Stallion of Whiterun (Skyrim Balgruuf SI) Chapter 24 (Patreon)

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It was not so late that the streets had become deserted. The inns, the drinking houses, raucous music and song poured out from windows and cracks. After a hard days work, it was clear where the local Nords spent the last hours of day before returning home. It was a fine arrangement for Irileth as it meant less Nords to encounter in the streets.

All the while, Mephala sang to her.

"What a tangled web that is being weaved," tittered the Prince of Murder and Lies. "A family is torn between duty and ambition, a race against time before a royal arrives. A man starts to realize that perhaps, he is not so loyal after all. He is still a man in the end after all, a beast beholden to primal instinct. You saw how he looked at her."

It was clear to Irileth what Mephala was trying to do. And she was going to ignore that as much as she could.

"You can ignore my song, little one. But it cannot be denied that mortals can be tempted. And with you away from him, do you think that Stormcloak woman will not take the chance to get close to your lord? She offers so much more than you can. She has lands, she has men-at-arms aplenty. What do you have?"

She has tolerance to someone trying to poke at her, it would seem, as Irileth went on to find the Grey Quarter, the section of the city where her people had made their home. It was not hard to miss. She simply followed a path that reeked of sujamma as well as the plainly hidden symbols of the Tong. Her path lead her to a building. The sign at its front titled it as a pawnshop but it looked far from a respectable establishment. The front facade had tattered colorful banners hung from a streamer, the stone was old and grey. A safety hazard that was bound to collapse at some point. The door that led into the building was squalor manifest, more plank than door.

She sighed. Was this really what her people was reduced to? Living in conditions that animals would not be found in?

She stepped forward and opened the door. It swung open with a slight crack. The first scent that struck her was the dusky musk of the shop. Dust and soot struck her senses. Shaking her head, she was beheld to a well-lit shop. At the back was a single counter, tall shelves behind filled with varying items from small silver lockets to even chests brimming with weight. Irileth has a feeling that these pawned goods weren't exactly procured honestly. But her attention was soon taken towards a single Dunmer male that attended to the shop.

"Welcome to Sadri's Used Wares!" the Dunmer smiled, his voice sing-song and sleazy. Irileth already distrusted him. "Worry not, all my goods are legitimate, which is more than I can say for some." he added cheekily.

She found herself doubting that.

Sadri was her heigh, by her reckoning. He wore a bright blue tunic and vest with gold trim, a black belt hung around his waist carrying some pouches no doubt filled with coins. His eyes were red as was atypical of their race, with spiky black hair Irileth was sure was unwashed. But she was not here to critique his sense of self-care but to deposit an annoyance. She walked forward, lowering her hood and shared a look with him. "I bring a gift for the guild," she said simply.

Immediately, the Dunmer's sleazy gaze was dropped. His mouth opened ajar before he pursed his lips. "Gifts for the guild are no light offerings. Who comes to offer?"

At that, Irileth unslung the Ebony Blade on her back and placed it on the counter. "I am Irileth. And I offer the Ebony Blade." She said, unwrapping the cloth on the sword and revealed it. The Ebony Blade had long since rusted from little use but it was still a thing of beauty. With a little restoration and murder, it could be restored to what it once was. Sadri ran a careful eye on the sword. The care in his eyes slowly gave way to zealous worship as he realized that what he had in fact was legitimate. 

"The Blade was thought to be lost at the Third Age," Sadri mused, running a hand on the metal. "Accounts vary, of course. The Blade like most artifacts of the Princes have minds of their own." He glanced up at her. "This is a mighty gift. Why have you offered it?" 

Irileth did not waste her breath. "This is my gift for the guild in exchange for my exit. Should it be impossible, I am willing to act as an associate for the Guild but no more." Irileth knew for certain that trying to leave the Tong officially was going to be difficult. Might as well do some smoothing over before she left. As much as she would love to leave her old life behind, burning bridges with the Tong was itself a bad idea. 

For an idea formed in her head.

Sadri's lips curled. "You would have been sent to retirement, you know. Alas, such a honor is not available to us thanks to...well, you know." He nodded. "I will get your request up the grapevine. To where should we send word?" 

She pulled up her hood. "To Whiterun. Leave my message at a inn called the Bannered Mare." With that, Sadri nodded and took the blade from her hands, retreating to the back. Irileth took the moment to leave, exiting out into the cold of Windhelm. As she left and her boots touched the snow-kissed ground, she felt a weight on her shoulders lift, as if Mephala herself was leaving her spirit. 

Good. 

She walked forward with intent to return to the Palace, back to her lover and her lord. Despite her stoic appearance, Irileth knew her position as Balgruuf's lover was going to be contested by the sheer reality of their social positions. She knew that one day, Balgruuf would need a wife that could help him in his ambitions and she wanted that. She was not interested just in being his bodyguard. 

He would need more than that. 

She may no longer be in the Tong but she still had skills. She still had the training. She knew how to slip and out of shadows. She knew how to plot an assassination or follow a target. These were here skills and skills could easily be taught. 

For Balgruuf, for herself, she was going to use them to prove to Balgruuf her value. 

And as she walked forward, plotting her future, Mephala watched. 

And laughed.

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A/N: And so, Mephala is gone or so Irileth thinks. Despite her abandoning Mephala, the act of plots and schemes is still her domain. She's carried the blade on her literal back for awhile and the close proximity with it has given her a plus 4 in intrigue, of sorts. 

Mephala is aware of the possibilities of Irileth starting her own intelligence network and so, she's willing to throw her wayward follower a bone. For as spiteful as she is in wanting drama like a highschooler, she can be swayed by the idea of sweet delicious scheming.