Hello, Journal. It’s Steve. This is a bit lengthy, so let’s jump in, okay? Okay.
When we arrived at Riften, my horse Skype was already there. This was just the first of many weird things I would encounter in Riften. The area was a lot warmer than Whiterun, with a lot more trees, of both types, leafy and coney. A low-hanging fog slid over everything, giving it a somewhat sinister effect. It was a nice touch.
As we approached the gate, a guard stopped me, saying, “Hold there. Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the Visitor’s Tax.” What was this nonsense?
“What’s the tax for?” I asked suspiciously.
“For the privilege of entering the city,” said the guard, “What does it matter?”
I was starting to wonder if this was even a guard. “This is obviously a shakedown,” I said, because I could smell one a mile away.
“All right, keep your voice down,” he said, caving rather quickly, I thought, “You want everyone to hear you? I’ll let you in, just let me unlock the gate.” He went and unlocked the gate. “The gate’s unlocked. You can head inside when you’re ready.”
I turned to the woman standing guard next to him, and she said, “The Greybeards have summoned the Dragonborn to High Hrothgar.” How do you know about that way out here? “Such a thing has not happened for… hundreds of years.” So I’ve heard.
Lydia and I entered Riften, and I was immediately struck by how incredibly ‘wooden’ everything was. And I don’t just mean their speech patterns. I mean, I know most buildings in most towns are mostly wood, but somehow this one gave off an extra ‘woody’ vibe. Like the whole town was someone’s do-it-yourself summer project.
While I examined the architecture, a well-armored woman to my immediate right said to a seated man, “I had another run-in with the Thieve’s Guild.” Thieve’s Guild? Skyrim had one? This was the first I was hearing of it.
The man replied, “Be careful, Mjoll. The Thieves Guild has Maven Black-Briar at its back.” I made a mental note about this Maven person. Perhaps she could direct me to somewhere that I could fence all of this stolen loot I’ve been lugging around. “One snap of her fingers, and you could end up in Riften Jail… or worse.” Maybe I didn’t want to meet Maven.
Mjoll argued back, “They represent the reason I’m here. I can’t just ignore them, Aerin.”
So… she was fighting thieves? Interesting, but also worrying.
“I know,” said Aerin, “I just don’t want you to leave.” Leave? So, the Thieves Guild was not here? I was getting very confused. “You’re the only good thing that’s happened to this city in a long time.” Of course now I was here, so… but I kid.
At that point I guess they agreed to disagree, because they both stopped arguing and briskly walked away.
Lydia said, “Riften is drowning in a sea of sin and wickedness.” Hey. I’ll be the judge of that, Lydia. Can’t get our hopes up too early now.
As we walked slightly further into town – maybe two or three steps, tops – a man leaning against a pole said in a sort of growl, “I don’t know you. Are you in Riften looking for trouble?”
“What’s it to you?” I asked with the utmost sincerity.
“Don’t say something you’ll regret.” Good advice, to be sure, but not one I’d been known to follow. “Last thing the Black-Briars need is some loud-mouth tryin’ to meddle in their affairs.” Hey, that’s not fair. For one thing, I generally only meddle upon request. And for another, I am one of the most quiet-mouthed people you’ll ever meet. Almost all of my thoughts remain in my head, and sometimes my journal. And when I do mouth off, it’s only within an arbitrarily limited range of responses.
“Who are the Black-Briars?” I asked, though I’d already heard that Maven Black-Briar was at the back of the Thieves Guild.
“The Black-Briars have Riften in their pocket and the Thieves Guild watching their back, so keep your nose out of their business.” From the sound of it, I probably wanted to also watch their back, as part of this Thieves Guild he mentioned. We had a similar guild in my hometown in Elsweyr, but we called it The Five-Fingered Discount Club. We thought we were clever.
“Me? I’m Maul. I watch the streets for ‘em. If you need dirt on anything, I’m your guy.” I can apply dirt myself, but thanks. “but it’ll cost you.”
I couldn’t help myself, and said, “Dirt, huh? I’m not exactly clean, myself.”
“Then you’re stupider than you look,” he said. I frowned, unsure whether I deserved the insult. “You better watch your ass around here.” I wasn’t sure how to take that, either, so I went to walk away, when suddenly he stepped forward, saying, “Hey, you! Get over here, I want to talk to you.” What had we just been doing? But then he walked away. So… that was weird.
We took a few more steps forward, toward a footbridge, and a woman was speaking to another seated man, saying, “I’m really getting tired of your excuses, when you borrowed the money, you said you’d pay it back on time and for double the usual fee.” Did none of these people ever hear of doing business behind closed doors?
The man replied, “I know I did. But how was I to know the shipment would get robbed?”
“Next time, keep your plans quieter,” the woman nearly shouted, “and nothing would have happened to it.”
The man gasped, “What? Are you telling me you robbed it?” I heard her admit no such thing. “Why? Why are you doing this to me?” Yes, I was curious about that as well.
“Look, Shadr,” said the woman, “last warning. Pay up or else. All I care about is the gold. Everything else is your problem.” And then she walked away, while the man stared off into space.
Suddenly he looked up and noticed me, and said, “Huh? What do you want?”
“What kind of trouble are you in?” I asked, because I seem incapable of leaving well enough alone any more.
He said, “I owe a great deal of money to someone,” I looked up at the lady leaving, “and I think they cheated me. I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me the details,” I said for no good reason.
“I was able to work out a deal with the stables in Whiterun to sell me some of their tack and harnesses.” Okay, this was already boring. “I borrowed some gold from Sapphire to pay for the shipment, but it got robbed before it even arrived.” I watched the woman enter the nearby tavern, and made a mental note that her name was Sapphire. “Now Sapphire wants her money back, and if I don’t pay her, I think she’s going to kill me.”
That seemed extreme. I hoped this Sapphire was not the way to join the Thieves Guild, as I suspected I’d want nothing to do with her. “Sorry, I wish I could help you.”
“Not half as sorry as I am,” whined the man. Oh, shut up. Be glad I even listened to your sob story. I’m not everyone’s grandma. Or rescuer. Whatever. I was cranky from the long trip. I left him to go over to the tavern. Before I entered, however, I spotted Sapphire walking down a nearby flight of rickety wooden stairs, so I decided to go talk to her about Shad’r.
When I caught up with her, she turned to me and said, “Is there… something I can do for you?” And my mind drew a blank. I couldn’t figure out what to say. Which made no sense. I mean, I often didn’t say what I wanted to say, but to have nothing to say? This was new.
“People laugh at things they don’t believe,” said Lydia. “It helps them accept the unknown.” Haha, yeah, right, Lydia. Oh, wait.
So I went the creepy route and just followed Sapphire along the deck, until she entered a small wooden door in the wall. I followed her, and ended up in what felt like a sewer, but more traveled, perhaps.
Some sewer thugs came after us, but between Lydia, myself, and Sapphire, we took them down in no time, although Sapphire was a bit embarrassing as she mostly ran around saying, “Someone do something!” Once Lydia killed the last one, she said, “I am sorry, but you left me with no choice.” Glad to know she has a conscience too.
Once the last one was down, Sapphire continued walking casually down the tunnel as though a life and death struggle hadn’t just happened. Eventually she reached a huge gap with a raised drawbridge. I watched to see what she would do. She stood there for a while, doing nothing. I nudged her slightly, in the hopes this would jolt her out of whatever fugue state she seemed to be in, but I must have nudged her too hard, because she spun around, gasped, and fell off the edge. Luckily for both of us, she didn’t seem injured by the fall. I wasn’t sure how she’d get back up here, though.
Somewhere in the distance I heard her say, “Never should have come here,” but hopefully that was just her own personal observation about her use of free time.
Curious as to what was going on, I jumped down as well and entered the tunnel. I found a dead body, presumably belonging to whomever she felt should never have come here. I went down another flight of stairs, and entered a room where a man stood waiting to pummel whoever was foolish enough to enter. He had a good punch, but mine was better. I felt guilty for killing him, but he had some really nice gloves that seemed to compliment my claws. Meanwhile Lydia was tripping on a trigger plate that kept sending a log smacking her in the face. She seemed none the worse for wear, however.
Eventually I made may way to the other side of the gap, where I was able to lower the plank. But no sign of Sapphire anywhere.
After a thorough search of the place, I found one door we hadn’t entered, which my map – on a level of magic I didn’t even realize it had – declared was The Ragged Flagon. Ooh, a bar! Maybe.
As I walked into the probable bar, I caught part of a conversation. A man with an odd, non-Skyrimish accent said, “Yeah, funny thing about that – the price was a hundred higher than I expected.” I hated when that happens.
“Delvin, you have no shame,” said another voice. “I’ll get you the rest like I said. I want that hammer.” Sounded like an expensive hammer.
The bartender said, “Dirge! Did you take out the trash like I asked?”
“Yeah,” said the man I assumed was Dirge. “Threw it in the lake like you said.”
“Tell me you looked through the trash before you did that,” said the bartender.
“Take it easy, Vekel,” said Dirge. “How long we known each other? Yeah, I checked it. All the stuff is in the safe.” Note to self: Safe, somewhere.
I took a seat at the nearest table, as the man called Delvin said “Puttin’ together another shipment from Morrowind, Vekel. Lookin’ for anything special?” Morrowind? Perhaps I could get to Elsweyr by way of Morrowind. But first I still had to make a name for myself here. I mean, other than the weird dragon name thing. That was I was pretty sure nobody back home would believe anyway.
“Well,” said Vekel, “if some moon sugar should happen to fall into your lap…” my ears perked up, and I slouched down at the table, worried that I shouldn’t have been overhearing this.
“Maybe,” said Delvin, “that stuff’s getting tough to bring across the border with all the Argonian patrols.”
Argonian patrols? I hadn’t even seen an Argonian since I’d arrived.
Vekel said, “Well, if it turns up, I’d be willing to buy.” Oddly enough, I knew a guy. A bit murderous, but we all have our quirks, right?
At that point, Vekel came over, presumably to get my order. Except he didn’t, and just started sweeping. The place was so dark, I wasn’t sure why he bothered.
Certain that they’d seen me at this point and weren’t planning to kill me for having heard too much, I got up and went over to the bar proper. I took a seat on a barstool, turned to Dirge, and greeted them.
“Stay outta trouble, or there’s gonna be trouble,” said Dirge.
“Why do they call you Dirge?” I asked. Seemed as good a question as any.
“They call me Dirge ‘cause I’m the last thing you hear before they put you in the ground.” Oh! Very clever. “Why? You think it’s funny or something?”
“No way,” I said diplomatically, “that name would scare anyone.”
“Good, now shut up and get out of my face.”
We sat in very uncomfortable silence for a moment. I turned back to him and said, “About your name…“
He glared. “What, you still think it’s funny?”
I said nothing.
“All right, then,” said Dirge. He got up to sit somewhere else, so, feeling like a jerk, I followed him.
I was stopped by a hooded woman who said “Huh, I suppose I could work with your face. After all, the sculptor cannot always choose the finest clay.”
Had I wandered into a hole where they kept all of the disagreeable people? “What are you talking about?” I asked, wanting to know what she was talking about.
“I assumed you were here to see me about your face. To have it sculpted into something more… artful than nature has bestowed upon you.” Hey, my face is beautiful, my mother said so. “So, are you here as a client? Shall I remake your face?”
I squinted at her. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“I have not always been a ragged beggar,” she said, seemingly unrelated. “I learned my art from the masters of flesh sculpture. I studied with the faculty of chirurgeons in Cloudrest. I walked with the Hollow-Faced men of Nohotogrha for three years.” I noticed she hadn’t answered my question.
“I count the nobility of both the empire and the dominion among my clients.” Impressive.
“And yet, I have fallen so low, that I must justify myself to a wanderer in the sewers of this backwater of the world.” Ouch.
Wanting to make sure I understood what she was offering, I rephrased her face-remaking comment, saying “I understand you know how to change someone’s appearance.”
“Change it? I can remake your face, if that is what you desire. I do not practice my art for free, however. I doubt you can afford my services. You have the smell of the vagabond about you.” I doubted that anyone could wander this sewer and not smell a bit vagabondish.
“I’ll have to think about it,” I said, with no intentions of thinking about it. Not that I couldn’t afford it, but she was part of a growing list of people I probably did not like. And I was happy with my face. Narri was happy with my face, before she tried to have it smashed in by thugs.
I turned around and was surprised to see a woman sitting at the table behind me. I hadn’t even noticed her earlier. I greeted her, and she said, “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”
“I need some training in lockpicking,” I said to her, despite the fact that I had no reason whatsoever to believe she was capable of training me in such a thing.
“All right,” she said, “but if you get arrested, don’t blame it on me.”
I was confused. How did I know she knew how to lockpick? Why were all of these people so surly? Had I somehow stumbled upon the Thieves Guild? And if so, how could I indicate to them that I knew this, and it was cool, because I was one of them?
I went up to the bartender, Vekel. If anyone could help, he’d be the man.
“You’d better have coin to pay for your drinks,” he said, “there’s no handouts here.” What kind of skeevy greeting was that? I had thousands of coins – which they didn’t need to know – and could probably buy their entire stock of… flagons. Ragged or otherwise.
Deciding to be subtle, I asked, “Can you share anything about the Thieves Guild?”
“Sure,” said Vekel. “How about you mind your own business about it, and I won’t have to get Dirge to toss you into the cistern?”
Fine, I would mind my own business, then. I took a sip of ale, as Dirge blurted, “Job’s done, boss. Gave the package to her just as you said.”
“Good,” said Vekel, discussing his business out in the open, “did she say anything we need to know?”
“Yep, she said the Jarl was planning a surprise raid on us, but she talked her out of it. Said she saved us a lot of trouble.” I wondered if the ‘she’ was Maven Black-Briar.
“That she did,” said Vekel. “Very good. I’ll tell Brynjolf.”
Brynjolf, huh? I’d have to look for someone who might go by that name. I decided to wander around their place a bit. I spied a book called “Cats of Skyrim,” which I took to read later.
I accidentally woke up a woman sleeping who sat up and said, “If you’re looking for conversation, the Flagon isn’t the place. Vekel and me? We have a thing going. So I recommend you keep your hands off the merchandise.” She then lied back down and went back to sleep. Alright then.
I found another door, which I of course opened. How could I not? And it led to some weird… ratway, I guess you’d call it? Where I met a vagrant Khajiit, whom Lydia killed before I could properly greet.
As we went further into… whatever this was… I encountered a ragged man who said, “I finally understand what it all means… what it was all for. The killing, and the dying.” Maybe he was Flagon?
We then found a room where a cheerful man wearing a chef’s had was working at a grindtsone. He stood up and drew an axe, saying, “Ah ha ha! Come here! Come here come here come here!” I shot him with an arrow, and he said, “That’s close enough.” Followed shortly thereafter with “Hunghh!”
And then, somewhere a woman cackled, “Ha ha ha, no! Never find me!”
This place was starting to give me the creeps. Just a wee bit.
We found another door with a small sliding panel. Per the demands of curiosity, I opened the panel, and an old man said “I’m not opening this door, so you might as well leave me alone.” And then shut the panel on me. I opened it once more out of heightened curiosity, and he said, “I’m very dangerous! Don’t make me come out there and hurt you!” So of course I had to try it again, and he said, “If my friends find out you’ve been bothering me, you’ll be very sorry!” I tried again, but he just said “Go away,” which was boring, so I went away.
I needed to get some fresh air, as I felt the underground was driving me a little mad, as evidenced by the voice saying, “Bucket knife, book, ink pot, stone, no! No!”
We made it back to the relative sanity of The Ragged Flagon, in time to hear Dirge say, “Need to tell your boys to play nice, Delvin. Almost threw two of them into the well last night.”
“They ain’t my boys,” said Delvin, “do I look like the leadin’ type?”
“You know what I mean,” said Dirge, “tell your boss that rough is rough, but when someone pulls a dagger fun time is over.”
“I’ll pass it along,” said Delvin. This was either the Thieves’ Guild or the worst bar ever. Possibly both.
While they had this conversation, I picked up a slip of paper on one of their tables that talked about a shipment of glass daggers hidden under the docks. Since we were getting nowhere in here, I decided to go check that out.
As soon as we stepped back into fresh air, I jumped off the docks, as Lydia said “Make sure to pull your bow all the way back to get the most power out of your shot,” and no, I don’t know why she said it. Though it was good advice.
After nearly drowning and mostly getting soaking wet, I decided these weren’t the docks I was looking for. I climbed back out of the water, amidst the chatter of the morning marketplace, which was slightly busier than Whiterun’s. A well-dressed man strolled up to me and said, “Never done an honest day’s work for all that coin you’re carryin’, eh lad?”
This seemed incredibly presumptuous of him. If he only knew how many secret missions I had undertaken to get most of this gold.
“I’m sorry, what?” was my response instead.
He elaborated. “I’m saying you’ve got the coin, but you didn’t earn a septim of it honestly. I can tell.”
I was offended. How dare he? I defended honor, I braved dungeons – AND dragons – and little girl bullies, and– okay, so the rest of it wasn’t honest.
“How could you possibly know that?” I asked.
“It’s all about sizing up your mark, lad,” he said. I did not know why he kept calling me “lad.” Perhaps the fur made me look younger than I was. “The way they walk, what they’re wearing. It’s a dead giveaway.”
You’d be surprised how much the dead give away, actually. “What do you mean?”
“Look how you sniffed out my little scheme at the north gate. You knew it was a shakedown and you called him on it. That’s what I’m talking about.” Ah, okay. That made sense. And apparently the guard is a whiny snitch.
I looked at his outfit and said, “You seem to be well-acquainted with wealth.” I meant it as a sort of insult, but it probably came across as a compliment.
“Wealth is my business,” he said. “Help me out, and I can add to yours. Would you like a taste?”
Of course I did. So… basically he asked me to steal from a strongbox while he distracted people from what I was doing, and then plant a ring on someone. When I asked why, he said, “There’s someone who wants to see him put out of business permanently, that’s all you need to know.”
I didn’t want anything to do with that, so I walked away. This guy was clearly scum. Perhaps once I found the Thieves Guild proper, I could let them know about this guy. They’d set him straight, for sure.
Desperately wanting to get away from drama for a bit, I entered the Bee and Barb tavern.
“People of Riften,” said the man standing in the middle of the room when I entered. “Heed my words. The return of the dragons is not mere coincidence.” Oh, please… “This is one of the signs.” It’s always signs. “The signs that Lady Mara is displeased with your constant inebriation.” Why would Lady Mara care? I thought she loved everyone. “Put down your flagons filled with your vile liquids, and embrace the teachings of the handmaiden of Kyne.”
“No, no, Maramel,” said the Argonian behind the bar. Hey, an Argonian! Finally. “We talked about this. Talen…“
“Keerava,” said the man she called Maramel, “certainly we can come to some sort of an understanding?” As Talen prepared to throw him out, I assumed. “These people must be made aware of the chaos they’ve sown.”
“Enough, Maramel,” said Talen, “we’ve all heard of the dragons and their return.” But how? “There’s no need to use them as an excuse to harrass our customers.” Amen to that, Talen.
“Very well, Talen,” said Mallowmar, “I’ll remove myself from this den of iniquity.”
“We’re not kicking you out,” said Talen, “Just keep the sermons at the temple and let us all sin in peace.”
I approached Maramel, and he said “Blessings of Mara upon you.” Yeah, and also with you.
I wanted to know more about the Temple of Mara, so I said, “I wanted to know more about the Temple of Mara.”
“Wonderful,” said Maramal, “where to begin? Mara is the goddess of love. The temple spreads her gifts by tending to the sick, the poor, and the lost.” Sounded noble enough. If you like that sort of thing. “We also perform wedding ceremonies for all the loving couples of Skyrim.” Without warning?
I was inexplicably skeptical. “I could have a wedding at the temple?” Not that I was part of a couple.
“Yes,” he said, “if you were ready, of course. Are you familiar with how marriage works in Skyrim?”
“I might,” I lied, “why don’t you remind me?” I was partly distracted by a drunk patron threatening to put Talen’s head on a pike.
“Typically, love in Skyrim is as earnest as the people who live here.” So, not all that earnest, really, based on the people I’d met, though personally I’ve never seen the importance of being earnest. “Life is hard, and short.” Like a Bosmer, then. “So there’s little room for long courtship.” Or long, boring, unsolicited explanations of marriage. I really had just wanted to know what kind of statues and gold decor they might have. I wanted to know where the temple was.
He explained, “A person looking for a spouse simply wears an amulet of Mara about the neck, showing they are available.” Sounded pretty tacky to me, a bit like the way people beg for help around these parts. “When another person shows interest, and the two agree to be together, one of them comes to the temple, and we arrange a ceremony.” Yawn! I don’t need to know ANY of this. I’m not looking to get married, have no plans to get married, and see no point to getting married. And the fact that I was once left at the altar by the crush of my youth, J’iltad, has nothing to do with it. So shut up already, Journal. I mean Maramal.
As if reading my mind, he was suddenly done. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but nothing came out, and he backed up, and went out the door. The people in this town were weird. Even by Skyrim standards.
And I still needed to find that Brynjolf guy. Maybe he could tell me how to join the local Thieves’ guild. And I could report that fancy-pants shakedown artist who’s wandering around while I’m at it. What was his name? Oh, right. I didn’t get his name. So… it occurred to me that his name could have been Brynjolf. Which meant that in order to join the Thieve’s guild, I probably had to do this despicable thing he asked of me. Hmm. I was at a moral crossroads. Well, maybe not “moral,” but… varying degrees of unethical.
I’ll let you know what I decided next time, Journal.
- Steve
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