How to Pickpocket a Pickpocket

Chapter 38

Artis trudged through mud and dirt, leaving a sticky trail behind her as she walked through the gates of Riften. Her hood covered her face completely as she stalked past the guards and the townspeople, avoiding all eyes and gazes.

Grey clouds hung heavily in the air and rain poured down on the city of thieves. The market has been moved under roof and the people ran from stall to stall on their daily errands, holding their shirts or vests over their heads to avoid getting wet. In the grey light, Riften seemed even gloomier than Winterhold and Windhelm combined.

She passed the familiar faces, none paying attention or recognizing her with the hood on; Mjoll the Lioness, Aerin her follower, Balimund the blacksmith, Asbjorn his son, Edda the beggar, Grelka, Snilf the other beggar and a few more. She didn't stop by at Honeyside to unpack her bags first or to greet Lydia but headed straight for the Guild.

Artis dropped her bags and weapons on the floor, alerting everyone in the cistern. For a moment of two they wondered who the thief with the hood was. Then Artis revealed her face.

Many eyes widened, some jaws dropped and soft gasps bounced off the walls.

Three thick scars spread across the Dragonborn's face. The first started on her forehead on the left side and stretching all the way and across her right eyebrow. The second started above her brow ridges, crossed her right eye and ended below her cheekbone. Then the last started just below her left eye and spread down to her lips and over her left mouth corner. They seemed fresh and definitely caused her grief.

"Hey, everyone." She greeted with a weak smile, cringing when her face stung.

No one spoke.

Her eyes darted around the room, noticing the new equipment and furniture, "Place is looking good. Feels homier." Then she noticed the new faces of the recruits, "And I see we have some new additions to the family. Welcome."

Sapphire was the first to approach her, "Artis, what happened?"

"Looks terrible, I know." The Dragonborn tried joking, but failed, "It's not as bad as it looks, don't worry."

"Of course I'm going to worry!" the Nord thief exclaimed, "My best and probably only friend tells me she's going away for only a month and returns after two with scars like those?!"

"I'm fine, really. Just tired and exhausted from the walking." She searched the room, "Where's Delvin? I need to talk to him about the completed jobs."

Not where's Brynjolf, though. If he was glad to see her, he would've come to greet her by now, he would've written back to her, he would've talked to her...

Sapphire pursed her lips, letting Artis know that the conversation wasn't over before gesturing towards the Flagon, "Probably making out with Vex over lunch. We're going to talk about this when you get back."

"Yes, mother." Artis snorted and walked through the bunch of thieves towards the Flagon, greeting them on the way, "Nice seeing you again, Rune. Hey, Vipir. Still as sharp as always, Niruin? Been staying sober, Thrynn? Hello to all the new faces, too. I can't wait to meet you all. We should all go out on a heist together one day."

When the Dragonborn disappeared from their sight, Sapphire supressed a growl and marched over to the training room. The moment Artis dropped her bags and getting everyone's attention, she saw their redheaded leader slipping into the training room to avoid her. This was going on long enough. Sapphire hated to see her friend that dull and lifeless and it was all Brynjolf's fault.

He was on the ground, fiddling with some lockpicks on a master chest when she full out yelled at him, "What the fuck is the matter with you?!"

Brynjolf looked at her with furrowed brows, "What's bothering you now, Sapphire?"