A/N: This chapter has undergone minor revisions since the final chapter of this story was released. Keep in mind revised chapters may be inconsistent with reviews and with author's notes from unrevised chapters.

Mid Year 12, 4E1

(Fights-up-close)

Escaping the smell of sewage was as refreshing as the drink I had taken after the walk to this city. I gladly and deeply inhaled the clean air.

Then I noticed I was picking up on something. Some continuous noise. Human noise. A conversation. A Cyrodillic conversation. I tried to concentrate on it, separating the words and sentences, but it was frustratingly hard. I decided I needed to creep closer.

" 'course I'm proud to do my duty, but it's a waste of time! Just what are we guarding? Cold stone and shadow." One man said, he sounded slightly angry, almost defensive.

A voice slightly closer gave a small sigh, then said, "I'm not disagreeing with you, believe me. No one's got any reason to come here." His tone hinted he was trying to cool the conversation down. His attempt seemed to fail, however.

"But will the Captain listen?" The he asked rhetorically, then continued, in a mocking voice "Noooo. We must have a presence. The prison must remain secure."

I wondered if I should use the conversation to my advantage. Like with every unexpected occurrence, I began weighing the advantages and disadvantages of each, but it was hard to pay attention when I was interested in listening to the conversation.

"Yeah, what a laugh, huh? Just who are we guarding anyway? Dreth and Arcadia are the only ones rotting down here."

The conversation would have them distracted and the words would make my footsteps harder to hear, but they were, of course, very close to me at the moment. It all depended on where they planned to go once they finished conversing.

The other soldier decided to shift the conversation to a lighter note "Ah, well, I guess you can't blame Captain Montrose too much. This is his big career move, after all. Got to impress that lot upstairs."

I tried to think about the appropriate significance I should assign each advantage and disadvantage presented by the idea of walking past them during their conversation.

"Yeah, true enough." The other one said, after a bit of thought "Well, I better get back to my duty and hey, don't forget, we're meeting at the Bloated Float for drinks tonight."

I realized that their return to their posts had an equal chance of being for the better or worse. The only thing I truly knew is that they were distracted now. I was contented with that logical conclusion and I knew I should move before the conversation ended, which would likely be pretty soon. I pushed the Shadow's magic onto the surface of my skin. I was satisfied I'd constructed another tactical policy to store in my head for future reference.

"How could I forget? I love to watch you coware before that big Orc bouncer." He replied jokingly.

I moved my feet out into the relatively well-lit area in which the two troopers were conversing. One of them was staring right through me. A fascinating sensation considering I was moving and in the light.

"Pbft. I ain't afraid of nobody, courage is my middle name, I..." The talking soldier whipped his head in my direction. I froze instantly. Apparently he'd detected something of my presence, but, like so many others, made the horrible mistake that he'd imagined it shortly afterwards "...forget it." He said. I knew I'd made him lose his train of thought. I could hear the clanking of metal as he walked away. Not shortly after I was out of the room they had their conversation in.

I could hear the second man walking towards my area. In a distant corner, there were shadows to shelter me when my natural camouflage wore off. Every step had a thought behind it as I headed to that shadowy corner, stepping across the floor with the assassin's grace, avoiding lose tiles and ground rock.

(Learns-fast)

There was a cold breeze as I dismounted from the horse. I had gone through so much to get here quickly; a dedication born of worry. But my previously predictable, secure life managing the Shadowscales for the Argonian Royal Court had taken a new course. Now my emotions and thoughts were deeper. The strengths of the world around me was dawning on me. I had been so overly assured of the success of all the Shadowscale subjects, but it now seemed I could be wrong. Goes-in-heavy had been lost, possibly defected, literally days before he would be shipped to the Dark Brotherhood. My passions for my Shadowscale training had been dulled by our initial loss of him, but when it seemed likely he betrayed us, it made things so much worse. I had so much power as the head of the Cyrodillic transfer branch, but it seemed I had mucked it up. It made me recall the same insecurity and incompetence I had when I was just a Royal Gaurdsman, emotions I thought I'd seen the last of when I'd made it to the top of the Shadowscale program.

I was worried sick about what "Scar-tail"'s defection might mean, and worried sick was certainly an aptly named term. The muscles in my throat were ready to guide up my reluctantly eaten dinner as I thought about the horrible circumstances that had fallen on me. I knew I'd let Lucien down. I'd be asking for his help, which he would surely be gracious enough to grant, but I could offer nothing in return. Right now, I felt defeated by the world. I just wanted to lie in bed, enjoy the peacefulness of inactivity, maybe even fool myself this was a dream so I could wake up enlightened. Just stop worrying, stop worrying about everything. No more work, no more confident planning, just peace.

I had been to Fort Farragut before, but it had been over a year and the meetings were scheduled then. Still, I'd never forget Lucien's secret entrance: the trap-door concealed inside a tree. I bent over and tried to forget what I was doing as I knocked on the trap door. I knew Lucien wouldn't be happy about my words. My hands tingled afterwards as I waited in a moment of grueling suspense for his response. I wanted an excuse to put this off just one more day.

"Come, but you enter at your own risk." Lucien's said from the depths of his sanctuary. Obviously he couldn't see who I was, so I knew I had nothing to worry about in terms of physical harm. None the less, I could feel tension wrapping around me tighter, my stomach starting to ache, as I climbed the ladder.

Like so many other places in Cyrodiil, Lucien's sanctuary was built of stone bricks, which miraculously seemed to hold together, and stay on the ceiling instead of falling. His home was never well-lit, and was probably more intimidating on the inside than it was on the outside.

"Ah, I must admit this is quite a surprise. You come all the way to Cyrodiil. I believe this meeting is...unscheduled, is it not?" He said as I released my sweaty hands from the ladder and turned to face him. I felt tension build inside me every time I looked directly at him. How should I start? How casual should I look? Should I keep my eyes where they were? He was in his pure black robes as usual, standing in the little spot of light in his room. The one spot that would not swallow his dark figure.

"Yes," I replied, I hated even the sound of my own words "and I'm sorry to disturb you, Mr. Lachance, but it seems we may have learned the location of the missing agent. We sent a search party of three royal agents to the South of Blackwood, and it hasn't reported back." I was glad to at least have that part of the conversation out of the way. I began wondering what his reply would be instantly. My own words were quickly getting reanalyzed in my head.

"What are you suggesting, Learns-fast?"

"It seems impossible the party could have been simply lost, or killed by any creatures or diseases inhabiting that swamp. Mr. Lachance, I hope you will understand my worries; I believe Goes-in-heavy has defected." My own words stuck in my head long after they were spoken, stirring up the silent, dark harmony of the room. Simply acknowledging the truth behind these words seem to send shock permeating through my body. Lucien was silent, but his face showed a wide-eyed anger.

"Listen, Mr. Lachance, I came here to seek your help. The so called 'Scar-tail' is well trained and, I fear his defection could inspire others within the Shadowscale ranks if they were to make contact with him. Worse, if the existence of our Shadowscale program, as well as our other activities were exposed somehow, our secrecy would be compromised. Please, Mr. Lachance, I request you sanction a contract: Get your assassins, more than one, to search that area and, if he has indeed turned, kill Scar-tail. He needs to be taken out, but I'd prefer not to use anymore of my own; whatever information he uncovered which converted him may cause the same in the others. You know there's a lot we've needed to keep from them." I replied. Was the worst of the conversation over, or just beginning? I could not tell.

"You promised me loyal followers of Sithis! I spent twenty years crafting that boy! Four years of conditioning! Ten years of training! Six following his progress! Now, you request something of me, when you cannot even keep your end of the bargain!?"

"Pliability, Mr. Lachance, that's all I ever promised you with these children." I said in a toneless voice. I felt somewhat hurt by his yelling. Not angry yet, because I knew I was mostly to blame. Just hurt. I knew the failure had been partially my fault, but I had a chance to cool his emotions so his thoughts could fall into place and he could see this problem needed to be tackled.

"Pliability!?" He shouted. I was already severely shaken by the flaring in his temper, but it didn't seem to die down "That does me no good when they are not in my hands!"

I could feel some anger starting to boil inside of me, I noticed my hand twitched slightly before I spoke, but even with this anger no passionate words came to me, increasing my feeling of helplessness "Yes, well I'm sorry Mr. Lachance. But our mistakes have already been made. We cannot reverse them. This is a very serious matter. Both our existence depend heavily on secrecy. The Empire does not know the grasp we hold on the people of Argonia. If our secrets were compromised, I think a second war is a serious possibility."

"A second war!? The Empire thinks it has already won. You expect me to risk my own assassins for your follies!?" Lucien replied. His words pushed me a bit further each time. He was kicking me while I was already down now. I tried to think of how my anger should play into my next words. Should I attack his role in all this? Suppress it? Use it to inspire my point? But no decision could be made, it just ran into a mental wall. I was unprepared for such aggression, so all the anger did was add to confusion. I knew at a guttural level with infuriating certainty he was behaving despicably, but I was unprepared, and the ideas in my head couldn't find rational words.

"And it must stay that way! You trained them as well! I did not come all this way to be turned down!" The anger could not find its way out through my words, though. He only saw how much pain he was causing me, and it did nothing to dissuade him.

"I will give you no assassitance! You may request such from Ocheeva. She has become mistress of the Cheydinhal sanctuary. However, I will offer no pay, force no promotion, make no record of this contract, provide no special equipment, and will not take responsibility for any deaths occurring." His words became more and more personal. I was deeply angry at him, and frustrated at my own inability to defeat his arguments, though I knew they were wrong. I tried to think of something to say back, to disprove him, put him in his place even, but only the anger at him, frustration at my own incompetence to explain a point I knew so instinctively was so far superior to his. And part of me was hurt to see such betrayal. I could feel an aching lump in my throat as I realized how I'd kidded myself, it was a business relationship. How could I expect true devotion to Argonia from a Sithis worshiping assassin's business? Between my anger and surprise at Ocheeva's promotion, I had almost forgotten the pretenses under which I came here.

"I will do that Lucien, I can deal with this myself. I just thought you might want a say in these affairs." It was, of course, a lie, but I couldn't submit to him. I went back to ascending the ladder before my cursed emotions could show. I was going to Ocheeva, but I could not separate my mind from Lucien's insolence. Lucien needed to pay for his treachery to Argonia, and I was reluctant to forget that for a second. As I ascended, I couldn't even begin to plan what I would tell Ocheeva, my mind so focused on retribution towards Lucien.

(Fights-up-close)

I once again moved to the next shadow as the guard concentrated on the note on his table. I had already seen the door above. Every move I made had its time and purpose and, seeing the length of the note the legionary was reading, I judged it was a good time to pull myself onto the ledge on top of which the door to the prison cell was. That decision had been quick to come to me, and I was glad of that.

I stood up straight and wrapped my fingers around the top protrusion of the ledge. Unlike the Shadowscale uniform, the Dark Brotherhood suit covered my hands. It had a surface with more friction than my sweaty palms, but made my fingers less sensitive. I still felt I preferred the Shadowscale uniform, but I supposed it was a matter of getting used to this one.

I pulled my body up; the force and will I channeled into my muscles was enough to make my arms and body quiver, but I suffered silently. Once the majority of my body had made it up, I used the seemingly unexplainably strong friction on my arms to move deeper into the protective shadows. I could hear the guard rise from his chair abruptly, so I'd probably gotten his attention, though that was of little consequence. I was in the shadows. I lied in those shadows, as to make sure not to create any more disturbance in the environment until his suspicion dissipated. My breaths were constrained somewhat as I lied, stomach down on the cold stone. I could feel my heart pounding, knowing the powers of the shadows were once again undergoing a test, and stayed perfectly still.

Once I heard the guard sit back down I slowly lifted myself back up and channeled magicka into my eyes. Once again I saw the door that had been hiding in the shadows. I crept towards it and stuck my pick in the lock. I reflected on how much power that little piece of metal gave me, how liberating it was, and how much it put me above so many others. I dexterously manipulated the inner workings of the lock. Though all the movements felt natural beyond any challenge, it was plenty satisfying to once again feel the metal pick in my hand, feel the hearty forces of the door's inner mechanics at work, and hear the familiar rattles; the final click was better than all of that.

I cautiously pulled the wooden door open, hoping to maintain the current silence. Tension was building up in me, ready to snap back at any abrupt noise. Fortunately, the door opened with almost no creaking. I was greeted by a set of steps. I wanted to get another reading, see if there was any life up ahead.

I stared straight ahead, allowing my emotions to be flat and dull. I tried to let my mind and vision drift out of focus, except for a strong faith that I could pull this off. First I simply starred ahead, mentally scolding myself when I focused on any particular object. My vision and logic slowly blurred, everything becoming wisps of light. I tried to maintain that state, giving no thoughts too intense, and let my subconscious communicate with me while I listened perfectly. But I could see no indication of life ahead. No life nearby, that is, so I continued up the stairs. The room was tauntingly silent, making my mind pull itself back like a bow. I noticed something peculiar in the distance. It was like a crater, but in the wall, no doubt the secret entrance. As I approached it, it reminded me of the tunnel between the abandon house and the Cheydinhal sanctuary. Relief came over me as I saw it was the entrance to that cell, and it now felt so good to escape the unknown. I felt silly for having panicked so quickly.

As I crept up the tunnel, I could see a glow moving across the walls. It stung my magically influenced eyes before I let the magic dissipate. I'd almost forgotten the vibrant world of colors that regular vision held, and could see the walls of the cell I was about to enter were glowing a fiery orange. There was a wooden table across from this secret entrance, or exit, with beige clay cups and a pitcher.

I could hear a conversation as I approached.

"I have to admit, I'm gonna miss you, Dreth." Someone said, sounding slightly amused with himself. I was sure he was a prison guard. "Late night beatings, your pitiful cries for help..."

"Filthy cur!" Another voice replied "I always told you I'd get out of here! My time here is almost up, and there's nothing you can do about it!" his words drenched in an angry optimism.

"Yeah, and what's it been?" The guard said, seemingly unphased "Seven? Eight years? We've had a good, long run you and me...always knew it would end some day." His tone sounded, in the slightest bit, mournful. A really odd relationship, but I guessed I really couldn't imagine how any two people would come to feel about each other after so many years in such an...awkward situation.

"Eleven years!" Dreth yelled, as if deeply offended by the guard's underestimate "Eleven years in this rat-infested hole! But I'm getting out, and you'll still be stuck in here!" Dreth said, then cackled, as if to give his weak argument some sorely needed reinforcement.

The guard's tone was now serious, maybe even solemn "Oh yeah? Where will you go, huh? What will you do?" He stopped for a second, as the words sunk into the three of us, with nothing by the crackling torch fire to get in their way "You can't survive out their Dreth, you're an animal. You belong in a cage." The words seemed to mean more to me, oddly enough, than Dreth.

"I'll remember that when I'm lying on the beaches of Summerset Isle with your wife, you Imperial pig!" He said, sounding insanely confident about his awful comeback. The guard, thinking alike to me, instantly dived in to have some fun.

"Right!" He replied, as if he could decide whether to laugh or speak "And you'll be rich too! And you'll become a king!" Then, shifted into a more serious tone, his voice quieting "And you know what I think Dreth? You'll be back. Your lot always come back."

"You'll see, you Imperial dog! When I get out of here everyone in Tamriel will know my name! Valen Dreth! Valen Dreth! Valen--"

"Alright, alright!" The guard said, now annoyed "I'm tempted to let you out of there right now if you'd just shut up!" and began walking away before Dreth could match another animal with the word 'Imperial'. I could hear a sophisticated locking mechanism in the works as a farther off door opened and closed before the clanging of the metal uniform died down.

It was time to see what Valen Dreth really looked like. I took the bow into my right hand and the arrow into my left, enjoying the feeling of heavy, destructive power. I had practiced half an hour for this one shot.

I advanced further out of the cell, but stayed in the shadows which had returned since the guard with the torch walked away. I could not make out much about Valen with the poor lighting at this time and place, but at least I knew who he was so I wouldn't end up killing Claudius Arcadia instead. The colors of the world once again disappeared as I channeled magicka back into my eyes.

It was like so many fearful fantasies people had when they were alone in the dark; the ones that never came true so many times yet we still believed them. All alone in the night, with death unexplainably hitting you from the shadows. I wondered if Dreth had given that any thought; the prison would probably get pretty spooky at night. I put the arrow in its appropriate place. I pulled with my right hand and pushed against the wooden part of the bow with my left, my hands quivering with the force that would soon be transferred to Dreth.

I released the arrow, and it flew straight and true towards Dreth, who was only about twenty feet away.

He let out a brief yell of pain, or perhaps surprise, as he looked down at the arrow firmly stuck in his chest. No one would hear it. No one but Claudius and I, that is. He stumbled around in a state of panic, doing his best to absorb the unexplainable turn in his road of fate.

Dreth had died in extremely helpless circumstances. No doubt the name "Valen Dreth" would be talked about for quite some time, but not in the way he'd planned.

It was unclear exactly when he died, but I knew my next objective: Lead Claudius Arcadia out the same way I came in.

(Learns-fast)

My mind was still pouring over the conversation as I walked towards the abandoned house. Here and now were not foremost in my mind as I got closer to the abandoned house. I knew I needed to focus on other matters; I'd made that conclusion logically plenty of times, but it never felt like I should be thinking about anything but how to make Lachance pay. I couldn't be defeated so easily, yet dealing with this rogue and the unexpected turn of events with Lucien was so much to handle. The sheer magnitude of the situation seemed to taunt me in my thoughts. I had an urge to tare anything to pieces; or better yet, a pain, disguising itself as an urge. I knew destroying no one but Lucien and Goes-in-heavy themselves would have satisfied me now.

I practically forgot how I arrived in front of the abandon house, but knew what to do next. This was not the first time I'd visited the Cheydinhal sanctuary, so I had a key.

The abandon house looked as though it had been through a war. You'd immediately assossiciate a place like that with your own destruction. Maybe it was a defense mechanism, but I had a feeling the choice was something deeper. Lachance didn't want to instill loyalty into his subjects directly, he wanted them to become fond of the macabre nature of their job more than anything else, the way he had so long ago.

I looked over my shoulder to satisfy an absurd bit of paranoia, then opened the well.

The ladder was made of a soft wood, its construction was uneven and unpolished, and it descended on a narrow passage which almost scraped against my back. The sanctuary was actually a bit prettier on inside than it was on the outside. Unlike the house, it was well intact. The only aspect that might make a normal person feel uncomfortable were the shadows.

The last time I met with Ocheeva was before her promotion. I knew she'd have changed by now. I knew the transition they all took. They were always blissfully unaware of the shaping and conditioning they went through, and what a secure and straight path their minds worked in. It was odd, though, that Ocheeva managed to surpass her twin brother to such an extent. It was odder to think she was now twenty-four. It seemed like it hadn't been that long ago since I'd last visited. Of course, that wasn't the case.

I knew where Ocheeva's office would be, given that she was now mistress of the sanctuary. I could feel the anger starting to brew inside me once Lucien re-entered my mind, and with him came the thought of Goes-in-heavy, and the fact that I had so much to deal with in one week seemed to taunt me. I could see no one else in the main room. Good, the quicker I got this over with the better. Ocheeva's office was not far from the entrance I'd used.

I began anticipating her reaction as I made the significant entrance into that significant room. Then again, the significance of the conversation I was having probably didn't fully dawn on me, as I was doing everything a bit absent mindedly, and entering the room just reminded me I was, temporarily, submitting to Lachance. It nagged at me. I was frustrated at all the various forces pulling at me. Was I taking one step closer to breaking the sacred rule of never allowing my enemies to defeat me by talking with Ocheeva now? Lucien certainly won the battle, the real question was the war. My passion gave me an advantage over him. He thought he already won. Now this was my war, not his.

Ocheeva's familiar, diversely colored face and long fingers withdrew from her reading as she looked up from her book, reminding me how much we'd changed her life by abducting her from the Rock-Hold tribe during her infancy. Of course, she was told what all the others were. She thought she had been willing presented to us.

Her mouth formed into a grin, her eyes widening slightly, recognizing me instantly even after the long period of absence.

"I am honored by your presence! How can Stabber be of assistance?" I was glad to be in the company of someone I might still be able to consider an ally, but even now the relationship felt more business like, and I didn't feel like lingering there. The conversation with Lachance made me feel uncomfortable in the Dark Brotherhood's presence. She was a weapon I could use against Goes-in-heavy right now. A tool, at least. I couldn't say it felt all that friendly, though.

I walked towards her desk and pulled up the chair across from her. She hadn't dropped the habit of referring to herself in third person now and then, but I wondered how much she'd changed. I had a feeling it was enough to put a barrier between us. They always changed when they joined the Dark Brotherhood. Pliability, after all.

"Hi, Stabber. It's been awhile. I see you got promoted." I chose my words carefully, fearfully almost. They felt frustratingly artificial, constrained even, but Ocheeva may have been my last hope within the Dark Brotherhood to get a contract sort of sanctioned. She nodded contently.

"Lucien isn't here very often, so he trusts me to keep the sanctuary in order." Dropping the traditional title of 'Mr. Lachance'. Such a casual address made my blood simmer; not because I thought she'd lost respect for Lucien, quite the opposite, it sounded like they were becoming closer.

I held back any unsavory comments about Lucien for now, despite the challenge to do so.

"Listen, Stabber. I'm sure you know about the missing Shadowscale. We may have learned of his location, but it doesn't look good." I replied. We had always been so careful in our conditioning; never once in all my time serving the Argonian Royal Court did we have a traitor. She stared at me curiously, forcing me to speak words I hadn't really planned out thoroughly. "We sent a search party to search the South-East niben which hasn't reported back. I need you to see what you and the other assassins can do in their place. I need you to find out what happened to that search party." Hoping dearly she wouldn't ask any questions. I just had to hope she wouldn't use her brother or their newest recruit, because I couldn't tell her that was a concern of mine. The danger Lucien's insolence had caused, of course, was not lost to me. It ignited my rage once more. His refusal had done far more than harm my pride. It had seriously endangered Argonia. I squeezed my hands to fists trying to contain the destructive energy that was so fragilely contained in me as I awaited her response.