How to Pickpocket a Pickpocket

Chapter 19

The walk to Whiterun didn't feel so long as the walk to Riften. Maybe it was the fact that Artis was excited to put her new armor to the test. Or maybe knowing that Maven Black-Briar usually paid well. Or maybe the fact that Brynjolf made the entire journey interesting and less boring. Artis could tell he didn't get out much. He was street smart though, but as they passed a few small towns and she pointed out Windhelm in the distance, she noticed how his eyes took in everything she showed him. It was as if he was hungry to see more of the world.

"My father's currently in Windhelm." She told him as the city disappeared behind them, "He serves in Ulfric Stormcloak's army. I visited him a few weeks ago and got to spar with Ulfric's second in command."

Brynjolf eyed her with curiosity, "And? Did you win?"

"I sure did." She smiled and played with the hilt of her sword, "Fun fact. When the Imperials captured me, after I ran from the Riften guards you set after me, I woke up in the back of a carriage with a thief from Rorikstead, my friend Ralof and none other than Ulfric himself. He recognized me when I visited my father in the Palace of Kings. That's how that spar started. I'm pretty sure Ulfric had bet on my victory that day."

"Uh-" Brynjolf muttered nervously, "Do you still think about that much, lass? How I set you up?"

She looked to her side to meet his eyes and saw genuine regret in them, "Don't give me that face. Of course I still think about it, but not in a bad way anymore. Instead, I feel like if that didn't happen, I wouldn't have found my way to the Guild. I've been a member of the Guild for, what, a day? And I already feel like I belong. I should thank you for calling the guards on me that day."

He chuckled, "No, I should thank you for not killing me when you recognized me in the Bee and Barb, lass. I literally escaped death that night."

The road and time passed quickly and before they knew it, they've reached the Battle-Born farm outside Whiterun. Brynjolf's eyes darted everywhere and his excitement kicked in instantly.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Artis questioned him as she watched him admiring the world.

"Don't get me wrong, lass. I've been in every city in Skyrim before." He answered with a chuckle, "But it's been so long since I've been anywhere outside of Riften. Since our previous Guild Master died, I took up the small jobs inside the city. It's just amazing to see this place again."

The two companions made their way into the city. Artis pulled her hood over her head to cover her face, in fear that someone might recognize the famous Dragonborn, Thane of Whiterun. They wouldn't think much of her when they discover she's actually a thief. Whiterun was, as always, busy. People were roaming the streets, doing their daily shopping at the market or running errands for other people. The usual guards were on patrol and Heimskr was yelling about the almighty Talos as he do every day.

"That, I didn't miss." Brynjolf muttered, referring to the priest with the relentless voice.

"Wouldn't it have been disastrous if he was the Dragonborn?" Artis joked and pushed open the door of the Bannered Mare.

It was cozy and lively inside, just as she remembered it. The usual crowd was there, drinking and eating their sorrows and happiness away. She and Bryn briefly ordered a bottle of mead each to blend in, before slipping into the kitchen unnoticed. In the corner, at a single table sat a rat-looking man. His eyes were sunken with dark bags under them, his nose was sharp and pointy while his mouth seemed to be downturned into a permanent scowl.

When he saw the two of them, he slammed his tankard down on the table and uttered a low growl, "Leave."

"Maven sent us." Artis ignored his threat, "She said something about a rat in the Bannered Mare who would give us more detail about a job."