“I'm going to see Maven,” Brynjolf replied, dreading this next bit. “Need to see if we still have a patron after all this.” That was assuming Maven hadn't been the one to sell them out, of course. It was a slim possibility... but Brynjolf really couldn't rule it out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still early, but not so early it would be unreasonable for a thief to call on his Guild patron. Brynjolf knocked on Maven's door, hoping someone was up and the Thalmor hadn't been here too.
He was in luck. Maul opened the door, sword drawn, but he sheathed it when he saw Brynjolf.
“About time you showed up. Get inside,” Maul growled, hauling Brynjolf into the Black-Briar house. Brynjolf swallowed nervously. Maven clearly knew something, that much was certain, and his certainties didn't decrease when Maul ushered him into the Black-Briar dining room, where Maven was sitting at the table, drinking a bottle of her best mead. That was definitely bad. Maven looked gaunt and pale, her hands shaking, and Brynjolf didn't think she'd slept.
“So you're finally back,” Maven snapped, a brittle edge to her voice that had never been there before. “Am I to take it you're the reason the Thalmor were here? They were asking questions. Not terribly friendly questions. About the Guild. About the Blades. About a certain break-in at the Embassy and some elderly dissident who'd been hiding in the Ratway but fled before the Thalmor could round him up. Your name kept coming up.” Maven stared pointedly at him, toying with the mead bottle in her hand. “I warned you, Brynjolf. I warned you I couldn't protect you if you were mad enough to rob them.”
Yes, she had, she'd been very forthright on the matter at the party, furious he'd be stupid enough to show his face there. Brynjolf guessed someone had observed their conversation and decided rumours of Maven's involvement with the Guild were worth following up.
“I'm sorry, Maven,” Brynjolf said, doing his best to sound contrite. “I didn't know they'd find me. I went to a lot of trouble to cover my tracks, but someone sold me out and when I find them... well, it'll make the Thalmor look positively merciful.”
“They searched my house, Brynjolf,” Maven said quietly. “And the meadery. Probably the Lodge too. Threatened me, my business, my family, if they found any evidence linking me to the Guild. Ingun's still in shock after what they threatened to do to her. Oh don't worry, they won't find anything. I'm not such a fool as to leave written evidence lying around. But this is going to have knock-on effects on my business... after all these years, after generations of Black-Briars making the Rift their home... I am half-tempted to sell it all and start over in Hammerfell.”
“You're not serious,” Brynjolf gasped. To lose Black-Briar support when they needed it the most... but after a visit from the Thalmor, anyone would be jumpy.
“No, not yet,” Maven laughed bitterly. “I'm not completely finished. I might even be able to turn it to my advantage yet. But you'd better get yourself out of Riften for a while, Brynjolf. Lie low, change your name, your looks – does the Flagon still have that face sculptor?”
No, Galathil's corpse had been one of those littering the terrace in the Flagon.
“The Flagon doesn't have much of anything any more, Maven,” Brynjolf admitted. “They attacked the Flagon in force, broke into the Cistern, killed virtually the entire Guild. They've got Mercer in custody, and I've got four people left to me, one of whom's lucky to be alive and will need extended recovery time, and the other's nerves are shot to Oblivion by the whole thing and won't be much use for anything. We've got no Guild left, Maven. I think we're all going to have to go to ground for a bit. I'm sorry.”
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timeasmymeasure
Re: The Wolf Queen Awakens 17.6
Date: 2013-12-10 07:45 pm (UTC)“I'm going to see Maven,” Brynjolf replied, dreading this next bit. “Need to see if we still have a patron after all this.” That was assuming Maven hadn't been the one to sell them out, of course. It was a slim possibility... but Brynjolf really couldn't rule it out.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still early, but not so early it would be unreasonable for a thief to call on his Guild patron. Brynjolf knocked on Maven's door, hoping someone was up and the Thalmor hadn't been here too.
He was in luck. Maul opened the door, sword drawn, but he sheathed it when he saw Brynjolf.
“About time you showed up. Get inside,” Maul growled, hauling Brynjolf into the Black-Briar house. Brynjolf swallowed nervously. Maven clearly knew something, that much was certain, and his certainties didn't decrease when Maul ushered him into the Black-Briar dining room, where Maven was sitting at the table, drinking a bottle of her best mead. That was definitely bad. Maven looked gaunt and pale, her hands shaking, and Brynjolf didn't think she'd slept.
“So you're finally back,” Maven snapped, a brittle edge to her voice that had never been there before. “Am I to take it you're the reason the Thalmor were here? They were asking questions. Not terribly friendly questions. About the Guild. About the Blades. About a certain break-in at the Embassy and some elderly dissident who'd been hiding in the Ratway but fled before the Thalmor could round him up. Your name kept coming up.” Maven stared pointedly at him, toying with the mead bottle in her hand. “I warned you, Brynjolf. I warned you I couldn't protect you if you were mad enough to rob them.”
Yes, she had, she'd been very forthright on the matter at the party, furious he'd be stupid enough to show his face there. Brynjolf guessed someone had observed their conversation and decided rumours of Maven's involvement with the Guild were worth following up.
“I'm sorry, Maven,” Brynjolf said, doing his best to sound contrite. “I didn't know they'd find me. I went to a lot of trouble to cover my tracks, but someone sold me out and when I find them... well, it'll make the Thalmor look positively merciful.”
“They searched my house, Brynjolf,” Maven said quietly. “And the meadery. Probably the Lodge too. Threatened me, my business, my family, if they found any evidence linking me to the Guild. Ingun's still in shock after what they threatened to do to her. Oh don't worry, they won't find anything. I'm not such a fool as to leave written evidence lying around. But this is going to have knock-on effects on my business... after all these years, after generations of Black-Briars making the Rift their home... I am half-tempted to sell it all and start over in Hammerfell.”
“You're not serious,” Brynjolf gasped. To lose Black-Briar support when they needed it the most... but after a visit from the Thalmor, anyone would be jumpy.
“No, not yet,” Maven laughed bitterly. “I'm not completely finished. I might even be able to turn it to my advantage yet. But you'd better get yourself out of Riften for a while, Brynjolf. Lie low, change your name, your looks – does the Flagon still have that face sculptor?”
No, Galathil's corpse had been one of those littering the terrace in the Flagon.
“The Flagon doesn't have much of anything any more, Maven,” Brynjolf admitted. “They attacked the Flagon in force, broke into the Cistern, killed virtually the entire Guild. They've got Mercer in custody, and I've got four people left to me, one of whom's lucky to be alive and will need extended recovery time, and the other's nerves are shot to Oblivion by the whole thing and won't be much use for anything. We've got no Guild left, Maven. I think we're all going to have to go to ground for a bit. I'm sorry.”