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

Mid Year 14, 4E1

With our plan worked out and our meals finished, we were finally sure what our next step was. I had no worries about the plan; it had come to us clearly and logically.

However, the plan wasn't what was rushing through my head; it was how the end result would effect us. If Goes-in-heavy is actually dead, then what? Mourning? How much will life continue as normal? And if he is rescued, how will that change how we see each other? What will life in the Dark Brotherhood be like if he joins us at Cheydinhal? There was plenty of room for hope and worry.

This was serious business, of course, but I was lucky to find out I was tough. I was eager to do what was necessary to find out the truth about what had happened to him, yet managed to be patient while we ate and walked.

The next step was clear: Buy the extra gear. This wasn't the time for a dagger; I needed a bigger weapon, the kind Goes-in-heavy got this name for preferring (now that I'd met Gogron, his name hardly seemed fitting anymore, but Goes-in-heavy still preferred heavier weaponry than I did).

We exited the Inn and began walking down Leyawiin's side-walk. Shadowscale business in Cyrodiil. I thought I saw the last of that a while ago.

We were headed towards the streets because across the streets was "The Dividing Line". Again, I couldn't imagine how that related to weapons or armor, but the picture under the sign meant it clearly did.

We stepped down from the side-walk and walked across the street. I continued to think about our search of Blackwood.

We entered the shop. It was fairly bare room made completely of stone, with stores of weapons in boxes, barrels, or on tables. It would be the last piece of shelter and civilization we'd see until we found Goes-in-heavy. An Argonian with a smith's apron on was standing behind a wooden table, on which was a large assortment of weapons. I was somewhat excited to get my hands on one, but was considerably less excited to barter; I didn't have much money. Tienaava already had a shortsword, his standard weapon, but obviously we'd both need to defend ourselves against the potential threat that could lie in the swamp.

I got the idea that I was permitted to try out the weapons to get a feel for them. I picked up one of the swords from the table, an iron one since it was the only kind I could afford.

I liked the feeling of heavy, destructive power in my hand, imagining how I could use such a powerful tool in combat. I knew from experience how much a sword could outmatch a dagger in combat (of course, I also knew from experience that it was almost always better to avoid combat). I carefully swung it around, away from everyone else of course, enjoying its graceful and deadly movements, lightly imagining nearby foes. I felt satisfied enough with the feel of the sword.

Cleaver was waiting patiently. I turned to the shop-owner to make my offer. I had seventy septims available, and I was guessing that was about the price of the weapon. Still, I wanted to start my bidding a bit lower.

"Fifty for this? How about that?" I said to the shop owner, holding up the sword.

"Make it sixty and you've got a deal." He said. I assumed that was a good enough deal, and reached into my pocket, feeling the ridges of various coins, trying to take out six 10-septim coins.

I poured the coins into his cupped hands.

Despite the fact that I liked the sword the purchase was followed by a brief pang of guilt knowing how much I'd set back my earnings; Not that I would have done anything differently even if I could go back, I had to soldier through this, but it was amazing how easily my earnings (whether from dead highwaymen, or Dark Brotherhood contracts) could get set-back when I had to pay for my own equipment. I didn't even bother to purchase a sheath, since I needed enough money for the journey back. I held the sword by my side, trying to look as unthreatening as possible as we exited the shop.

Though I liked the feeling of a weapon in my hand, I knew I was approaching closer and closer to a moment that would change my life like never before. I was being called upon to play hero for one of my fellows. I had always wondered if it would truly happen, and I would become like the subjects of so many stories.

Currently, we were heading towards the city gates.

This place had, over time, amassed some sentimental significance. My original astonishment with Cyrodiil came back to me. I wished to hold onto that first-time-charm. I looked at the various stone structures as we walked, trying to remind myself of how amazing it really was, trying to soak up the ambience, reminding myself that it was all tangible, not a picture or a dream. That was a feeling I didn't want to forget. If there was one good thing about this crisis, it was that it was bringing back these memories of fascination.

We exited the city and I stared into Blackwood. It had its own mysterious beauty in the early evening sun, though it was about to become something much different than what I had known it as on my journey over here from Argonia.

The swamps were vast and a difficult enviroment to search for something in; that made our job all the harder, but Cleaver seemed confident that he knew how to search the area and find Goes-in-heavy quickly. I figured I should trust him. After all, from what his sister told me, he was used to working with a partner, so he would be more of an authority as far as predicting how this assignment would go than I would be. It almost felt like I had gotten to know both of them better over these two days better than I had in all our time as Shadowscales.