With the White River long behind her, Sevria's body was now brimming with warmth and energy. Speedily she rushed through the trees that dotted the lush forest around her, feeling closer than ever to the spirits of the wild. She felt rejuvenated, soaring with ease through the branches; it almost felt as if she could fly like a bird, hindered by nothing and carried by the wind. As she dashed through the treetops, she soon noticed a change in the landscape; the snow was now gone, the trees gleamed in the sunlight with brilliant orange leaves, and the air became crisp... but nowhere near as cold as Eastmarch. The sound of birds singing floated through the sky, and right ahead of her she could see what looked to be a city gate... this was it! She'd reached Riften!
As Sevria came through the gate, she took in the sight of the city’s sprawling community; the smell of fresh fish complemented the ambient sound of the canal running beneath her feet, and the buildings all around her seemed to convey a strangely proud feeling of hard work and prosperity. The wooden bridge leading to the central market district creaked as she crossed it, and just ahead she could hear the local merchants advertising their goods. To her left she could hear one of the merchants, a dark elf claiming to be selling ‘the finest oddities from Morrowind’. Curious, she approached his stand.
“You sell goods from Morrowind?” Sevria asked.
“I do.” The merchant replied proudly, “Courtesy of the East Empire Company. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Well I don’t know much about the land of the dark elves… what do you have to offer?”
“Let me see…” The merchant placed some strange and exotic plants on the stand. “Are you an alchemist by chance? I’ve got a pretty full stock of ash yams, bungler’s bane, chokeweed …”
“Ash yams? You grow food from ashes?”
“Well… yes. I mean, the Dunmer living in Morrowind grow them. I just redistribute the produce.”
“That’s so fascinating… how much do you want for it?”
“The yams? What do you say to… hmm… 5 septims apiece?”
“Deal.” Sevria nodded, handing over 5 septims.
“Pleasure doing business with you. Is there anything else I can interest you in?”
“I’m afraid I don’t have much money to spare for leisure... I am sorry.”
An elderly woman's voice spoke from behind her. "No leisure money? In Riften? What the devil are you here for, then?"
Sevria turned around to face the woman. She was dressed in fine clothes, though that was perhaps the only fine thing about her; the expression on her face was one of bitterness and impatience, and her eyes conveyed a sense of disapproval toward the young visitor. Her hair was black as night, and her voice was twice as gloomy.
"I'm- I'm just a visitor. That is all." Sevria stammered, feeling oddly intimidated by this woman's demeanor.
"Is that so?" The woman responded, "We don't get many visitors around here who don't have coin to spend on luxuries. What business do you have here, if any?"
"Please, I'm just a traveler from Valenwood. I was curious about your city and so I--"
"-- Have come to my city with nothing to offer. I'd expect just as much from a native of the woods."
"Your city? Are you the Jarl? I've not offended you, have I?"
The woman scoffed. "The Jarl? Please, do not insult my intelligence, little one. I am Maven Black-Briar, proprietor of the Black-Briar meadery and overseer of Riften. I advise the Jarl on social and political matters, but make no mistake: this city is mine, as are its people. My word is law in these walls... don't you forget that. Because if you should happen to step out of line, or perhaps stick your nose where it doesn't belong, I doubt that your measly septims will get you out of the city prison. Do we understand each other?"
Maven's glare made Sevria feel small and defenseless. She stepped backward in fear as the old woman loomed bitterly over her with eyes that seemed to command her every word.
"Y-y-yes... lady Black-Briar... I understand you." Sevria uttered in a quiet and timid voice.
"And here I was, wondering if a native savage like you could understand even half of what I was saying." She turned her nose up to Sevria. "Do try to watch yourself in my city now. I've more important matters to deal with than speaking further with the likes of you... so don't draw my attention a second time."
Sevria nodded with a frightened look on her face, and sat down on the ground to calm herself down, as Maven turned around toward the Jarl's palace. The Dunmer merchant looked down at Sevria with compassion and spoke.
"I'm sorry you had to deal with that... ain't something any visitor ought to be subjected to, their first time in Riften."
"There was such wickedness in her eyes... I felt so weak before her, almost as if she could have struck me down if she wanted to."
"In all honesty, she very well could have; she won't say it out loud, but the Black-Briars are the most well-connected criminals in all of Skyrim. Got the whole family running a tidy little business taking advantage of us 'lesser people'."
"What? Then why are they not locked away?"
"Well it's just like I said: the Black-Briars are very well-connected. See, Maven's got a good working relationship with the Thieves Guild here in Riften, as well as the Jarl and her guardsmen. Used to have the Dark Brotherhood in her pocket too, 'till that whole fiasco with the Emperor did them all in. But make no mistake: she's bad news."
"Hey, didn't the Dark Brotherhood kill the Emperor?" Asked Grelka, a neighboring merchant sitting nearby.
"Nope. That wasn't the Dark Brotherhood's doing; that was the work of the Whispering Death killer. Apparently she was the only member of the Brotherhood who survived after the Legion burned their sanctuary to the ground, but only after turning her back on the cult. From what I heard, it was their leader who kicked her out for -- get this -- being an 'uncontrollable killer'. Can you believe that? Someone was actually so crazy that even the Dark Brotherhood kicked her out?"
"If you would please..." Sevria murmured shyly, "All this talk of murderers is making me uneasy."
"Ah, right, of course. Sorry. Can't imagine it'd make for very good casual conversation right now... hey, tell you what." He handed Sevria a second ash yam. "Here. Free of charge."
"Oh -- ? Thank you! What is your name?"
"Brand-Shei. Yours?"
"Sevria."
"Pleased to meet you, Sevria. Enjoy the yams."
Sevria nodded gratefully and tried one of Brand-Shei's ash yams. It was such a strange thing, she thought, to grow food and produce from ashes. Yet, from what the merchant told her, this was a regular practice in Morrowind. How odd! Yet the yam itself was surprisingly sweet – juicy, even. In fact it wasn’t unlike some of the fruits she’d eaten in Valenwood as a youth. Perhaps she would visit Morrowind next? Surely such a unique land would make for a fascinating place to explore! At length she finished both her ash yams, discarded the remains, and got back up to resume her exploration of Riften... and then, at the far end of the market, she saw him.
Standing just opposite from her was a tall Nord dressed in fine clothes, claiming with a confident attitude to be selling a mysterious potion with properties that defied explanation. When Sevria's eyes fell upon this man, she was smitten with wonder and awe. The ruggedness of his features, blended with the rich smoothness of his voice as he advertised his product, gave the youthful Bosmer all sorts of pleasant feelings that seemed to wash away the misery of Maven Black-Briar's ill-favored welcome. Why she felt this way, she could not tell... but it felt eerily similar to the sensation she felt in Whiterun, when the bard Mikael played his songs. It made her feel happy and excited, but nervous and afraid at the same time. So unsure of this feeling was she, that she inadvertently caught herself staring at the man as he shot a friendly glance her way. She took a step back and hid her grinning face in her hands, blushing from embarrassment as she tried to find something else to take her mind off the man... but her eyes went right back to him, watching as he sold his wonder potions to any who asked.
"You're not thinking about buying from Brynjolf, are you?" A female beggar asked.
"Is that his name?" Sevria responded dreamily, "He's... a very interesting-looking man."
"Don't be fooled... he'd be nothing but trouble for a sweet girl like you. Don't pay him any mind."
But Sevria was helpless before Brynjolf's charms. That sly, foxy look in his eye spoke of a clever mind behind them, and that smirk of his made her jittery all over. These feelings were stronger than they'd been in Whiterun, and for some reason the beggar's warning seemed only to intensify the sensation. Was she excited by the danger? But that didn't make any sense -- not that it even registered in her head, of course. Hardly anything registered with her right now, except for how handsome and charming this man Brynjolf was. And that voice of his... how was it able to command so much power over her, without even speaking directly to her? What was it about his tone and accent that made her feel so wonderful? Was it natural for her to feel like this? Had she been put under some spell? Maybe she needed to go somewhere else, she thought to herself, to possibly clear her head. No sooner had she started leaving the marketplace, however, that Brynjolf himself approached her to speak.
"You're new around here, aye?" He said casually, "Don't recall seeing you around here before."
"Oh - uhm -- no... no you haven't." Sevria said shyly, trying in vain to hide the fact that her face was turning a very prominent shade of red. "I mean-- ah -- I've never been to your city before. I came to Skyrim just about a week and a half ago, you see."
"Foreigner, eh? Well, you made a good choice coming here to Skyrim. We could use more fresh faces."
"You- you really think so?" A wide smile spread across her face.
"I do." He nodded. "What brings you to our homeland, if I may ask?"
"Oh, just... no reason." She said nervously, still surprised that he bothered to speak with her at all. "I heard many great things about the north, and I thought... well..."
"Ah." He chuckled, "Curious, are we?"
"Yes, very much so. I've been traveling all over Skyrim since I arrived... it's been quite the adventure."
"I'll bet it has been." Brynjolf concurred, "By the way, I couldn't help but overhear your little chat with Maven... you're running a bit light in the pockets there, yes?"
"Sort of..."
"Well, I'll tell you what: help me deal with a little bit of local business, and we'll see about filling your coffers. Deal?"
"Local business? You mean with the stand?"
"Well, sort of... c'mon. I'll explain over here." Brynjolf walked Sevria to one of the Riften alleyways and spoke quietly. "I've been contracted to settle a dispute between two people here in the city, and I need an extra pair of hands."
"Well... alright, but what do I have to do?"
"You see that man over there? Fellow in the fine suit and bushy beard?" Brynjolf pointed the man out: Vulwulf Snow-Shod, one of the richer people living in Riften.
Sevria nodded. "Yes... yes, I see him there."
"We need to get him into a spot of trouble with the guards. Make everyone think he stole something valuable from that wood elf Nivenor... and you're gonna be the one to do it, by stealing a ring off her person and slipping it in his pocket."
"What -- ??" Sevria was taken aback. "Break the law? I could never--"
"Shh -- shh -- shh..." Brynjolf rested a finger on her lips. "It's a bit much, I know. But believe me, it's for the best. Sometimes, rules have to be broken for the sake of business or necessity... this is one of those times."
"But it seems so... I mean you don't expect me to..."
"Don't worry about it." He held her hand in his. "You've got small, light hands with thin fingers... so long as I keep their attention, they won't feel a thing. I'll start a distraction at my stand, while you get in there and steal that ring from Nivenor." He looked her in the eyes. "You can do this. I know you can. Call it foolishness, but I've got a good feeling about you."
Sevria gulped nervously. All she could think about was the gravity of the situation; what if she got caught? What if she were arrested? And what if she wasn't? Would she even be able to live it down, that she framed an innocent man and sent him to prison? But Brynjolf's eyes seemed strangely trustworthy... perhaps he really was doing this for a better cause than she could understand at the moment. Perhaps it would all make sense if she went along with it. And besides, someone so approachable couldn't possibly be an evil person at heart... now someone like Rolff Stone-Fist, that was what evil must surely look like, she thought to herself. Maybe, just maybe, she could trust this man Brynjolf.
"Fine." She nodded, still nervous. "Just... let's just get this over with."
"Good girl. Just do what I told you and everything will be fine."
And with that, Brynjolf walked back to his stand and began his distraction. With that same confident attitude that he had before, he urged everyone in the market place to gather around and bear witness to his amazing product: Wisp Essence, apparently straight from the mystical creatures themselves. And just like he said they would, everybody gathered to behold this astounding new item... including Vulwulf and Nivenor. Sevria's heart pounded hard in her chest as she casually approached the thick crowd, trying to look natural without giving any indication of her purpose. What was she even doing right now? This wasn't like her at all, sneaking up on someone with the intent to steal! Had she lost her mind?
She'd reached Nivenor now, who watched Brynjolf while being utterly oblivious to the fellow Bosmer behind her. The ring was right within her grasp... sitting right on Nivenor's index finger... Sevria focused solely on this ring and the movement of Nivenor's hand -- she reached -- what if Nivenor felt it? -- Touched the ring -- what if it got caught on her knuckle? -- Pulled the ring gently off... and just like that, Nivenor's ring found itself in Sevria's palm, with Nivenor none the wiser. Sevria had to take a moment to process her accomplishment, before walking behind Vulwulf and preparing to plant the ring. Brynjolf noticed Sevria standing behind her mark, and addressed Vulwulf directly to discuss a fair price for the wisp essence. Quietly Sevria opened Vulwulf's pocket and dropped the ring inside, before backing away and leaning back against the stone boundary of the market, collapsing in place and heaving a deep, quiet breath. She could hardly believe what she'd accomplished... and so easily too!
But her feelings of accomplishment were short-lived; as soon as Brynjolf's speech was over, he tipped off the city guard and sent them to arrest Vulwulf.
"Alright, Snow-Shod, hand it over. We know you have it." The head guard said.
"What is this?" Vulwulf responded bitterly.
"Don't play dumb. Turn our your pockets, you dirty old thief."
"Turn out my pockets, eh? Fine -- here, what do y-- ... what? My... my daughter's ring..."
"Wrong. That's Lady Nivenor's ring, bought and paid for."
"There is no mistaking it -- I know this ring! My daughter bought it in Windhelm and it was sent to me by a Stormcloak courier after she died... thought I'd misplaced it, but no! Now I see that it was stolen from me! And by that wretched elf no less!"
"Put your hands in the air, crazy old man!"
"No! You'll not take her ring from me!"
A fight soon broke out in the streets, but it only took a few moments for the guards to subdue and arrest Vulwulf. Broken and beaten, he was carried off to the Riften prison, sobbing over the second loss of his daughter's property... the one thing he wanted more than anything else in this world, so as to honor her memory. Sevria watched the event unfold from behind cover, and was left speechless. What had she done? This went beyond being just a petty crime -- she'd broken a man who'd lost something more valuable to him than any material things.
Brynjolf approached her from behind and rested a hand on her shoulder. "You did a good job there. I think you'd make a fine recruit for the Thieves Guild." He offered Sevria a large pouch full of septims. "And here you go... your cut of the take, just as I promised."
Sevria turned around and looked at Brynjolf with her deep black eyes; her face was wet with tears running down her cheeks, and her expression spoke of betrayal, heartbreak, and disbelief. In fact she looked as though she could burst into a crying fit at any moment; she'd trusted this man like a fool, thinking him to be better than he was... but in the end he was just a common criminal, no better than a bandit and willing to use others to further his own ends... and for what? Money? Were other peoples' lives really so meaningless to this man that he would be willing to use and manipulate them, all to satisfy his selfish greed? She put her hand on his and pressed the bag of money against him, glaring at him whilst trying to hold back her emotional turmoil. "Keep it... ... some things, in this world... are more valuable... than shiny... gold... coins..." She rose to her feet and left the city behind, as Brynjolf watched her with a confused expression on his face. Once outside the city walls, Sevria ran deep into the forest and curled up beneath a tree, crying herself to sleep...
Comments
Maven is awful, Brynjolf is a cad.
Why didn't she meet Mjoll.