Oblivion Thieves Guild Walkthrough: Untaxing the Poor (Story Recap)

🪙 THIEVES GUILD CHRONICLES — CHAPTER TWO: UN-TAXING THE POOR

Steal from the rich. Give to the poor. Keep a cut for your trouble.

Bruma Beginnings

They called it “independent work.”That’s Guild-speak for: “Go steal something small before we trust you with the big crimes.”

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So I rode north to Bruma — city of snow, steel, and self-importance — and helped myself to a few forgotten heirlooms. Fifty gold worth of dust and regret later, I fenced it all, clean as a priest’s conscience.

When I reported back, Armand smiled that you’re-ready-for-the-real-filth smile.

“The poor are being taxed unjustly,” he said.“Go un-tax them.”

The Target: Hieronymus Lex

Lex. Imperial Guard Captain. Armand’s personal headache and the kind of man who polishes his boots harder than he polishes his morals.

Turns out Lex keeps all his “honest earnings” in the South Watchtower — the beating bureaucratic heart of the Imperial Guard. I wasn’t robbing a noble.I was robbing the law itself.

The Setup

I checked in with the beggars first — our little intelligence network in rags. A few coins later, they pointed me toward the Watchtower and gave me the golden tip:

“Shift change. 9 to 11. Guards get lazy, bellies get full, nobody looks up.”

Good. Because I planned on being everywhere they didn’t look.

The Heist

The foyer was fair game. Guards eating, laughing, complaining about boots. I nodded, smiled, kept walking. The second floor? Off-limits. The third? Forbidden. Naturally, that’s where I went.

Every creak of wood felt like a confession. One patrolman nearly caught me, but I melted into a shadow — or maybe that was the Chameleon ring doing its job.

At the top, a locked ladder. I picked it. Slowly. Carefully. No noise, no alarm — just a soft click and a silent prayer to Nocturnal.

Inside Lex’s quarters, he slept soundly, dreaming of paperwork and justice. His desk — locked, of course — held the prize: the tax records and a pouch of fresh, untaxed gold. I took both. The records for Armand. The gold for my retirement plan.

The Escape

Down the ladder, out the tower, not a whisper of suspicion. Even the dog didn’t bark. By sunrise, I was back at the Waterfront, flipping Lex’s gold between my fingers.

Armand greeted me with that calm satisfaction of a man who’s about to make an enemy look stupid.

“You did well,” he said.“You’re a Footpad now. Welcome to the family.”

And just like that — I was climbing ranks in the most honorable organization Cyrodiil had to offer.

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