How to Pickpocket a Pickpocket

Chapter 35

It was one of those times that Artis just had to stop and stare, not at the size of the cave she was in, well, that too. But it was the ruins built inside the cave that made her gawk. Nordic ruins by the looks of it, but yet, so different from the usual style.

She slowly made her way towards a wide set of stone-carved stairs, wondering what she will face once on the Pilgrim's Path. Her Nightingale armor made her blend with the darkness and would make spotting her nearly impossible if one didn't squint their eyes. Artis highly doubted that Nocturnal would leave petty and easy threats as draugr and frostbite spiders in her way. No, she expected a lot more from the Daedric Prince of shadows.

"I don't recognize you."

She jumped when the sudden voice sounded behind her and shrieked. Artis spun around, drawing her sword with a shaky hand and held it out in front of her, ready to fight off any threat.

But she was not prepared for what she saw.

There, in front of her, stood a nearly invisible man. She couldn't see her face but recognized the armor and hood he wore as Nightingale armor. Very outdated, but Nightingale nonetheless. Her throat ran dry and swallowing her fear was harder than usual.

A ghost.

"I sense you are one of us." his voice was hollow, empty, cold, like a distant echo in the mountains that didn't come from anywhere. His voice sounded dead.

"Who are you?" he asked again.

"I..." How in the name of Talos was she supposed to handle this?! This, talking to a ghost, wasn't in the job description! Draugr were different, but this, this was plain scary.

If ghosts were able to smile, this one might have, for his voice sounded less cold when he spoke again, "Well, I see I've managed to scare another person by accident. My apologies, fellow Nightingale."

Artis blinked and managed to stammer, "W-Who are you?"

"The last of the Nightingale Sentinels, I'm afraid. I've defended the Sepulcher alone for what seems like an eternity."

She frowned, her fear slowly disappearing. He hasn't tried attacking her yet and he was decent enough to apologize for scaring her. Plus, somewhere in all that hollowness, she could make out a smooth voice of a man that was once alive. It had a husky edge to it though, "The last? What happened to the rest?" Artis looked around the dark and empty cave, searching for more ghosts.

"We were betrayed by one of our own kind." He replied, "In fact, I'm to blame for what's happened here."

"Wait, how are you to blame for all this?" Artis wanted to slap herself. She was talking to a ghost. She was having a conversation with a dead person. After all this time, she has finally lost it. But she was curios to why he was here, what he has done to deserve such a treacherous fate.

The ghost bowed his head in what she guessed was regret, "I was blinded. Blinded by dark treachery masquerading as friendship. Perhaps if I had been more vigilant, then he wouldn't have lured me to my fate and stolen the Skeleton Key."

Something in Artis clicked as she put two and two together, "Wait a minute... are you Gallus?"

His head snapped up and she swore she could almost see a pair of eyes lighting up in a flicker of hope, "I haven't heard that name in a long time... how do you know it?"

"I have the Key!" she blurted out and held the Skeleton Key up.

"You have it?" he stared at it long and hard, "You have it! This is outstanding! And he, I mean, Mercer Frey? What happened to him?"