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Guest - Damn! Someone has foiled my dastardly plans! Thank you very much for your review - because of this review, I've chosen to add another chapter on him at twelve years old - the next chapter will be the last one that involves him as a twelve-year-old. Hope you enjoy this small little chapter! Keep reviewing!

Chapter Six

Brynjolf had changed back into his fine merchant robes, as I had changed back into my shirt and doublet I had worn in Cyrodiil. I followed Brynjolf as we exited the Cistern through a ladder by the pathways over the pool of water. As I got to the top, I noticed that we were in a stone tomb - steps leading up to the ceiling. Brynjolf pulled a chain to our right and the ceiling began to move backwards. I dropped my mouth in awe.

"Impressive, huh lad?" Brynjolf grinned at my face. We walked up the stairs and that's when I realized - we were in a graveyard. I looked back to where we had emerged from - a stone coffin had moved back into the wall. As Brynjolf pushed a button in the centre of a diamond-like shape on the coffin, I couldn't help but wonder if someone was actually buried in there. I wouldn't put it past the Guild.

"What are we doing today?" I asked, following Brynjolf through the graveyard, looking back at the coffin moving to hide the stairs.

"Today, we're going to have some lessons." He said with a wink.

"Lessons?"

"On your magic." My interest piqued. "Vex told me about your fire, and something tells me that you didn't mean to use it." I rubbed the back of my head uncomfortably - he was right and he knew it. "Mercer has volunteered to give you a short tutorial." I gulped.

We moved across the wooden bridges and stone pathways until we came to the heart of Riften: the marketplace. Brynjolf took his place by his stall, taking a series of potions out of his bag. I looked to the centre of the marketplace, and found a small, boarded-up well. I noticed the sun shining through the cracks of the wood, slipping past the boards and down into the Ratway below. I wondered if this was directly above the cistern. It would be very convenient if it was. I moved back to Brynjolf, who has moved his large pink potions out on his stall. Mercer soon appeared next to the stall, which surprised me - as he didn't seem like the sort of person to appear in the city during the daytime. He grunted at me, and gestured for me to follow him.

I followed Mercer through the town - he really was an exceptional thief. He could steal anything he wanted - a ring off of a fiance's finger, a necklace off of a noblewoman. Anything at all. That's why it surprised me when he stole a tankard out of a man's hands without the man even noticing.

"I don't see how this petty theft is helping me with training." I informed him.

"Of course you don't - you've got no idea what's worth stealing." He grunted grittily.

"You've got a tankard - you'll be lucky if you get a septim for that." He drank from the tankard and pulled out a large and heavy gold ring. I let out a small chuckle, impressed by Mercer. Despite my dislike for him, he was here to help me - and I couldn't deny help from someone as skilled as him.

"Right now, your magic has only really come in use when you need it to right?" I nodded. "That's like a reflex for a mage - like swallowing; it's the equivalent of a dog rolling over. Now, choosing to shoot fire from your hands," he pocketed the ring, "that's what makes you more than a puppy."

"You know, my tutor used to insult me as well, and it didn't help me learn at all."

"Listen boy, you're the one most behind at the Guild, and it's going to stay that way unless I can get you up to scratch. And that's not going to happen if you accidentally burst all of us into flames at any moment." I stayed quiet at this. I knew he was right - at the Guild I'd have to perform at the same standards of others - age was irrelevant. Not to mention the fact that I didn't really have any control over my magic - I could only control a small flame. But a big one? I was honestly too scared to try. Mercer stopped, leaning against the railing above the canal. "Alright, there we go, now he listens. Now, you've, what, burnt an elf, lit up a sewer and that's about it right?" I nodded.

"I also burnt one of the soldiers that ambushed me." I informed him.

"Your body doesn't know how to cope with this magic - everything's jumbled up; like a barrel full of bills. Only, for you, these bills are drenched in oil, and the barrel's got a candle lit on top of it." I nodded, understanding the reality of what he was saying - my magic was dangerous - not to just to other people, but to me as well. "Now, I'm going to teach you how to control your magic, and choose to turn it on."

"You think I can do that?"

"I certainly hope so. Otherwise, it could be me you're standing next to the day that you combust."

"So, onto today's lesson."

"Okay, back to the 'petty thievery': the first rule is to not be seen: move with the crowds - you'll just be another face to the mark. The second rule is to not be noticed by other people around - they can alert the mark. The third rule, and the golden rule, is to know what's worth stealing. Be subtle." I nodded, remembering these tips. "And, as to why we're doing this - the adrenaline you get from stealing? That can set you off if you're not careful. So, we're going to need to train you to have a clear head when you're stealing - and that's what we're going to focus on - clearing your head." I nodded. "I mean, I don't expect you to do well - in fact I think you'll do shockingly, but you've got to start somewhere eh?" He winked. I felt a surge of determination - I'd prove him wrong! If I could plant Madesi's ring on Brand-Shei, I could do this.

Mercer was still laughing.

"Thanks for almost getting me arrested." I said sulked.

"More focus, and you would've had a weighty coin purse." He grinned. "Look, I never said it would be easy - in fact, I think I told you you'd be rubbish."

"Hey, you've been doing this for, like, twenty years - cut me a little slack on doing it for the first time in my life." I said, frustrated with myself.

"You'll get another chance - all beggars and pickpockets look the same to them - they won't recognize you next time. Although, that is why we usually wear hoods." He laughed at me. "Come on, we just need to find what's holding you back."

I looked across the marketplace to see a man dress in raven feathers and furs over his scarred steel armour. His blonde hair was knotted back, and his pale skin matched Brynjolf's - he was a Nord, that was for sure.

"Who's he?" I asked Mercer.

"That, my boy, is Ulfric Stormcloak." I instantly remembered my father telling me about him.

"The leader of the rebellion?"

"You're well-informed. Aye, he's the leader of the Stormcloaks - he led that ambush on your father's escort." I felt a mixture of anger and fascination at these words. This man, standing mere meters away from me, was the killer of my father. He was responsible for me losing everything. I wanted to hurt him, but I also wanted to know him. And I wanted him to know who I was. "You okay?"

"Do you think I'm okay?" I asked through gritted teeth. "He killed my father. He's the reason that I'm here, and Titus is back in Cyrodiil on his own." He grinned slightly - not amused by my anger, but satisfied at sussing me out.

"You worry a lot about other people don't you? You've nearly died multiple times, and you're still worrying about your brother, and your father - even though he's dead."

"What's your point?" I felt angry at him mentioning my father.

"No wonder you can't focus." He chuckled. "You're still thinking about all these people who fed you treats, pet your hair and told you you're not fit for the outdoors." I looked away, unable to deny this. I wanted to, I really wanted to, but I couldn't bring myself to do so. "What, do you still see yourself like they do? Like your brother did?"

"No." I answered, completely sure of myself. "I don't." I disliked Mercer already - more than anyone else I knew in the Guild, but what made me dislike him even more was how he didn't know me, yet he was talking like he did.

"Right, well I'll bet you this ring that your parents never thought much of you either." I shook my head at the weighty gold ring and scoffed, turning to walk away from him. I couldn't deny it though - they had often avoided blaming me for fighting with Titus because I was young and didn't know any better, but also because he was stronger than me. It was also a reason why my father hadn't insisted on the same training Titus received. Mercer laughed, following after me. "You're textbook! We need to get these people out of your head, and get you focused."

"These 'people' are my family. I can't just... cut myself off from them." I tried to explain in earnest.

"Keep on like this, and we'll have to send Vex with you on every job." He said, leaning back and leaning against the railing once more. "Tenebraeus can't steal a purse without someone holding his hand." He mocked me with a grin. "How can you not detest those," he jerked a thumb behind himself to the imprisoned Imperial legionnaires being transported through the city, "every time you see them?"

"You don't know them." I explained. "I've grown up with the soldiers - they're good men."

"They always are." Mercer rolled his eyes. "Sooner or later, you'll find out that every person is selfish, they're deceitful, and they will lie, cheat and steal to get what they want - take it from a thief - I spend a lot of time around people when they think they're alone."

"So that's your big truth?" I asked, unable to believe him.

"The sooner you learn it, the sooner I take off your leash. Remember this boy: people will betray you. Trust no one, not even the Guild - they're thieves remember. People are corrupt and treacherous. Every last one of them - don't ever forget that." I shook my head.

"You're wrong."