And here we're coming into the ramp-up to our arc climax. Hope you guys like this one, I had quite a bit of fun writing it.

Gufetto, it could be one, or it could be the other. Certainly can't go and comment, or it'd ruin the surprise. Maybe it's a little of both?

As a side note, I've been feeling pretty sick this week. As a result I'm a little behind. I'll try and get back on track, but the season finale might be a little late as a result, since I plan to make it, like the finale to The Fool, considerably longer than the average chapter, and that means twice the work in the same amount of time. When you've been knocked on your ass by nausea attacks over the course of a week that sometimes causes disruptions in your schedule.


Restore Our Fortunes

The Narrows were empty when the Courier reached them, not a single word spoken aloud since he awoke in the tomb.

Despite that his mind was on fire, blazing with newfound determination and resolution. The archive in the cave had told the story of a man who had come to Zion long before, and his story had meant much to the place, and its people.

To this day, I have never learned the stories that were supposedly told. The Courier safeguarded them well, carrying them as a silent burden, a history that he alone would know, kept alive but hidden for reasons I do not understand.

All history waits on the road to be uncovered once lost, but some memories of time are not meant to be shared with all.

He made his way through the waters that once ran freely through the home of the Sorrows. Now chunks of stone had been thrown loose in explosions, blocking passages and leaving only small cracks for the rivers to trickle through.

Bullets had buried themselves in stone and made lines across the walls, shattering the tribal drawings that had been scratched there in years prior.

All of that was dwarfed by the sheer amount of bodies, though. The pale forms of the White Legs with arrows protruding from their bodies as they lay facedown in the streams lay alongside Dead Horses, marking the point in the battle where reinforcements had arrived.

Despite their support, the White Legs had already entrenched themselves in the Narrows, slowly flooding back.

As he journeyed deeper in he found the Sorrows in scores. One of the women who had tended Follows-Chalk had been captured. It seemed they decided against keeping her captive, though; her naked form was slumped, a thick trail of dried blood from her head up to the bloody flower painted on the wall when the White Legs were done with her.

Further in he found a collection of children. Three in a heap, each with a bullet in their heads, and one young man with a gun clutched tightly in his hand, which in his terror he had attempted to use against the White Legs, only to have them turn his weak-kneed attempt at courage twisted into something horrible; the gun in his hand had fired five times, and the bullets matched those in his friends.

Daniel's cavern was not far now. For whatever reason he was still travelling towards it.

A man impaled on a totem.

Just a few turns.

A group of five, two men and three women. An empty gun dropped between them, a revolver with a single round left when once there were five.

The sound of the waterfall flowing steadily dispelled the quiet. A rushing white noise that struggled with all its natural might against the crushing silence.

A last stand. Or a distraction, perhaps.

The remains of tents had been piled together, wood and cloth trying futilely to hold off an onslaught of bullets. The White Legs had attacked in force, and been repelled for a long time. The number of the dead in that single choke point was staggering, forms lying strewn about so much that the Courier was picking his steps carefully to avoid trampling any of the fallen, friend or foe.

They'd been overrun at the end, their defence only keeping them safe for so long. One of the barricades was splintered, an exploded grenade tearing it to pieces, leaving only enormous splinters that would never hide a person's form.

The Sorrows who had held out against the attack lay on the other side. No funeral had been given. No respect had been afforded to the dead. The victors had trampled their forms down into the ground, beaten those who had managed to cling to life despite injury. Blood splattered the stone walls around their forms, wantonly sprayed across any surface before the bodies no longer had any to give.

I realise my descriptions are vivid and painful to hear, and I acknowledge that some of the younger ones privy to this tale may be shocked, but I will not spare you the truth in the name of comfort.

Decisions are to be made in these trying times, and I refuse to allow those decisions be made without first hearing the truth of war, and of what befell the Sorrows in that assault.

The White Legs came, killed, and left, poisoning the waters with the dead, and leaving the Narrows to be a place of silence.

The waterfall's rushing was loud as the Courier made his way behind it, the warm sun shining dissonantly on his bare back before he ducked into the shadows.

No words were said through that journey. The man's mouth never even opened.

The cavern beyond had been ransacked. What little Daniel had left behind had been tossed around and thrown through the cavern, anything of consequence taken, either by the retreating Sorrows, or by the White Legs in their victory.

He hadn't really expected to find anything. It was just the first place his feet had taken him in order to determine where he would move next.

The Dead Horses camp on the east river was an obvious road to take. It would have been logical to go there first; being quite certain he would find someone still there.

Logic did not have much to do with what was going on in Zion anymore. It was a storm of irrationality, raw emotions pulling hair triggers, violently ending the lives of so many who did not deserve it.

When finally he'd had enough standing in the darkness of the cave, absorbing the events that had transpired around him before his lapse in consciousness, layered above the events that had transpired over a century prior, he turned and made his way back out into the Narrows.

"The death of innocence. A powerful and tragic thing to see, isn't it?"

Joshua Graham was standing amidst the fallen Sorrows, waiting for the Courier. He said nothing, making his way towards the Burned Man with silent questions.

"Much has happened since you last joined us in the world of the waking. It seems the good Lord still has a purpose for you yet, to keep you from joining him."

They both began walking back through the stone corridors of the Sorrows' home. For a long time the only sound was the splashing of the shallow water as they walked and the fading sounds of the waterfall. Daniel's waterfall. The Sorrows' waterfall.

"We saved them. The White Legs were upon us, but Daniel and I were able to push them back long enough for many of the tribe to escape. So many were scattered by the assault though. The aftermath… we see here. Now, more than ever, the Sorrows are in dire need of aid."

Still the Courier made no attempt at speaking. He may not have even been able to; his journey to the brink of death changing much of him, as did the knowledge it had come to provide him.

"They are with the Dead Horses now, all holding the eastern river. The White Legs have become bold after their victory in the Narrows. They have been aggressively raiding points across the valley. It will not be long before they make their final push. Yet we are paralysed by indecision. Daniel cannot see that we must stand and fight, now more than ever."

Waiting for them around a bend in the waters stood Pale Omen. He turned as they approached and walked with him. "Courier, you live," he said, using what English he knew. "Two fight another day."

They continued, coming to the place where Salt-Upon-Wounds had pushed forward. The Braid, where that divide between life and death had appeared to the Courier once again.

The blood – his blood – was still on the boulder where he had slumped and fallen away from the world.

"I carry," Pale Omen said as the young man made his way to where his own death was painted on the stone, brushing a hand across it. "We go to cave, take shelter. Lay dead to rrr…rest."

So he had been carried by the son of the White Legs. Sheltered in that cave while his people violated the Sorrows' home.

What to think of that forced exile? That bastard child pretending to be in step with the Burned Man?

"They attacked. You awake not, we cannot take. Lay to rest, hope you dead not," Pale Omen continued. His grasp of the language had gotten stronger.

"Clearly your state was not permanent after all," Joshua Graham observed. "We feared the worst when Pale Omen and Waking Cloud told us. The Sorrows grieved for you like you were one of their own."

Courier Six, an honorary Sorrow. Given the same respect in death that they might have to their own kin. They were such a kind people.

They made their way out of the Narrows. Waiting for them at the crest where Salt-Upon-Wounds had perched were another two companions waiting to join.

Follows-Chalk, the young Dead Horses scout, with his arm in a sling and the other brandishing his pistol. His injury was already healing well thanks to the medical skill of the Sorrows and their miraculous drugs.

Waking Cloud rounded out their group, one of the few survivors of the White Legs' onslaught, a hunter and a Sorrow. She seemed to have survived the assault with nothing but bruises and scrapes.

"We thought the worst," Waking Cloud sighed.

"I knew you would not fall so easily. You're different," Follows-Chalk said confidently, a triumphant smile on his lips.

Still the Courier said nothing. A nod given to both his friends before all five continued their journey through Zion once more.

Recent triumphs and failures were spoken of. The Red Rapids docks had been set alight, burning an attack party to death. It had been a pyrrhic victory; the Dead Horse who had enacted the plan had been unable to retreat in time. She had burned along with her foes, charred away to nothing.

Ranger Substation Osprey was now a White Legs outpost, the raised building offering a sinister sniper's nest that was steadily becoming more fortified.

The Clear Water docks had been take in a brutal onslaught that was complicated by the presence of local wildlife; Yao Guai had been led towards the camp, and when the fighting broke out they had become aggressive, lashing out at anything they could. The Dead Horses trying to hold the docks had been forced into the water. Many didn't manage to escape through the water.

A defensive position had been set up at the Sun Sentinels to keep tabs an eye on all movement in the surrounding area. The high location afforded a great vantage point, but Daniel had been unsure about using the walkie-talkies for it, preferring to keep them ready for his evacuation plan. Currently scouts simply had to make the fast dash back to the camp on the river, or to the necessary outposts.

An abandoned camp site used by visitors to Zion long ago near the Ghost Den had been taken by the White Legs and used as a prison camp, holding women and children of the Sorrows for terrible purposes.

The war for Zion was spoken of amongst the companions as they returned to their camp, taking care to avoid the areas that now fell into the hands of their enemies. Action was being taken, but it was not enough. Slowly the White Legs were crushing the smaller tribes despite their efforts to rally against them.

It would only be a matter of time before Zion was completely consumed by the dark desires of those hellions.

But there we were, the five of us making our way back to what, for all of us, was a temporary home, to prepare ourselves for whatever would come afterwards.

Follows-Chalk of the Dead Horses.

Waking Cloud of the Sorrows.

Pale Omen of the White Legs.

Joshua Graham of New Canaan.

Courier Six of Nowhere.

And still the Drifter would say nothing, his mouth remaining closed, his mind remaining open, listening as those around him continued their discussions and their plots.

Once again evening was beginning to grasp the sky when they returned to the Dead Horses camp, making their way to the Angel's Cave, their 'war room' of sorts.

Daniel was already there, speaking with some of the Dead Horses and Sorrows, discussing more action, in this case ways to open the roads out of Zion and quietly slip away.

"Courier! A mercy on us all that you are still with us!" Daniel said, surprised, as the group strode into his presence.

"We found him in the Narrows, returned to the aftermath," Joshua replied, moving towards the table where previously he had been stacking working guns. Daniel had since cleared them away, piling them into a crate and replacing them with maps, a fact that Joshua noted and did not seem all too happy with.

"So what is going to happen now?" Follows-Chalk wondered. Despite his broken arm he seemed more confident than ever, standing amongst those who were coordinating the fate of Zion and its defence.

The Courier stepped back as Joshua moved towards Daniel, letting himself drift into the shadows and observe the situation.

"Now we prepare for our counter-offensive," Joshua stated.

Daniel looked at him hard. "We don't have time for that. More of the Sorrows die every day. We can't keep pausing like this; we need to pull ourselves away from Zion."

"But if we do that the White Legs will just follow us," Follows-Chalk pointed out.

Daniel shook his head, tapping a point on his map. "Not if we collapse the tunnel as we leave. We can vanish that way, and the distance between us will be wide enough that we escape them completely. They'll never find us again, as long as we're quiet and careful about how we do things. Which is why we need to place all our attention on this."

"I believe that Daniel is right. We will fight, but only in order to ensure our safety as we make our way to a new home," Waking Cloud agreed. "His judgement has never steered us wrong before."

"But they will find us," Follows-Chalk said flatly. "We can run and hide, but they will find us."

"There's no guarantee. Caesar will not keep his offer open forever. It's likely he'll never give them what they want even if they do succeed," Daniel pointed out.

"Caesar may not grant them entrance into the Legion, but he will string them along until there are none left to offer anything to. Only then will he finally toss them aside. Those false promises will make them as hounds, though," Joshua sighed, recalling his former friend. "He will blind them with promises to ensure their continued loyalty and motivation. We cannot afford to simply hope that they do not track us down and begin this battle all over again, but with even worse chances for us."

"But we can afford to throw away lives in order to hopefully push them out of Zion?" Daniel said exasperatedly. "It's not worth the death that will result! It could cripple the tribe for generations!"

"And so will losing their home," Follows-Chalk said with surprising conviction.

"You don't understand," Daniel said, looking at the young scout. "The Sorrows aren't like the Dead Horses."

"That doesn't mean they shouldn't defend themselves," Joshua said, standing beside Follows-Chalk.

Pale Omen and the Courier remained quiet, one unable to follow the conversation as it bounced between the four different viewpoints, understanding only that they were considering fight or flight, and unable to agree.

The Courier just listened. As he stood there one of the Dead Horses approached him, smiling, and offered him his duster. He gratefully took it, returning the smile without so much as a word.

"But it shouldn't mean they have to become accustomed to war!" Daniel said, louder.

"Self-defence is not a choice," Joshua replied, his dry voice only a little louder. "One either fights back, or they accept defeat. Loss will destroy the spirit of the Sorrows."

"And war will destroy them just as fast, but there will be no recovering!"

"Battle will shed too much blood. I do not know if the Sorrows could abide such a thing, and I do not believe it should be put to the test," Waking Cloud cut in.

"Exactly!" Daniel agreed. "The Sorrows have lost so many already! Waking Cloud's-"

Abruptly the New Canaanite stopped speaking. A moment of distress passed over his face before he looked down at his maps and began checking the locations hurriedly. "We cannot ask them to give up any more," he finished.

A few moments silence followed.

Eventually, Waking Cloud managed to ask. "What… has happened to my husband?"

Daniel was clearly hesitant to answer.

"Daniel. There is no use keeping things hidden from her now," Joshua said calmly, his previously argumentative tone swept away by the coming bad news.

The other New Canaanite heaved a sigh. "Waking Cloud… your three children are safe. They made it north weeks ago and met up with the New Canaanites heading west," he began, hoping to soften the blow with good news. "Your husband didn't make it. He died protecting the children from a White Leg attack."

Nobody was willing to break the silence that followed. Inevitably, it was Waking Cloud who did. Her voice was emotionless, held tightly in check until she knew exactly what to feel. "Why?"

Daniel was slow to react, looking at Waking Cloud for a long time with sorrow in his eyes. "You're one of the few who can communicate easily with us. I… your tribe needed you to be strong right now."

"Her husband!" Follows-Chalk exclaimed indignantly, some spark of chivalry igniting in him. "How could you keep it secret!"

Joshua Graham's hand gripped the scout's shoulder, silencing him with silent force.

Waking Cloud was staring at Daniel in disbelief, words rising and failing to pass her lips.

Pale Omen, his grasp only somewhat stronger now on the situation, growled low in his throat. He could sense how tense the situation was, and it was making him extremely uncomfortable.

"What gives you the right?" she demanded.

"To every thing, there is a season. Who am I to put this burden on you now?" Daniel asked, his hands grasping at the air.

"You were her friend and teacher, Daniel. It is your duty to help and lead the Sorrows, not to hide things from them," Joshua stated, his dry voice adding an edge to the truth that stung Daniel, though the Burned Man did not speak harshly, or falsely.

He sat, his elbows on the table and his forehead in his hand. "I know," he admitted. "You're right, Joshua. I shouldn't have hidden it, I… Waking Cloud, I'm sorry. I just… we can't fail here again. Zion can't become the next New Canaan. The Sorrows don't deserve that. They don't deserve any of this. Sometimes I look at you all and… wonder if you would have been better off if those old trails had stayed forgotten. If we had never found any of them."

"He did what he believed right," Joshua concluded, looking across at the woman who had lost her husband. "Do not think too harshly of him."

"Perhaps…" Waking Cloud said, turning and beginning to walk away. "Daniel, you and I will have a very long talk when all of this is over."

Daniel was silent, unable to say anything else in the wake of his explanations, the confession cutting the previously heated argument off entirely.

"Wow… what do you think, Courier?" Follows-Chalk wondered, tilting his head back towards the shadows where the Courier stood.

Still silence.

"Courier, you haven't said a word since we found you. Are you all right?" Joshua wondered, turning around to direct his attention at the outsider.

He wasn't standing there anymore.

In fact he was no longer in the cave, something those who still were realised as they glanced around for the man.

One of the Dead Horses entered the cave. "Joshua Graham, the utman stands at Angel's Peak."

A passage through the back of the cave made its way out onto a cliff that overlooked the camp. A piece of the cliff jutted forward from the stone, overhanging the water. Even in the evening his silhouette could easily be seen standing over the Dead Horses and Sorrows, torchlight illuminating his back, the air of the raised location letting his duster once again snap in the wind, gratefully upon his shoulders.

The part that had been most heavily damaged had been stitched using the Dead Horse's methods. The reddish brown fabric wove into the grey of the coat, and in one particularly torn part a patch with tribal designs had been used to patch it, two snake-like beings, one above the other, inverted so that their heads were side-by-side. Their tails curled into spirals.

An important emblem to the Dead Horses, one used since the tribe's birth. Now it rested in the duster, making Courier Six look larger and stronger than he had in days.

Many were looking up at the figure now, standing at the edge of the cliff, looking down on the two tribes as they hid together, uncertain of their destinies. Two children hiding from death, hoping to find a way to triumph over it before it found them.

"What is he doing?" Daniel wondered, stepping out onto the beach with the others behind him.

Waking Cloud was nearby, her eyes filled with tears of grief, yet beyond that she kept her attention on the Drifter.

Follows-Chalk stepped forward, wading into the water to stare up at the man he'd followed for days, and had come to greatly respect.

The Burned Man stood at the back of the group, his fiercely crystal blue eyes curiously and cautiously watching another outsider address a band of tribals.

Pale Omen was beside him, glancing between the two as Joshua Graham looked up at a new Caesar standing over the Blackfoots, there at the Grand Canyon, announcing his plans for them.

More emerged from their tents and makeshift bedding, gathering to see what the Courier, who had said nothing since his supposed death, would do now that he stood above them all, with knowledge that nobody else alive possessed.

In the time he had spent there in Zion his hair had grown. It was longer, and a beard had appeared on his face, small, but it added something to his appearance. Something extra that seemed to say he'd grown a lot in a short space of time.

"I have visited the brink of death. Walked through the darkness, where nothing but the sound of the water's flow guided me. Shreds of light to guide my path onwards through the cave. I was sent to that place by the White Legs, my journey begun with their hostility, burning my body and sending my mind away in pain. I was aided then by two people. The first was once amongst the White Legs too. A man many still hold reservations about. Pale Omen saved my life, and carried me to safety."

Many of the tribals did not understand the Wanderer's words, but those that did translated in the moment of pause he took, carefully selecting his next words.

"I was wounded, my journey impaired. The second to aid me was Waking Cloud, child of the Sorrows, and it was she, so fresh from a loss she did not yet know, that tended my wounds and sent me further on my journey. Revived, I found myself within the hallowed caverns the people of Zion so revere. Was I alive or dead? I did not yet know, but I journeyed onwards in order to find the answer."

Daniel looked across at Waking Cloud. Her eyes were bound to the Courier now.

Follows-Chalk, surrounded by a group of Dead Horses who did not know the outsider's tongue so well, translated for his kin.

"Listen to me, Sorrows of Zion. I walked through that darkness, making my way through the trials set in motion by a being who is more than a man to you. A being who was long before, and is now silent to you. I travelled to the end of the abyss, and there I met the Father."

A murmur turned into a veritable tide of chatter. Joshua looked about uneasily, before returning his eyes to the Courier, this time critically. His next words would be important to everything in Zion.

Daniel on the other hand was white. He feared what the Courier's words might do to the vulnerable Sorrows.

"I feel strange, standing here and speaking to you all, bearing a message from Him. But ultimately that is what I am, the messenger. Hermes to Zeus, if you will, though I doubt you will know that faith."

Greek, it was. Caesar's Legion would know 'Hermes' as 'Mercury'. Joshua Graham noted the distinction.

"Zion, he told me, is a gift to each and every one of you. It is a gift, an infinite apology for the sorrows in your lives. Even greater still, it is an apology for the sorrows man has visited upon man for so very, very long. He wishes for you to be kind to one another, to never try to hurt each other, because each and every one of you have earned his love."

Daniel and Joshua exchanged glances. To them, this was surprisingly familiar, yet it was the Courier, a man without a faith, that had arrived in Zion and come to speak this way.

"The Father wants you to know that in exchange for these gifts he has given you he asks for nothing. You have already granted him one; the chance to behold innocence."

The tribals were quiet now. Translations were hushed, reverent. The Dead Horses, though the words were not directed at them, listened with as much respect as any of the Sorrows amongst them.

The Courier heaved a sigh, knowing that his next words would be the ones that forced Zion to change forever.

"But the Father also told me that should any who would do you or Zion harm come to this place you must strike back with righteous fury. Zion is a gift to the innocent, and in the name of the Father in the Caves we must defend it for the Sorrows who will grow up here in the years yet to come."

Joshua and Daniel exchanged glances again, but this time it was not confusion in both their eyes. Triumph was in the clear blue eyes of Joshua Graham. Terror filled Daniel's.

"Sorrows, it is time to defend your home. It will not be easy, but now is the time to stand up and make the Father proud of you. Innocence is a thing of beauty, so defend it in the name of your children and their children too. Help me, and we shall take your home back!"

Much time later the Courier finally admitted to me that what he had said that evening, while still truth in essence, was not what had really happened. He told me the story of the cave, and of the things he found there. But he chose, ultimately, to let the Sorrows keep their faith in the Father.

His silence had been had been the choice. His knowledge of the Sorrows, his knowledge of Zion, his feelings about the situation and the careful debate about what needed to happen. To fly from Zion, or to fight for it, and what it might do to its people.

When the choice was finally made, all that was left was to give the Sorrows their faith, and in doing so he had given himself the same.

He made his way back into the Angel's cave, where he was met by Joshua Graham, Daniel, Pale Omen, and Follows-Chalk.

Daniel was the first to speak. "How dare you do that to them," he spat.

The Courier stepped over to the maps of the region and began looking over them, ignoring the anger in Daniel's voice.

"That was not your choice to make!" he pressed, making his way towards the Drifter, a furious indignation radiating from him.

"I didn't realise it was yours instead," the Courier said flatly, refusing to even look at Daniel. "I did not make the choice alone."

"You claim to have 'met' with the Father in the Caves? You are using their faith to make them take your chosen path!"

The Courier turned, acknowledging Daniel with a stare that melted ice and boiled rivers. "What happened in that cave is not for anyone to know, but the message I carried is as real as you or I. I chose to tell them in such a way that their beliefs did not need to suffer for it. I gave them the wishes of the Father, and I have every intention of safeguarding them until Zion is free from the White Legs forever."

The New Canaanite hesitated, drawing back from the intensity of the Courier's resolution.

"A powerful speech, Courier. It reminded me of… Edward. Before he was Caesar. Before righteous fury turned to domination and conquest. Take care you do not walk the same path," Joshua warned, approaching the Vagabond.

"I have no intention of leading the Sorrows, or conquering the White Legs. I will defend them. That is our duty, Joshua. To have come here and seen the wonder of Zion. You said it yourself. It should be defended. You believe so in the name of your God as well as for the sake of the Sorrows. I believe so because of them too, but also because I feel that it is a duty I inherited. Regardless of the reasons, though, we work towards the same goal. So let us stop arguing. Let us stop thinking about whether or not we need to run. We defend Zion."

"Haven't you seen enough of what's going on here to see that the Sorrows don't need to butcher the White Legs for a piece of land?" Daniel continued to protest, but now there was a more pleading tone. "What Joshua wants is more than an attack. He wants a slaughter, and he needs more than you and the Dead Horses to do it."

"This isn't about me siding with Joshua. This is about the Sorrows."

"The Sorrows? You can't manipulate them into this! You and Joshua don't have the right to make them do it! Please, consider what I'm saying!" Daniel continued, painfully aware he was losing the argument.

"But you have the right to make them leave their home behind? I'm sorry Daniel. Truly, I am. But this is the world we live in, and the White Legs are too persistent to risk them simply hunting everyone down," the Courier replied evenly, making note of the Red Gate, a landmark within the valley.

"And what is Joshua going to teach them about being a warrior? What are you going to tell them about how to live with themselves after they get lost in the moment, killed someone who didn't deserve to die?" Daniel demanded, knowing that he would not convince them otherwise now, but still pushing regardless.

"Daniel, this is the way of the world, whether we like it or not," Joshua said softly, trying not to hurt his friend's feelings further than their actions already had.

"No," Daniel sighed deeply, shaking his head. "This is how we made the world. And we brought it to them."

He refused to say another word, turning and leaving the cave. On his way he passed Waking Cloud as she entered. Neither said a word to the other.

"Courier," she said, making her way into their midst. "What you said just now… why did you say it?"

"It was no lie, Waking Cloud. I met the Father. Not in the traditional manner, but I met him, and I understood his will," the Courier said seriously, looking straight into her eyes as he spoke.

She searched them for signs of his lie, but nothing was there to be found. "H-how?" she said in disbelief.

"I cannot say. I promised us both I would not. But make no mistake. My words were truth. He wishes Zion to remain in your hands. He wishes nothing defile it," the Courier replied earnestly.

Joshua stepped forward, looking over the maps. "It seems you have found God after all, Courier," he said, looking at him.

The Drifter looked across at him. "Perhaps, Joshua. I wonder if they are the same. Then, I wonder if that ultimately matters, as long as the ideals are the same."

"Well said," Joshua Graham replied with a degree of admiration.

"So then what now?" Follows-Chalk wondered, finally feeling it safe to speak with the tension between Daniel, the Courier and Joshua eased by the absence of the acting leader of the Sorrows – though that role was now in question.

The Courier looked at them all. Whatever it was that had happened between he and 'the Father' that the Sorrows revered, he had left a stronger man, and it was clear to see that there was more leadership in him now, even while he stood beside men like Joshua. More certain of his own existence.

"It's not going to be the easy road, but now we work to bring Zion back us. Back to the Sorrows," the Vagabond stated.

"War," Pale Omen said, understanding the tone much greater now.

"War," Courier Six agreed. "A crusade."