Issana strode confidently through the gates of Riften. She was clad in clean clothes, bought with the money she'd earned from Brynjolf, and she'd bathed in the lake outside the city walls. Her stomach was full, thirst quenched, and as she stepped into the crowded streets of the city, she felt new. Gone was the beaten girl from the orphanage, the girl who had cowered in the rain. No, she thought, my life is my own now. I'll make it what I want.

It was a strange feeling. The clothes she'd chosen, sturdy trousers and a form-fitting leather jerkin, made her look more like a well-off traveler than an orphan girl. It seemed people were actually willing to stop and talk to her when she asked for directions. She'd even tidied up her hair into a neat braid. She hardly recognized herself.

The Bunkhouse was first on her list. It was nearest this end of the city, and from the directions she'd gathered it wasn't hard to find. She gave the building a quick look-over. It was a sizeable, two-storey structure, with warm light shining through the windows. Issana walked up to the door and pushed it open.

A young woman, maybe five or ten years Issana's elder, hurried about with a broom. She rushed to sweep one last pile of dust into the corner before straightening up and brushing herself off. "I'm so sorry about the mess. My name is Svana. Can I help you?"

Issana glanced around. "It doesn't look that messy to me."

Svana gave a bitter laugh. "Me neither. But to Haelga, well…"

"You work here?"

"Work?" scoffed Svana. "If you can call it that. I call it slavery."

"Oh?" said Issana. "How so?"

"I work my fingers to the bone keeping this place clean!" said Svana. "Ever since my parents died and Haelga took me in it's been a nightmare!"

"She's that horrible?" I bet Grelod is worse.

"I'm stuck living here, working as hard as I can, while those pigs she calls customers grope me and say the most repulsive things to me. She's disgusting."

Issana leaned back against the doorframe. "Don't suppose you'd like to see her brought down a notch, would you?"

Svana was taken aback. "How?"

Issana pushed herself casually off the doorframe and glanced thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "Well, let's just say that she owes someone a good deal of money and I need to convince her to pay up. Willingly. If she had a weakness, something that could-"

"Statue!" Svana blurted out. "Sorry, uh, the statue of Dibella. Haelga worships the disgusting thing."

"Dibella?" Issana asked.

Svana snorted. "One of the Divines. Goddess of beauty, love, and…" She trailed off.

Issana raised her eyebrows. "Ah." So that's what Brynjolf meant by 'rumours'. "Where is it?"

Svana gestured with her head towards a bronze statue in the corner. It was maybe two feet high, depicting a mostly nude woman holding a large flower. "Thanks," Issana said. "Where is Haelga?"

Svana picked up her broom again. "She should be back at any moment. Just…" She hesitated. "Don't tell her I said anything."

"I won't." Issana strode over to the statue and tucked it behind her back. As if on cue, the door swung open. A tall, attractive blonde woman entered, probably thirty or thirty-five years old. "Svana!" she snapped. "Are you done? Why are you just standing around?" She looked around, a disgusted look on her face, and her gaze fell on Issana. "What do you want?"

Issana kept the statue from view. "Outstanding debts."

Haelga sneered, folding her arms. "And they send a girl to collect it? Your Guild must really be getting desperate. The money would be better spent by dumping it down a well."

Issana smiled faintly. "Down a well? Maybe, if you want this to join it." She held the statue out in front of her and started tossing it to herself.

Haelga's cold eyes widened. "No, please! I-don't take it! It's-"

"Precious to you? I know. The money, if you'd be so kind."

Haelga nodded vigorously. "I'll fetch it! Please, just… wait there." She darted past Issana and fled upstairs. Issana positioned herself by the door. Haelga could call the guards from a window, but in that case Issana would be gone with the statue before anyone could react. Haelga didn't seem that stupid.

Sure enough, Haelga came tearing down the stairs again a moment later. "Here," she said, and threw a sizeable pouch of coins towards her. Issana caught it and peered inside. It seemed correct. She threw the statue carelessly at Haelga, who jumped for it and cradled it like a baby. "Now get out," Haelga snarled. "I hope you choke on it."

Issana bowed mockingly and left.

She tucked the money into her belt where she could keep an eye on it and headed to the marketplace. Brynjolf was there, as ever, hawking miracle potions at bystanders. Issana tossed him the coins casually as she passed. "One down."

Brynjolf caught the pouch, a surprised look on his face. "You're quick, lass."

"I'll be back with more."

The Bee and Barb Inn looked onto the market square. Issana, confidence blazing from success, strode up to the door and shoved it open.

Her confidence waned somewhat when she saw the sheer number of people in the inn. There were traders, laborers, fishermen, mercenaries, every type of person she could think of. Keerava, the argonian innkeeper, stood behind the bar, filling drinks and laying food on plates as fast as she could.

Issana frowned. It was going to be difficult to get the argonian alone enough to work the money out of her.

"Welcome to the Bee and Bard, milady," said a raspy voice beside her. Issana jumped. A second argonian, scales a dark, swampy green, stood smiling at her. "If I can interest you in one of our special drinks, you let me know."

Issana glanced at Keerava for a moment. "What do you have?"

"Well, first is the 'Velvet Lachance, which is-"

"Actually, I don't care," Issana cut in. "I'm here about her debt."

The argonian's yellow eyes widened briefly. "Now, let's not do anything rash." He stepped close to her. "Look, I'm only telling you this because I care about her and don't want her to get into a war with your people."

"I'm listening."

"Keerava, well, she…" The argonian looked around nervously.

"Out with it."

"She has family in Morrowind. If you mention you know about it, I think she'll listen to you. Just…" He glanced over at her, guilt clearly evident on his scaled face. "Please don't hurt anyone."

Issana ignored him and strode over to the bar, shouldering her way through the inn's patrons. She pushed her way to the bar. "Keerava."

The innkeeper looked up, startled. "Sorry, I'm a bit busy right now."

"Keerava, I'd suggest you pay attention to me."

The innkeeper finished pouring a mug of ale and stalked over to her. "Or what?"

"I'm here to collect your debt."

Keerava laughed. "Really? You? Get out of my inn."

"I wouldn't take that tone with me, argonian." She dropped her voice to a hiss. "Not when the guild knows about Morrowind."

Keerava sprang back. "How could you possibly know-" She shook her head. "No, I'll… I'll pay." She ducked beneath the bar and pulled out a hefty bag. "There. Take it. There's more in there than I owe. Just leave us alone."

Issana grabbed the bag. "Thank you."

When she reached the door, the other argonian shot her a venomous glare. "I hope we never see you again, sewer rat."

"I hope so too," said Issana, opening the door and stepping back into Riften.

The Pawned Prawn was a bit of a walk from the marketplace. Issana breathed deeply, savouring the air and ignoring the stench of fish that permeated this section of the city. She was free. Free of Grelod, free of fear, free to hammer out her own destiny in whatever way she saw fit. The world took enough from me. My parents, the first sixteen years of my life, my worth. It owes me.

The Pawned Prawn wasn't much more than a sturdy shack, built of heavy logs but undecorated. Issana entered and had to wipe her hand on her trousers to get the door handle's rust and slime off. Bersi, or at least, she assumed it was Bersi, lounged in a chair behind a counter upon which was spread the most random assortment of goods Issana had ever seen. There were precious stones, daggers, fruit, spools of thread, even some armour. Bersi leaped up as she entered. "You!"

Issana glanced around to make sure he wasn't talking to someone else. "Me?"

Bersi immediately produced a bag of coins from below his counter. "Here, take it! I've already heard what happened to Haelga. Just leave me alone!"

Issana's brow furrowed in confusion, but she took the money anyway. "Appreciated." She backed out of the shop slowly, still processing what had happened. Eventually she just shook her head and ignored it.

Brynjolf was beaming when she tossed him the third and final pouch. "Well done, lass! I think we can pack up shop for today." He dumped his potions unceremoniously into a sack and slung them over his shoulder. "If you'll follow me, I've got something to show you."

He led her out of the marketplace and down a curving street. Issana followed close behind him. After a while, Brynjolf pointed to an immense, richly decorated home to their left. "If you ever get the urge for burglary, do not, and I mean never, break into that house."

"Why?"

"Because that's Black-Briar Manor, home to Lady Maven Black-Briar. We have, shall we say, an agreement with her."

"What sort of agreement?"

Brynjolf laughed. "The sort where she's the real power in Riften, and once in awhile she has us do some work for her."

"Ah. So Brand-Shei…"

"Exactly." Brynjolf clapped her on the shoulder. "You're picking things up quickly. Ah!" he exclaimed as they rounded a corner. "Here we are."

Issana looked around. "A graveyard?"

"Follow me." Brynjolf crossed the graveyard quickly to where a long sarcophagus lay inside a low, stone sepulchre.

"This isn't your way of foreshadowing my eventual murder, is it?" Issana said.

Brynjolf looked around quickly, then crouched down. "Not at all." He reached out and pressed a diamond-shaped carving on the sarcophagus.

With the grating noise of stone on stone, the sarcophagus slid backwards into the rear of the sepulchre. Beneath it, a narrow tunnel led down into the earth. He glanced at her over his shoulder. "Welcome to the real heart of the Thieves Guild, lass" he said, and stepped into the tunnel.