A/N: I'm still having trouble uploading some chapters. Not sure what that's all about, but I've had to rely on some weird methods to get these chapters here. I guess the support team at this site can't help me because I haven't heard back from them after they told me to e-mail them a file to test out. Anyway, there seems to have been some minor "damage" to some chapters in the process, but I'm pretty sure I fixed it all.

Sun's Height 19

(Fights-up-close): The Green Road
It still felt odd staying up through the night, but that wasn't the only thing that felt odd. I felt lost and fearful after the sense of security I had was ripped away by the meeting with Mr. Lachance. My situation and consciousness had been altered to a point where I didn't know how to approach them. I knew the way to my physical destination, but mentally I felt lost. As I rode North and the swampy climate of Bravil Sector faded, a link to old comforts and solidities, my feeling of insecurity was getting worse.

I didn't desire sleep tonight. Beyond needing to get to Anvil quickly to catch the traitor, I knew I could never sleep tonight because here was so much rushing through my head. I didn't feel angry at the traitor or eager for my mission: the grayness of the situation had dulled any combative impulses, but none the less my mind was active. Still, it was an utterly depressing thought that I was riding towards my ordered location not even sure whose side I would take: I was just doing it because I knew Anvil would be the next hotspot. I knew that, if I were to do anything that mattered, it would be there. But I didn't know my goals, and seeing the forces the Dark Brotherhood was fighting and losing against, I wasn't even sure siding with the Dark Brotherhood would bring me safety.

As I rode down the dirt road, flanked by forests, I felt like a pawn in a world I never realized was so much bigger than me. I was doing just as ordered, but for people I wasn't sure I could trust.

And the fact that the traitor was still around was also very unsettling. How could he or she have survived the Purification? I'd been trying to replay all their deaths, but I didn't see any obvious mistake in my proceedure.

A more insidious idea gnawed at my mind though: the idea I couldn't be sure of anything. It caused me to ache endlessly. I didn't mind physical circumstances anymore. I just wanted mental security, but even that seemed to be nearly impossible. The idea that I really couldn't trust anything made depression well up in my chest to a point where I felt sick. I felt cold and lonely in the world when there was so much uncertainty. I twitched, I knew I was opening a wound again.

It was all too scary. It felt like I was battling with myself now, trying to dissect every idea in my head for some answers.

As I was riding I was hoping for some magical epiphany to mend my mind. That was what kept me going.

As the falling sensation got more intense, and my thirst for knowledge grew, it reminded me of the book by my side I'd been ignoring during my latest contract. For once, I broke from the cycle that was occurring in my mind, the one in which every conclusion was followed by a broader question.

And with that, I reached for the pouch that I'd stored the book in. I tensed as I held the book in my hand. For some reason, I was afraid of it. I was afraid of the truth. I clenched it tightly. The power of the tension seemed almost paralyzing, but, knowledge of the alternative state of fear, I opened it. I'd fought off my emotion and destructive thought.

I opened the book to the page I'd marked. I felt a surge of...something throughout my upper body, like my veins were about to explode. It caused me to jerk my head back because it was so intense.

I was once again staring at the dirt road and dense forest. Little had changed on the path.

Then I looked down again. I forced myself to look read the text.

As I did, I felt more lucid. I felt like I could think yet plant my feet firmly in reality at the same time. I'd taken control to confront the truth.

I read the text, continuing where I'd left off before I came upon the false dead drop:

Because neither of these attacks were investigated by any Cyrodiillic presence in the area, there is little conclusive data.

However, these attacks share odd coincidences. First, both occurred during Second Seed, in the same year. Next, both attacks seem to have been carried out to kidnap new-born hatchlings, while, oddly enough, seemingly more significant members of the tribe were ignored. Third, while both attacks resulted in death of one or more tribe members, both attacks were clearly carried out by a very small but coordinated effort. This is a rarity in Argonian tribal warfare.

The exact date of the first attack was Second Seed 24, 3E414. The date of the second attack was Second Seed 27 3E414.

I felt my body go numb.

Second Seed 24, 3E414 was Goes-in-heavy's birthday.

Second Seed 27, 3E414, was mine.

I could feel something rising inside me as I realized exactly the extent of what these books had showed him and me, and exactly why he'd defected. I saw the depth of the problem and extent of his evidence. There was fear growing inside me. Fear of the true nature of the world. I thought how nice it would be to just abandon the book right now. To return, as best I could, to a life of normalcy and love, to forget everything.

No. That would wrong. I wouldn't coware from the truth. I wouldn't consider it.

I looked out onto the shadowed land ahead again for a few seconds before courageously putting my eyes back down towards the book again, clenching it even tighter in the painful surge of tension.

These mysterious Second Seed attacks are not entirely isolated incidents. There have been reports from explorers in the region that many tribes fear the month-of-the-Shadow (the month of Second Seed). Of course, this information was obtained from individuals, such as Brendan the Persistent (mentioned in his book "The Argonian People: Out of the North and into Understanding"), who traveled deep into the province.

In fact, one particular

(Learns-fast): Green road

How will I explain this mistake to the Black Hand?

I had spent hours trying to think of answers to my questions and my mind had gotten no where. My thoughts were stuck. But I had to come up with a solution for the mess my weakness had caused me. Getting credit for finding the traitor's identity by interrogating Fights-up-close wouldn't cushion the fall my reputation would take if I couldn't figure out a way to sugar-coat the truth of what I was doing and what I'd done.

How will I explain to the Shadowscales why I need information from Fights-up-close?

That decision to lie about Lachance may have left a wound deeper than anything I'd ever done before. I knew I'd never look at anything, including myself, the same again. The shame of the mistake was slowly encroaching on me. I had hated Lachance for ordering Fights-up-close to do the sort of things that practically bated Cyrodiil into an invasion, but humblizing and calm reason was starting to seep deeper and deeper into my thoughts. Now I hated myself for practically ensuring the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, especially since it looked like we'd need any ally inside Cyrodiil more than ever.

What should I tell the Shadowscales is our reason for returning to Anvil?

It was very late at night, but I knew that wasn't why I couldn't find a solution. With the desperation of the situation, my mind was active, but not progressing. All I was getting from all this thought was stress and a headache.

How will I hide what I've done from the Shadowscales?

There was plenty of time until we got to Anvil but my mental stagnancy had gone on for so long already that I was genuinely worried. I just couldn't tell when the necessary inspiration for decent answers to my inner-questions would strike. Worse, I didn't know how soon I'd need these answers. After all, if the Shadowscales started asking questions before we made it to Anvil...

If our conditioning did its job, I had nothing to worry about. Still, I wouldn't take that chance if I could avoid it. We'd already lost Goes-in-heavy from his over-exposure to outside influences.

I would try anything to get the inspiration I needed, any change that might change the direction of my mind for the better. Anything seemed to make sense at this point.

I emerged from my world of thought only briefly to speak. "We can stop for a rest here for five minutes." I told the Shadowscales, then looked towards a batch of trees by the left side of the road and headed towards them with faux confidence, as if I didn't realize how odd the idea was. They obeyed, still silent. I took my canteen from my side and took a small drink out of it to add to the illusion that I wasn't facing inner troubles.

There wasn't a hugely obvious transition between the path and forest in the Bravil district. The forest floor was just a bit grassier than the road.

I turned my back to a tree and leaned against it, taking another sip from my canteen.

I let my head sag, figuring if I paid no attention to the Shadowscales they would pay no attention to me.

The crickets were still chirping. Now that I was trying so hard to think that seemed annoying. I heard a horse trotting down the path past us. That was an even bigger disturbance as I was trying to milk something out of my brain. It was grueling trial as I pushed my mind to even remember all the questions that I needed to answer to feel secure about what was happening:

How will I explain this mistake to the Black Hand?

How will I hide what I've done from the Shadowscales?

How will I explain to them why I need information from Fights-up-close?

What should I tell them is our reason for returning to Anvil?