Sitting at a small table in the Flagon, I turned the Skeleton Key in my hands, observing its details closely. As far as I could tell, it was almost normal. It looked to be nothing more than a long key with a painted knob on the end. It didn't radiate malice or power or greed or whatever Daedric artifacts were supposed to radiate. In a way, it was elegant, beautiful, and dark. Much like a thief is supposed to be. But I couldn't see how something so... ordinary was supposed to unlock untapped potential in anyone who holds it.

"You know, that Key is never going to change, no matter how many times you turn it in your hands," said a certain handsome redhead as he sat down across from me.

"I know that." I put the Key down and turned my attention to Bryn. "It just looks so... normal. I keep expecting it to grow fangs and bite me or something."

"Don't tempt it, lass." He smiled a little. "When are you planning on returning it?"

"Soon. I've been stuck down here with nothing to do for three weeks. I've rested and recovered, and I'm ready to get back out there."

"Well, the three weeks you've been here haven't been wasted on the rest of the Guild. Morale is up, coin is flowing in like a river of gold, and our presence in the Holds is growing stronger every day." He reached into one of his many pockets across his chest. "Which reminds me. Delvin said that he was contacted by Olfrid Battle-Born in Whiterun. Battle-Born wants the Guild's help in a—shall we say—sensitive matter. He requested the best we have. Figured that meant you." He handed me the piece of paper he had pulled from his pocket. "Here are the details."

I unfolded the paper, frowning as I read over the words. "Well, I suppose I could take this job, then return the Key. Whiterun is a good, central location."

"Just be careful out there. Remember what happened to Vipir?"

I laughed. Vipir's job in Whiterun could not have ended any worse than it did. He managed to filch the urn from Jorrvaskr without a problem, but he got greedy when he passed the jewelry stand in the market. He hadn't realized that the stand was owned by a woman who was very good friends with the Companions, and he hadn't realized that two of the Companions were watching the stand for her while she took some lunch to her husband. Vipir once again had to live up to his name, "the Fleet," and make a break for Riften. He had barely escaped with the urn, and he didn't get paid because he had been caught.

"But I just proved that I know how to make quick getaways," he had said in an effort to preserve what little dignity he had left.

"Anyway, I figure I will wear my Nightingale armor to Whiterun," I said once my laughing fit ended. "It will probably help when it's time to return the Key, anyway, and this will save me from carting around an extra set of armor."

"All the same, be careful." He stood up, looking down at me. "Best get going if you want to meet with Olfrid. Time's of the essence with this job."

I nodded and stood as well. "Got it. I'll get there as soon as possible."

-------

Having been to Whiterun once before, I had no trouble meeting up with this Olfrid Battle-Born. The paper Bryn had handed me said I would need to go to the Bannered Mare, where the client was supposed to flag me down. I hoped he would be able to tell I was with the Thieves Guild, since I was wearing my Nightingale armor.

The moment I set foot in the merry inn, an older man in fine clothes motioned for me to join him in the back of the room. He was Olfrid, no doubt. I took my seat across from him and lowered my cowl. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze wandering all over my face.

"You're a lot younger than I expected," he said after he finished scrutinizing. "I was told your organization would he sending their best."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Don't let the baby face fool you. I'm the best at what I do." I propped my elbows on the tabletop and steepled my fingers. "Now, to business."

Olfrid nodded. "Yes, I'm afraid that we don't have much time to discuss the situation."

"So what is it you need to be done?"

"I have a friend, Arn, who's in some trouble with the law. Something I'm sure you can relate to."

"Actually, I can't, because I've never been caught."

"At any rate, Arn committed a capital crime in Solitude—which, of course, warrants death—and fled here to ask for my help. Being an old friend, I agreed. Only now Arn's got himself into trouble with the law here. Drunken brawling, of all things! Ha!"

"So where do I come in?"

"You have two jobs. First, you must steal a letter of incrimination against Arn, then forge a name for him in the prison registry."

"Sounds simple enough. Where is this letter and registry?"

"Deep within Dragonsreach."

I swallowed. "Come again?"

"You'll have to sneak around Dragonsreach in order to get to the letter and registry, which will no doubt be in either the Jarl or the steward's room. Perhaps both."

Well, so much for this being easy.

"I thought you said you're the best at what you do."

I blinked, mentally shaking my worries away. "I am. Don't worry about your friend. I'll get the job done."

"You'll have to work fast before the guards find out the wanted man from Solitude is the same man they have locked up right now."

I nodded, pulled my cowl back up, and walked out of the inn. The sun was just setting as I stepped outside, which meant the market stalls would soon be closing, people would begin to return to their homes, and Whiterun would settle in for the night.

Now, how was I supposed to do this job, exactly? The palace was bound to be crawling with guards, servants, and who knew what else. Sneaking in and out would be harder than prancing into Jorrvaskr and stealing their precious axe fragments from them. Vipir had proven how hard that would be, and I couldn't imagine my task was going to be any easier.

Perhaps I'll be able to sneak into Dragonsreach once most of the guards turn in. There should not be many guards watching at night.

I leaned against a post in front of the alchemy shop called Arcadia's Cauldron, watching as the citizens of this fine settlement went about their evenings. A pair of children ran through the marketplace, laughing as they went. A mother promised her little girl a nice, hot meal from the tavern later tonight. A young couple, both wearing Companions armor, strolled through the market, a smile on the woman's face as the man took her hand in his. The man returned her smile with one of his own, and he pulled her closer into his side.

I snorted. Young, starry-eyed love. Pathetic. At least Bryn and I were mature about our feelings.

I was interrupted in my musings by a rough voice saying, "Hey, you." I raised an eyebrow and glanced in the direction of the voice. A guard stood to my left, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

"What it is?" I smirked. "Someone steal your sweetroll?"

His scowl deepened. "No lollygaggin', or it's the dungeons for you."

I tore my gaze away from the guard and instead looked to the darkening sky. The stars were coming out, which was my cue to begin my journey up the stairs to Dragonsreach. I gave the disgruntled guard a mock salute, then headed for the stairs.

I climbed the torchlit stairs with little problem. The guards trekking up and down made no effort to stop me or ask what my plans were when I reached the palace.

Once I got there, I slipped through the door and made my way through the massive main room. The ceilings towered above me, making me feel smaller than I already felt. Two, long dining tables sat on either side of a burning fire, both laden with food and drink fit for... well, a Jarl. Rich carpets and ornate tapestries covered the floors and walls. At the back of the room sat a dark wood throne, padded with red cushions.

Only a couple servants milled around the room, sweeping and cleaning and such. They paid me no mind as I hurried to the next level of the palace. I crept through the shadows of the next level towards a small set of doors. I pushed them open, wincing as the hinges squeaked. Luckily, the occupant of the room, the steward, slept on as I crept deeper into his room.

I spotted the registry sitting on a candlelit desk abutting the closest wall. I stood up and grabbed a quill. I dipped the quill in an open inkwell and perused the names on the registry. Once I found the right slot, I scrawled the first name that came to mind (why I chose the name "Kjar," I'll never know) where the name "Arn" should have been. As quietly and quickly as I could, I set the quill down and left the room, thanking Nocturnal that the steward was a heavy sleeper.

Next, I took on the more dangerous part of the mission: sneaking into the Jarl's chambers to filch the incriminating letter off his desk.

Thankfully, the guard outside had fallen asleep—snoring like a mammoth—at his post and remained that way when I sneaked past him.

I came into a large study filled with bookshelves. A long, candlelit desk sat close to the middle of the room, and many books and papers were laid on top of it. I hurried to the desk and snatched the note that I was looking for.

Then, the snoring outside stopped. The guard murmured something, then shouted, "Intruder!"

I cursed myself for not shutting the door all the way.

I hid in the darkest corner I could find as the guard came charging into the room, sword at the ready.

"Where are you, trespasser?" he asked as he spun in a slow circle. "Show yourself and face the Jarl's justice!"

If he thinks I'm going to do that, he's crazy.

When his back was turned to me, I crept towards the door, clutching the letter in my hand. My heart in my throat, I did my best to hurry, but tried to keep the noise down.

Then, another set of doors burst open, and none other than Jarl Balgruuf came out of his room. I snapped my head around and looked at him. He was wearing nothing but a pair of white trousers and his robe, the latter of which was wide open. His hair was in disarray, and his goatee was mussed. For a moment, we stood there and stared at each other. Then, snapping out of his stupor, he opened his mouth and shouted, "Stop the intruder!"

The guard spun around, and I stood up and bolted down the stairs leading away from the Jarl's chambers.

"Which way did I come in?" I whispered to myself, picking a random door and running for it. I pulled it open, only to come to a massive porch overlooking the fields outside Whiterun. I ground my teeth in frustration. Dead end. Now what?

Just as I started to turn, heavy footsteps, and loads of them, pounded in my direction. I didn't have time to double back and look for the right door. I just had to go for it.

I took off spiriting across the porch, reaching the end in seconds. The wooden railing came up to my thighs, and it was the only thing keeping me from pitching towards the ground far below. There was no way down from here, unless I wanted to kill myself. What was I supposed to do now?

An idea began to form in my mind. A horrible, terrifying, potentially disastrous idea, but I had no other choice. I had to do it.

I cursed to myself as I yanked my cowl down. I am a complete idiot.

Sticking the letter between my teeth, I swung myself over the railing and climbed down. Holding on by my fingertips alone, I gritted my teeth and hung just under the railing. I closed my eyes, willing myself not to look down.

My arms burned, my fingers ached, and tears began to squeeze their way into my eyes. They streamed down my face as the booted feet came closer. Voices chattered above me, and the faint glow of torches seeped through the gaps in the railing's dowels.

"You sure you saw him come this way?" asked one of the voices.

"Yes, my Jarl," said another. "Please, get inside, in case he is still lurking."

"There is no place he could have gone," said a third man. "Except..."

Oh, Nocturnal, please, I begged as more tears poured from my eyes. Please don't let them see me. I'm begging you.

"Are you crazy?" asked the second voice. "Why would he throw himself off the porch? It's suicide."

"But what—"

"Never mind, son," said the Jarl. "Search the rest of the palace. I want that trespasser found."

"Yes, my Jarl."

The voices, torchlight, and footsteps faded. I let out a muffled cry of pain and panic—since the letter was still in my mouth—as I heaved myself back over the railing. My arms were seconds from giving out. Once my body was fully over the railing, I collapsed and started to sob.

Pull yourself together, Femke. You're alive. You have the letter. Now run like a bat out of Oblivion before those guards decide to come back.

Picking myself up, I took the letter out of my mouth and began searching for a way down without having to go back through Dragonsreach. In the darkness, it was hard to see if I had any other choice.

Then, the moons came out from behind the clouds and illuminated a rope that led to some scaffolding on the roof. Looked like someone had been tasked with fixing a hole in the roof, and they were not yet done.

Perhaps my luck has not run out, after all.

I grabbed the rope, making sure the letter was secure under my belt first, then shinnied down. My hands and arms still burned from hanging under the porch, but at least this time I had something not too far beneath me.

From the scaffolding, I scampered down the niches in the roof until I was close enough to the ground to drop. I was behind the palace, where no one would find me. I pushed my hood down and fell to my knees; my legs had been shaking since I climbed back onto the porch. More sobs worked their way up my throat, forcing themselves out even when I tried to hold them back. My face was slicked with tears and sweat, my heart would not stop pounding, and my legs had all but gone numb.

After the worst of my hysteria faded, I forced myself to my feet and began making my unsteady way back to the Bannered Mare. I would have to hope that word of a caped thief wouldn't be circling the town when I got there. I would have to hope that there weren't guards waiting for me.

Thank Nocturnal. Even after that narrow escape, the easy route down the palace, and my safe return to the ground, my luck hadn't run out. The marketplace was clear, and no one tried to stop me as I walked to the tavern. I had once again donned my hood and cowl, hoping to hide my tearstained face from Olfrid.

Once I got inside, I found him in the same place I had left him. I handed him the note, forcing my hand to stay still. "Job's done. Arn should be getting released soon.

"Arn?" Olfrid chuckled a little. "Never heard of 'im." He nodded, taking the letter from me, and placing a beautiful silver ring into my hand. It glowed with a faint emerald light; it was enchanted. "Your payment. And you can tell your organization that they have a new and powerful ally in Whiterun."

I nodded my thanks and left. I would've loved to stay, to drink myself sick, to sleep until noon tomorrow, but I knew better. If word hadn't gotten out about me yet, it wouldn't be much longer before it did. I would have to sleep on the road somewhere, or wait until I got to Falkreath.

I can never tell Bryn about what happened, I decided as I left Whiterun behind me. He will pitch a fit.