How to Pickpocket a Pickpocket

Chapter 27

Artis arrived in Winterhold after a day and half. Markarth was... something else. And she didn't mean it in a good way. Apparently, it was the safest city in Skyrim? But the moment she set foot inside the market plain a woman was murdered in plain daylight in front of everyone. Then she was dragged into a haunted house by some crazy man. And then a Daedric Prince wanted her to kill the said crazy man. She never made herself scarce that quick in her life. Then came the quest to get the paranoid and stubborn wizard Calcelmo to entrust her with a key to his wonderful Dwemmer museum exhibit – which led to his study. She had to go all the way through creepy tunnels to kill a giant spider he named Nimhe.

All good and well, but it took a lot of time.

Why he couldn't just translate the journal for her was unknown to her. She had to sneak her way through the boring exhibit all the way to his office, all while having to avoid guards and sometimes having to silently take some down. When she finally arrived at the study, she discovered that the translations weren't kept in a fancy journal or ancient scroll for her to just grab and go. Oh no, it was engraved into a fucking WALL! Luckily, Artis was clever enough to make a rubbing copy of it with some parchment and charcoal. Enthir would understand if he knew what the circumstances were.

However, it didn't get better from there on. After she made the copy and was ready to take her leave, Calcelmo's nephew, two guards and the captain of the guard entered the study and she had to hide in hope they won't find her. Long story short, they did and now she was wanted in Markarth. But hey, she got the translations!

Artis found Enthir and Karliah in the cellar of the Frozen Hearth Inn. She knew she shouldn't be annoyed with them, but this quest drained her completely and she desperately needed a good two-day sleep.

"Back, eh? And how was our friend Calcelmo?" Enthir greeted her.

"Stubborn as a mule." She pulled out the copy from her armor, "This better be enough to translate that journal. I never want to go back to that Devine-forsaken city."

Enthir eyed the rolled-up parchment she handed him, "I suppose it would be inappropriate of me to ask how you obtained this, so I simply won't." His brows furrowed in confusion when he opened it, "A rubbing, eh? Odd. I expected notes."

Artis chuckled sarcastically, "Oh, trust me, it's quite a tale to tell how exactly I obtained that. And under those particular circumstances, a rubbing was the best I could do. The translations weren't as you can say, portable."

"I understand." The elf nodded, "Now, let me take a good look at this. Over here, please."

The three of them gathered around his table as he set to work on translating the journal from the rubbing. Karliah sent Artis a worried glance, both of them wondering what the journal meant. It took Enthir only a few minutes to have results.

"This is intriguing, but highly disturbing." He flashed the two women concerned glances, "It appears that Gallus had suspicions about Mercer Frey's allegiance to the Guild for months. Gallus had begun to uncover what he calls an 'unduly lavish lifestyle replete with spending vast amounts of gold on personal pleasures.'"

Karliah frowned, "Does the journal say where this wealth came from?"

"Yes. Gallus seems certain that Mercer had been removing funds from the Guild's treasury without anyone's knowledge."

"He what?!" Artis exclaimed, "That son of a bitch!"

Karliah ignored her outburst, "Anything else, Enthir? Anything about... the Nightingales?"

The wood elf read on before replying, "Yes, here it is. The last few pages seem to describe 'the failure of the Nightingales' although it doesn't go into great detail. Gallus also repeatedly mentions his strong belief that Mercer desecrated something known as the Twilight Sepulcher."