#shirazzha

[the-hoarse-bard]

In the morning, I set out to take a carriage back to Riften, but a pair of men were waiting by the cart. They spotted me and approached before I could hide. One of them drew a mace from his belt, and the other glowered at me intimidatingly, "You really shouldn't take things that don't belong to you, thief." I backed up, "I can't say I know what you're talking about, sir." He took a step toward me, and gripped the haft of the spear on his back, "Oh, I think you do. Khajiit. Thane of Whiterun. You're pretty hard to miss, really." He drew his spear, and I sighed, taking a fighting stance, "Well, can't say I didn't expect this eventually."

The smaller man swung at me with his mace. I stepped back, and the larger of the two thrust with his spear. I narrowly moved to avoid the tip as it grazed my hip, and I grabbed the haft. The one with the mace recovered from his swing and attempted another. I ducked, causing him to hit the spear's haft, pulling it out of his companion's hands. Having full control of the spear, I spun it around, it's use simply coming to me on instinct, and I thrust it into a joint in the mace users armor. I pushed harder, shoving him away from me, and off his feet. The man who's spear I had just pilfered came at me again, swinging a dagger. He was clearly more practiced with the spear, I backstepped one of his swings and delivered a palm strike to his chestplate, knocking the wind out of him, and causing him to stumble backwards into the side of the carriage. His friend got back to his feet and charged back at me. I grabbed his arm as he swung downward and wrenched it until I heard his arm snap. He dropped his mace, and screamed, drawing the attention of the nearby stablemaster, who started shouting, "Guards! The thane is under attack!"

The man with the dagger recovered his breath, but I had the tip of his spear raised pointed at his throat. He raised his hands, and dropped the dagger on the ground while his friend slowly bled to death on the ground behind me. He gulped, "C-Clearly you're more than just a common thief. I knew this line of work would get me killed." I smirked, and he winced as I drove the spear into the wood over his shoulder. He opened his eyes, "What?" I smiled at him, "I've made mistakes in my life. Wouldn't be here myself without second chances." The guards arrived behind me, and gave a slight bow, "Miss thane, we'll take this one from here and uh... Clean up his friend." I pulled the spear from the side of the cart, "Of course, even second chances come with consequences. Take him away, guards. I'll be keeping this spear and anything his friend had on him." The guards clapped manacles on his hands as the carriage driver returned from whatever the hell he was doing.

One guard stayed behind to clean up the corpse once I was done. The mace wielder had a matched pair of orcish daggers on him. Much better than the steel pair I had. I cut his purse from his belt, and helped myself to the coins within, and signaled to the guard to take his body away. I handed some of the coins to the carriage driver and told him, "To Riften, if you please." I climbed in back, and we were off.

[the-hoarse-bard]

I checked the list Brynjolf had given me. The next to pay up was Keerava, owner of the Bee and Barb. As I walked through the door, a local priest was trying to get one of the local drunks to give up their habit and come work with him at the temple. They all blew him off, he sighed and brushed past me out onto the street.

I stepped up to the counter, and Keerava welcomed me, "Here for a room or a drink? We don't do tabs, coin first." I told her I was here on behalf of Brynjolf, and her expression turned sour, "I've already told that buffoon I'm not paying you people a single coin! Now get the hell out of my bar." I looked around. No way I could get away with intimidating a bartender in a room full of drunks. As I spied the Argonian bussing tables, he beckoned me over. As I walked away, I heard Keerava mutter, "And stay out, you oaf." I resisted the urge to turn around claw her face.

The waiter whispered as I got close, "I see you couldn't get through to my boss. With the rumors going around about how poorly your Guild is doing, she's become much too bold." I asked, "What do you suggest I do?" He thought a moment, "Don't take my helping you as approval for what you do, but... She'd probably pay up if you mention her family's farm just over the border in Morrowind. Just please, don't be too harsh, I just want the guild off our backs." I nodded, "We just want our money, you have my word." I turned and headed back to the bar.

Keerava didn't even look up from wiping down a tankard, "I thought I told you to get out of my bar." I held up my hands, "Oh, apologies. I guess I'll just go pay a visit to your family in Morrowind then, maybe they'll have more sense." Her eyes went wide and she looked up, "W-wait. You leave them out of this, I'll pay." She handed over the coins, and added, "I hope you choke on them, you bastards." I gave a bow, "You will hear nothing more from us. Thank you for the cooperation."

As I neared the door, the waiter from before stopped me, "Wait. Uhm... I'd hate to ask a favor of your type, but..." I stopped him, "I am not the Guild, simply one of it's agents. If you would ask a favor of me, I would be glad to help." I gave him my least intimidating smile, and he looked relieved, "Well... I am hoping to propose to Keerava soon. It's tradition that the ring be hand-made. I've gathered most of what I need, but if you happen to come across three flawless amethysts to complete the ring.... Well, I won't ask where they came from." I laughed softly, "It would not do for me to ignore so clear a message from Mara herself. I would be happy to help a cause as pure as love." The waiter smiled, and finally introduced himself, "Thank you... I'm Talen-Jei, by the way." He held out his hand, and I shook it, "Shirazzha. We will speak again, Talen-Jei." I turned and exited the tavern.

[the-hoarse-bard]

Sabjorn was in the middle of stalling the presentation as I walked in, and he asked as I walked over to the bar, "Oh, you're back. I take it our uh... Issue is resolved then?" I gave him a thumbs up, and he looked relieved before turning back to the guard captain, "Alright sir, we're ready to begin the tasting now." The captain grumbled, "About time. This better be worth the wait.

Sabjorn took a goblet off the counter and brought it to the tap under the bar, "Oh, I assure you it is sir. Our very finest." He handed over the filled cup and the guard captain drank it down. He grimaced when he was finished, "Augh, what... What's in this!?" Sabjorn's smile wavered, "Uh, is it not to your liking, then?" The captain turned green, then doubled over and vomited on the floor, "You.... You assured me this place was clean, Sabjorn. I'll... I'll see to it you remain in irons for the rest of your days." Sabjorn was shocked, "What!? No, there must be some mistake, surely!"

The captain staggered behind the bar and handcuffed Sabjorn as he continued to try and argue his innocence. As the captain passed by, still looking very ill, he pointed to Mallus, who I hadn't even noticed in the corner, "You. This place is your responsibility now. See that this mess gets cleaned up." Mallus bowed, "Certainly sir. I'm sure you won't be disappointed." The captain nodded, and hauled Sabjorn off, still in tears.

Mallus turned to me once we were alone, "I don't think that could have gone any better." I crossed my arms, "You could have warned me about the madman living under the brewery." Mallus scoffed, "Of course I could've, but that's why I couldn't pull this scheme off myself. Besides, you've done both me and Maven a favor getting rid of him, and that's sure to put you in her good books. Speaking of, you'll want the papers Sabjorn kept in his office. It's upstairs, in the meantime I'll see to cleaning up this mess down here." He gestured to the puddle of vomit the guard captain had left on the carpet.

I picked the lock to Sabjorn's office and found a suspicious receipt on his nightstand. It bore the same mark as the bill of sale from Goldenglow, and assured Sabjorn that he had nothing to fear from Maven any more. I pocketed the paper, along with a gilded mead jug from his closet and a bottle of mead from under his bed. Black-Briar mead, at that. Hilarious, even Sabjorn couldn't stand his own brew.

As I headed out of the building, I waved at Mallus as he mopped up the disgusting puddle. He just grumbled at me, and I headed off for the Bannered Mare. It's been a long night.

[the-hoarse-bard]

The cart pulled up to the Riften stables after sundown. The ride had been rough and unpleasant. The whole way, I could smell the scent of stale mead coming off the driver, as I held on for dear life. I staggered off the back of the cart and vomited, resolving never to hire this particular carriage again. A courier had been waiting for me by the stable, but he was kind enough to wait until I was done heaving to speak. I stood up straight as I could, and he handed off his letter, "Message for you. A letter from a Jarl, at that!" I took the letter, there was a wax seal bearing a symbol of a deer. The courier took his leave, and I broke the seal on it, noticing the carriage driver stumbling into town himself. Probably off for another drink, the lout.

I unfolded the letter, and read as I followed the bastard carriage driver. "Shirazzha, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Siddgeir, and I have the honor of being Jarl of the proud and ancient city of Falkreath. The fame of your exploits across Skyrim has brought you to my attention. If you are interested in becoming a thane of Falkreath Hold, I invite you to speak to me the next time you are in the area. Aside from the fame that accrues to the title, my thanes are entitled to a personal housecarl. I also can tell you privately that a choice parcel of land would be available for purchase should your services prove useful to me. I look forward to meeting you in person. I remain, Jarl Siddgeir of Falkreath." Wow, an actual invitation to a Jarl's court. I couldn't help but wonder if Siddgeir had been talking to Balgruuf and that's how he'd heard of me. I folded the letter up, and tucked it into my robe to keep it safe as I headed into the Bee and Barb. I tossed a few coins onto the counter to pay for my room as I headed upstairs to report my success to Maven.

Maven was more sober than when we'd last met. She was sitting, impatiently tapping her foot in the same chair she'd been in. She stood up as I rounded the corner, and said, "I trust you have good news for me." I told her, "Sabjorn's finished. Here's the only note I could find in his safe." I handed her the note, and she quickly read through it before cursing, "Damn it. There's no name, just this symbol." I informed her, "I've seen it before. It's the same one from the Goldenglow job." She scoffed, and handed it back to me, "Well, you did what I asked, I suppose. Here, I trust this will suffice for payment." She reached behind her, and handed me a fine steel sword in it's scabbard. The telltale marks of an enchantment were on it's handle. Not to my taste, but at least I could sell it. Maven brusquely walked past me, and down the stairs, I heard her roughly close the door to the mead hall on the floor below, and I headed to bed. I'd report back to the Guild tomorrow.

[the-hoarse-bard]

I was pleasantly surprised to find a caravan camped outside the gates of Whiterun. It had been a long time since I'd last seen any Khajiit, not since I'd left Elsweyr. The apparent leader of the caravan, an older man I guessed by his greyed whiskers, smiled at my approach, "Ahh, it is few Khajiit who would walk the cold sands of Skyrim. Atahbah, bring some tea! We have a very special guest."

A younger member of the caravan brought a silver tea tray, alongside the pot of tea and a pair of cups was a small dish of licorice sweets and a dish of moon sugar. I took a seat in front of the tent, and as was custom, I waited for my host to serve his own cup first. I could plainly smell that the tea was Rimmen chai by the scent as it was poured. My absolute favorite. My host introduced himself as he passed me the redware teapot, "This one is Ri'saad, at your service." I replied as I took the pot, "Shirazzha, at yours, sir."

I poured my cup, set the pot back onto the tray, and stirred a spoonful of the moon sugar into mine before offering the dish to Ri'saad. He shook his head, "None for this one, thank you. We must be up early tomorrow to continue our route." I put the dish back on the tray, and took a sip of the still piping hot chai. Instantly I felt right back at home again. As I lowered my cup, Ri'saad asked, "So, Shirazzha. That is a strange name, and your accent is unfamiliar to this one's ears. Do you perhaps call Skyrim home?" I shook my head, and responded as Ri'saad took a sip of his tea, "It is a long story. I am from Riverhold, and my mother was a Senche who preferred to live alone in the wild. I do not know why she named me as she did. I first learned to speak by reading books she brought to me. Perhaps that's why I speak the way I do."

Ri'saad put down his cup and nodded, smiling at me, "Very strange circumstances indeed, but not unheard of. Rest assured, this one will not think lesser of you for it, nor will any of us. After all, we are cats of strange circumstance ourselves. This one hopes you will always find a home in our camps." I took a sweet from the bowl of licorice candies and began to chew on it. The licorice perfectly complemented the strong cardamom flavor in the chai. I responded, "I am glad to hear that. In return I would be glad to sell you things I find in my travels. Right now I've got some very nice gems I'd be willing to trade for some Sugar, as I find myself lacking any for use in the day-to-day." I retrieved the gems from a pouch on the side of my bag, and laid them out on the silver tea tray.

Ri'saad picked up a sapphire from the tray and held it up to the sunlight, "Nice clarity. Good cutting. These are quality stones." He looked up with a smile, "This one knows better than to ask where you got these, but I must ask. For legal purposes." I took another drink of tea, and laughed slightly, "Don't worry friend, they are not stolen. I know better than to sell stolen merchandise to one with as sharp an eye as you." Ri'saad laughed, "Ha! Very well then, we have a deal." Ri'saad finished up his tea and retreated into his tent, where he retrieved a small burlap sack. He took it over to a larger sack and filled it with large moon sugar crystals before tying it and returning to where we'd been sitting. "Here you are."

He smiled as he handed me the bag, "Thank you, Mr. Ri'saad. Now, do not think me rude, but I must be going. I have business to attend to inside the city." Ri'saad scooped up the precious gems from the tray, "Not at all, sister. Feel free to take a few sweets if you'd like, Khayla made them herself, you know." I finished up my tea, took a handful of the licorice sweets and bowed to my host with a polite, "Thank you for the tea. As well as the pleasant company." Ri'saad waved me goodbye, "Jobal kha'jay!" I waved back, "Salah kha'jay!" I put another of the sweets into my mouth and chewed it as I walked up the road to the gates of Whiterun.

[the-hoarse-bard]

The Riften market was populated with a jewelers, armorer, and even a stand selling imported goods from Morrowind. As I was browsing the silk robes from the imports stand, a man leaning against the low wall surrounding the marketplace waved me over. I made up an excuse about leaving my wallet at the inn, and ducked behind the wall near the unattended potion stall where the man had been. The redheaded Nord flashed me a wry smile and spoke with a strange accent, "You've never done an honest days work for all that coin you're carrying, eh lass?" I narrowed my eyes at him, "What makes you so certain?" He laughed quietly, "The way you sniffed out my little scam at the north gate. Can't be a coincidence, you're clearly not as innocent as you make yourself out to be."

The mention of the gate scam was what made me certain of who I was talking to, "So, you must be Brynjolf, then." He waved to himself, "In the flesh, lass. I didn't call you over for just pleasant talk though, I've got a bit of a scheme and could use an extra pair of hands. With pay, of course." I nodded, "The pay is good, I trust." Brynjolf nodded back, "Very good, indeed. What I need you to do is steal the ring from Madesi's strongbox," He pointed to the Argonian jeweler's stall, "And slip it into Brand-Shei's pocket while I provide a distraction." He pointed to the Dunmer selling imported Morrowind goods I'd been looking at. It sounded simple, so I told him, "Alright, let's do it." Brynjolf tried to hand me a set of lockpicks, "Here, you'll need these. The strongbox is under the counter." I turned down the offer and showed him my own set, "I already have lockpicks." He flashed that winning smile of his again, "See? We're already on the same page. Now go."

I returned to Brand-Shei's stall, making a show of my wallet like I'd retrieved it from the inn. Brynjolf took his place at his own potions stall, and called out, "Everyone gather round! I've got another deal today, one you can't refuse!" All of the merchants left their stalls to watch Brynjolf's exhibition. As Brand-Shei nudged past me, I heard him mutter, "This should be good for a laugh." Everyone gathered around Brynjolf's stand as he made a big show of some concotion or another. I made my way around the back of the crowd over to Madesi's stall.

I slid open the door to reveal the strongbox under the counter, and got to work picking the lock with leverage from my dagger. I couldn't believe the rotten luck the lock was giving me, my first lockpick snapped the moment I turned the cylinder. I peeked over the counter and mimed to Brynjolf to keep up the show. He nodded toward me, and swapped to another bottle of brew. I set back to cracking the box, and a few broken picks later, I had it open. Inside sat only the silver ring, I snatched it before carefully closing the box and sliding the door hiding it back into place. With the ring in hand, I carefully made my way back across the market to Brand-Shei's stall, where he still stood listening to Brynjolf. I brought my hand up holding the ring to his back pocket, but right as I was about to drop it in, a nearby guard peeked over his shoulder. I had just enough time to duck behind a couple barrels. The guard shrugged and went back to watching Brynjolf's sale. I quickly slipped the ring into Brand-Shei's pocket, and took my place where I'd been standing before Brynjolf started his distraction. I nodded toward him, and he wrapped it up, "So clearly, you should buy potions from Brynjolf's! Thank you all for your time." Brand-Shei huffed, "More like waste our time, unbelievable."

All of the merchants went back to their stalls, and I made my way back over to Brynjolf right as Madesi discovered his ring missing. A guard came over and quickly discovered the ring in Brand-Shei's pocket, hauling him off to the towns prison. Brynjolf smiled as I approached, "Nice pinch, lass. That'll teach Brand-Shei not to infringe on guild business anymore. Here's your pay." He handed over a pouch of a hundred septims, "If you want more, come find me and my organization in the Ratway." I nodded and told him, "I'll be there shortly, then." He gave another quiet laugh, "The Ratway is dangerous, but you seem clever enough to make it through. I'll meet you there." With that, I left him and went about browsing the market some more.

If Brynjolf wasn't kidding about the dangers of the Ratway, a weapon might serve me well, so I went to see what the local smith had to offer. Claws may serve against tough hide, but certainly not steel. The smith smiled at my approach, as he tended to his tanning rack, "Come to see Balimund work miracles with steel, eh? Well, all my stock out here is for sale, feel free to browse." I looked over the pieces. Blades, hammers, even a couple bows and a rapier, none of which were to my taste. The hammer was too heavy, the blades less effective against armor than my own claws. Just as I thought he wouldn't have anything to my needs, I hefted up what at first glance looked like the handle of a warhammer, but when I found it far lighter, I saw that there was no head at the end. What I had found was actually a quarterstaff. I beamed, it was perfect, I hadn't held a staff since my training with Do'marash, but the movements quickly came back to me, as I tested the staff's balance, twirling it in my hands and using it as leverage for a few practice kicks. The smith applauded my display, "Fancy footwork you got there. I made that one special for an ashlander from Morrowind years ago, but he never came to pick it up. What do you say to 500 septims?" Having found the staff excellently balanced, I nodded, "You have yourself a deal, my friend." I paid him the gold, and I headed off toward the Ratway.

[the-hoarse-bard]

As soon as I stepped off the ladder from the sewer entrance, a rank scent met me, and not one usually found in sewers. The smell of oil. Someone's been setting traps down here. I kept a good awareness of where I was stepping as I traversed deeper, kicking a few large rats out of the way as they nipped at my heels. I almost walked right by what by all appearances was a jail cell built into the wall of the sewer. The bones of some unfortunate person to come down here before me lay on a bedroll in the corner.

I sprung the lock with ease and looked to see if there were any leftovers to claim. A book was hidden under the skull of the cells former occupant. Wulfmare's Guide to Better Thieving... Strangely appropriate. I gave it's pages a cursory read through, the book's author claimed that the real profit from thievery wasn't found in grand heists or by extortion, but simple pickpocketing. Simply knowing where to go and who to pick as a mark. I took the book with me, perhaps some of it's tips could help the rest of the Guild.

Soon after the strange cell, I finally found the oil patch making the whole sewer smell like it was about to burst into flames. A simple tripwire stretched across the floor connected to a lantern hanging from the ceiling. I could see moonlight shining down from the exit ahead, so I carefully snapped the tripwire by hand and stood back as the oil burned itself out. No use avoiding it now only to have it trip me up on the way out. I climbed up the ladder to the exit, and some mercifully fresh air.

The sewer exited around the back door of the estate, far behind the guard perimeter. Perfect, time to go to work. The back door was locked, predictably, and it broke a few picks before it sprung open. Once inside, I kept myself close to the walls to avoid any creaky floorboards. The whole house seemed to be going through some kind of redecorating, a few of the carpets rolled up in corners, and some of the furniture pieces stacked on top of each other, much to my dismay. A nice plush carpet would make any loose boards quiet as a whisper.

I slipped behind a guard as he passed me at a hallway intersection, and climbed the stairs he'd been guarding to the second floor. Right away, I could hear more footsteps than there had been on the floor below. I ducked into a room, as I heard a guard approach, and re-entered the hallway he had just come from. Making sure he wasn't just going to walk up behind me, I saw him lean against the hallway corner and apparently doze off. Perfect.

Finally, I found myself at the bedroom. I heard snoring within, and carefully opened the door, taking care of a potential squeaky hinge. The owner of the estate was asleep in the bed, but there was frustratingly little to be seen of the safe I was after. A note was on the nightstand, which I carefully read from a good distance, "Boss, got the safe moved down to the basement for ya, like ya asked. Still think you're being paranoid, no one's getting in here with my boys on the job. -Olfrik" Well, he's going to be embarrassed in the morning. Still, I had seen the stairs to the basement behind a locked gate downstairs, so, thinking the owner would have the key to the basement on his person for security, I carefully rummaged through his pockets. Just as I was about to give up and just stab the bastard, he rolled over in his sleep, sending the key tumbling out of his other nightgown pocket. I quickly snatched it out of the air before it could clatter against the floor and let out a breath I'd been holding. Noctra sure wasn't making this job easy.

I crept back downstairs, and headed through the locked gate to the basement, taking care to close and lock it behind me to avoid any suspicion and slow down any potential pursuit should the sleeping owner suddenly wake. The basement had a blessedly quiet stone floor and very little lighting. No problem for me, of course. The basement passageway ended in a room with a lone guard posted watching the only other exit. The man was a professional, he hardly even blinked, but he was still human, and I had an idea. I plucked a small stone from the floor of the basement, and got as close as I could without alerting the guard. I held my breath, and chucked the stone down the hall I'd come from. It clattered against the far wall, and the guard shot up to see what the commotion was, not bothering to check immediately behind himself. I released the breath, and slipped down the stairs he'd been watching before he returned.

At the bottom was the safe, at last. I listened to the tumbler's work as I twisted the knob, and soon had it opened. Inside sat simply a bill of sale and a small satchel of coins. I rolled up the paper and snatched the pouch. Handily, there was a door down to a sewer access in the safe room. I doubt the guard would fall for the stone trick twice.

I exited the sewer again, and set to the final piece of business, the beehives. I watched the guards patrol routes, and seeing a window, rushed toward the wooden bee boxes. I prepared a flames spell, and set the boxes alight. A moment after they'd all caught fire, a loud bell sounded. Before anyone could get to the scene, I dived off of the island into the waters of the lake below and swam as fast as I could for shore.

[the-hoarse-bard]

The final name on Brynjolf's list was Haelga, owner of the bunkhouse. Right as I walked in, she already looked upset, "Oh, it's you. Look, I know who you are. You've been terrorizing the entire city. There's no need for any of that here, I'll pay." She pulled out a sack of coins and dropped it on the counter. I took it and left, no need to stress her out more than I already have, honestly. The debts all collected, I hurried back to the Ragged Flagon.

Brynjolf seemed to have changed out of his street clothes while I'd been out. He greeted me with a smile, "So, job's done and you got the gold. Best of all, you did it clean. I like that." I sat at the table across from him, and handed over the accumulated debts, "I am not a fan of all this strong-arming Brynjolf. When am I going to get to show my real talents?" He gave that same wry toothy smile as he counted out the gold, "Soon, lass, soon. Now that you've proven you can be an asset, we can welcome you into the fold proper. Follow me." He stood up from his seat, and I followed quickly after.

Brynjolf lead me through the door next to the bar, into what seemed like a pantry. Through the pantry, he took me to a shelf in one of the corners, and with a practiced movement, effortlessly swung it aside, revealing a passageway. He wordlessly waved for me to follow.

The passage let out into a wide open cistern. A few Guild members I hadn't met yet occupied various corners. A wood elf rapidly shooting arrows into a straw dummy, an Imperial stirring a stew pot, and a Nord reclining on a shabby bed just staring at the ceiling, apparently mulling something over. Brynjolf walked toward the center of the room, where a Breton wearing darker armor than the rest waited dramatically under the light cascading down from above the ground.

I followed closely behind Brynjolf. He announced me to the Breton, "Mercer, I've got a new recruit for us here." Mercer looked me over, "A new member, huh? Doesn't look like much." I shot him a nasty look. He didn't flinch. Brynjolf vouched for me, "That she might not, but she's just what we need, trust me. This lass has some quick hands, and quicker wits. She might be perfect for that special job you've been talking about." Mercer's face lightened, "Well, I hope for her sake you're right Bryn. Welcome to the fold, new blood." I took a bow, "Shirazzha, at your service, guildmaster." Mercer laughed, "Ha! We're not usually so formal down here."

Brynjolf cleared his throat, and Mercer got back on track, "Oh right, that job we mentioned." Brynjolf interjected, "Your first real job with the Guild." Mercer continued, "Goldenglow Estate just outside town. They used to be clients of ours. These days, they think they're too good for us, hired some different group for security. We want you to deliver a message." Brynjolf spoke up again, "That we're not to be trifled with." Mercer picked up again, "Burning their beehives should get that across loud and clear. But for good measure, slip up to the top floor of the Estate and clear out the safe, too." Brynjolf smiled at me, "What do you think, lass? Think you can handle it?" I returned the smile, "Should be a breeze." Mercer nodded, "Good. See Tonilia on your way out, she should have a little welcome gift for you. Get to it." With that, I headed out.