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

Sun's Height 6, 4E1

(Fights-up-close): The Blue Road

Even as I was so far from Leyawiin, I couldn't stop thinking about what kind of surreal developments were taking place countless miles behind me as I continued to journey towards the sanctuary while the sun set. I knew the citizens of the county were probably feeling what I had felt; The panic, the attempts to rationalize it, and the dread of their enemy's return. But I knew I was in greater danger.

With so many significant things happening recently, it felt like time was all out of sorts. Assassinating Philida felt like it had happened so recently, and yet the time between now and the moment I was discovered seemed to be stretched to its limits.

My life just couldn't seem to stay stable. The transfer to Cyrodiil I'd so often fantasized about had now been permanently marred, and it kept getting worse. That was the reality. It was inescapable. When it didn't enrage me, it crushed me.

Now I felt vulnerable. The enemy had the power to not only pierce my flesh, but also my soul. Would the Leyawiin guard be on the look out for me? I was sure very few people came to and left that town with the recent attacks, so I was certainly a suspect. The troubles seemed to be building up inside me. Had I been right to feel the assignment was overly risky?

The only good side to this was that it seemed to cool my thoughts on comparatively petty things, yet I would give anything to have those days of petty worrying back if it meant I would no longer think about these horrible crises.

By now, however, it was hard to even remember what those times before "Scar-tail's" death were like, because there were so many layers of pain between then and now. In this one trip to Leyawiin, I'd read an article that made me wonder if the Dark Brotherhood had ordered me to murder an innocent man for another's inheritance, then possibly been identified as a murder by the law and nearly gotten killed by the distracting power of my own uncertainties.

I wanted to rest my thoughts, but I wasn't sure that could ever happen while I was alive.

The sun was setting. I wondered how this would all feel in the morning.

(Mathieu Bellamont): Anvil lighthouse

I knocked the pitcher over as another spurt of rage invaded me. The truth was the truth. There was nothing I could take comfort in, and that just made the pain multiply itself. I was about ready to tare myself to pieces with frustration. My mission may have become a total failure because they'd recovered the diary. What was sickeningly ironic is that's what I went there to prevent. That event had cast a bitterness over everything from that moment on.

I couldn't remember for sure how revealing my diary was, so its discovery could mean nothing or everything, but the blunt truth was that, at the very best, I had journeyed to Cheydinhal for nothing. At the very worst, years of work had all come to an end, and I could expect a Dark Brotherhood assassin to burst through the cellar door at any moment. Or worse, one was watching me right now from wherever my eyes could not see.

Finding out I resided in their ranks and had killed both Blanchard and Maria might shake them up a bit, but I couldn't settle for that. I had to keep my effort unflinching and completely solid. I was Mathieu Bellamont, and, because I pledged so, I would not be defeated. I would do all that was necessary to pull off the most extraordinary and frightening vengeance I could for Mother. I would throw all the bitterness and suffering they gave me right back at them. More, if I could, because I knew they'd slay anyone else the same way if they were payed for it.

I tried to return to the stream of thought I'd been exploring for nearly an hour: what do I do to remedy this situation? I'd added up all sorts of reasons and come to all sorts of conclusions about what happened and what will happen, but none of them answered the big question.

I groaned as I stressed my mind for a satisfactory solution, but my thoughts were getting me nowhere. By the time I found one answer, I'd forget why I needed it. Then I'd fail to hold on to answer while I searched my mind again. Maybe I was asking the wrong question. Either way, I knew being up all last night wasn't helping, even though I felt wakeful.

I could hear a knock on the door upstairs. It sent an unpleasant tingling through my body. Maybe it's the assassin I'd predicted. I listened for every little iota of sound I could pick up on to get an idea of who it was, but all I could hear were the old man's footsteps heading towards the door to open it. Should I take off, or was I being as paranoid as last night, when every creak and patter translated into an intrusion in some absurd way?

Then I heard the door open, and muffled voices above. There was more than one person at the door. That was a good sign. It was rare that Dark Brotherhood assassins ever worked together. For a second I felt a spurt of euphoria.

Soon I heard the door upstairs close again. Simply having something to distract me from my own mistakes was nice.

I decided now was as good a time as any to get some dinner, so maybe I wouldn't be distracted by my own hunger. I wasn't really in the mood to eat, considering the stress, but I'd skipped lunch already. I got up from the chair I'd been given and began walking to exit the cellar, though still a bit lost in thought.

The Dark Brotherhood was making me fear them, even after they'd already taken so much from me. That thought made my rage return, just when I knew I couldn't do anything about it. All I could do was fantasize about the moment when I would finally reveal my real intentions to them, and kill their mother: the battle when I could release my fury in full force, the moment when Ungolim would realize his mistake. I'd fantasized about that moment so many times in the past. I hoped they all saw their death coming. The last words they'd hear, where it would take place, and how I would slay them were always changing in my fantasy, but one thing remained consistent: I wanted them to see their own deaths. They wouldn't just die, they would be anguished and defeated first.

I opened the cellar door and paused briefly when the Gold Coast came into view. I looked out upon the vast golden hills as I thought about what the world had become for me. To the government and common folk I was a murder. To the Dark Brotherhood I was, or would be, a cancer. The crushing truth was that it was me against the world. No wonder I felt so lonely.

I started walking again, and came around to the front of the light house. I noticed their were five sailors: a Redguard, Imperial, Breton, Argonian, and Bosmer, likely the ones who visited Ulfgar Fog-eye, pointing at a piece of paper and conversing. I tried to keep my eyes straight ahead and pass them without notice, wondering how they'd react to me with each step.

As I got closer, I heard only the word "Varulae" before the Breton turned to me. They were rugged looking characters, and it seemed like they wanted to look that way. I had a feeling they were a mean lot.

"Hey," the Breton man said, "Where'd you come from?" He was smiling, but I could sense something ruff and sadistic about it. The rest of the crew members turned to me, though none had a look of innocent curiosity, only smugness.

"The lighthouse," I answered, hoping to get the conversation over with, but none of them broke eye contact with me.

"You weren't in there. Where'd you come out of?" I was already getting uncomfortable.

"I was in the cellar." I said, choosing my words carefully, but it didn't deter his effort to find something to mock me for.

"The cellar? You live in the cellar or something? You some kind of human rat?" He said, his smile growing. His soul void of innocence like so many others. He was like all the others I'd enlisted to fight against in an unending war, but I was at a loss for words.

"You sure look like one." The Imperial chimed in. I could tell he was satisfied with his display of his mean-spirited nature. Just as I had reason to push aside thoughts of revenge, a new enemy had found me. They all laughed without an effort to suppress it. That had incriminated them all.

I could feel my appetite waning. They had crossed the line and they knew it. No doubt they were proud of it. And I was losing precisely because I had not struck the first blow. I undoubtedly had the right to feel this passionate anger.

"Well, come on, let's go. Rats usually carry disease." The Redguard said, the oldest member of the group.

They turned to walk away as I remained in a state of shock at the quick and brutal blows they'd delivered, while anger boiled inside me as the scene replayed again. I knew what a combination of innocence and stupidity I'd appeared to be. They'd crossed the line into evil.

I watched them walk away, trying to study everything I could about them. That was the first step in everything I did, studying the situation. I needed to relocate them. I must have revenge. I promised myself I'd never forgive and never forget, and I wouldn't hold a double standard with these sailors. My will for justice needed to remain solid and fully intact regardless of the situation.

I started taking mental note of their outfits, repeating what I saw over and over and over again in my thoughts as they walked off. I was quivering slightly, taken over by a hateful passion as I continued to watch, hoping with every second they didn't leave the docks. If they did, they might no longer be visible to me.

I was fortunate. I could see them boarding the nearest ship, going below decks. That was where my revenge needed to be carried out.

I had found a new target seconds after I stopped plotting against the Dark Brotherhood. Was that all my life was? Lonely, bitter plotting? When I let my guard down, new enemies were added to my list. Could I handle it all? Of course, I was as strong as I decided to be, but it was making my life so difficult.

By now I was so disgusted I knew I could bare to eat. The outrageous moment had captivated me. They'd pushed so far and made me feel so helpless so quickly.

Maybe I deserved this. I am a murder for money. I thought. No, that wasn't true, that's what I was pretending. I'd practically convinced myself of it, and it always popped up to guilt me, but it wasn't true. Besides, they didn't know that.

Then another thought came to me: What about Blanchard? You'd be making the same mistake again.

No. The last mistake I made was not killing Lachance. I had to shut out the inner timidness.

My logic was clearly pointing me towards the idea of boarding that ship and killing them...somehow. There must have been a way. I'd handled much more difficult tasks. I had to conquer my fear with my free will. Free will, in its sacred and distinct unmalleability, had to conquer all else. I had to prove myself up to any challenge whether I liked it or not.

There was cargo on the deck. No doubt I could find a place to hide and stay until night, or until they left. Either way, I couldn't let them out of my sight if I were to get my revenge. And I must get my revenge. I must not once cave in and be defeated.