Chapter One

The marketplace was still busy, even as the evening started to grow older. Brynjolf led Noren to his stall, miming an attempted sale while filling the elf in on his plan. “See that Argonian across the way? That’s Madesi. I’m going to start a distraction, get everyone’s attention. When I do, I want you to go to Madesi’s stall and steal a silver ring he just finished a few days ago. It’s fantastic workmanship. High quality. Once you have it, I want you to put it in Brand-Shei’s pocket.” He looked toward the Dark Elf behind Noren. “Without him noticing.” 

The elf eyed his target, growing uncomfortable. “Why give the ring to him?”

“We’ve been contracted to make sure Brand-Sei remembers not to meddle in affairs that aren’t his own. Now, since we aren’t the Dark Brotherhood, we’re not going to kill him.” He grinned. “Just make him sit in jail for a few days.” 

“He won’t have left something so valuable setting out without being locked up.”

“Of course not.” The man slid him a lockpick below the walls of the stand. “You’ll have to get a little delicate with the lock. Are you ready?”

Noren hid the probe up his sleeve. “I suppose so.” He made as if to walk to the blacksmith. His employer began a few moments later. 

“Everyone, gather round! I have something that demands your attention.” The entire market stopped, looking toward the comotion. The Altmer was surprised to see that the other sellers were indeed willing to abandon their merchandise so easily. “Closer! You don’t want to miss this.”

“What is this about, Brynjolf?” Brand-Shei sat on a crate across from the salesman. 

“Patience, Brand-Shei. This is a rare opportunity, and I wouldn’t want you to get left out.”

“That’s what you said about the Wisp Essence,” Madesi scoffed, “and it turned out to be crushed NIrnroot mixed with water!”

Noren crouched finding his way behind the Argonian’s stall. He heard the conversation, thinking to himself that this was going to be a short task if this was the best his partner could do to distract the others. Thankfully, Brynjolf seemed to recover in an instant. “That was a simple misunderstanding. I assure you, this item is the real thing. Lads and Lasses, I give you… Falmerblood Elixir!”

The crowd gave off a spattering of laughter at the revelation. “Oh, come on. Are you talking about the Snow Elves?” Noren paused in his work, allowing his eyes to peek above the counter. It couldn’t be real.

“The one and only.” Brynjolf boasted. “Mystical beings who live in legends, and were masters of great magic. Imagine the power that coursed through their veins!”

Madesi seemed to have the same mentality as Noren. “How did you get that then? No one has seen them in years!”

“My sources must stay secret for their protection, Madesi. But I can promise you that the contents are genuine. One sip of the elixir and your wishes will be granted. Great Wealth, everlasting life, or perhaps unlimited power could be yours!”

He’s nothing more than a con man! Noren felt his face flush as he went back to his work. Con man or not, Brynjolf was the only chance he had to get some answers quickly. He pulled open the door to the stall’s storage area. There was a small iron lockbox sitting there and a gold amulet. He slid the lockpick into the opening, trying his best to be gentle. He considered as he worked, that it might not have been wise to leave out that he had never done this before when talking to Brynjolf. He could feel the thin metal bending. It would break if he kept trying like this. He closed his eyes, willing the world to not notice him. 

He felt a strange sensation. His mind tingled as he opened his eyes. They went wide at the sight that met them. He could see the lockbox, but there was more. A pale blue aura emanated from within. It was like a silhouette of the lock, the tumblers and pins now visible to him. He moved his pick, pressing up on the parts to free the loot inside. He felt sweat on his brow as he began to rotate the mechanism. The soft click of victory brought a wave of relaxation. He picked out the ring and made for Brand-Shei.

“How much does it cost?” Brand-Shei was still enthralled by Brynjolf’s snake oil pitch. His pocket was just showing between the crates. Noren was about to put the ring there when Madesi’s voice made him freeze.

“Why would you even listen to him? This stuff can’t be real.”

“Only twenty Septims a bottle!” 

“What a waste of time.” Madesi started to walk away. Noren took the chance, dropping the ring so that it would roll down into the target’s pocket. 

“Well, I see that my time is up. Come back tomorrow if you wish to buy.” Brynjolf gave an indiscernible nod to Noren. He waited until the High Elf was close enough that the others would not over hear them before letting his smile show. “Nice work lad! Looks like I chose the right person for the job. Here you go,” he held out a sizable bag of coins, “your payment, as promised. The way things have been going around here, it’s a relief that our plan went off without a hitch.”

Noren peeked inside the purse, unwilling to believe that what he had done should merit so much money. “What’s been going on?”

Brynjolf waved the question away. “Bah. My organization’s been having a run of bad luck, but that’s just how it goes. Never mind that. You did the job and you did it well. Best of all, there’s more where that came from…” He sent a wicked grin. “Think you can handle it?”

Noren looked down at the gold. Guilt threatened to make him turn the man down. But he knew that he would need more gold before too long. Maybe this was a way for him to get on his feet. He clenched his fist, an expression of determination forming. “I can handle it.”

Brynjolf nodded. “Alright then. Let’s put that to the test. The group I represent makes its home in the Ratway beneath Riften. A tavern called the Ragged Flagon. Get there in one piece, and we’ll see if you really have what it takes. Good luck, lad.” With that, he left, making his way toward the Bee and Barb. 

As night grew deeper, Noren left the Inn for the jail. He tried to reason himself out of going. There was no evidence that pointed him to this Khajiit. It was just a feeling. As he was crossing the plaza, he heard a guard talking to someone in harsh tones. Settling down to hide behind the well, he looked at the scene.

“All right, Brand-Shei. Turn out your pockets, we know you have it.”

The Dunmer blinked in surprise, stopping in his work. He looked as though he had been packing up his wares after staying open past his usual hours. “Have what? What in blazes are you talking about?”

The guard growled. “Don’t play stupid. I said turn out your pockets… now!”

“I’m telling you, I don’t…” His voice fell away. His hand was in his pocket, his face confused. “Wait, what’s this ring? This isn’t mine!”

“That’s right. It isn’t yours. You’re under arrest, Brand-Shei.”

“This is insane! I didn’t steal anything!” Brand-Shei looked desperate. “Please! I’ve never seen this ring before in my entire life!”

“We can do this one of two ways.” Noren dropped lower at the sound of the sword leaving it’s scabbard. “You walk with me up to the keep, or I can drag your lifeless body. Your choice.”

“But… I…” Noren could imagine the look on the poor man’s face at his next words. “Very well.” The guard kept his weapon out, following the merchant on his sullen march to the dungeons. Noren followed, trying his best to ignore the scolding of his conscience.

He passed the guard who had stopped him before, dropping the coins he had requested into his hands. He reread the note he had been given by the Innkeeper. Inigo must be here somewhere. He thought of asking a guard, but instead heard a strange voice. It had a rasp to it, but was mostly clear. 

 “Mr. Dragonfly, are you sure you would not like to be let out of your jar. You do not need to repent as I do.” 

He turned to the left, to the first cell. He knew instantly that this was the man he was looking for. He sat hunched over. His fur was a deep, midnight blue, white on his face, and a set of fierce scars crossing his nose. There was a jar next to him on a table, a dragonfly hovering inside it. The insect seemed almost to turn and look at the Altmer. Noren worked quickly to pick the lock. He took more care to ensure that the guards did not hear when it was undone. As he walked into the cell, Inigo looked to him. 

“Come to kill me at last, have you?” He smiled. “Thank the Gods. I can bear the guilt no longer.”