It's day three since I ran away. I wonder what mother's doing, how she is. Terrified, I bet. Maybe she went to find the guards. Maybe they're coming after me. It doesn't matter. I can't let myself go there again. Not after I've run so far away, or after I've tried so hard to forget. Not after everything that I've done.
I remember father once talking to Killarna, the farmer's wife, that Riften was only a three-day walk from Ivarstead. Hopefully it won't be too much longer now. I'm getting tired of going after rabbits and goats for my dinner. I'd kill for a wheel of cheese about now, and a nice tall glass of spiced wine. Anything is better than charred goat haunches. Another hour passes, or is it two? I really can't tell. I hadn't learned how to tell time by the sun like mother and father did. I know the time by my stomach, and the way it's growling I'd say it's about midday, and time for lunch. I stop for a moment, close my eyes and listen. The wind blows gently by me, carried towards the west. There's water flowing to the east, I can hear. I feel the sun beating down on my face, warmth soothing my skin and the aching muslces beneath it. Then, the grass rustles just out of my sight and reach. I crouch immediately, and ready myself for whatever danger it is. I narrow my eyes and peer out into the tall tundra grass, spotting a pack of wolves sneaking up before me. They are ready to strike. There are four of them.
They spring from the bushes and encircle my position, expertly surrounding me. I draw my hands up, calling forth warmth from the sun into my body. Fire crackles into my hands and I blast back the first of the four wolves, sending it flying a few yards away. The smell of burnt fur and the sound of sizzling flesh fills the air, making me nearly sick. The second snaps at me, growling from behind. I whip my body around, calling down lightning from the sky and sending a shockwave through its body, stunning it long enough for me to pull the knife from my robe and send it right into the wolf's heart. It whines once, twice, then its eyes roll back and it stills. The third lunges at me swiftly, knocking me onto my back. I pull my hands up and hold it by the throat, handfuls of dirty fur clutched in my fists. It snaps at me, barking and growling in my face, spittle splashing onto my skin. I wrap my hands around its muzzle, squeezing with all the might I can muster until I hear a crack. I've broken its jaw, I think. I call on the power of the sun once again, and fire erupts from my hands, charring the wolf before me. He falls limp as I stand, my hands crackling with Destruction magic. The fourth wolf looks at me, then at his fallen companions and whimpers, taking off into the distance.
I skin my kills sloppily and pack their hides into my knapsack. Perhaps I'll be able to sell them in Riften. As I look upon their corpses, my skin crawls. That so much death could result from my abilities absolutely disgusts me. How in the world did I fall so far? In only two days, I've become some kind of monster. I'd always kept my magic a secret. The only ones who knew were mother and father, and they kept it secret as well. They were ashamed of it, and taught me to be ashamed of it as well. It isn't a gift, it's a burden - a burden upon them, upon myself, and upon the veyr people of Skyrim. All Nords look down upon magic-users. We aren't to be trusted. But now that I've left home, I have no chance of survival without utilizing my power. I have no other choice.
As the day goes on, I continue my journey. There are no other mishaps, confrontations, or killings as I make my way to the gates of Riften. Outside the city, the Riften stables are bustling with noise and whinnying from the horses within. I nod politely to the stable master and he smiles in return. I duck my face into my hood, avoiding eye contact with any more people. I'm unpredictable in uncomfortable situations, I've discovered, and it's better to be safe than sorry. As I near the gates, one of the guards stops me.
"Hold, mage. If you want to enter the city, you'll have to pay the visitor's fee." He's got a thick Nord accent.
I raise an eyebrow at him. "What's the fee for?"
"For entering the city and exploring its wonders. If you can't pay, you can't enter."
I shake my head at him. "This is obviously a scam. I'm not paying anything to enter a city," I spit, pushing past him.
He reaches out and grasps my hand, stopping me. "I said if you can't pay, you can't enter, witch." His voice has grown darker, more threatening.
I turn to him with an angry glare. "This is obviously a shakedown. You know what I am." My hands erupt with flames again and I bring them close to the guard's body, threatening him. "Do you honestly wish to do this? Here? Now?"
The guard eyes me evenly, his gaze flickering from my own down to my flaming hands. He hesitates, then pushes me away. "Fine. You're free to pass."
Without another word, I diminish the flames and pull my hood around my face, pushing past the gate and into the city.
At first glance, the city is disappointing. I was hoping for hustle and bustle, a lot of people and shopkeepers lining the streets, a crowd to get lost in, faces to blend into. But this…this is nothing like I expected. It's a steely grey color, and there's a thick stench of despair in the air. Nobody is on the streets. There are a few guards speckled around the buildings, but I see no villagers. I wander deeper in, careful to keep my face away from any unwelcome gazes.
As I pass a building on the left, someone catches my arm and draws me back. I lift my gaze to his face and hold back a gasp. He's a terrifying, large, burly Nord, equipped with well-polished armor and a battle-axe that is the full length of his body. Long black hair lies matted over his forehead and shoulders. He grunts at me, spits off to the side, and licks his lips to speak.
"You got business here, stranger?" His voice is deep and foreboding.
I swallow back my fear, and try to sound menacing. "M-My business is my own."
He raises an eyebrow at me. "You got any idea where you are? Everyone's business is Maven Black-Briar's business. And Maven Black-Briar's business is my business." He leans in a bit closer, eyes narrowing. "So, I'll ask you again. You got business here, stranger?"
I swallow again. Gods above, he sounds like he's going to rip my throat out. I stand a little taller, crossing my arms over my chest. "A-And who is Maven Black-Briar?"
He smirks menacingly at me, leaning back and crossing his own arms. "She's one of the richest women in all of Skyrim, and you'd do well to remember it. She controls the trade flow in Riften. She controls the citizens. She controls one of the best meaderies in all of Tamriel. If the guards wanna arrest someone, they check with her first. And the Thieves Guild has got her back." He points a meaty finger at me. "So you had better watch your back."
I tilt my head to one side. "The Thieves Guild?" I've never heard of such a thing.
"Aye," he says, spitting off to the side again. "They used to be the best guild of thieves in the land. But things went south for 'em a few years back, and now they aren't much more than a rag-tag team of fools who'll do anything for a few septims out of your pocket. But Maven wants 'em protected, so watch yourself." He smiles then, leaning back against the wooden post he was on before. "I wouldn't wanna be messing with a woman who's willing and able to burn off my face," he says, winking slyly at me.
I pull my hood up around my face and look around, making sure nobody heard him. "I'll be careful."
He nods at me, allowing me to move along. I rush past him, eager to get away. Is my magic that obvious? Do I carry a damned scent? My robes aren't college robes - my mother sewed them herself. How is it that every stranger I come to pass immediately knows what I am? I can feel my cheeks redden and warm with anger, but I will myself to think of something else. I continue deeper into the heart of the city and find the inn. Hurryin inside, I welcome the warm scent of mead and the soft glow of the torchlight.
It's a nice place. Cozy. There are more people here than I thought, which is a welcome change. I look around for a vacant table and can hardly see past all the people in here. There's a big sign overhead with 'The Bee and Barb' splattered across it. I guess that's the name of the inn. Appears to be run by a couple of Argonians; a female is up at the front, cleaning out mugs and the male is hobbling around, getting people's orders for drink and food. I check my coin purse. I've got…137 septims. That should be a good amount for a room for the night and a decent meal.
I approach the female Argonian and get a room key for ten septims. It's reassuring to know that most inkeepers around Skyrim share the same room price. I wander around and find a secluded table away from the rest of the crowd, and take a seat. I pull my hood down and allow myself to relax for a moment. I ask the male Argonian for some food and he brings me a horker loaf and a mug of mead for five septims. When my belly is full and I have a place to stay for the night, I don't much care for the costs. I lean back into my seat and close my eyes, allowing myself to drift into the mind-numbing conversations of others.
I sit like that for a while. Twenty minutes? A half hour maybe, I'm not sure. I snap back into reality when I hear the soft chuckle of a man beside me, standing by the fireplace. He's leaning leisurely on the stone, his arms crossed lightly over his chest. He's dressed in very fine clothes, but that's about the only fine thing about him. He looks dirty, speckles of Skyrim soil stuck to his face and skin. His hair, a dark red hue, is rather neatly combed, but dirty. I suppose it'd be too much to expect for anyone to be clean out here. His face is young, perhaps in his thirties, but his eyes could tell stories of a man twice his age. He's got a smirk on his lips that is youthful and filled with alluring humor. Wait...he's laughing at me. Looking right at me, and chuckling to himself. I look over at him and tilt my head curiously. What could he possibly have to be laughing at? He approaches my table and sits down opposite me, leaning forward with his elbows on the table.
"Never done an honest day's work in your life with all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?" His voice is soft, and he's got a thick accent that I can't quite pinpoint.
"Excuse me?" I whisper.
"Oh, don't be actin' coy. Everyone in here heard the hefty jingle in your purse right when you stepped in the door. But you didn't earn one septim honestly, did you? I can tell."
I look at him, sitting up straighter, trying to assert myself. "My wealth is none of your business."
He leans back in his chair and laughs at me again, a loud and boistrous noise that sits above the dull chatter in the room. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong lass. Wealth is my business." He eyes me over, then leans in closer again. "You look like you'd have quick fingers and a silver tongue. Perhaps you'd like to put 'em to use for me?"
I blink at him. My first day in Riften and I'm getting approached for work? But not just any work…Stealing? Oh Gods, what have I gotten myself into?
"Wh-What did you have in mind?" I stammer.
He looks over my shoulder for prying eyes, then leans over the table, his voice no more than a whisper. "Here's what we're goin' to do. I'm goin' to start a bit of a ruckus in the square. And while everyone is distracted and inattentive, I want you to sneak over to Madesi's stand. He's the Argonian jeweler. I want you to steal a silver ring from his lockbox, and then plant it in Brand-Shei's pocket. Brand-Shei is a dark elf, and has a stand nearby Madesi's."
I quirk my eyebrow at him. "Why? Why frame Brand-Shei?"
He smirks at me. "You're an innocent one. Good." He runs his hand through his greasy, red hair and shrugs once. "We've been contacted because Brand-Shei owes something to someone. Something that he doesn't have the coin to replace. So, we've been asked to send a message. Bein' as we aren't the Dark Brotherhood, there'll be no killin'. Just a few days in a jail cell is what we're shootin' for."
"And what makes you think I can do this?" I inquire. "I'm no thief. And if the dunmer are as clever as I've heard, there's no way I'll be able to pull this on him.
He leans across the table and looks me square in the eye. "Did you have to pay the visitor's fee?"
I blink at him and shake my head once. How does he know about that?
He shrugs. "Then you'll be fine. Brand-Shei's a drunk - he's drunk literally all the time. You'll have nothin' to worry about lass. So what do you say? Are you in?"
I look away from him for a moment. If I get involved in this, I've got a sick feeling that I'll never be able to move past it. Thievery isn't how I was raised, but then again, I wasn't raised as a murderer either. Seems I've already gotten that one out of the way...what's one more step in the wrong direction?
I look at him and nod as confidently as I can manage. "I'll do it."
He claps his hands together and nods once. "Ah, wonderful. I'll be in the square tomorrow all day, from eight in the mornin' until eight in the evenin'. We can speak more then. Come and find me."
He stands, and I stand along with him. My palms are sweating. I'm already nervous, and I haven't even done anything yet. "Wait, what's your name?"
He looks at me confidently and smiles. "Brynjolf." He then nods his goodbye and crosses the inn towards the entrance, and disappears outside into the dimming square.
