Chapter 4 - Enemies of the Guild
*****
The journey took most of the day, though the sun was still up as I walked the path to the main gates. I received a couple of suspicious glances from the city guards posted either side of the gates, though I had covered my Guild armour, so they let me pass with only a couple of questions in regards to my intentions.
It was certainly a pretty little city. Plenty of colour and character and a vibrancy of life that had been missing in Windhelm. It probably helped it wasn't all grey stone and bitterly cold. There was a blacksmith immediately to my right, a woman working the forge. She looked my way and smiled. Guards strolled along without a care in the world. There was plenty of noise as the city felt alive. Walking up the main road, houses and businesses lined either side, ending up in a market square, with merchant stalls, just like Riften, but also more buildings that housed other business interests.
My eyes were for the Bannered Mare. Walking inside, it was warm and welcoming, and I could smell the cooking of meat on a spit, my stomach rumbling immediately. Taking a seat at an available table, a rather cute Redguard woman approached, offering to take my order. I asked for a plate of meat and a tankard, both arriving rather quickly. "I'm hoping to meet someone. I think he's a guest here," I said.
"Name?"
"Goes by Mallus."
She gestured with her head. "He's in room two."
"Thank you."
Listening into the music, I ate the meat and finished the tankard, attempting to listen into conversations as usual but the music meant I couldn't hear much. There were a few pretty women who came and went, and I gave one or two more than appraising glance, though I kept my mind mostly focused on the job at hand, finally rising to my feet and knocking on the door. Hearing a call to enter, I walked in to find a Cyrodilian sitting at a table, nursing a tankard.
It took him two seconds to figure out what I was there for, gesturing to the empty chair at his table, where he then wasted no time explaining what I needed to do. Poison the vats, take care of the pest problem, and ensure Sabjorn was immediately put of business. That didn't bother me at all, but something in his tone suggested this was more than business as Maven described it. This was personal and he was honest when I said just that.
"I made the mistake of borrowing coin from Sabjorn. He's allowing me to pay it back, but he's working my fingers to the bone! He treats me like a slave. I have to do every nasty, dirty job in the meadery."
"And what does Maven want?"
"Maven and I worked out a little deal. If Sabjorn ends up in jail, she's going to take over his meadery. And guess who gets to run the Black-Briar Meadery in Whiterun? You're looking at him."
"Just like that? Does she have something on you too?"
"No, but she will have my loyalty going forward."
Heading back out, I took a room for myself and joined in with the revelry. With plenty of attractive women around, I eventually found myself up on my feet in the crowd, my arms wrapped around a rather attractive Nord redhead, who introduced herself as Ysolda. While there was plenty of flirting, and maybe just a little bit of kissing as I held her close as we danced, there was no invite to return to her house, and I didn't offer an invite back to my room either. However, before leaving for the evening, I'd made enough of an impression for her to hope she'd see me again.
After enjoying a filling breakfast the next morning, I found myself walking along the main road towards the meadery, passing a patrol of Whiterun guards, who were rather friendly as they greeted me. I waited outside Honningbrew Meadery for at least an hour, standing by the nearby creek, skimming rocks across the water as I watched the door. Barely anyone came or went, though as it was still rather early, I figured drinkers might only arrive after lunchtime.
Waiting until I figured it was noon, judging it by the position of the sun in the sky, I wandered into the meadery to find it deserted except for one man behind the bar, who I assumed was Sabjorn. He was a miserable bastard, though not entirely his fault I guess, but he did or said nothing to invoke sympathy. Guessing I was there to have a drink, he offered me the job of taking care of the pest problem. I asked how much he was paying, then demand he double that, and pay me half to start with, knowing I probably wouldn't see the second portion of payment. With little options available, he begrudgingly agreed to my demand.
"My only demand is that these vermin are permanently eliminated before my reputation is completely destroyed. I bought some poison. I was going to have my lazy, good-for-nothing assistant Mallus handle it, but he seems to have vanished. If you plant this in the vermin's nest, it should stop them from ever coming back."
Heading into the meadery itself, there were barrels full of bottles, most of them empty, ready to be filled. Heading down to the basement, there were plenty of traps already set, and that's where I ran into the first skeevers. Ugly little bastards, but they die quick and easy, though you definitely don't want to be bitten or scratched by one, as they carried all sorts of diseases.
The basement led to tunnels far underneath the meadery, full of all sorts of vermin. The skeevers were relatively easy to deal with but the frostbite spiders gave me a moment of pause, immediately missing my bow. The good thing is, everyone on Tamriel is capable of magic, though Nords don't like it. It's something ingrained in our minds and souls, that magic is used by the weak... Which is why many look down on elves, who are master practitioners of the arcane arts. As for myself, I used magic rarely but, if it was the better option, I'd use it. I knew a few basic spells, mostly for healing but also fire.
So I burned those spiders, flames erupting from both my palms. Once they were dead, I had an all over body shiver. I hate spiders.
The tunnels were also full of traps to catch out the unwary, left wondering who had left them. Certainly not Mallus or Sabjorn. Neither had been this far down. So I moved forward carefully, sword back in hand as I found myself entering a large chamber. Being a thief, I am capable of sneaking despite my size, and as I neared the centre of the chamber, I noticed a man working at an alchemist lab. And as I crouched there in darkness, I heard the mutterings of an absolute lunatic. And it was clear he was responsible for the infestation.
So I killed him. I don't generally like sneaking up on people and doing the job, but I had an inkling he was gifted with magic as I listened to his insane ramblings, so taking his head from behind was probably best for both of us. Poisoning the skeever nest was easy, and I found a tunnel that led me back into the meadery, and even better, right near the vats. Climbing up a set of steps, I found a vat that was full of mead so dumped more rat poison in that too, hoping whoever would end up drinking it didn't fall too ill.
Satisfied with myself at a job well done, I wandered outside and back into the meadery, where Mallus had made an appearance, sitting at a table nearby. I glanced across the other side of the room to see a man in uniform at another table. "Is it done?" Sabjorn asked.
"Aye. It's done."
"Well it's about time!" he exclaimed through gritted teeth, "I had to stall the captain until you were finished."
Well, fuck you too, is what I thought. But I simply stepped back to watch whatever was about to unfold. The captain rose to his feet and approached the bar. "Well, Sabjorn. Now that you've taken care of your little pest problem, how about I get a taste of some of your mead?"
Sabjorn was obviously polite to those above his station. "Help yourself, milord. It's my finest brew yet. I call it Honningbrew Reserve. I think you'll find it quite pleasing to your palate."
"Oh come now, this is mead, not some wine to be sipped and savoured."
Well, I don't know about that. Some mead should be sipped and enjoyed by a fireplace, preferably with some lovely female company at the same time. Mallus was now standing beside me, glancing to see a smirk on his face, knowing what was about to happen.
