Fahiil
Thera
I followed Mercer Frey, leader of the Thieves' Guild, through the winding tunnels of the Nordic tomb of Snow Veil Sanctum. We had been accosted by countless Draugr over the past hours, often roused from their sleep by way of traps left by a traitorous thief, one who had killed the former leader of the guild. A Dunmer, I was led to believe; Karliah, or some such.
The web around the rumor mill stated the woman had been the previous Guildmaster's whore – as any Mer who would sink to laying with a human is. Over time, it would seem she regained some sense of dignity, however; her boldness restored, Karliah had assassinated the man and tried to kill Mercer as well. When she failed in murdering her colleague, she fled, apparently taking thousands of Septims with her. The Thieves' Guild had not been the same since, broken and defeated at every turn. Many blamed Magick, Daedra, hell, even the Aedra made their way into the conversation at times.
Personally, I was of the belief that Karliah had not abandoned her plans for dominion over the Thieves' Guild. Many jobs had been botched, many Septims stolen, and many plans undone since before I arrived amongst the Thieves. The question was not if there was a traitor amongst the Guild, it was who the traitor was. I truly admired how dedicated and skilled they were when it came to their cover, honestly even I could learn a few things from them.
"Let's get a move on, dammit," the irritable Guildmaster snapped. I snarled silently behind the man, my eyes fixed angrily on the back of his graying head. Once we killed Karliah within the Sanctum's... well, inner sanctum, I would kill the moronic Man and lay the blame at the dead woman's feet. I would become Guildmaster with only a few minor assassinations, a duel or two, and the Thieves' Guild would serve me. Crime across the Empire would catapult to new levels, bringing the rotting corpse of Septim's work to the ash it should have been decades ago. "Karliah could be setting up a trap!"
"I'm sure that's a given, Frey," I retorted. The blade in my hand twitched, hungry for Mercer's blood. I wanted – needed to kill the fool who could not see he was being betrayed, likely by those closest to him. My money was on Brynjolf, maybe Mallory. Never trust a Man, especially a thieving Man.
Mercer turned angrily towards me. "Don't backtalk, Girlie," he snapped. He glared at me for a moment, then turned and began to examine the Nordic Puzzle Door that we had parked ourselves in front of for the past few minutes.
"There's no claw here – we can't open the door," I insisted. "There has to be a way into the room from elsewhere."
Mercer laughed as he examined the door. "Ha! Girlie, there's a trick to these doors," Frey responded condescendingly. I felt like separating his head from his shoulders as it looked down on me. "You just have to... HA!" The door slid open as Frey slid his hands down the stone, the images spinning in rapid succession towards the image of a horned owl. Frey turned to me. "You first."
I narrowed my eyes, but nodded. "Fine. Let's go."
Ten Minutes Later
"How interesting," Mercer sneered down at me, a poison arrow in my gut and his blade at my throat, "It appears Gallus's history has repeated itself. Karliah has provided me with the means to be rid of you, and this ancient tomb becomes your final resting place. But do you know what intrigues me the most? The fact that this was all possible because of you. Farewell. I'll be certain to give Brynjolf your regards."
"Oblivion... take... you..." I snarled through my gritted teeth. The paralytic in my bloodstream was keeping me from moving, almost at all.
Mercer laughed. "Not for some time, Girlie." Then his blade entered my gut and the world went black.
My eyes snapped open. Dull pain throbbed in my side. "Easy, don't get up so quickly. How're you feeling?"
My gaze snapped towards the Dark elf with violet eyes – Karliah. She was crouching in front of a storage chest, packing a pouch with gold, food, and scrolled paper. My hand went to the blade at my hip – it was gone. "You shot me!" I tried to get to my feet, but quickly stumbled back to my ass.
"No, I saved your life. My arrow was tipped with a unique paralytic poison. It slowed your heart and kept you from bleeding out. Had I intended to kill you, we wouldn't be having this conversation," Karliah pointed out. "I don't miss." She stood up and placed a hand on her hip, the other hanging with a black sword in her grip.
I glared at her, my vision jumping between her honest eyes and dishonest blade. "Then... why save me?" I asked, deciding to play along. Her violet eyes hinted at the impurities in her ancestry – damnable human ancestry.
"My original intention was to use that arrow on Mercer, but I never had a clear shot. I made a split second decision to get you out of the way and it prevented your death," she responded. Her grip on her blade relaxed, but she still kept it ready to swing at a moment's notice.
I narrowed my eyes and stared at the ground. "You should have shot Mercer," I responded bitterly. I would kill that fool for crossing me.
"I promise you, the thought crossed my mind. The poison on that arrow took me a year to perfect; I only had enough for one shot," Karliah explained. She glanced away from me as a wolf howled, then placed her saber back into its sheathe. "I wanted to capture the damn traitor alive, make him answer for what he's done. Pay for Gallus' murder."
"The Guild will demand proof," I pointed out. "Thieves aren't exactly the... trusting sort."
Karliah laughed dryly at that. "Indeed. Well, using Gallus' place of death for my ambush provided me a chance to get proof. Gallus' journal, I recovered it from his remains. I suspect the information I need – we need, now – is inside."
"We?"
"You really think Frey didn't label you a traitor as well? Nocturnal isn't granting him any luck right now, and he would hedge his bets anyways," Karliah responded with an angry grimace. The image of Mercer, tortured at her feet, flashed through her violet eyes. She spoke absently: "Unfortunately, the journal is in some language I've never seen. We need to get to Winterhold – Gallus had a friend at the College who could tell us about it. Enthir is one of the few Gallus trusted with the knowledge of his Nightingale identity."
"Nightingale?" I asked, truly intrigued. It held a shiver of Magickal power in every letter.
"Don't worry about it, not right now," Karliah responded, her attention back on reality. "We need to hurry to Winterhold."
"Fine, but I expect the full story. I will not be kept waiting forever, Karliah," I hissed threateningly. Even with me in my injured state, Karliah seemed to take a step backwards. I struggled to my feet, clutching my side, and placed my weapons back on my belt. "Now, let's go."
Winterhold
The town was a mess straight out of Oblivion, and that would have been without whatever the hell was happening at that moment. Mages from the college – including a certain enemy of mine – were battling against ethereal wraiths assaulting the human fools of the city. The creatures seemed to be sucking the Soul Energy from the bodies of their victims, finally killing them as the last vestige of their being was ripped from their bodies with screams of unending agony. The kind of agony I thought only I could inflict upon a human. "What in Oblivion is this?" Karliah asked as we rushed past one of the battles and towards the inn. Our blades were drawn, ready to defend against whatever this threat was.
"That's not important now. Leave that to these morons to deal with," I said, gesturing at the mages around the town. "Where is Enthir?"
The Dunmer shook her head exasperatedly, then gazed at each mage in turn. Her eyes lingered on Lucius' face, flickers of that Aedric Magick both he and I carry running through her eyes. Finally: "There are only about three mages down here. It's likely he's up at the College right now and only members can go up there..." Karliah cursed to herself. "We're going to have to wait this storm out and find the damned Wood Elf later..."
I laughed once, "Oh, that's not an option," I said with a cruel smile I sheathed my blades. "Damn the College and damn their problems. Enthir is going to have to... temporarily abandon his duties. Wait here for me, I'll be back soon." Thus, despite Karliah's protestations, I went off to kidnap a wizard.
Whatever was assaulting the College went far beyond the devastation that was rocking the township below. Massive waves of visible, pure Magick exploded outward from the central building of the Mages' College. Mages and wizards all around struggled against the foreign Magicka as it assaulted their own, warping reality around them and dragging fragments of Oblivion into Nirn. A Dremora here, a shard of Coldharbour there.
The memory of a report I read almost two years ago flashed through my mind. "... Ancano has been planted within the College. Thus far, no secrets of any true value have been unearthed by him, but he seems certain that the College holds secrets of great value, especially Savos Aren. He feels that the exploration of Saarthal, a nearby Nordic Ruin, could provide great insight into ancient and forgotten Magicks of the Snow Elves in their war with the Atmorans. Perhaps give us a way to... exterminate the humans' savage descendants like the plague they are." The author of the report was, perhaps, prone to overt poetic language, but he was correct in his assumptions – apparently. This Magick seemed even more dangerous than Ancano had believed, in fact it seemed to be nearly capable of upending the very foundations of Nirn laid by the Aedra before creation itself. Such power was uncontrollable, even I would not seek it out like that fool Ancano.
But I could not bother myself with such world ending trivialities. Lucius, as much as I despised him, was as bound by fate as I. He would overcome the Pyrrhic success of Ancano and ensure the world would survive. That the Council would again be brought to its knees by the sheer publicity and ineptitude of Ancano's attempt at harnessing such Magick was merely a boon of which I would gladly take advantage at my earliest convenience. No, the issue at hand was pressing to me personally. I stood to the side of the courtyard, keeping my gaze locked on the elf who was obviously Enthir. He was standing apart from his peers, only casting cursory half examinatory spells towards the Magicka wall before him. It was a simple matter to walk quickly and quietly behind the awestruck wizards and grab Enthir by the mouth, stifling his scream. I dragged him down to the inn where Karliah waited.
Fahiil – Just South of Riften
Thera
Brynjolf, Karliah, and I stood together in the heart of the Nightingale's home, all three wearing the Thief-Warriors' customary armor. Brynjolf's eyes twinkled white behind his mask, stars in the obsidian sea of his skull. Even behind the cloth snaking over his features, I could tell that Bryn's face was plastered with sarcastic inquiry. "Okay, Lass, we've got these getups on... now what?"
Karliah sighed. Her hood was hanging from her shoulders, so her face was visible. She seemed... exhausted. "Beyond this gate is the first step towards becoming a Nightingale," Karliah said. My eyes widened behind my mask, and my mind raced into overdrive. I ignored the conversation that erupted between my peers.
The Nightingales were the servants of Nocturnal, that much Karliah had revealed. She was holding something else back, some other reason for hating Mercer. She was a Thief with a dead lover, but that Nocturnal would still rely so heavily on her, a failure, insinuated that there was something even more valuable that gold or love or honor at play.
Daedra often play god, as they are, in the world of mortals. Treating us like chess pieces – no, perhaps more like checkers. Get far enough and they'll bestow favor upon you, Magickal items and powers that can alter the very fabric of reality around their user. Blades of power, skins of Werewolves, staffs that bring pure madness into the world to name just a few. I had already accrued quite a few of these items for myself, just as Lucius – given the rumors – had. Nocturnal...
Nocturnal was no different from the other Daedra. Unfortunately, pledging myself to her in this manner would likely require some terrible price. Daedra do not let mortals have the good end of the deal unless it benefits their own causes. No, Nocturnal would ask something of me that I am sure I do not want to give. I already knew where Frey was going to be. That knowledge wouldn't leave my head. Why? Why wouldn't it leave?
Then it hit me. The Guild Treasury had been swept clean. Nothing was left, no gold, no weapons, no contracts. The door required two keys, of which Mercer had none. Brynjolf and Mallory carried the two keys. Mallory's was too... intimately hidden for it to have been stolen off of him. No, Frey unlocked the door alone with neither key. Only Nocturnal's Skeleton Key was capable of such things. Legend held it was capable of much more, actually. A tool for a master thief, for an assassin. I laughed, causing the conversation between Karliah and Brynjolf to come to a screeching halt. "What is it, Lass?" the man asked.
I laughed again and tore the masked hood from my face. I smiled in triumph. "You two can do this... stupidity. Nocturnal and all that. The cost – I wasn't paying attention, really, if you already said it – is going to be very high. Then it occurred to me, Karliah," I said, smiling with mock sweetness at the surprised Dunmer. "Nocturnal is a Daedra. Daedra hate being double crossed, but they hate failure more. You failed. Why forgive you? Why do you keep her favor? Hm?"
Karliah had no answer. Brynjolf tried for her, "Lass, who cares? We need her help!"
I smirked at the Man. "Do I?" I asked. I laughed again. "Have fun trading... whatever it is you are going to trade, Lass. Lad. I will be taking the Skeleton Key for myself." I spun on my heel, ignoring the stare of rage and betrayal that Karliah was burning into my skull.
"Have you no honor!?" Karliah shouted finally.
"Amongst Thieves?" I asked without turning back. I laughed a single, dry laugh. "Never."
