Whizz—thwack!
Late at night, an arrow shot out of the darkness and punched straight through the mercenary’s forehead. Caught in the ambush, the man dropped to the floor instantly, unable to utter even a final cry.
“You’ve grown quite skilled in my absence, Camilla.”
Brynjolf offered his applause for her archery. Camilla ignored him, calmly pulling the arrow from the corpse and slipping it back into her quiver.
Camilla and Brynjolf had neutralized the mercenary guarding Mercer's backyard to facilitate their break-in.
“Hmm...”
Brynjolf scanned the perimeter. With the guard dead, Camilla took the opportunity to freely inspect the exterior of the building.
Clack-clack.
The front and back doors weren’t difficult to pick, but they were barred from the inside, making them impossible to open from the outside. Camilla paused to think.
Should I just force it open?
With Brynjolf's help, it wouldn't be difficult, but she didn't want to cause a commotion in the dead of night. While the Thieves Guild's prestige was growing daily, they hadn't yet attained enough influence to openly disregard the law.
In that case, she would simply rely on a thief's expertise. Camilla gripped the crevices of the outer wall and scaled her way up to a second-floor window.
Clack-clack.
No way, this one's locked too?
Mercer was truly thorough. Camilla began to feel a prickle of annoyance.
“Camilla.”
Brynjolf called her softly. She dropped down from the second floor and walked toward him.
He held up a key, explaining that he had found it on the mercenary’s body.
“A key? But the doors are all barred.”
Brynjolf simply pointed upward. Camilla followed his gaze and noticed that the second floor featured not just a window, but a balcony.
Quick on the uptake, Camilla immediately understood his intent and climbed the wall to reach the balcony.
Brynjolf followed close behind, scaling the wall with surprising agility for his size, as if he were climbing a cliffside.
“Hah.”
“Not bad for a man of your bulk.”
“Of course. I am a senior member of the Thieves Guild, after all.”
She inserted the key into the balcony door and turned it. With a metallic click, the door swung open.
Creak, creak.
The wooden floorboards groaned with every step.
However, by shifting their weight carefully onto their toes, Camilla and Brynjolf moved in absolute silence. They were ghosts in the night.
They searched every corner of the house in total stealth until they heard the sound of breathing coming from the bedroom.
Someone's in there...
Camilla didn't miss a beat. She slid the door open and drew her sword from its scabbard in one fluid motion.
Shing.
“Zzz...”
Approaching the bed with extreme caution, Camilla gripped the Nightingale Blade in a reverse hold. She raised the weapon high and drove it down with her full weight into the target's neck.
Thwip!
The mercenary appeared formidable, but the sneak attack—striking with six times the normal power—pierced his throat, killing him instantly.
“Hah...”
Camilla threw back the covers, but it wasn't Mercer beneath them; it was just another guard assigned to the interior.
I got worked up for nothing.
Though disappointed, Camilla regained her focus and searched the room once more.
Strangely, Mercer’s home was remarkably ordinary. No matter where she looked, nothing seemed suspicious—until...
?
A particular wardrobe caught her eye. Unlike the others, it looked brand new, showing almost no signs of use.
Sensing a discrepancy, she opened the doors.
Rrrrk...
The wardrobe was empty. After fiddling with the interior, she discovered a hidden mechanism that swung open a false back panel, revealing a secret passage.
Should I call Brynjolf?
No. There might still be other mercenaries in the house, and shouting would be too risky.
After a brief moment of deliberation, Camilla left the bedroom door and the wardrobe open and descended into the basement.
Mercer might still be down here.
She quickened her pace. Since she had left the path open, Brynjolf would be able to follow once he noticed.
As she descended further into the lower levels, she finally understood why Brynjolf had described this place as the one he hated most.
Whirrrr-whirrrr.
Pssshhh!
“Wow.”
A gauntlet of traps awaited her. Flame spouts erupted from the floors and walls of the long corridor, while massive axe blades swung in lethal pendulums beyond the fire.
“He really went all out, didn't he?”
Camilla was almost impressed by the "gifts" Mercer had prepared. She took a moment to stretch and loosen her muscles, then...
“Hup!”
Fwoooosh!
She sprinted forward, nimbly dodging the bursts of flame. But the axe traps were still ahead!
Whoosh!
The blades sliced through the air, nearly splitting her in two, but Camilla dropped low and slid beneath them, clearing the trap.
Having bypassed the obstacles, she began to feel a surge of pride...
Sht!
“Huh?”
There were more. Before she could savor her success, a poison dart shot from the wall and embedded itself in her thigh. Paralysis poison surged through her veins.
“Ghk!”
The traumatic memory of Karliah’s paralysis poison rushed back as her body slowly stiffened and froze.
Still, she wasn't entirely worried. If she recalled correctly, Brynjolf had packed an antidote before they entered the manor. If she just waited, he would find her.
Squeak-squeak!
N-no way...
A massive rat emerged from a sewer pipe in the distance—a skeever.
Under normal circumstances, a skeever was no threat to Camilla, but while she was paralyzed, the situation was entirely different.
Don't come any closer...!
“Squeak?”
The disease-ridden rodent continued its slow, steady approach toward her.
“Sorry, but I’ve never seen anyone like that.”
After receiving a disappointing answer from the innkeeper, Choi Ha-neul glanced at Salonia.
They had been scouring the Whiterun region for any trace of the moth priest.
Since Whiterun sat at the heart of Skyrim, they were certain the priest must have passed through, but unfortunately, her intuition had been wrong.
“Hmm...”
With her arms folded, Salonia debated whether to investigate Falkreath or Riften next.
“Ha-neul, let’s try Falkreath.”
“Okay.”
Since Falkreath was closer to Cyrodiil, the heart of Tamriel, Salonia decided it was the more logical choice.
“Excuse me, driver? We’d like to hire your carriage.”
“Where to?”
“Falkreath.”
“Falkreath, you say...?”
The driver looked visibly hesitant upon hearing the destination.
“Why? Did something happen there?”
The driver hesitated at Choi Ha-neul’s question, but eventually spoke up.
“Well... I heard there’s been a murder in that town recently.”
“A murder?”
“Aye, and a five-year-old child at that..! It’s made folks a bit reluctant to travel there...”
The distance from Whiterun to Falkreath was manageable on foot, but it was currently broad daylight.
Under the scorching sun, the two vampires found their stamina draining rapidly; even a brief exposure to the light caused their skin to sting.
To preserve their strength, the carriage was a necessity.
Thud!
Salonia produced a heavy pouch from her robes, brimming with Septims.
“Will this cover it?”
“Of course it will!”
The moment he saw the gold spilling from the pouch, the driver eagerly accepted and helped them onto the carriage.
“Alright, Ha-neul, shall we?”
“Yes.”
After about an hour's journey, they arrived in Falkreath. The town was characterized by a humid climate, frequent rain, and a heavy blanket of clouds.
With the sky overcast and dark, Salonia and Choi Ha-neul felt their energy return.
As they stepped off the carriage and entered the town, guards suddenly blocked their path.
What? Did they find us out?
Choi Ha-neul’s eyes flashed with an ominous red glow, and she hid her hands behind her back, preparing to cast a fireball. However, the guards weren't there to fight.
“Travelers, have you by any chance seen a stray dog?”
“Pardon?”
“No, we just arrived by carriage. We haven't seen any dog.”
“I see. A local resident has lost his pet. If you happen to spot it, please let us know.”
“We will.”
The guards stepped aside, granting them entry. Once past, Choi Ha-neul let out a long sigh of relief.
“Phew.”
“Hehe, don’t be so tense. Ordinary people can’t distinguish us that easily.”
“That’s a relief.”
Choi Ha-neul and Salonia made their way toward the inn. As they walked, they noticed a crowd gathered at the graveyard, the air thick with mourning.
Is that for the murdered child?
Choi Ha-neul observed them for a moment, but since it was none of her concern, she ignored the scene and entered the inn with Salonia.
The interior of the inn was unremarkable.
There were adventurers dining with their parties, a bard singing to liven the atmosphere, and a bald priest drinking at the bar.
“First, let’s ask the innkeeper...”
Grab.
Salonia caught Choi Ha-neul by the scruff of her neck, stopping her in her tracks.
“Bingo.”
Salonia opened her book and compared the illustration of the moth priest with the man drinking at the bar, letting out a triumphant laugh.
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