Elenwen,
I'm sorry. It's not that I don't trust you, it's just that I have a more pressing matter to attend to right now. Irileth and I came out to the Nightgate Inn for a reason, and we don't intend to give up simply because of a reunion.
You can make your own way to the College, correct? If the College doesn't let you in, then leave Winterhold... and never come back.
-Runael
"Are you sure that was wise?" Irileth asked, glancing to her left at Runael.
The Arch-Mage hugged herself as the two elves walked through Skyrim's wilderness in the frigid morning. "I... I know she and I basically mended fences last night, but... there's still part of me that doesn't fully trust her story. If there's one thing I know about the Thalmor, it's that they'll say and do anything to get what they want."
"And sending her to the College? If the Thalmor have designs on the College, and Elenwen is still with the Thalmor, are you sure that was so wise?" Irileth didn't actually appear as concerned as she was trying to sound.
"I suppose the College is the final 'test' for her. If she goes there, and can pass Faralda's 'bridge exam', then the College will let her in... if she's not Thalmor. If she is... well, that means leaving before she woke was a good idea." Runael sounded troubled.
"'Bridge exam'?" Irileth repeated.
"That thing you didn't take when you first arrived, yes. I've been meaning to ask about that, by the way..." Runael looked at the Dunmer with scrutinizing eyes. "Why did you attack Faralda?"
"Because she wouldn't let me by when I needed-"
"Listen, Irileth." Runael stopped and crossed her arms, looking stern. "You, the Housecarl of Whiterun, should have known better than to resort to violence in order to get what you want. That's the tactic of bandits, not honorable men and mer."
"To be fair, I was frustrated and weary, not to mention a little paranoid. The College was - probably still is - the safest place I could think of to go."
"And what made you think the College was the safest place?" Runael remained still. "For all you knew, we were having problems when you were on the way to the College."
"You weren't, though."
"You didn't know that."
Irileth sighed softly. "...Nirya and I have history. I helped her with something... personal when Jarl Balgruuf and I were there last. She's a friend of mine, and I thought - hoped, even - that Nirya would be the one to greet me. Obviously that wasn't the case, and mentioning Nirya only seemed to make matters worse..."
"Not surprised. Nirya and Faralda don't exactly see eye-to-eye to begin with." Runael continued to scrutinize Irileth. "So you assumed the College was safe because you had a friend there in the past? And if things had changed since then?"
"Would you stop with the 'what-ifs'?" Irileth said irritatedly. "What's done is done; I attacked Faralda out of frustration and desperation, and was imprisoned in the Midden as a result."
"You didn't stay there, though."
Irileth shook her head. "I just... didn't see a point. I think the Augur unlocked-"
"The Augur?" Runael interrupted, eyes wide. "You interacted with him?"
"Well... yes. Is it really so unusual?"
Runael furrowed her brow. "Very. From what I understand, he's only spoken with Tolfdir, Ancano, myself... and now you. Perhaps he's spoken with others, but I digress... what did he say?"
"Nothing definitive or clear. He..." Irileth thought for a moment, then her eyes went wide. "He mentioned Adalla, though not by name. Why didn't I realize it sooner...?"
"What did he say about Adalla?"
"That she could and would be a worthwhile ally in removing the Thalmor from Whiterun. At least... he said so in riddles. He was pretty vague..."
"He typically is," Runael agreed with a chuckle.
"He also... he also mentioned that the Regent - pardon, your sister - serves... what was it...? A master who's 'darker than night, colder than the grave and more sinister than all the evil in Nirn'. I still have no idea what to make of that..."
These words made Runael's expression shift to one of worry and concern. "He... said that...?" She shook her head lightly.
"Do you know what it means?"
"No, but to imply she serves evil... were he not instrumental in figuring out how to settle the matter of the Eye, I'd write it off as nonsense, but..." She slowly began to walk forward again. "And I can't very well confront her on the matter... Whiterun's not exactly friendly territory right now, for either of us..."
"Who or what do you think it alludes to?"
Runael gave a shrug and a sigh. "Honestly, I have no idea. 'Darker than night, colder than the grave, more sinister than all the evil in Nirn'... those are rather extreme descriptions... who or whatever it may be, though... they will be extremely dangerous."
The assassin - a male Bosmer - awoke slowly. His head was swimming, but he was fairly certain that was better than being dead. He stretched his arms out-
Or rather, tried to. His eyes widened in surprise when he realized he was having extreme difficulty moving his arms... and that was owing to the fact that his wrists were in constant contact with cold metal. He looked up to see what was wrong.
His wrists were shackled to a wall by a pair of wall-mounted iron clasps. He strained against them for a few moments, then gave up; they didn't so much as budge despite his best efforts.
"Finally awake?" The voice made him jump, and he looked around. His eyes rested upon a high elf in an identical situation to his own on the wall opposite him; he looked as if he'd been through worse by now, however.
"Where...?"
"We're in the Sleeping Giant Inn, enjoying the luxury suite," the high elf said sarcastically. "Where do you think we are?"
"In prison, you idiot," the wood elf replied with a snap. "I meant which prison - I remember being in Whiterun, failing to kill my target, and being knocked out by some brutish high elf bastard..."
"Well, it would stand to reason we're in Whiterun, then," the high elf said with a sniff.
The Bosmer was quickly coming to dislike the high elf's arrogance, and by extension, the Altmer himself. "I just don't recall Whiterun having these sort of..." He moved his arms slightly, gesturing toward the shackles with a small movement of his head. "No need to be an arrogant ass about it. Were I not shackled, I'd have run you through by now."
"Now now..." A third voice cut off any retort the high elf had, and redirected the attention of both mer to the cell door. "I don't expect you two to suddenly be friends, but at least try to be civil with one another."
The Bosmer's eyes narrowed. "Regent," he spat furiously.
The cell door opened, and in walked the Regent of Whiterun he'd failed to assassinate. "Assassin," she responded with a small nod toward him. He noticed she was clutching her shoulder, and felt some small satisfaction that she was apparently suffering to some degree. "You're with the Dark Brotherhood."
He - and the high elf - both blinked in surprise, though for differing reasons. "How did you know?"
She laughed lightly. "Because you just told me." She reached into a small satchel at her waist. "Well... that, and I found this on you, shortly after Thellias finished roughing you up." She pulled out a small note. "Orders from a woman named 'Astrid'. I'm not oblivious to the 'who's who' of the, ah... underworld." Fire danced at her fingertips, and soon thereafter, the note caught aflame. "It also had orders for you to return to the 'Sanctuary in Falkreath Hold' - which was odd... you'd think, after all, that a scumbag such as yourself would remember the place he dares to call his 'home'."
The assassin spat toward the Regent once again, but this time, it fell quite short of her.
"Rest assured, though, that I have taken it upon myself to send a letter to... what was his name...? Commander Maro, located just outside Solitude? From what I understand, he has designs on erasing the Dark Brotherhood once and for all..." She smiled lightly. "Unfortunately for him, your twisted little 'family' will live on in one person - after all, I have no intention of letting you die just yet. True, you failed to kill me, so your general usefulness could be quite questionable... but I'll find something worthwhile for you to do."
"I will never serve you," he snarled.
"Defiance in a failed assassin is laughable for several reasons," she mused with a chuckle. "Your alternative is death - and if what I hear about Sithis is accurate, he would be most displeased that you failed to deliver me to him... what do you think he'd do to you if he could get his... well, figurative hands on you?" She snapped her fingers, and a pair of Thalmor guards filed into the cell. "Bind his wrists, then bring him upstairs," she instructed. "And I do mean 'upstairs'... as in, to my quarters."
Both Thalmor looked at each other, and looked concerned with the destination. "Ma'am, are... you sure that's wise? He did just try to kill-"
"I know what I'm doing," she interrupted. "You ought to know that about me by now."
"I... yes, ma'am."
He glared at her. "I don't know what you're planning, bitch, but believe me when I say you will regret that carelessness-"
"Silence," she snapped. "I will have your tongue carved from your skull if you utter so much as a word to me."
"I dare you," he said confidently.
The fact that her lips curved into a twisted smile did nothing to reassure him, and he immediately began to regret speaking. "Change of plans, you two. Bring him to the secluded cell... and cut off his right index finger the moment he's there. I'll follow up on that myself when I'm ready."
He attempted to force his way out of the shackles. "Whiterun doesn't want you here," he growled. "You don't even belong here. I have no idea why you're here, but do everyone a favor... and just die already!" At these last few words, ice began to coalesce within his palms; shackled though he was, he still had access to his small arsenal of Destruction spells. As best he could, he threw an Icy Spear at the Regent of Whiterun, hoping it found its intended target in her heart.
To his satisfaction, the Icy Spear did indeed find its mark, making her eyes widen and causing her to stagger backward. She reached up to touch the Icy Spear... and then she chuckled faintly. "So... laughable..." She slowly began to retreat from the cell. "You will regret... making that very foolish mistake, idiot..."
"Ma'am?" Both guards looked horrified, and equally concerned.
"Take him... to the cell, as instructed... then send for Thellias..." She grit her teeth briefly. "He will have the honor... of doing what I cannot right now..."
The assassin stared. He had hit her in the heart with an Expert-level Destruction spell... so how was she still alive? He had chosen the Icy Spear for the sharp tip that should have impaled her heart...
One of the guards stepped in front of him. "You just attacked Thellias' former apprentice," he murmured softly. "If she doesn't - or can't - kill you in the worst way imaginable, he very well may."
Saarie strode into the dungeon with a hum and a small spring to her step. She felt as though she was making progress with the infiltrator, and she'd started her interrogation just last evening. It was almost as if the Embassy hadn't been attacked nights prior.
The thought of the attack made her lose the spring in her step, and she stopped humming. She had been fortunate that a squad of Dominion soldiers had been away in pursuit of the infiltrator, but that also put her at the distinct disadvantage of having less of a reach throughout Skyrim. She couldn't send the squad out anymore, not until she had more personnel at the Embassy; security would be laughably weak if she did, and she knew there were many people who wouldn't mind exploiting that weakness.
As the high elven infiltrator came into view, however, shackled to the wall in a single cell, she regained that light spring to her step. I'll worry about that later. For now, I have things to learn. "Are you more amiable now?" she said, making him jump.
"Gods, no... please, just let me go..."
"Now now... you haven't told me everything I want to know yet," she chided, stopping in front of the cell and regarding the prisoner. "Such as where I could find the Blades you claim sent you."
"I... I don't know," he stammered. "Th-the Dragonborn knew, though. He sent me in his place, thought I'd blend in better than-"
"'Better than the obviously brutish Nord he is', yes - you said as much last night." She ran her fingers through her hair slowly. "And where would the Dragonborn be?"
"He... I don't know."
Her fingers stopped, and she shook her head. "Truly? A shame... I was hoping it wouldn't have to come to this today." She lowered her hand and pulled a small key out of her satchel, fingertips brushing against the hilt of an elven dagger. The key entered the cell door's lock, and was turned to open the door.
"N-no, please..." the Altmer pleaded.
"Tell me where the Dragonborn, the Blades - or both - are located, and I won't."
"I-I don't know!" he protested.
She slipped the key back into the satchel, and drew the small dagger, which glowed with the potent fiery enchantment she had personally imbued it with before departing Alinor. "No?"
"Why don't you believe-"
"Maybe because you infiltrated the Embassy, and thus willingly made yourself an enemy of the Dominion? Maybe because you believe - quite mistakenly, I may add - that I will ease up on you if you plead ignorance?"
"But I-"
The edge of the dagger was drawn across his bare chest, cutting off his protest and replacing it with a cry of pain; flames danced along the very light cut she'd just delivered, licking at the very thin line of blood she'd drawn. "All you need to do is backstab the Dragonborn and the Blades both - just as you stabbed your own kind's backs. Is that really so hard for a traitor to comprehend?"
He shook his head. "I can't tell you because I really don't know! I'd tell you if I-" He stopped as the tip of the dagger rested very faintly against his chest once more.
"Let's start simple, then... does the Dragonborn own any homes in Skyrim?"
A warm breeze blew over Alinor, comforting to the flesh of the mer on guard duty. In comparison to the chaos that was supposedly taking place in Skyrim, chaos that had entailed sending Thellias there to resolve it, the Dominion guards in Alinor were quite content with their current station.
"I'll never again complain that nights get cold here," one mer commented.
His guard companion laughed. "Agreed. I feel sorry for Thellias and his entourage. He was so close to retirement, and he was denied retirement for a little while longer. As long as he's been with us, you'd think he would have just said 'forget it'."
"He's a Vindicator," the first guard reminded his partner. "He's not permitted to decline such missions. Such defiance would spell the end for him, and he knows that." He gestured over his shoulder briefly, at the door to the prison. "Just look at that one Vindicator who refused to execute that self-styled priest. He's in isolation, and from what I gathered, he was stuck there with a missing arm and no proper healing of the stump."
The second guard cringed. "Nasty... for the Dominion's elite, that's a pretty harsh punishment..."
"Really? I think it's about right." The new voice made both guards jump, and they snapped to attention as a third mer approached, clad in glass armor.
"Vindicator Anasteria!" they both exclaimed.
She laughed lightly. "At ease, gentlemen. I'm off-duty for the time being." She leaned against the railing opposite them and crossed her arms. "As I was saying, I believe such punishment to be fair for a Vindicator. We are expected to be the best of the Dominion, to bring decisive victories where the Dominion needs them most. If we were given free passes to decline our orders, the Dominion would get nowhere. Most of our missions are too dangerous for a common squad to undertake. For a Vindicator to refuse an order... it's the same as any other Dominion soldier saying 'damn the Dominion', except it's worse."
They both nodded at her words. "Still, taking off his arm..."
"He's lucky he kept his life," she added. "Oftentimes, it's a head that comes off and not a limb."
The sound of metal clinking drew their attention briefly, and all three glanced about for the source. A wind had blown past the prison, and the chains overhead were swaying lightly in the breeze.
"Can I be honest, ma'am?" the first guard asked after a moment.
"Are your words anti-Dominion?" she mused.
"No, ma'am," he said quickly. "It's just... why are we assigned to guard the prison? No one ever gets out, and it's isolated well enough that no one will get in, either."
"You'd be surprised how many attempts are made despite those circumstances. In my experience, I've seen at least three dozen attempted mass breakouts, and I've personally broken up a dozen attempted jailbreaks besides."
"At the very least... why do they assign a Vindicator to guard the prison?" the second guard asked.
"Someone has to keep an eye on the rest of you 'rabble'," she chuckled with a playful wink. "That aside, there are some particularly dangerous prisoners within these walls. So dangerous, in fact, that a Vindicator's touch isn't just suggested... it's required. These same prisoners were brought to the prison by Vindicators, oftentimes with difficulty."
"So why not just assign a Vindicator?"
She sighed. "Because then that sole Vindicator would be outnumbered. Effective though I am, I am only a single mer against hundreds of prisoners. I have every bit of faith in my abilities, but even I know I'd lose that fight in a heartbeat. We can't assign more, though, or else the Vindicators would be unable to perform duties for the Dominion elsewhere in Tamriel."
The sound of something slamming into the door from the other side snapped the trio's attention to the door; the two guards drew their war axes, while Anasteria allowed fire to rage from her fingertips. Although the two guards strained to hear what was happening, Anasteria's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Breakout," she muttered. "This is why you two were assigned to the exit."
No sooner did the words leave her lips did the door open. A Nord in rags, wielding what was most likely a dead guard's elven sword, stepped into the open. "None can silence the voice of Talos!" he proclaimed, pointing the blade at Anasteria. "Your comrades tried, and they failed!"
"You are a fool, priest, if you think you can bring me down," Anasteria growled. Her hands came together as she began charging a dual-casted Incinerate spell.
"Ha! I am not afraid of you, elf! I am the chosen of Talos, and either I will live because of that fact... or my death will stir those who follow the Ninth Divine in secret!" With these words, Heimskr of Whiterun charged Anasteria, followed by at least four other humans who had been imprisoned for worshipping Talos.
"Oh my," En'zhar commented upon seeing Elenwen slouched over a table, a flagon of something in her hand. "Not what I was expecting to wake up to."
"She left," Elenwen choked out; it sounded as if she'd been drinking already. "Without me. Without a word to me, other than a letter."
Najati slipped into view, an amused smile at her lips. "Someone doesn't like you as much as you suspected."
"Shut up, cat," Elenwen spat, lifting her head to glare at the female Khajiit. "I'll tolerate nothing of the sort from you this morning."
En'zhar stepped toward the mer cautiously. "Where is this letter?"
Elenwen gestured wordlessly toward the paper written in Runael's hand, not more than a few feet away from the hand she gestured with.
He picked it up and read it over, a small frown at his lips. "Hmm... no mention of her business, and her comment... it doesn't sound as if she's fully trusting of you, even now..."
"As I said," Najati all but purred.
Elenwen rose to her feet as swiftly as she could, staggering slightly. "You take that back, cat, before I take your tail off," she snarled.
"I'm all too happy to finish what should have been started at the Embassy," Najati replied coolly; already, her daggers were in hand.
"Take it outside!" came another voice, this one from the weary innkeeper. "I don't want any blood inside!"
En'zhar stepped between them both. "Take it easy, you two. I don't want to see either of you get hurt."
"She can't touch me," Najati replied calmly, shooting a triumphant smirk at the Altmer. "She's too slow, too stupid."
"Why, you little bitch," Elenwen hissed angrily. Ice danced at her fingertips and formed very, very sharp points. "I'll gouge your eyes out, and then we'll see just how 'slow' I am."
"I said enough!" the innkeeper shouted. "Either you two take this outside, or I have you thrown out!"
"Silence, human," Najati said menacingly. "She won't attack. I guarantee it. She wouldn't dare."
In contrast to her statement, two Icy Spears were hurled in Najati's general direction. Neither one was close enough to pose any real threat to the Khajiit, though, and she simply stood still as both flew past her, shattering on impact with two sections of wall and leaving frosty messes behind. "You were saying?" Elenwen growled; she was already preparing two more.
"Anyone can try to intimidate with intentional misses. It takes true courage to take proper aim at one's target... well, courage and sobriety," she added with a smirk.
Elenwen's hands drew back... and she yelped in surprise as both hands were jerked, quite forcefully, behind her back. "Wha- let go of me, you...!"
"Elenwen! Come to your senses!" It was Adalla's voice, and it seemed to make Elenwen relax a little. "You're about to get yourself thrown out!"
"As are ya," came Mia's voice, this one from behind Najati; the woman's hands had removed both daggers from the Khajiit's waist without her knowledge, and she was idly tossing both blades back and forth between her hands.
En'zhar blinked; he hadn't been expecting either of them to interfere. "I understand there is no love between you two," he said calmly, "but do try to be civil nonetheless - and under the innkeeper's roof, at that."
Both hostile women turned to face their respective 'peacekeeper' - Elenwen gave Adalla a confused look, while Najati simply gave a small nod to Mia. When they looked back at each other, it was Elenwen who looked openly hostile; Najati still looked rather triumphant.
"Fine," Elenwen snapped. "I'll kill her on the road."
Najati chuckled. "You're welcome to try."
Everyone else present just rolled their eyes. "Then take it outside and have at each other. For the love of the Divines, though, leave my inn in peace!" the innkeeper said with a weary sigh.
"I've no intention of harming her, though she seems hostile enough for both of us at present anyway." Najati crossed her arms over her chest.
"Elenwen, let's... head outside, cool your head..." Adalla murmured, urging the other mer out of the inn with no small amount of subtlety.
Elenwen was rather subdued and compliant, much to the surprise of everyone else in the inn. She shot Najati one final, nasty look, then walked outside, Adalla behind her.
"Najati," En'zhar began the moment Elenwen and Adalla were outside.
"I know, I shouldn't have provoked her." She turned to face Mia, who was handing her daggers back to the Khajiit.
"You did anyway."
"It was too perfect an opportunity to pass up. I wasn't expecting her to be an angry drunk, however - let alone a drunk, at this hour." Najati spun her daggers idly, then replace them at her waist.
"There is such a thing as 'going too far', Najati," En'zhar continued. "You did just now."
"And what are you going to do about it, En'zhar?" Najati countered, her patience wearing thin with the male Khajiit.
"Simply warn you against it. If you insist on trying to hurt her, we both know there's nothing I could do to stop you without getting hurt in the process." He looked at the door.
Najati's expression was unreadable for several moments, but with a 'hmph', she turned away from him. "I will see to our things, and we will be on our way with her," she said.
"Actually, maybe I can offer somethin' t'help ya," Mia began.
"Go with you and Mia?" Elenwen said, sounding as if she didn't believe her ears.
"Let's face the facts, Elenwen," Adalla was saying quickly. "You go with E and Najati, she's going to try killing you, and he likely won't try to stop her. With the two of us, though, your chances of getting to Winterhold alive increase greatly."
"I... I don't know..." She cast a glance over her shoulder, at the Nightgate Inn's door. "I mean... I know I can trust you, Adalla, but can I trust... her?"
"Mia has been as great a friend to me as Runael," Adalla offered. "I trust her enough that I would willingly put my life in her hands, if the need arose."
"To compare her to Runael... she must mean a lot to you." Elenwen looked at Adalla for a moment.
"I... not the way you may be thinking, but aside from Runael... I'd go so far as to say Mia is my best friend. She saved my life, when she could have just as easily killed me."
"Why would she have killed you?"
Adalla bit her lower lip. "I was a stranger to her. For all she knew, I would have done her harm."
Elenwen wasn't convinced, but she didn't press the matter for the time being. "Why should I put my trust in her?"
"Elenwen... it's only to Winterhold. You have a better chance of getting there alive with us than with those... those... cats. Besides, I'm with you. You trust me, don't you?"
"Adalla, I... that's beside the point. Of course I trust you; I sent you after Runael, after all. I just... she's a stranger to me. I'm former First Ambassador of the Thalmor, and odds are, she knows that. Am I right?"
"Aye, I know that. I ain't clueless," Mia retorted.
En'zhar lifted his hands in deferrence. "I was just making sure. Not everyone would be so thrilled to accompany the former First Ambassador around Skyrim."
"I ain't, trust me," Mia commented, "but at least she has better odds of gettin' there alive if she comes with Adalla and me than with ya two."
"So why offer?" Najati purred.
"'Cause no matter what she were, I ain't gonna let her death haunt me for the rest of me days, not when I coulda intervened." Mia turned to face the female Khajiit once more. "Why's it matter, anyway? Ya two really so eager t'freeze yer hides off in Winterhold?"
Neither Khajiit had a response to this; neither one was actually so eager to visit Winterhold.
"We'll take Elenwen t'Winterhold, and leave her there for Runael t'sort out." Mia crossed her arms. "As fer ya, Najati, can ya really say the same?"
En'zhar looked between the two of them. "You two... know each other?" he mused.
"We've crossed paths - and blades," Najati commented with a small nod. "Rivals, in a sense."
"Aye. And it's 'cause of that that I know ya wouldn't leave her be. Knowin' ya.. ya'd run her through the moment the chance presents itself."
The Khajiit laughed softly. "You know me well enough, I suppose," she said with a nod. "I'll be honest with you... I don't like her. Skyrim would be better off without her."
"I ain't arguin', but that ain't yer call t'make," Mia replied. "Dunno who's call it be, but it sure as Oblivion ain't yers."
Najati simply shrugged.
"We'll join you three on the road to Windhelm," En'zhar said after a moment's silence. "We need a new carriage and supplies for our trip home. We'll part ways where the path forks."
Chaos. No matter where I look, or what I listen for, all I sense is chaos.
One would think the Oblivion Crisis has come for us again.
The skies are blue, however, and there are no gates to that accursed realm. There is simply blood on the ground.
I know not how that priest managed to wound me as severely as he did, but he made a mistake leaving me for dead. Were I so weak, I wouldn't have become a Vindicator.
I can see and hear the chaos across the water; I'm appalled that the priest and his little gang have gotten as far as they have. I see Dominion forces pouring out of the barracks. No one has fallen yet... not even those five.
He said in his triumphant arrogance that he was returning to Skyrim, and that he - along with his four fellow fugitives - would purge Skyrim of the Dominion's presence.
My heart aches for my daughters, who have both been deployed to Skyrim. I hope that if the chaos does engulf that frigid region, it avoids both of them. They have seen enough in their own lifetimes.
Runael... Vernanye... I hope you are both well. Divines see you both back to me safely, one day.
-Vindicator Anasteria
A.N. - Well then. Been a while. Too long for my liking.
I am not without my reasons. Between chaos at work, general writer's block for a good few weeks, and uncertainty as to what I wanted to put into this chapter - I don't want to rush anything, after all - it was not easy to write out this chapter. That's not to say I wrote this in one evening, though; I started this chapter after I put the last one up, and have added to it bit by bit since then. There were times I added two or more 'sections', only to remove them - and maybe one more. It was not a simple matter, writing this chapter.
Fortunately, I seem to have gotten back into the groove of things. Just last night, I wrote the next chapter without very little difficulty (I did erase some of what I had a few times). I'll be putting that chapter up next, and my next Author's Note will be a bit longer.
-Spiritslayer