Her task was easy, but Veria didn't mind. First she visited was Bersi Honey-Hand, a man who owned a store near the Blackbriar Meadery. It was a damp hole in the wall called the Pawned Prawn, and Veria had no qualms about abusing the door as she entered.
"Careful, friend!" Bersi called from behind the counter, hiding his annoyance at the brutish entry. "That door is older than you are. What can I get you on this fine day?"

Veria strode over to the counter and slammed down her forearm on the surface. She leaned forward and said "I've got a message for you."
Bersi's face fell from congeniality to angry annoyance. "Oh. It's one of you people, is it? What, Brynjolf doesn't bother showing up himself anymore? What in Oblivion does he want?"
"Pay what you owe, Bersi," Veria said. "Or things might get a little messy around here."
The fool scoffed. "Ha! Please. Empty threats won't sway me. You people are all bark and no bite. Everyone knows it. Why don't you run back to your hole, little dog, and leave my wife and I in peace?"

Not surprised by the resistance, Veria straightened and slowly backed away, finally stopping beside a table on which stood a fine-looking urn. "Hmm..." She placed a delicate finger on the lip and traced its circumference. "This is nice."
With a gentle push, she tipped the urn precariously on the edge of the table. "Get your filthy paws of that!" Bersi yelled. Unsatisfied, Veria flicked her finger and sent the object plummeting to the floor where it clattered dangerously.
"You remember the exact amount, don't you, Bersi?" She picked up a heavy candlestick from the same table and held it over the miraculously unbroken urn. A woman that could only be Bersi's wife cried out beside him.

He gritted his teeth and said, "Don't you dare-"
Wrong answer. Veria let the candlestick fall, and was rewarded with a loud shattering sound as it made contact with the urn. Bersi cried out, "No! You fool! That urn was priceless!"
She plucked the candlestick from the shattered remains of the urn and turned it over in her hands. "Anything else I can break around here?" She asked.
"No!" Bersi held up his palms in defeat. "You win, alright? That's enough. I'll pay on time from now on, I promise. Make sure Brynjolf knows." Without responding she strolled over and slammed the candlestick onto the counter surface with a loud bang. Bersi jumped and dug a coin purse from inside his pocket.

"Here! Here." He pushed it towards her and she pocketed it. "You have your gold. Leave me and my wife in peace!"
Veria pushed the candlestick over before finally backing off and leaving the couple amidst their broken treasure. It was worth it to squeeze one more jump scare out of them.
Once on the street, she took a deep breath. That was far more amusing than she thought it'd be, and she headed for the next debtor with eagerness in her step.

Keerava was one of the Argonians running the Bee and Barb. She stood out like a sore thumb, a scaly maid serving drinks to the patrons of the inn. When Veria strode up to the counter, she was lifting a fresh mug of ale to deliver to a thirsty customer. Veria wrapped her palm around the lip of the mug and slammed it back down onto the counter. Ale spilled out over their hands, and Keerava sneered angrily.
"Brynjolf sent me to deliver a message," Veria said before she could berate her.
This made Keerava scowl harder. "I already told that oaf that I'm done paying! You people won't see another septim from me!"
Veria abruptly slid the mug closer, and Keerava was wise to slip her hand from it and reach for a fresh one. "It wasn't a request," Veria growled.
Keerava filled the new mug and spat, "Go jump in the river, why don't you?" She left Veria at the bar without a single coin.

Veria sighed in annoyance, but instead of pursuing her, shifted to the Argonian man tending the other side of the counter. She simply leaned on her elbows, fixing him in her venomous stare. There was no doubt that he heard the whole exchange, and her attention was clearly causing discomfort.
"Look," he said finally, avoiding her gaze. "I don't want any trouble-"
"Then talk some sense into her, Talen-Jei." Veria recalled his name from the information that Brynjolf gave her.
He glanced at her, hate and caution in his eyes. "The last thing I want is a war with your people, Thief."
"Then cooperate, and everyone is happy."

Talen-Jei sighed heavily, and rubbed his brow. Finally he said, "Listen...she has some family at a farm just inside Morrowind. If you mention that you know about it, she might listen to you."
Veria straighten and nodded once. "Thank you for your help, Talen."
"Look. I'm doing this because I care about her. Don't think this means I accept what you people do. Please, just take your money and...don't harm anyone, please. I couldn't bear it."
Veria merely tilted her head upward and turned on her heel, leaving Talen-Jei petrified for his lover.

It worked like a charm. At mention of her family, Keerava forked over the coin almost immediately. Veria left the inn, leaving two terrified Argonians in her wake.

Haelga was the easiest of them hall. Veria found her cleaning the tables of the Bunkhouse, a sorry establishment that housed the stinking dock workers of Riften. At the sight of Veria, she straightened and clenched her cleaning rag in her fist.
"You're that woman that's been terrorizing everyone," she said. Her face was more defensive than fearful, and Veria could tell this debtor was going to be simple. But what fun was it to simply get what she came for, she thought. Ignoring Haelga, she walked casually around the room.
"Brynjolf sent you for my debt, is that right?"

At a table tucked away in the corner of the room, Veria stopped. A golden statue of Dibella, the goddess of beauty, sat gleaming in a place where everything else was worn and dark with neglect. Veria rested a finger on the statue's forehead, feeling the smooth, polished surface.
Sensing a threat, Haelga rummaged through her pockets and said, "Please, there's no need for that. Here, I have what I owe." In an attempt at cooperation, she desperately held out a pouch of coin. Veria looked at Haelga and swiped the pouch from her hands.

Instead of leaving, Veria looked back to the statue. It was captivating in its design, and it called up a fond memory of Markarth that Veria had almost forgotten in her grief.
Without another thought, she wrapped her arm around the statue's midsection and tucked it securely beside her. "I'll be off, then," she said.
"W-Wait!" Haelga cried as Veria started towards the door. "I paid your debt! Don't take Dibella! Please! I need her!"
Veria suddenly turned and pinned Haelga with a dangerous look. She said "What you fail to realize, my lady, is that your payment is overdue, which means that you've accumulated a bit of interest. I'm obligated to secure that interest in addition to what you already owe."
"I-interest!? But-"
"Don't worry. This will do just fine." Dibella safely tucked under her arm, Veria left the Bunkhouse with a little more than what was needed.
She figured a house of thieves wouldn't mind so much.

"So, you got every last coin out of them, lass? I'm impressed- what's this?" Brynjolf eyed the Dibella statue under Veria's possessive hand.
"Just a little something for myself," Veria said passively.
Brynjolf furrowed his brow. "That's Haelga's...you didn't have to take it."
"Yeah. But I wanted it." When Brynjolf raised his eyebrows at the remark, she said, "I told her it was interest on her late loan. The others paid small additional prices. Why should she get off so easy?"

After a moment, Brynjolf smiled and laughed. "I think you'll fit in perfectly here, lass." He rested his hands on his hips and glanced over the three coin purses resting on the table. "You recollected every last coin, and better yet you did it clean. It's best you keep it that way. Dumping bodies and bribing guards gets expensive, fast."
"That won't be a problem. It was fun."
He hid a crooked smile as he scratched the bottom of his nose, and he considered her for a short moment. "Lass, you've done more than simply prove yourself. We need people like you in our outfit." He held out an open palm. "Welcome to the Guild, 'Lass.'"

Veria took his hand, but only humored him a moment before retracting her hand to say, "Enough pleasantries, Brynjolf. Tell me where I can find more gold."
He clapped his hands together and said, "That's the spirit, my friend! You'll feel right at home here." He motioned to the Dibella statues. "First off, you could probably fence that for a good price. Vex is the one to talk to about that. She's the pale one in the Ragged Flagon."
Veria shook her head. "No, I'll be keeping this statue for now. It..." She stopped, but Brynjolf looked confused at the unfinished sentence, so she continued, "I like it."
Clearly curious, Brynjolf glanced from Veria's face to the rather titillating sculpture and back, but said nothing.

He shrugged, and said, "Do what you like." He turned and motion for her to follow. "Come on. Before we do anything else, I've got to convince the boss that you're worth it."
She trotted to catch up with his long strides, and came up beside him saying, "What, you're not the boss?"
"By the Nine, no! That'll be Mercer. He's somewhere around here. Probably the vault..." They were approaching a pair of heavily reinforced doors when Brynjolf suddenly stopped and turned to her. His voice was low and he used a no-nonsense tone as he said, "Now, before you meet him I really must know what to call you."
She hesitated, and he continued, "It doesn't even have to be your real name...you see that woman over there?" He motioned to a Nord woman bickering with an elf in the corner of the cistern. "We call her Sapphire. You think that's her real name?"

He waited for Veria to respond. She genuinely did not want to reveal her name, like it was a curse or something. After a long moment she looked him in the eyes and said, "Call me Wraith."
"...Wraith?" He nodded in understanding. "Not very ladylike, though..."
She rolled her eyes as they continued towards the vaults.

Almost on cue, one of the doors swung open and a ragged, mean-looking man emerged. "Mercer!" Brynjolf approached and began to explain about his new recruit. As he spoke, Mercer eyed Veria like she was a skeever trying to steal his dinner. When he finally addressed her, he was curt and impolite. "So you're the newest dog to stumble in here looking for coin, eh girl?"
"Mercer, this one is different. She got all our coin back and more. She knows how to get around without being seen." He glanced toward her and finished, "She's a natural."
Mercer crossed his arms and finally nodded. "Fine then. Give her some proper gear and a horker loaf. She's looks like a waif." Veria narrowed her eyes at him, but he continued, "Get yourself settled, greenhorn. Talk to me later and maybe I'll have a job for you."
He walked off without another word, and Brynjolf watched him go. When he was gone he muttered, "He's not the easiest person to get along with, but it's important that we follow his orders. Got that, Wraith?"

Veria realized she was grinding her teeth; her dislike of the man must have been painted all over her face. She quickly subdued herself and glanced around the cistern, feigning disinterest. This got a chuckle out of Brynjolf and he gave her a pat on the back. "Follow me, Wisp. Let's get you out of that sorry excuse for armor."
She screwed her face into a scowl. "Wraith!"
He only chuckled and continued through the cistern.