The sun was starting to set. Krosa watched as its rays of light cast a shadow of gold onto the mountains and trees around, enveloping the world in a warm glow. Well. It was still pretty damn cold, but the thought made Krosa smile. This is even better than Cyrodiil. Krosa thinks as she stops to take it all in again. What should have been half a day's journey has turned into a full day, the beauty of this place almost too much for her to take in.

Once again she takes a deep breath, appreciating the crisp freshness of the air, accompanied by a pleasant and unfamiliar scent. She closes her eyes and listens to the sound of the wind rolling through the trees to her right, the running water of the river to her left, and the birds singing their last songs of the day. All she's ever heard about Skyrim was that it was a damned cold place filled with damned foolhardy barbarians. While she hasn't met any of its inhabitants, she can rightfully say that those damned people had no damned idea what they were talking about. Imperials, after all, are-

A tendril of cold sends a chill down her back, pulling her from her musings and reminding her of the steadily decreasing temperature of the evening. Krosa finds she rather enjoys the feeling, unlike the feeling of the grueling heat and the sun bearing down on her back. Unlike the sweat dripping from her face and the soreness of her every limb. Unlike the sand coursing through every crack in her armor. Unlike the blood running down her blade and the screams of pure terror. The shouts of hatred and fear.

"No," Krosa pleads. "No no no no no. Not now." She lifts her trembling hand to her head, trying to block the images. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as her lungs suddenly forget how to function. Her heart beats erratically, tearing her open from the inside. She can't stop it.

The sun blazes onto the length of her sword; slashing every neck along with the metal. The sand growing grittier with the blood of the fallen coursing through the grains. A scream for help. One she can't hear as she cuts another one down, too lost in her anger and desperation. She can only hear the sound of blades clashing. They never stood a chance.

Krosa's eyes snap open as she falls to her knees, every limb is trembling and pale. And cold. The cold seeps through her, and she focuses on it, clinging to it with all her might. She feels so hot. Too hot. She needs to get up. She needs to breathe. Breathe. Another breeze comes, enveloping her body in its silky embrace. Her muscles slowly start to relax, and she's left there once again. Alone. On the ground. Here. In Skyrim. Not there. She's not there. Not anymore. She nearly cries in relief. Maybe she does. She's not sure.

All she's aware of is the darkness. The sun's last rays of light slowly fade as it goes down, disappearing behind the mountains. Krosa gets up. She wastes no time in moving forward, determined to get away from the scene. From the panic. From her past. Her former good mood gone in an instant and replaced with a grim determination. She does not stop again, and it isn't long until the city walls come into view.

Finally. Krosa walks up to the gate, eager to fall into bed and get started on her contract. One of the guards steps in front of her, arms crossed as he levels her with a glare she assumes should have been intimidating. It lacked the desired effect.

"Hold there! Before I let you into Riften, you need to pay the visitor's tax."

They do that here? And I thought Imperials were greedy. "A visitor's tax? What for?" Krosa says, cursing herself for traveling light. She doesn't have much coin on her. She used most of it to pass the border. The guard scoffs.

"For the privilege of entering the city. What does it matter?" Her eyes narrow, and she can feel the irritation itching under her skin. So. It's a scam. The idiot gave it away. He probably expected her not to notice his slip, despite how obvious it was. Most people don't question guards, after all. For once she's glad about getting to know the Imperials of Cyrodiil and their ways of life.

Krosa levels the man with a look of her own and says "If it doesn't matter, why do I have to pay it?" She mentally smirks when she sees his face fall before he catches himself and levels a glare at her. Krosa returns it, already knowing she won't be the one to break.

The other guard steps in front of his friend, clearly exasperated. "Just let her through before someone comes around and hears her!" A second passes, then another before he breaks.

He turns to the other guard. "Fine. Unlock the gate then." He turns back to Krosa with another warning glare. He really should work on that. She thinks as he says "You'd better watch yourself. Folks like you don't last long here."

She rolls her eyes, walking past him before he can say anything else. As they close the gate behind her, she hears the other guard ask him what in Oblivion he thought he was doing. Krosa found the whole set up quite pitiful. At least the Imperials knew how to set up a proper scam. Though, it does work in her favor when one isn't as good as they think they are. One more reason to like the place. She continues walking, throwing the two guards out of her mind as she once again looks forward to falling into bed.

"I don't know you. You in Riften looking for trouble?" She is barely able to keep herself from jumping, and immediately scolds herself for letting her guard down. She didn't even notice him standing there!

"What's it to you?" Krosa asks, ready for another confrontation.

"Don't say something you'll regret. Last thing we need is some-" Deciding she doesn't care enough to hear him out, she rolls her eyes and starts walking again. "Hey! I'm not done talking to you!" He reaches out to grab her arm, but she yanks it away and places it on the hilt of her sword in warning.

"Back off."

He looks her up and down, and for a moment she thinks she'll have to fight him off. Part of her looks forward to it. It'd be nice to let loose her pent up aggravation on this brute. As soon as she thinks that, she scolds herself. She doesn't have much time to think anything else before he speaks.

"Don't do something you'll regret." He warns, before turning away to watch the gate.

What is with this town? Her contract warned her about the place, but this is just ridiculous! She keeps her guard up as she walks away, part of her certain that she'll hear him coming up behind her. He doesn't. She sighs in relief but stays alert. This town is full of annoying surprises.

The deeper into the city she goes, the stronger a terrible stench of stale water, dead fish, and sewage becomes. Krosa wrinkles her nose in disgust. Is it always this bad, or am I just unlucky? The rest of the town is hard to make out, as dark as it is. But from what she can see, it seems pleasant enough. The houses here are quaint compared to the cities in Cyrodiil, made out of wood rather than stone. It isn't long until she sees a sign. Haelga's Bunkhouse. Finally an inn.

As soon as she enters, everyone stops what they're doing to stare at her. She ignores them and takes a step towards the counter when a blonde woman wearing a dress with a dangerously low neckline comes up to her.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I'm just looking for a room." Krosa says, ignoring the feeling of wrongness that washes over her. The woman sighs and rolls her eyes, mumbling under her breath. Krosa thinks she hears the words "all the time" and something about "Haelga" and "the name."

"Is there a problem?"

The woman sighs. "The Bunkhouse isn't an Inn. I'd recommend goin' to the Bee'n'Barb."

"What?"

The woman barely masks the irritation in her tone as she says "This place is for the working man." Krosa can tell she's hinting at something. Suddenly it dawns on her, and she feels the blood rushing to her cheeks.

"Oh-um. I-I see…" Krosa closes her eyes in embarrassment as she tries to find words to say. She hears snickering, and her face gets even redder. Just say something, damnit! She looks hard at the woman, determined not to look at anyone else in the room. She clears her throat and opens her eyes to see the woman waiting patiently with a look of sympathy in her eyes. Krosa hates it. "Where can I find the Bee and Barb?" she asks, tone harsher than she intended.

"Right across the marketplace. It's the biggest building in the area, hard to miss."

"Thanks." Krosa turns to leave, accidentally catching the eye of a man leering at her. She mentally groans in disgust and makes a quick exit. Laughter starts as she closes the door behind her. This place is the worst. She thinks as she makes her way to the Bee and Barb, already deciding that she will never come here again.

Brynjolf lets out a sigh as he massages his aching head. It's getting worse, he thinks, slowly but surely, the guild is running out of gold. He glances at the numbers again, before shoving the papers away and standing up. The candles on his desk have already started to burn lower. The smell of the musty room beginning to irritate him. How long has he been here? A few hours at least, maybe half a day, or a year. He stretches, hoping it'll ease the soreness of his cramped muscles. It sure feels like it's been at least that long, yet somehow it seemed like it's only been a few minutes.

Brynjolf grabs the untouched cup of water from his desk that he had brought in when he started. He downs it in seconds, scrutinizing the numbers on the papers once again. When did this start happening? Why didn't we notice it sooner? He thinks, putting the cup down and fingering through the papers again. There has to be an explanation or something we can do to fix this. He throws them down when his head starts pounding even more...What will I tell the others?

A knock at the door halts his thoughts. "Who is it?" he grumbles, the fantasies of himself sleeping disappearing and robbing him of what was left of his good mood. If there was any left. Maybe he's just trying to be optimistic. The door opens and a head with scraggly blonde curls peaks in, big blue eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Ah! Aiden! Good to see you." Dammit, it's Aiden. Now I'll be here for another hour at least. The boy saunters in with a broad smile, showcasing his missing teeth and Brynjolf holds back a chuckle. At least he's cute. "What do you have for me today, lad?" He asks, gathering the papers into a neat pile on the desk before turning his attention to the lad.

"Ooo, yer not going to believe what happened today!" Aiden exclaims, running to the desk and plopping right on top of it and the pile of papers. Brynjolf shakes his head bemusedly. So much for that. He gets comfortable, sitting back down in the chair and mentally sighing. He was not in the mood for the boy's endless enthusiasm. Nor his long, drawn-out reports. "It was so awesome!" Aiden continues, oblivious to the thoughts running through Brynjolf's head. Brynjolf always was good at faking pleasantness when his thoughts were less than pleasing. He smiles warmly at the boy.

"What happened Ai-"

"Well the day started out like the usual, people coming and going and paying the-" he leans in closer, wiggling his eyebrows as he finishes with "visitor's tax," and giving Brynjolf a wink. "Why do people always fall for that anyway? Stupid I tell ya." He looks at Brynjolf expectantly.

"Absolutely." Brynjolf sighs impatiently. Can he get on with it already? He's about to voice his thoughts out loud when the lad continues.

"But then this one lady came in, just as the sun was disappearing on the horizon. And my oh my, did ya see that sunset? Beautiful!" No. Brynjolf thought. I was stuck in here trying to make sense of our dwindling funds.

"I'm sure it was, Aiden, but can we get to the point please?"

"Anyway," he continues, brushing Brynjolf off. "She was a mighty fine lady, seemed like some warrior or 'venturer type to me, and boy oh boy did she have some wicked scars on her face! I wonder how she got 'em! Maybe it was a bear, a pack of wolves, or a troll, or maybe a-a-a...DRAGON!"

Brynjolf rolls his eyes "Dragons aren't real Aiden."

"Are too!"

"Are not."

"I saw one with my own eyes!"

"Really? Where?"

"Well, not actually, but I DID see a drawing once in a history book, something about the birth of dragons, or how dragons git born. It said they were real!"

Brynjolf clenches his eyes shut, his headache suddenly getting even worse. He decided not to remind the lad he couldn't read, and instead went with, "Well if they were, they're not anymore. We're off topic, what happened with the scary lady?"

"Oh, she wasn't that scary." he said with a wave of his hand "But she did put Baldr in his place and practically rendered him speechless! Ohhh, you shoulda seen it!"

"How did she put him in his place?" If it's true, it is rather impressive. But still not important.

"Well, he stopped her like all the others and demanded she pay the visitor's tax all official-like, and then she's all 'What for?', and then he's all 'For the privilege of entering the city, what does it matter?' He was all cocky like, you know 'im." Brynjolf does indeed. I'll admit I made a mistake when I recruited that one. He's as greedy as Vex, but with half the brains. Maybe less than half. Maybe I should- He's forced from his thoughts when Aiden snaps his fingers in his face. "Ya better not be falling asleep on me old man."

"Old man? Really?" Brynjolf said with fake, but real, agitation. He is not that old. Though, currently, his back and stiff joints would disagree. Would probably place him at sixty, rather than the thirty he is, in fact. But that's beside the point. Realizing Aidan's still talking, he returns his attention to the lad.

"Older than me at least, "Aiden says, shrugging innocently. "Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah! He was all 'For the privilege of entering the city, what does it matter?' And it seemed to me that she dang near believed 'im, but guess what she said?

"..."

Aiden rolled his eyes, "I said g-"

"Just get on with it!" Brynjolf snapped, his patience wearing thin.

The lad sniffed. "Well, she said 'if it don't matter, why'd I gotta pay it?' Which I think is a swell point right there, and I think he did too. I swear his face was as red as a tomata under his helmet. Then they glared at each other for a while, a battle of wills or something, and MAN does she have a scowl! I 'bout wet myself thinkin she was gunna kill 'im! That is when Grevor stepped in and told him to knock it off before the whole blasted town hears! Then he let her in, and Baldr went and had to have the last word, but I don't think she cared much." Brynjolf could relate to that.

"AND THEN" the boy continued, clearly determined to make this last as long as possible, "She walked past Maul who stopped her and tried to give his usual stay out of our business speech. But I'm willing to bet she was still all grumpy-like from dealing with Baldr. She completely blew him off! Gave 'im a warnin and walked right past 'im without givin' a second glance! And he was okay with it! And I'm thinkin' man what a woman!" he says excitedly, then dreamily states " I think she's my new hero!" he presses his hand on his chest and gazes at the ceiling. Then he was silent and still for a while, probably waiting for something. Or daydreaming.

Brynjolf waited a few seconds "Is that it?"

"Yup!" The boy said smugly, folding his arms and kicking his legs, waiting for Brynjolf to say something. All while looking mightily pleased with himself.

"Well lad, that was quite the tale." And waste of my time. He adds to himself.

"Oh, you should have been th-"

"Thank you for the information" Brynjolf didn't want to listen to another tirade. He fishes in his pocket and flips a gold septim to the lad, who leaps off the desk and catches it expertly. "Go to Vekel. He'll give you a nice meal for that."

"Thank ye greatly old man!" Aiden cackles as he races off. Brynjolf slides further down into his chair, groaning, and once again massaging his pounding head. It's worse now than it was before. Aiden has that effect on people. One thing he'll have to stop doing is paying his birdies for useless information. But he's still just a kid. Not to mention, it's his only way of getting a hot meal. Brynjolf sighs, I'll figure something else out. He puts out all of the candles, eyelids threatening to close already. By the time he gets to his bed, he'd already forgotten about the lad's story and the woman in it.