Vengeance

To say Brynjolf was dubious about the whole thing was an understatement. I was merely going with the flow. I didn't need to become a Nightingale to defeat Mercer. I'd dealt with his kind before, and while he may have been a Nightingale, I certainly wasn't worried about having to fight him. Though I was starting to think it may be necessary to reveal my true identity once I faced him again, simply because I already had an otherwise unknown advantage.

The three of us had gathered at the standing stone as requested by Karliah before she led us to a nearby cavern entrance. It was no cave, though, as a rock-face slid away, much like the rock-face covering the Underforge in Whiterun, soon revealing a grand though ruined hall. "This is the headquarters of the Nightingales, cut into the mountainside by the first of our kind," she explained as we walked deeper into the hall, "We've come to seek the edge we need to defeat Mercer Frey."

"What kind of edge?" Brynjolf wondered.

"If you'll follow me deeper into the hall, I'll try to explain on the way." She was true to her word. Any questions Brynjolf or I had about the Nightingales, their role in the Thieves Guild, her role and anything else we could think of, all were answered in full. Well, I believed she didn't hide a thing and her answers, when looking at everything that had happened to her since the day Gallus died, to everything I'd witnessed since my first day, would suggest she was telling the truth. I had one final question.

"What happened to capturing Mercer alive?"

"From the moment you were struck with my poisoned arrow at Snow Veil Sanctum, my path changed its course. Perhaps I couldn't bring Mercer back alive, but together, we were able to clear my name and put Gallus's remains to rest. I'd always intended Mercer's fate to ultimately be decided by the Guild, and it seems they've spoken."

"Aye, lass, they have spoken. The chances of Mercer being brought before us now would be zero. If I'm not the one to make the killing blow, then I can understand why yourself or Henrik are eager to kill him. Honesty, I cannot imagine what you've been through, Karliah. We have a lot of work to do to make it up to you."

"You owe me nothing, Brynjolf. You believed the evidence I presented and you are helping me now. That's all I've ever wanted. Correction, there is one last thing I want. Mercer. And if I can't kill them, then I'll be happy to see either of you do it. As long as he dies, then I can happily move on with my life."

The further we ventured into the hall, the more Brynjolf appeared conflicted by what was going on, either through his words or his actions. We eventually stopped as Karliah wondered what the problem was. "What's wrong, Brynjolf?" she asked kindly.

"I'm trying to understand why I'm here, lass. I'm no priest, and I'm certainly not religious. Why pick me?"

She actually laughed. I hadn't heard her laugh until that moment. Perhaps all the anger and stress she'd been under was slowly disappearing. "This isn't about religion, Brynjolf. Far from it. It's business. This is Nightingale Hall. It's a hall, Brynjolf. Nothing more, nothing less. However, you are the first of the uninitiated to set foot inside in over a century. Now, if you'll both proceed to the armoury to don your Nightingale Armour, we can begin the Oath."

"Oath?" I asked, I'll admit now slightly unsure myself.

"Of course, Henrik. Everyone must undertake the Oath if they are to become a servant of Nocturnal."

I thought for a moment before shrugging. "Well, at least there's no blood involved," I muttered under my breath.

We approached a trio of stones, emblazoned with the emblem of Nocturnal and the Nightingales, or that's what Karliah said anyway. She instructed us to touch the emblem to receive Nightingale Armour. Brynjolf didn't look sure, but I just shrugged in my usual manner and touched the emblem. Something magical happened, a flash of bright light, and soon black armour was lying on top of the stone. Thankful that I didn't have my regular armour underneath my jacket, I stripped and dressed myself in the Nightingale Armour, Brynjolf soon following my lead. I wasn't surprised that the final piece of the collection was a face mask that prevented everything except my eyes to be seen.

Karliah had also changed while Brynjolf was busy adjusting himself into the tight-fitting armour. Karliah then assured us that the armour was unique and would provide for more protection than anything we'd worn before. 'We'll see about that, but I can feel the subtle benefits.' She gestured towards the nearby hallway and we followed her once again.

"Okay, lass. We've got these getups on. Now what?"

She gestured ahead. "Beyond that gate is the first step to becoming a Nightingale."

Brynjolf stopped and held up both hands defensively. "Whoa there, lass. I appreciate the armour, but becoming a Nightingale? That was never discussed."

"To hold any hope of defeating Mercer, we must have Nocturnal at our backs. If she is to accept you as one of her own, an arrangement must be struck."

He folded his arms, his posture and behaviour even more defensive. "What sort of arrangement?" he asked carefully.

"The terms are quite simple, Brynjolf. Nocturnal will allow you to become a Nightingale and use your abilities for whatever you wish. And in return, both in life and death, you must serve as a guardian of the Twilight Sepulcher."

He sighed, wanting to run a hand through his hair before realising he couldn't. "Aye, there's always a catch. But at this point, I suppose there isn't much to lose. If it means the end of Mercer Frey, you can count me in."

She glanced at me. "And you?"

"Whatever it takes to kill Mercer." I didn't add the fact my soul was going to Sovngarde, no matter what Nocturnal wanted.

We walked into the final chamber, where three narrow paths led to another glyph, this time on the floor. Once in position, Karliah summoned Nocturnal, who appeared as an enormous blue ball of energy, or perhaps it was magic, in the middle of the room. The two discussed the terms of our agreement. To be honest, it all seemed rather easy and I wasn't worried about it… Well, not too much. I had to do or say nothing, nor did Brynjolf. Karliah did all the talking but the end result was Brynjolf and I being accepted by Nocturnal as Nightingales. 'I'll just add that to all my other titles.'

I thought that would be it and we'd move on but Karliah called us into the centre of the room. "Now that you've transacted the Oath, it's time to reveal the final piece of the puzzle to you; Mercer's true crime."

"There's more?" Brynjolf wondered.

"What else could he have done?" I added.

"Mercer was unable to unlock the Guild's vault without two keys because of what he stole from the Twilight Sepulcher. The Skeleton Key."

"It's real?" Brynjolf asked quietly, "I've heard of such an item but I always thought it was the stuff of myth and legend." He looked at me. "Have you heard of it?"

"I've read one or two books that suggested such a thing existed but I agree. I thought it was just a myth."

"It's very real, Brynjolf, and it's that action which compromised our ties to Nocturnal."

"And caused our luck to run dry," Brynjolf finished, "Delvin was right the entire time about the Guild being cursed. I owe that man an apology."

"So what's so special about this key?" I asked, "I assume it unlocks any door but does… more?"

"You're correct, Henrik. The key isn't only restricted to physical barriers. All of us possess untapped abilities; the potential to wield greater power, securely sealed within our minds. Once you realize the key can access these traits, the potential becomes limitless."

"Then the best thing to do would be to take it from Mercer's cold dead hands and return it to its rightful owner."

"Exactly. If the Key isn't returned to its lock in the Twilight Sepulcher, things will never be the same for the Guild. As time passed on, our luck would diminish to the point of non-existence. And whether you know it or not, our uncanny luck defines our trade."

'All the more reason not to return it. Watch the Guild fade into nothingness as their luck disintegrates completely. Though what I would do with it is anyone's guess. Keep it on the mantelpiece?'

We agreed that a return to Riften was required to formulate a plan to catch up with Mercer and then deal with him. Karliah and Brynjolf said they would head straight back to the Flagon to get to work. I said I had one or two errands to run, no surprise to either of them because, as far as they were concerned, I lived in Riften so would have friends to speak to or odd-jobs to keep me occupied. Perhaps they even thought I'd be going on the rob. With the end game approaching, I'm not sure how much longer I'd be able to keep up the act without something being revealed.

I changed out of the armour before leaving the hall. Once back in Riften, I headed home to Serana. She was intrigued by the armour I was holding, asking numerous questions about what I'd been up to recently. She was surprised to hear I'd undertaken the oath.

"I had no choice," I stated with a shrug.

"But you're now tied to Nocturnal, Ragnar."

I just looked at her and smiled. "I think we both know where my soul is going once I'm dead. And it isn't to the Sepulcher."

"How can you be so sure?"

"I'll find a way of breaking the agreement. Or, if I can't do that, I'll let the Gods fight over it. But Sovngarde awaits, Serana. Nothing else."

"Nice to hear that usual self-confidence. What have you discovered so far?"

"More than enough to bury the Guild and Maven Black-Briar."

"So why are you continuing?"

I heard the worry in her voice. I didn't want to add to it but I hadn't told her what happened in Snow Veil Sanctum. I sat her down on the edge of the bed, sitting next to her before I opened my jacket and showed her the new scar. She ran a finger down it and knew it was a fresh one. I was thankful she didn't show too much concern, happy enough that I was still alive and there with her at that moment. That didn't stop her asking, "What happened?"

I explained everything that occurred from entering Snow Veil Sanctum to entering the door that evening. She wasn't surprised to hear I'd been back and forth across Skyrim as nearly everything I found myself involved in generally involved lots of travelling and fighting. Since meeting her, it was only unusual that she wasn't at my side. I simply promised her that, once all this was over, we would be side by side once again. Most of the time…

We ate dinner together and enjoyed one or two bottles of wine. I never usually drank the stuff but she'd found a merchant at the market who sold bottles of it imported from all over Tamriel. It took a little convincing at first as I was a simple ale or mead sort of man, but that first sip had my taste buds dancing, so little wonder that we both went to bed that night a little worse for wear. I can still her laughter now as we lay back, the room spinning slightly before we both passed out.

"I may be gone for a while again," I stated over breakfast the next morning.

"Do you know where you're going?" I shook my head. "Just be careful."

"I'll be fine. Mercer may be a Nightingale, but he's nothing but a rogue. I'm a warrior, born of dragon blood. I've fought and faced down scarier and more talented opponents than him."

"Still that same old self-confidence," she stated with a smirk, "What will you do once Mercer is dead?"

"Bring an end to all this. I just don't want to have to kill any more of them."

I noticed the raised eyebrows. "You like them?"

Shoulders were shrugged. "I can't look past the fact they're all thieves. But, you spend enough time with people, and you realise they are just… people… people like you and me. They've simply followed a different path."

"So what will you do then?"

"Honestly, I have no idea at the moment. First things first, though. Mercer must die."

Unsure of what to expect when meeting Karliah and Brynjolf, I dressed myself in my new armour while arming myself with sword and shield. It wasn't the new weaponry I'd been given prior to the Battle of Whiterun. My Shield of Ysgramor was still hanging up on the wall at home in Whiterun. I carried a simple steel sword and shield, completely unremarkable so to avoid any questions about where I may have picked up specialty equipment. I figured I could have lied and said I had stolen it but wanted to avoid the situation arising completely.

Once I was ready to depart, Serana hugged me for a little longer than usual before telling me to be careful again. I simply kissed her and again told her I would be fine. I'll admit, a little part of me didn't really want to go. Not because I was afraid or I didn't want to fight. I love a good fight. Pretty much live for the adrenaline rush that comes with heading into battle, knowing I may die but that Sovngarde awaited. But I'll admit to being a little bit tired of everything. Everyone has their limits and my wits were nearly at an end.

Brynjolf and Karliah were hovering over a large map of Skyrim at the same desk Mercer may have used to tear the Guild apart. They had clearly been busy at work as they wasted no time informing me of what was coming.

"Henrik, we've been pouring over everything you found at Mercer's. The pair of us are convinced the Eyes of the Falmer are in the Dwarven ruins at Irkngthand," Brynjolf explained.

"And Irkngthand is where?"

"North of here, to the west of Windhelm. I would suggest wrapping up warm as, from what maps we have, Irkngthand is high in the mountains."

"And I know enough about these old ruins that its likely infested with bandits on the outside and Falmer on the inside," Karliah added, "Have you fought Falmer before, Henrik?"

"On occasion."

"I'll admit I have little experience," Brynjolf added.

"Just keep your wits about you and you'll be fine, Brynjolf. They're dangerous, and they love to use poison, but it's nothing the three of us can't handle," Karliah explained.

We packed supplies in preparation for the expedition, leaving once the sun had disappeared to ensure our departure from Riften was relatively unnoticed. We rode through the darkness, hoping the faint moonlight would ensure the horses stayed on the road, passing through Shor's Stone without a backwards glance before turning onto the road for Windhelm.

The sun was rising by the time we reached the dark grey walls of the ancient capital. Conversation between myself and my two companions hadn't taken off so we mostly rode in silence, travelling at no more than a trot as Brynjolf suggested that Mercer was going for the eyes but there was no actual evidence that he was there. It was possible he had simply left Skyrim. So because I had time to think, my mind drifted back to the Battle of Whiterun and I wondered if I would eventually be part of the army to storm the gates of Windhelm. Then my thoughts wandered back to what we were dealing with and one thing that was in the back of my mind.

"Eyes of the Falmer, Brynjolf. What are they exactly?"

"A few years before Mercer murdered Gallus, the Guild took in a thief who specialised in dwarven antiquities. The thief had broken into a nobleman's home somewhere in Windhelm and made off with a small figurine of a snow elf with crystalline eyes."

"Is that thief still with the Guild? If he is, I would wonder why he's not here too."

"No, lad. He was caught and executed a few years back. I wouldn't be surprised if Mercer was involved. Though it is further proof that our reach is not what it was, as we could normally prevent people being executed at the very least. And he would have been a perfect ally in trying to take down Mercer."

"I didn't see this statue at Mercer's. Did you ever see it?"

"Aye, a long time ago. I have no idea where it is now. What I do know is that Gallus took it right up to Enthir at the College of Winterhold. Didn't take long for Enthir to find a book in the college's library that told of Irkngthand and a great statue with gemmed eyes within. It's possible Gallus gave it to Enthir to be fenced. Antiques like that provide serious coin."

"So the Eyes are what? Considering what we know about the Snow Elves, I'm surprised someone hasn't already tried to get them."

"These are no ordinary gems, Henrik. They're said to be flawlessly cut and as big as a man's head. Can you imagine how much they're actually worth? We could fill our vault five times over with the coin that could head our way with fencing those. What most people wouldn't know is that Gallus and Mercer spent the better part of a month infiltrating Irkngthand, but the dwarves had protected the place far too well."

"Karliah?"

We both looked her way and she nodded. "It's true. The Eyes became an obsession for Gallus. The heist to end all heists. Mercer going after them now will be nothing but another tarnish on the memory of his former partner in crime."

"So why didn't they manage to get them?" I asked.

Brynjolf shrugged. "To put it simply and honestly, there were just too many obstacles blocking the way. Gallus and Mercer may have been the two best thieves we had in the Guild at the time – present company excluded, Karliah – but even they have their limits of skill, and dwarven ruins can maim or kill even the greatest of thieves or adventurers. Eventually, the pair just had to admit defeat, the plans were shelved and the rest is history."

"And if Mercer manages to obtain the Eyes second time around, we'll never see him again," Karliah added.

"If he's actually there."

"He's there, Henrik. He wants to rub our noses in it one last time."

Finding the entrance to Irkngthand was rather awkward once we turned off a well-trodden path, the hooves of our horse sinking into the deep snow, stumbling occasionally as they scrambled to find their footing. It was cold, very cold, as the wind started to whip snow into our faces, thankful our Nightingale armour kept away most of the chill, our hoods keeping our faces warm too.

The bandits who made their home outside the ruin were nothing special and the three of us managed to deal with them relatively easy, most of them unaware of our presence until it was far too late. We had to climb the ruins towards the very top before finding a door that allowed us access. The first room we entered was the final proof of just what Mercer was capable of.

"He's just… slaughtered them," Brynjolf muttered quietly.

There was little else to add. The scene verged on sickening. It wasn't the fact the half-dozen bandits were all dead. It was how they had been killed. Or mutilated would perhaps be a better word. But it was also proof of how good Mercer was. 'He's managed to kill all of them AND left them in that condition. Perhaps I have underestimated the man.'

"Crime is one thing, murder is another. Mercer will answer for this," Mercer stated.

"With his life," Karliah added.

I was tempted to say 'They were bandits and we just killed a bunch of them outside.' But, in a way, I could see what they meant. Outside, the bandits were trying to kill us. We could use the excuse of self-defence. I didn't see many weapons on the men lying on the ground around us. A cursory check of the bodies showed wounds suggesting they held up their hands before they were killed, indicating they may have been unarmed. If Mercer was willing to kill unarmed men…

Irkngthand was like other Dwarven ruins I'd been through before. Sometimes confusing in its layout. Full of traps ready to kill the incautious. Dwarven machines 'asleep', ready to be woken by someone stumbling into the room where they watched and waited. And full of Falmer ready to kill you in numerous horrible ways, particularly if their weapons were laced with poisons.

And Mercer was there. Almost goading us at times to follow him deeper into the ruin. I thought, if he was there, we'd have to hurry through and find him where the Eyes of the Falmer waited to be taken. But he must have arrived not long before us as we managed to catch sight of him not long after we had entered the ruin. I believe Karliah echoed all of thoughts as we watched him slice the throat of one Falmer before leaping and doing the same to another.

"He's toying with us. He wants us to follow."

So that's what we did, through all manner of traps and obstacles laid down in our path, either by the Dwarvens of many years ago, with numerous spider looking creatures, the spheres I'd fought time and again, and also the enormous Centurions that appeared docile but ready to catch the unwary. Add to that the Falmer who now inhabited the ruin and then Mercer, who tried numerous tricks that he no doubt hoped would lead to our untimely deaths. But no matter what we came across, we worked as a trio and managed to overcome.

We ended up in what Karliah described as slave pens. "Who were the slaves?" I asked, not wanting to give away my own knowledge of what happened to the Snow Elves, already having seen numerous examples of what cruelties the Dwarves were once capable of.

"Snow Elves, Henrik. You're aware of the agreement they made to keep themselves safe?"

I shrugged. "I've heard and read one or two things about it."

"Look at the old stains on the ground. The bloodletting of the Falmer must have been relentless. And what are these things? Torture racks?" Brynjolf wondered as we investigated.

"Not just the racks, Brynjolf. Look at these torture implements," Karliah stated, "There is no doubt the Dwemer were a brilliant but cruel race. But it makes me wonder why they did this to them in the first place?"

"Calcelmo probably knows," I replied.

"You know him?" she asked, seemingly surprised I'd be aware of such a scholar.

"I don't know him. But a job I've done for the Guild led me to getting into contact with him."

"You should read his books, Henrik. His research on the Dwarves, or Dwemer if you want to use the proper term, is unmatched in Tamriel."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Our hearts hardened by our discovery, we wiped the floor with the Falmer after that. I think, if given the choice, we may have just snuck through certain areas, particularly through an area full of their tents which appeared to be the centre of the civilisation, within Irkngthand at the very least. If Mercer had travelled the same way, he certainly did sneak through as the numerous Falmer we found left alive were eventually killed as we passed through.

We continued to descend through the rooms, caverns and passageways of Irkngthand, Karliah still convinced that we were right on the tail of Mercer. As I've said, I wasn't concerned about facing down Mercer, having faced down far worse, though I could sense Brynjolf growing apprehensive, perhaps because he would be facing his last Guild master. I wasn't exactly sure what Karliah was thinking, probably along the same lines as myself.

Revenge. Her life had been ruined for twenty-five years. I had a scar on my chest from where the bastard tried to kill me. While her predicament was far worse than mine, I think all three of us agreed with the theory that as long as Mercer was dead by the end, there would be no complaints about who struck the killing blow. I think it would be a race between Karliah and I as to who would do that.

Arriving at a large set of doors, Karliah raised a hand, bringing us to a halt. "I think the statue is behind these doors."

"Therefore, Mercer should be there too. Right?"

"I hope he is," I replied, "Are you two ready?"

"I've been waiting for this day for twenty-five years, Henrik. I'm not letting Mercer slip through my fingers again."

Sword in hand, I walked through the doors first and couldn't miss the sight of Mercer perched on the statue ahead, no doubt trying to dig out the second Eye which Brynjolf and Karliah had both waxed lyrical about earlier. I cared little for the Eyes, I was only worried about Mercer. Before any of us could say a word, Mercer turned from whatever he was doing and I swear I saw the bastard smirk.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it in time to witness this."

"Brynjolf, watch the door," Karliah stated.

Mercer simply laughed. "Karliah, when will you learn you can't get the drop on me?"

Then he charged a spell or… something. I'm not sure exactly what he did. All I know is that I heard an explosion from somewhere beneath me and the ledge on which I'd been standing crumbled away. Before I even knew what was happening, I was on my back, my sword falling from my hand and landing at least a metre or two away. Mercer didn't hesitate, leaping from the statue with sword already drawn. Despite my best efforts of trying to reach my sword, his was at my throat before I could even get a finger on it.

"Weapons down," he demanded of my two companions.

"Ignore him. Just kill him!" I yelled, ensuring all the hatred and anger I felt for the man appeared in my eyes.

His own stared into mine in reply. "When Brynjolf brought you before me, I could feel a sudden shift in the wind. And at that moment, I knew it would end with one of us at the end of a blade."

I laughed, despite the situation. "Spare me your sermon, Mercer. I know exactly what you are." I lifted my head, still grasping for my sword, making sure I didn't expose my neck. "So if you're going to kill me, shut up and get on with it." He pulled his sword back a couple of inches, ready to strike. "You've forgotten one thing before you do, Mercer."

"And what's that?"

I just smiled. Then I Shouted and watched as Mercer disappeared from view.

I didn't Shout with the full force I know I'm capable of. Just enough to give me time to roll out of the way and grab my sword, up and on my feet in an instant, my eyes searching for Mercer. He was getting to his feet himself, whirling around to face me.

"Who are you?" he asked.

"Forgotten already, have you? Never mind. I'll put this simply. Give me the key and I'll give you a quick death."

He laughed at me. "What's Karliah been filling your head with? Tales of thieves with honour? Oaths rife with falsehoods and broken promises? Nocturnal doesn't care about you, the Key or anything having to do with the Guild."

"You think I care about any of that, Mercer. I just want your head, that's it. You tried to kill me. I'm ready to repay the favour."

"Revenge is it? Have you…"

"Save it, Mercer. As I said, I know exactly what you are."

He withdrew a second short-sword and readied himself. "Then the die is cast, and once again my blade will taste Nightingale blood!"

"The difference this time, Mercer, is that the blood will be yours."

"We'll see about that. But first," he stated, raising a hand and casting a spell, "I'll just ensure your two companions don't interfere."

I heard Brynjolf and Karliah start fighting behind me as I closed in on Mercer. I'll give the man his due. He was good dual-wielding, as good a fighter I'd met who could wield two weapons. But while he could attack at will, he left himself wide open in defence. One sword or two, you can't always block or parry a swing of a sword coming, particularly if you're as fast and as well-trained as myself. Mercer tried all manner of dirty tricks to gain an advantage, trying to keep me back and out of reach. Every time he did, I simply closed in on him and tried to get the killing shot again.

"You're nothing, Mercer. I've fought enemies twice as talented and ten times as deadly. I faced down Alduin, the World-Eater and watched him dissolve into nothing. I fought and defeated Lord Volkihar, the master vampire running amok across Skyrim. I ended the Silver Hand menace against the Companions and ensured Kodlak Whitemane now rests at peace in Sovngarde. And I will soon defeat Jarl Ulfric Stormcloak and ensure the Empire remains united in the face of Thalmor aggression. But before that, Mercer, I'm going to end you. And unlike all those others, I don't do them for anyone else. No, your death will be for me. And me alone."

The word had an effect as he redoubled his efforts. But they were sloppy, the sign of a man wilting under pressure. We had climbed stairs to near behind the head of the statue. Mercer was bleeding from numerous wounds; none had been debilitating so far. I wasn't aiming for death by a thousand cuts, but I wanted him to know and feel pain before I ended his life, even if that was only fleeting.

"Nocturnal owns you. Never forget that," he warned.

"My soul will journey to Sovngarde when my life is over, Mercer. As for yours, I can honestly say I don't really care where you end up."

I finally disarmed him with a well-judged swing, one sword slipping away over the edge, landing on the ground far below, while I cut away his second hand, the sword still tightly gripped as Mercer roared, holding up his bloodied stump. Checking to see he had no other weapons, I grabbed him by the collar and dragged him to the ledge, Mercer looking back for a moment. I kept my sword at his throat as he looked at me a final time, fear and curiosity all in one glance.

"Who are you?"

"I told you who I am at Snow Veil Sanctum, Mercer Frey, right before you tried to kill me. I am the Harbinger of the Companions. I am the Arch-Mage of the College of Winterhold. I am the Thane of Whiterun. I am the Last Dragonborn. But, most importantly, you shall know my name before you die." I leaned in close. "To my wife and my friends, I am simply Ragnar."

And, with those last words, I Shouted with the full force at my disposal and sent his body crashing to the ground below.

He did not move again.