"Wake up, Sleepin' Beauty," the voice came seemingly from out of nowhere, and Rowyn was intent on ignoring it. "Waaaake uuuuup," it came again, closer this time and from his right. With whomever this obnoxious voice's owner was being as close as they were, Rowyn had no choice then but to open his eyes and blink the blurred vision away, his once peaceful face now creased with annoyance. "Take a step back before I cut you," he said, voice not quite awake yet. He sat up from his bed, the entirety of his torso stinging with pain, "Ngh!"

"Oh, you don't mean that, do ya," the voice was there again, this time coming from a man standing in front of the halfbreed. He was an Altmer, long silver hair pouring down his shoulders like water. The smile on his golden face was holding back precocious laughter, "Come on, that's no way to speak to yer childhood friend, eh?" The high elf crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head, "Were ye havin' sweet dreams, mate?"

Rowyn couldn't stop a mischievous grin from crossing his features as he finally recognized the man before him, "The sweetest. How've you been, Alderon?" He worked to stand, having gone to sleep in his bed with his freshly wrapped injuries. He bent down to pick up a bottle of healing potion left at his bedside and uncorked it, taking a quick swig and sighing as the pain became a mere memory under the surface.

"Better than you, obviously," Alderon's mimicking grin faded, "What in the blue fuckin' blazes happened ta you?" He shook his head then, holding up gloved hands, "No, don't tell me. Let me guess." He went silent for a moment, and Rowyn looked at him with a worried expression. "Ye met a girl!" He held out his hands, face bright with the most excited looking smile on his face. Rowyn took the extra painful energy to slug the altmer in the chest, "Oh yeah, she asked me if I was selling anything, and when I showed her my inventory she sent her pet tiger after me! Dumbass."

Alderon couldn't stifle his laughter, taking a step back and raising his arms to guard against Rowyn's punch. "Ye gotta admit, Rowyn, ye've the worst luck. It wouldn't surprise me at all if someone did send a cat after ye. Ye have the charm," he said, calming down his laughter. Rowyn rolled his eyes, "Oh, yeah. Thanks. Good to know my wooing attracts dangerous wild animals than the... sweet caress of a lady." The halfbreed shook his head, "No, I was hunting and I wasn't careful and I got attacked by a cat that was also hunting."

The high elf scratched his chest briefly before sniffing, "Well good ta see ye're still in one piece. I'd never forgive you if ye up and became cat food. What a shitty way to go, eh?" Rowyn gave a sympathetic nod, mocking in his eye movements, the irregular curves of his eyebrows making Alderon laugh, "Okay, okay, I get it. Sorry. Glad that ye're okay though, honest. Delvin has somethin' planned for us, mate. He'll be briefin' us in a few minutes, wanted me to wake ye up."

Rowyn reached for a white ragged shirt, pulling it on over his head. "How long was I out?" He proceeded to fix the collar and roll up the sleeves, fastening them around his elbows with small pieces of cotton twine.

Alderon shrugged, "Oh, I'd say a few hours. It's only approachin' afternoon, ye haven't missed much. Just got back myself from meetin' with some caravans. Man, ye wouldn't believe some of tha shit these Khajits sell nowadays." He nodded towards the cistern beckoning his human friend to walk with him, "Come on, Delvin's expectin us in the backroom." Rowyn gave a short nod and picked up the unfinished bottle of potion, following after the Altmer and with the bottle's neck held in his teeth, he took a small band from his pocket and tied back his hair.

"Any idea what Delvin has in store?" he asked, walking alongside his elvan friend.

"Nope. Just that we're going to Markarth," he said.

"The Reach? All the way out there? Forsworn Country?"

"Yep. Forsworn Country. There's somethin' there and Delvin's goin' with us to make sure we don't fuck up, I guess," the elf said.

"Are we stealing from the Silverbloods? Are they even still in power? I thought Thonar and his family died years ago? What could possibly be there for us to take?" Rowyn scratched the back of his neck, his healing injuries starting to itch under the bandages.

Alderon shrugged, "Your guess is as good as mine, mate. Cidhna Mine is still up and operational, so I suppose perhaps something in there. Probably somethin' incredibly valuable. New gem vein or somethin' similar. Not that we aren't already loaded, ya know. Delvin should have an answer fer us, though."

The two boys walked through the Cistern, exiting through a wooden door into a cleared out addition to the Guild. It wasn't huge, but it wasn't small either. within was a large wooden table, lined with chairs along its sides. Within was a Khajit woman, M'qivva, who smiled pleasantly when the boys entered. Next to her sat Delvin with a tankard in hand. He looked at them without so much as a blink to his eye.

"Is about time you two got here," he said, thick accent husking his voice. He was getting old, and it showed. The Khajit's tail flicked, "Hello boys. Sit down and we shall begin briefing you." Delvin took a drink from his tankard leaning back in his chair as M'qivva pulled out a couple of maps and set them on the table. She spread them out, looking them over with careful eyes, handling them with delicate claws. She was an expert thief, a master in all levels of expertise. It had been many, many years after Mercer was killed and replaced as Guild Master. The title, however, was quickly given up by its previous owner, and M'qivva was honorably chosen to hold the guild on her shoulders. The emblems on her black armor shone brightly gold in the flickering candle light.

Rowyn and Alderon moved to seats across from Delvin on the other side of the Khajit woman, and they looked at them expectantly, silent and awaiting instruction.

"Go ahead, boss," Delvin said, pushing his tankard to the side and looking at the maps, glancing up at her for a split second.

"Right then," M'qivva said with a feline grin on her face, "As this one is sure you boys have probably heard, you are going with Delvin to Markarth. Before I begin on your assignment, I will refresh your memory on the current state of The Reach."

She took out another map, setting it on top of the others. It was a blown up layout of the entire hold. "The Reach as of now, as it has been for months now, is rife with violence. We are unsure of what and who, but it is concentrated outside of the cities in the wilds. Markarth as we know is relatively safe thanks to its walls, guardsmen and physical structure. M'qivva is sure you will discover more when you arrive in Markarth. First priority is your safety. You must be careful when you enter the hold. Is that understood?"

Rowyn and Alderon both nodded, looking down at the map as M'qivva pointed out the main concentrated areas of violence. "What we do know of the violence, is that it concerns the Forsworn, but that is the extent of our knowledge. The Forsworn is not to be trifled with. You are to avoid them at all costs. Remember this."

M'qivva moved the map and rolled it up, putting it down on the floor next to her boots and going on to the next map. "Now for your mission. We have a very wealthy client on our hands. He is offering full financial support in exchange for a certain item recently discovered in old Calcelmo's Dwemer ruin. It is a scepter, made of dwarven metal and encrusted with precious gems. This one would bet her tail that the Dwemer found a way to encrypt some sort of knowledge or magic within, as well. Our client is paying a very hefty sum for this scepter."

Alderon drummed his fingers on the table, resting his chin in his other hand, "Sounds pretty valuable. But where exactly is this scepter?"

M'qivva nodded to the map and pointed out with a clawed finger, "Good question. We believe it is somewhere in the Dwemer Museum. If not there, then possibly it rests within old Calcelmo's laboratory. Since the good scholar's passing, it's been looked after by his nephew. But I can't anticipate it being heavily guarded. Still, be wary. Not much change has become the old laboratory since Calcelmo passed away. His nephew Aicantar has been good about living off of the profits made by his book on the Dwemer. Be ready for anything in his laboratory... More than likely it's been untouched since the old man died."

Alderon scratched his temple, paying a passing glance at Rowyn, "And if it's not in either place?"

"Then search for it," she said, rolling up the maps and handing them to Delvin, "Be each others' eyes and ears. Improvise as you go, but be discreet. Get information without raising suspicion. With their attention focused on the conflict outside the city, I doubt the city guard will be much of an issue. But be careful nonetheless. Any more questions?"

Alderon shook his head, but looked at Rowyn. He paused. His friend seemed distant, his eyes staring down at the table and away from the others.

M'qivva caught this as well, and tapped her claws on the smooth surface of the table, "Get all of that, Rowyn?"

Rowyn didn't look up at them, "Yeah. Scepter in Markarth, probably in the museum, if not then his laboratory, watch out for Forsworn, got it." The Khajit woman only blinked and gave a small shrug, "Alright then. This one will leave you all to it. Be safe and stay hidden." With that, M'qivva removed herself from the room. Delvin remained seated, his eyes on the human boy. "Alderon, go gather supplies for tomorrow," he said pointedly.

The altmer gave a short nod before getting up and leaving the two alone. Rowyn remained seated, turning his nose away from Delvin.

"It's loud upstairs, isn't it," the old Breton said once they were alone.

"Yes," Rowyn said with a huff.

"What are they sayin'?"

Rowyn couldn't stop himself from glaring at the elder thief. When he spoke up, his voice was lowered to a hiss, his words quick and only barely above a whisper, "Really, Delvin? Really? It's bad enough that I have to deal with this almost day-to-day, getting scrutinized for it, being distracted and unable to focus-I'm sitting here trying to get them to shut up, and you're curious about what they're saying to me?"

Delvin rose his hands up in meager defense, his eyes going only slightly wider as his brows arched, "Easy boy. They're just voices like ye say. They can't be truly that harmful to you."

"They're not just voices, Delvin," Rowyn brought his hands up to his face, closing his eyes and shaking his head, "I don't know what they are. But I feel like I'm going crazy. I don't understand what they're saying... it's all just babbling. Childish babbling."

"A strange phenomenon," Delvin said, bringing his tankard up to his lips, "I can't think of any possible avenue that'd offer a solution. Perhaps the College in Winterhold will have an answer."

"Magic isn't going to make voices coming from nowhere shut the hell up," Rowyn said, lowering his arms to the table.

"Ye never know," Delvin shrugged, "Mages tend to surprise every now and then. Is worth a shot, no? Try to deal with it a little while longer. Perhaps training will take yer mind off 'em. Just make sure they don't hinder ye tomorrow, eh." Delvin stood and made his exit from the room.

Rowyn could only sigh and sit, remaining alone in the room once Delvin was gone. "Bullshit," he muttered, shaking his head, "I didn't ask for this... I didn't ask for any of this." Rowyn stood with a bewildered sigh and left the room.