How to Pickpocket a Pickpocket

Chapter 37

It was clear that within the first week, Artis has made a big difference while away, completing the jobs she was given.

The Guild suddenly had new clients and contacts who were all in need of some thieving service. There weren't enough thieves for all the jobs they received and Brynjolf started thinking about going out to recruit some capable pickpockets.

"You can go out and you can find some new thieves, but you'll never strike gold like Artis again." Delvin told him one night at dinner in the Flagon, "She was your best find by far."

Brynjolf huffed, refusing to think about her.

Delvin noticed, and a frown tugged his mouth corners downwards, "She told me you're acting odd. What's been scratching your balls, Brynjolf? I've never seen you as dull and boring in my entire life. You're starting to remind me of Mercer."

"It's nothing."

"Nothing doesn't shout at a member of the Guild over a simple mistake."

"Rune should've watched where he was going." Brynjolf grumbled, thinking back to when the poor thief ran into him earlier and spilled an entire bottle of ale on his armour.

"And nothing doesn't pass up an opportunity to talk about how wonderful and amazing Artis is." This time Delvin struck a nerve.

"Maybe I don't want to talk about her!"

"Or to her?"

"Delvin!"

The Breton held up his hands, "Alright, alright. Keep in mind, if you bite my head off over nothing, you'll have an even harder job at finding a replacement for me." He took a cautious sip of ale, "Want to talk about it?"

The redhead shook his head. Delvin wouldn't understand. He never will. Brynjolf pushed out his chair and stomped off, muttering that he wasn't hungry anyway.

The second week was chaos. Their hands were full. Shilling jobs, phishing jobs, bedlam jobs, numbers jobs, burglaries and heists in every hold of Skyrim. What ever Artis was doing seemed to be working, especially when the people of Riften started replacing the locks on their doors with stronger ones. Some of the Guild members would accept several jobs at once, which meant they would sometimes be absent from the cistern for days. And when they did return, they were exhausted beyond measure.

Brynjolf only got worse. He lost all enthusiasm, stopped making jokes and rarely smiled. It bothered everyone, but when someone was brave enough to approach and ask him about it, he would send them running with a sharp comment. No one knew what happened that made him like this.

Then came the first letter.

'Dear Bryn

I take it the Guild is doing fine. I've heard people around Skyrim whispering about the Thieves Guild, warning others to lock their doors and to hide their coins.

I've completed the small jobs Delvin gave me, most of them being stealing small objects like golden flagons, candelabras, flawless gems and priceless jewellery. The towns and cities are filled with rumours of the Thieves Guild returning. I'm starting on the bigger jobs in a day or two. I have a few errands to run myself, things to take care of, hands to lend, dragons to slay...

Brynjolf, I don't know what I did that had upset you so. Maybe I'm imagining it, maybe it isn't me at all. But I feel like I'm the problem. But whatever I did, please tell me so that I can fix it. I hate not talking to you, hate not being able to joke around with you. I miss you terribly.

I can't wait to return to the Guild and see all of you again. Send my regards to the others and remind Delvin of our deal. He'll know what it means.