Jole's mouth was still hanging open as Nefasteri sweeped past him to give a closer scrutinizing look to Ah'fera who was standing stock still.
"So, what's this about? I remember clearly making a contract with old Delvin that no thief will step in this house and stay in the Guild."
"The Guild? The Guild is dead!" Jole exclaimed incredulously, forgetting all surprise and astonishment. "There is no guild, only us two, some kids, Vex, and Brynjolf, who is watching over us. The Guild was raided fifteen years ago and never recovered."
"Oh? So, as the contract is broken, I'm free to dispose of any cheeky lawbreakers as I choose."
Ah'fera shuddered and said, her Elsweyr accent becoming more perceptible in her stress, "Please, lady, we didn't know you would ever return, and, well, what sense is there in all this gold and gems just laying around?"
"Lady? I am no lady. But you do raise a point. I have to make my return known. So you tell me where your little hideout is and I'll drop in later. Let's see just how good Brynjolf's memory is. In return, you get to keep your heads and those little bags. But no more stealing here."
She gave the room a sweeping glance, and the thieves could just see a hint of regret cross her pale features. Then she seemed to straighten and regain her perfect composure, and she marched downstairs without a backwards glance, picking up a worn leather backpack on the way. Jole and Ah'fera looked at each other and realizing, they really had no other choice, followed.
The lights went out just as Nefasteri stepped out and locked the door with a heavy silver key. She turned to the pair behind her and asked, "So? Where are you lot holed up?"
Jole looked down, unwilling to part with such information. It was Ah'fera who spoke finally, amber eyes darting around nervously, after Nefasteri's steely look grew even sharper, "We live in Pinewatch. It is north of-"
"Yes, yes, I know where it is." Nefasteri waived the Khajiit impatiently into silence and continued, "You two will not speak of this. Not until I visit you. And maybe not even then. Got it?"
The two nodded and scurried away in the howling night, happy to get some distance between them and the foreboding Dragonborn.
Nefasteri watched the thieves until darkness swallowed them. Then she found where the lights of Dragonsreach shone through the blizzard and swinging the backpack on her shoulders trudged through the snow towards the light.
It was morning, but not just that. It was a glorious morning, the sun lighting the world until all the flowers seemed to glow. Butterflies danced on air filled with birdsong. The streets of Whiterun seemed cleaner then before. The mood even seemed to rub off on people, who went on their tasks smiling and chatting. A glorious morning.
So most in Whiterun were only mildly peeved, when a tall, middle-aged woman shouldered her way through the bustling market with a face like a storm cloud, blond hair streaming behind. She was dressed in respectable, clean farm-clothes, and carrying a bulging leather bag. Some elders did look thoughtfully after her, but no one said a word. She positively stomped up the steps to the Wind District, nearly pushing people over and, to the surprise of a young companion on watch, turned to Jorrvaskr. The young man didn't even try to stop her - not with that look on her face. It said 'go ahead, make my day'.
There weren't a lot of companions in the hall, most were out in the yard or on jobs. Those still eating their breakfast never even got the chance to stop the woman who banged the door shut with such force spiders fell from the ceiling, and made her way, very loudly, to the living quarters.
In the Harbinger's room, Vilkas was enjoying a book. He didn't do this particularly often, but it was an exceptionally good book. He was therefore not in the mood for a visitor, who came unannounced, banging on every possible piece of furniture on the way, threw her bag in the corner and snatched his book away only to flop it on the table. He was ready to draw his sword, when he raised his silver eyes to find a familiar pair of emerald green ones staring back.
"Nefasteri! Is it really you?"
"No, I'm just a ghost, damn it! What do you think?" The Harbinger plopped tiredly on the chair opposite and poured a goblet of wine from the open bottle.
"It's just that, I never expected to see you again! Not after all these years. I assume you'll want your rooms back?"
"Not at the moment. First I want to know everything that has happened while I was away. And, and..." Nefasteri seemed to remember the cause of her ferocious mood and raised an accusing finger, "do you know just how many sabre cats attacked me on my way from home? DO YOU? It was bloody FOURTEEN! I don't know what have you been doing here, but it has not been HUNTING!" She leaned down and scrabbled in her bag for a moment, producing a little pouch, which she proceeded to empty on the table. It was sabre cat teeth, presumably fourteen pairs of the fangs.
Vilkas chuckled and never even blinked an eye at the outburst - if his Harbinger was still the same as before, she certainly didn't mean any harm, just venting the anger. But she did have a point. "Well, yes, I admit, the hunting parties became rarer and rarer after Aela stopped shouting at everyone here."
The Harbinger's anger was gone in a moment. Whatever she was, however angry she was and how long she had gone, she was still their Harbinger, albeit not a particularly good one. "Did something happen to her? Is she here?"
"She's fine, and still a huntress. Don't worry. But I think she will want to tell you herself. She's in the yard, training up some whelps." Vilkas rose from his seat with a gleeful grin on his unshaven face.
"Let's go then."