard looked up at me with red-rimmed brown eyes wide with disbelief. "You'd... you'd do that? You'd really do that?" The barest hint of hope threaded through his voice.
"I guess I will." Without warning, Shadr lunged forward and hugged me tightly.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" he cried out. I patted his head awkwardly, waiting for him to let go. "Just..." Shadr pulled away and wiped his runny nose with his sleeve. "Be careful with Sapphire," he advised. "She mixes with all sorts of nasty people." Like that Brynjolf character? I had to laugh mentally. It seemed all the bad people in this town had a sort of connection.
Shadr waved goodbye and scurried out toward the marketplace. If he'd been a Khajiit or Argonian, I would guarantee that his tail would have been between his legs.
I checked my weapons just in case things got physical. I didn't want a fight but would damn well be prepared just in case one broke out. With determination marking my feet, I strode purposefully into the Bee and Barb.
Just as any tavern would have, people milled about, drank, coughed, and gossiped. I heard a few snippets, but nothing overly interesting.
"...heard Ulfric bedded one of his soldiers and got her pregnant..."
"...cousin died the other day..."
"...killed Grelod the Kind..."
"...Dark Brotherhood..."
"...Thalmor patrolling the Rift..."
It took all of two seconds to locate Sapphire. She was leaning up against the wall of the inn, sharp hostility in her eyes. Her ginger hair was tangled and matted, but this woman didn't appear to care how she looked. As I inspected her, she did the same to me. Eventually, she ended the staring contest and crossed her arms. "What do you want?" she snarled, a single eyebrow raised. I'd barely opened my mouth before realization crossed her face. "Oh, you want me to drop the debt with that stableboy, don't you? I knew that stupid kid would try and find a way to weasel out of his debt."
With a deep breath, I straightened up. I was shorter than Sapphire but refused to let that intimidate me. "Drop the debt or answer to me, Sapphire." Sapphire seemed confused for a moment but let out a derisive laugh.
"Haha! Are you kidding me? I've got the entire Thieves Guild at my back. What've you got?" I opened and closed my mouth a few times, not having expected her to fight back. She donned a smug smile as I started to flounder, but to both of our surprise, I was pushed aside.
"You and I both know this is a setup." As an onlooker instead of its target, I recognized the Voice of the Emperor power as it reached Sapphire. The speaker's tone was smooth and persuasive, matching the woman it belonged to. The Imperial was quite lovely, with long black hair done up in a thick ponytail, violet eyes, and a full body. Of course, that was hardly abnormal for an Imperial female. "Come on; he's just a kid." I noticed a scruffy-looking man near the door watching her with interest, but then again, most men in the tavern had their eyes on her. The odd thing was that this one had a red wolf next to him.
Sapphire hesitated, considering the Imperial's persuasive words for a few moments before slumping her shoulders. "All right, all right," she relented. "I guess I made enough from his shipment. No need to waste any more time threatening a stable hand." She frowned grumpily. "Tell Shadr he doesn't owe me anything." Sapphire looked at us for a moment before walking away, done speaking to us both.
I turned to the Imperial woman. "Thanks, but you didn't have to. Why did you help?"
She wore a satisfied smile but didn't reply to my question. "Alessia." I took her outstretched hand and shook it.
"Russet."
"Nice to meet you, Russet." She pulled up a parchment on which a face had been sketched. "Out of curiosity, have you seen this man?" Both her voice and face were eager, almost desperate. "He's a Breton, blond hair, brown eyes, has a red birthmark right here that resembles a Dwemer gear." She pointed to a small blotch on the drawing.
"That's specific." I looked over the page, racking my brain for the Breton. Coming up empty, I shrugged. "Sorry, never seen him. I'll keep an eye out, though. Do you live here in Riften?"
Alessia shook her head. "Nah, just passing through." She gave a heavy sigh. "Thanks anyway, Russet." She waved goodbye and headed up to the innkeeper, no doubt to ask about the mystery man.
I decided the end of that conversation was my cue to leave and inform Shadr of the success. Sure enough, the young Redguard was waiting outside the Bee and Barb, wringing his hands frantically. Upon spotting me, he hurried up way too far into my personal bubble. I stepped away while he spoke. "Did you do it? Did you convince Sapphire?"
"Yep."
"Already?" he squeaked, voice rising in tone. I nodded and grinned, that little side of me pushing to ask for compensation. I never did, as he instead tucked a bottle into my hands. The label was slightly faded but still legible. It was a potion used for invisibility, and a tiny dose at that. I'd venture to guess the individual ingredients that had gone into making it would have a more substantial effect. As it was, it was worthless, not even sellable. "I was going to use it in case Sapphire came after me, but- now I don't need to! Thank you again!" Once the cowardly Redguard skittered away, I threw the impotent potion into the gunky river below. With a snort, I turned on my heel and strode back into the tavern.
Sapphire had vanished, but a new man had appeared to preach about Mara's love. I guessed he was some kind of priest from his garb. Of course, I wasn't here to listen to him babble about marriage; I was here to persuade the barkeep to let me stay for free.
It must have been clear to the Argonian female at the counter that I was desperate, but that didn't make her lower the price. Her refusal meant I'd have to find a place to sleep outside. As I turned, I caught a red-haired Nord looking at me thoughtfully. He had a scar on his left cheek and enigmatic green eyes. His hair was a slightly darker shade than mine, more of a reddish-brown. His elegant clothes made it clear he thought himself part of the nobility.
"What are you looking at?" I snapped at him, expecting a chubby rich fellow such as him to shy away from my hostility. To my surprise, he only chuckled and strode out of the inn with confidence marking his steps. However, there were worse (and stranger) things than a nobleman not bowing to my implied threats. I've had enough of this nonsense. With that, I exited the Bee and Barb through a different door.
There was nowhere in Riften to stay unless I was to break into someone's home and steal a bed. It was a ridiculous concept, only serving to amuse me faintly. The sky above me thundered before rain crashed down. I swore under my breath and ran to the nearest building, taking shelter under its roof. My attention turned to the house, and with the hope that the occupant was a generous soul, I knocked on the door. "Hello? May I come in? Please?" There was no answer from inside.
I knelt and inserted a lockpick into the door with a wary glance around me. Vilkas would kick my ass if he caught me doing this, I absently thought as I searched for the correct pins. At last, the lock clicked open.
The inside of the house was a mess. There wasn't much inside, leading me to believe that the home was unowned. "All the better for me," I said to the emptiness. Slumping down against the wall, I used my satchel to support my head. "It's not quite a bed, but at least I'm not outside." As if in reply, thunder again shook the air. Sleep...
...
The sky was a cloudy gray in the morning, giving the rain-soaked stones a darker look. Riften seemed more ominous and dreary than ever. Perfect, just perfect. I didn't know what I'd do in Riften and wished not for the first time that I hadn't ruined what I had with the Companions. After all, I'd rather have a bed next to Farkas than pick splinters out of my back. I had no idea what I was going to do, but I figured the first thing I needed was a group since returning to Jorrvaskr was out of the question. Once I had my bow slung over my shoulder and sword on my hip, I made my way to the main halls, hoping the Jarl had something for me.
I never reached Mistveil Keep. A soft yet slightly calloused hand on my own held me back, preventing me from taking another step. Instinctively, I placed my free hand on my sword and turned around. I relaxed when I saw an average Nord, squinting as I tried to place the familiar face. It hit me when a low chuckle rumbled his chest. He was the man from last night at the Bee and Barb.
"A little light in the pockets, eh lass?" He had a noticeable accent and spoke with a smooth voice. Something in the air chilled me to the bone, stopping my blood flow for a split second. He released my hand, and it was then I finally registered what he'd said. I stared at him with skepticism when I replied.
"How could you possibly know that?" I wondered, halfway to myself. The Nord studied me, eyes roaming my figure.
"It's all about sizing up your mark, lass. The way they walk, what they're wearing... it's a dead giveaway."
"My wealth is none of your business," I retorted sharply, further annoyed by his (correct) assumption of my finances.
"Oh, but that's where you're wrong, lass. Wealth is my business. Maybe you'd like a taste?"
"A ta- wait a minute. You're Brynjolf, aren't you?"
He didn't seem surprised by my own assumption. "Heard of me, have you?"
"Your reputation as a troublemaker precedes you." I absently noticed that he had a firm grip as he shook my hand.
"Well, lass, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. You know who I am, but I'm afraid I know nothing about you."
I blinked slowly. I couldn't deny my curiosity but didn't offer him my name. "You said 'a taste'... what did you have in mind?" Brynjolf grinned cheekily.
"I've got a bit of an errand to perform, but I need an extra pair of hands." He leaned in closer, and I could smell honey mead on his breath. "And in my line of work, extra hands are well-paid." He drew back, and I got the idea that this wasn't exactly an honest bargain. The thought of Brynjolf's offer made me shiver with anticipation.
"What do I have to do?" A hint of a smile ghosted at his face.
"It's simple. I'm going to cause a distraction, and you're going to steal Madesi's silver ring from a strongbox under his stand." He pointed to an Argonian who was advertising jewelry to the passerby.
"You just want me to take a ring? That's it?" I scoffed, unimpressed and slightly annoyed. Brynjolf narrowed his eyes at my dismissal.
"Not quite, lass." I shuddered at his tone. He straightened up and continued speaking. "Once you have the ring, I want you to place it in Brand-Shei's pocket without him noticing." My blank look told him I had no idea of the subject. "Brand-Shei is the Dunmer over there." He gestured to a Dark Elf in the market square, in a booth near a pile of boxes and barrels.
"Why plant the ring on Brand-Shei?" For a moment, I thought he was pulling a trick, perhaps trying to fool me. No matter this strange man's new game, I had no doubt I could easily beat him in a fight if it came to it. Anyone in that kind of clothing led a soft and overfed life. As for me, it wasn't my spotty record, but how many had been slain by my hand.
Brynjolf, unaware of my pondering, went on with his explanation. "There's someone who wants to see him put out of business permanently. That's all you need to know." He glanced at me sharply.
"But why?" I enunciated the question. I didn't want to do anything without enough information, which Brynjolf wasn't providing. "Why am I doing this to Brand-Shei anyway?" The Nord scratched his scruffy beard.
"We've been contacted to make sure that he remembers not to meddle in the affairs that are not his own, lass." We?
"Why not just eliminate him?" I remarked. He didn't catch the sarcasm and cracked his knuckles.
"Now, since we're not the Dark Brotherhood, we're not going to kill him." His green eyes rested on me, and I felt slighted by his insinuation.
"Of course not," I hissed furiously. "As if I'd join up with a group that's nothing but a blight to Tamriel!" Brynjolf shifted, expressionless.
"Well, you seem enough of a rogue." I didn't lighten my glare. "All right, lass. All we're looking for is to make sure he sits in the Riften prisons for a few days."
I weighed the pros and cons. On the one hand, it wasn't the kind of thing a Companion would be expected to do. Kodlak, in particular, would be disappointed if he ever found out. On the other hand, I wasn't a Companion anymore. Even Farkas was upset with my leaving. Especially Farkas.
My traitorous thoughts returned to Brynjolf's offer. With him was the promise of pay. It was a new adventure, a new experience, current financial instability aside. I eyed Brynjolf critically, still trying to decide. "I could turn you in," I declared slyly. "I could have you thrown into the dungeons to rot instead of Brand-Shei."
He merely laughed at my threat. "Would you, lass? It's my word against yours." I clenched my fists, annoyed by his logic.
"I'm a Companion. They'll believe me." Right.
"Would they? You caused a bit of trouble on your way into Riften. Terrorizing a city guard?" He clicked his tongue. The only reason I didn't beat him into the ground was my forced restraint, crossing my arms to prevent any involuntary whoop-assing.
"You've got it mixed up, sneak-thief."
"Do I? He's still got his word, too. Admit it, lass. You can't do a damn thing to me," he sneered.
I despised being bested in a verbal battle, and the taunting wasn't helping his case. It was here I came to a decision, flicking his nose with my fingers. As he winced, I shot back a retort of my own. "You're naught but a good-for-nothing criminal." Brynjolf raised an eyebrow at my rejection of his offer but was otherwise unaffected.
"Really, lass? You wound me."
"If you don't shut your gob, then I'll give you a wound that'll really stick." I didn't give him a chance to reply, storming away from him with clouded thoughts.
I barely heard him speak, though his intent was unclear. "You'll be back, lass... you can't ignore us for long."
...
I retook refuge in the abandoned home near the wall. There was no storm, but a gale still whipped at the creaky boards. It was colder than the previous night, though the low temperatures didn't bother me much. I now considered Brynjolf's request to be the ramblings of a lunatic, dismissing it and trying to sleep.
Unfortunately, sleep evaded me the entire night. I tossed and turned, the Nord man's words ringing in my mind with every passing second.
"You can't ignore us for long."
I had no idea what he meant or if he'd even meant anything. Still, my heart thudded and pumped adrenaline through my veins. I was in no current danger in addition to being well-equipped should it prove otherwise. No, it was a faint urging in my head, attacking me around midnight and lasting into the wee hours of the morning. It pushed me to change my mind and break the Companions' monotony and self-righteousness. It told me to cast aside the honor that had been drilled into my brain for the past decade. It told me to seize the opportunity, to take the spark that had taken me from Jorrvaskr.
It had been a deceitful, shady man that proposed the crooked plan, and I wanted nothing more than to join in. "Gods above," I whispered to myself, picking myself up. "What's wrong with me?" I fled the house with thoughts of dishonor and my misgivings following just behind. A lack of sleep might have fueled it, but I wanted that excitement. "Give me a day of deception over a lifetime of honor."
It didn't take long to find Brynjolf. He was already at his stall, despite it being hardly six in the frozen morning. He noticed me instantly and leaned against his counter. He seemed to be waiting for me to speak, but he broke the silence after a moment.
"Knew you'd come to your senses sooner or later."
"How do you know I'm here to go along with your plan?" Brynjolf smiled at my rebuff.
"You wouldn't have come back if you weren't willing, lass." I had no defense against his pointed comment.
"All right, you scoundrel," I growled. "Let's get this started."
...
The market was hardly busy a few hours later, but Brynjolf was satisfied. "I'll start a distraction while you take the ring and plant it. They shouldn't notice you." He muttered a 'hopefully' under his breath, which I pretended not to hear. "Now go." The Nord's green eyes glinted in the light as he raised his voice. "Everyone! Gather 'round!" All focus turned to the red-haired Nord holding up a ridiculous red bottle. "This here is Falmer Blood Elixir!" I nearly snorted aloud. Falmer aren't all that rare, just pick any of the Dwemer ruins and go. Besides, their blood is just like any other Mer's blood.
...And who's to say that's what it is in that little vial of yours?
I rolled my eyes as a series of oohs and ahhs rang through the crowd."Cures any ailment! Make love like a sabercat, or regrow that missing limb!" Brynjolf announced. Another spoke up about a previous item, a fake. "Just a misunderstanding, lad. This here is real." Madesi's stand was unmanned, the Argonian having gone over to listen to Brynjolf's scam.
It might have been fear or excitement that moved me to try the strongbox inside, which was more complicated than the gated backing. I'd had some experience picking locks in ancient Nordic tombs and bandit chests, but I still managed to break a few lockpicks on the door. At last, the lid opened, revealing a silver ring and several jewels. I stared at the loot, wondering if it was too late to turn back.
Almost- almost- against my will, I pocketed the ring. A jolt surged through me as if I'd swallowed venom from a frostbite spider. It was joy, twisted joy. It was the thrill I'd been craving for months, the thrill that had driven me from the Companions.
As quickly as I could, I crept over to the Dunmer and placed the stolen jewelry into his pocket. I stiffened when Brand-Shei moved a bit, only relaxing when he stopped. Brynjolf saw my success and suddenly called off the auction.
"That's all there is. Come back tomorrow!" A few people murmured to themselves in disappointment as the crowd dispersed. I walked back over to Brynjolf and watched the scene unfold.
"Damn! Shouldn't have waited," Brand-Shei cursed as he prepared to stand.
"Halt!" A guard thundered over to the marketplace, sword drawn. Within seconds, three others joined and surrounded the Dunmer. Brynjolf's eyes widened for a heartbeat. "Brand-Shei! Empty your pockets!" I felt a silent laugh shake the Nord beside me.
"What's this about? Look, noth- wait, what's this?" The shock in the Dark Elf's voice was genuine, but the guards apparently didn't care. "This isn't mine!" Brand-Shei croaked, trying to convince them of his innocence.
"You're right, it isn't!" shouted the first guard, poking him with the tip of his blade. Clearly, nobody believed the red-eyed Elf. "Off to the dungeons, filth!" They dragged him away, an innocent man yelling and kicking in resistance.
"You can't be serious! I didn't do it!" I took a deep breath through my nose. Brynjolf nodded in appreciation and gave me a satisfied smile.
"Looks like I chose the right person for the job." I refused to be swayed by flattering comments. "Here you go, payment as promised." However, the sizable pouch he placed into my hand was an excellent way to gain my favor. "The way things have been going around here, it's a relief that our plan went off without a hitch." I eyed him with suspicion, now wary.
"What do you mean? What's been going on?" I questioned suspiciously. Brynjolf coughed, frustrated. "Oh, if you didn't want me to know anything, then you shouldn't have said anything."
"Well, see here, lass..." He scratched at the back of his head, obviously flustered. "My organization's been having a run of bad luck." His attempt to play it off failed.
"That's a shame." He looked at me, most likely to see if I was mocking him, but my face remained a mask.
"I suppose that's just how it goes. Never mind that, though." He patted my shoulder again, and I responded the same way. That is, shoving him off. He continued talking. "You did the job, and you did it well. Best of all, there's more where that came from... if you think you can handle it." His voice took on a different tone, one that spoke of challenge and intrigue.
If there were any chances to feel the exhilaration again I'd long lost, the rush I'd been exiled from the search of, I'd swim across the Ghost Sea to take it.
"I can handle anything." Brynjolf didn't bother to hide his amusement.
"That's great, lass. I'm glad to hear it." His expression was almost wicked. "How about you prove to me how much you can handle?" I was nearly impressed with how well he composed himself from our bantering throughout the day.
"Of course." He gave me a few more instructions on where to go and left, business concluded. I stared at the page he'd slipped into my hand, the corner of my mouth lifting in a smile.
Not bad, Brynjolf. Not bad.
