Chapter 41: A Man of Sorrow and Hate

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I was somewhat annoyed to be following the man of the night guard through the desolate streets of town when I heard that applause signifying the end of Amy's speech for the new couple. I thought about the speech I was going to tell after Ramos, or after the young lady, Cathy Elisondro, who followed Ramos. As I'd done throughout the ceremony and other speeches, I ran over the key points or mentally rehearsed them in my mind as I walked. It probably wasn't more than 2 years ago that I first told that speech at a wedding because I'd only discovered the material for it maybe a month or so prior to the wedding of Diego Marquez.

I can't really remember the exact situation that brought me to the community archives beneath the town museum at that time, but I remember I happened across a box with a large collection of documents and letter copies related to the Young family. My family.

As it's been mentioned before, I didn't really know my mother and father. All I know is that they died when I was very young. I don't believe they died at the same time, and I'm pretty sure it was my mother who perished a bit later, although I do know that their deaths were very close. As tragic as it sounds, I didn't really know them, and I was almost immediately adopted by the Constable and his wife Leslie. They were a young couple at the time, and they knew my parents well enough to adopt me immediately when they heard the news of their deaths, but even then, I can't recall ever talking with the Constable or Leslie about them much as I grew up. It's rough to admit whenever I get to thinking about my parents again, but as I've also mentioned before, I came of age always feeling like the Constable and Leslie were my parents… Without going too much into it, I knew the Constable and Leslie had struggled with infertility since their wedding night, and part of me feels that was at least part of the reason they adopted me in the wake of my parents' deaths. It wasn't until just about 8 years ago that God gave the couple who raised me the miracle of pregnancy thus bringing their daughter Emilia into the picture. She was still too young for me to consider her as my sister, but she was a great playmate for Hannah and Joseph while bringing a joy I simply couldn't to the Constable and Leslie.

Still, it was because of this family situation and my belonging to a family that wasn't with this world anymore, that I have a different last name from the Constable. And it was because of losing them at such a young age, that a special part of my mind always had some curiosity about my biological family that was very easily buried in my subconscious mind throughout the busy days… Finding that old box related to my old family brought some of those buried curiosities back to the surface again after hiding for so long.

I didn't find a box full of letter copies from my mom and dad in there, and although there were other boxes for the Young family on that shelf that probably had some, the box I found instead had a collection of documents related to I believe one of my great great great grandfathers. After sifting through it for a few minutes, I saw it was mostly full of reports related to the kinds of things a Constable or Bishop or Elder would have. After seeing the many many papers that were addressed or from "ELD K Young", I learned that I was the direct descendent of one of the Elders of New Canaan long before the migration from Ogden. This discovery explained some things that I felt growing up. I'll have to explain what I mean later, but the items in the box fascinated me and I even took some of the items home as reading material.

In the end, there is a lot I can say about the kind of man Elder Young was. There were a lot of fascinating things I read during those nights sitting by my wife's side, but there was one thing I found in there that told me all I really needed to know about that man I am related to. The little stack contained a detailed transcript of a conversation he had with two men at an indiscernible day and month back in 2130.

There wasn't much context to the transcript, and a lot was very hard to read, seeming to have faded over time inside the old archives. I can't write out the conversation my ancestor had with the two strangers verbatim, but I can say that the community of New Canaan had just been established a ways north of where it currently was. The community was very split between Mormons and Christians of other denominations, and they were waiting to hear from several other communities to emerge from nearby shelters and Vaults. The community had just come together and organized some kind of leadership after a majority of the various Christian groups of northern Utah had only recently emerged after so long since the bombs of 2077. It was my ancestor who helped play a role in that new leadership structure, and something called "The Great Winter" had just started when he went on to have a transcribed conversation with the two men.

From what I could read, the two men were clearly not believers, but one referred to as "DL" was evidently very troubled by something he refused to discuss, and the one referred to as "CD" appeared to very much care for his friend. The conversations occasionally referred to someone known simply as "Greg," but the transcript was unclear if this Greg person was a New Canaanite who perhaps found the two men, or if he was with the strangers.

The chat was a beautiful one, my ancestor the Elder was a very understanding man, seeming to care deeply about what the men went through in California and during the wars before the nuclear war.. It is actually because of this detail, that I believe the strangers might have been either very old and from a recently opened shelter, or ghouls if they were around to fight in the resource wars before the bombs. The transcript didn't say.

Still, the men had discussed a variety of things, and my ancestor spoke of his wife a lot. The two talked about their troubles, and my ancestor spoke of Christ, speaking much about his new community's own extreme losses since the opening of the shelters and losses even at the start of this great winter. My ancestor spoke so much about his wife and how men like himself and the two strangers experience things during events like war that many women could not even begin to comprehend… but the right woman, with the right demeanor, the right kind of love, and the kind of grace that's comparable to Christ's can mean everything to certain men. It wasn't long after this part that the man known as DL left, the conversation seeming to have struck some kind of nerve, but the stranger referred to as CD took my ancestor's offer to pray for DL, saying; "Couldn't hurt… and thank you."

I took a lot of meaning from that ancient conversation. I remember reading that conversation beside my wife two years ago and feeling the sudden urge to pray for those two men. I can only hope that they eventually found Christ, but my ancestor's talk about the importance of a loving caring, Christ-like woman truly was of the utmost importance in any marriage. Especially any woman about to marry a man of the guard. With thoughts of my wife and how impossibly supportive she'd been since I married her, I knew that full well, while also knowing that the burden of support was not just on the woman in a marriage. It was up to the man of the guard to love his wife the best he could whenever he was there, just in case his brothers of the guard couldn't bring him back to her.

I stood with Ryder the night guardsman as the gate to the market lowered slowly, still thinking about the story I might not get to share, going over it again and again in my mind in case I'll be back in time to share. Running through the key points again, I thought of the end,

"Should I mention they didn't accept Christ right then and there?... maybe… Definitely mention how the 'CD' guy agreed to pray for his friend though… I should probably add some names to the two strangers, something like 'David' for DL and 'Charles' for CD…"

Suddenly, the gate thumped to the ground, and scanning the gate stations, nobody stood out beyond the night guards casually chatting behind the barricade if not peering out at the sparsely populated market streets at this point in the late evening. Ryder led me towards the gate station barricade and I thought of the point from my speech;

"They didn't accept Christ right then and there…" and became immediately annoyed once again when I thought, "… You know who else didn't 'accept Christ right then and there?', and also who's probably the one interrupting your speech to Carl and Jessica?"

With no sight of any guardsman chatting with any stranger behind the barricade, I rounded the barricade with Ryder and saw the light on in the guard shack as we stepped over, mind ready to very kindly tell Ranger Townsley that now was not the time and that I can answer any questions he had for me when I'm on duty tomorrow morning.

Ryder opened the door, and just before I went up the steps to enter the little room of the guard shack, I thought, "The only way I'd stay for long enough to miss telling my special speech is if Mr. Townsley wanted to get baptized by me right here and now," and then I stepped inside.

My eyes only caught a glimpse of Lieutenant Gardner leaning back in his chair behind the desk before they immediately went to the man in the sleeveless black duster and long dark dreadlocks sitting across the lieutenant.

"Hey, Lt. Young! How've you been? It's been a while since we chatted. How've you been these days?..."

I barely even heard the words of Lt. Garnder as I approached the desk, my eyes on the stranger with the red eyes, breathing mask, and duster the whole time. I watched the man's head turn to me as I approached his side and follow me as I rounded Gardner's desk. The LT spoke on as though I had replied to him;

"… I was just telling this fella here about the time when I was a kid when that group I was with went swimming in that Kennecott Pond north. I don't need to tell you how the south pond's fine, but you can't say the same about the north one, ha! I tell ya, if you need proof of God's mercy, the fact I don't have two heads or an extra toe now should say everything, haha."

Instinctively I let out a laugh, but for whatever reason, it felt like all of my senses were blocked as I watched the red eyes of the stranger and only barely heard Gardner's words before the red eyes left me and returned to Gardner. I had no idea why Gardner was telling the incredibly creepy stranger about the time he and some friends accidentally went swimming in extremely radioactive water when he was younger… Perhaps Gardner brought up the stranger's eyes and was trying to "relate" in a way. I had no idea, and I had immense trouble figuring out whether or not I should look at Gardner or the stranger as I said to the lieutenant of the night guard;

"What's going on, Gardner? Your man Ryder said you sent him to fetch me?"

"Yep, thanks for coming by the way. Sorry to pull you from the wedding. Definitely send Carl my congrats when you get back in there, but I was just chatting with your pal here and he insisted I getcha."

I was not sure at all about why the stranger would refer to me as his friend when I'd only ever spoken to him once. I had only seen him on a few odd occasions, and each time his mere sight would send chills through me, even in this moment as those blank eyes stared at Gardner. Then again, maybe it was just Gardner deciding to refer to me as the stranger's "pal" since he apparently knew to call for me specifically. Before I could go down any more thought trails, I decided to play into it, even if I wasn't sure what I was even playing into.

"Thanks, Gardner," I said slowly as the stranger's eyes remained on Gardner.

Before a moment could pass, Lt. Gardner lowered his feet from the desk, and stood himself up, giving me a simple smile and a pat on the shoulder as he began his departure saying;

"Don't mention it, Lt. Young. I'm going to make a round with some of my patrol boys, but you let one of the boys outside know if you need something and they'll fetch it! Adios… and it was nice chatting with you, fella."

Silence.

I stood behind the desk with my hands on top, following the night guard LT with my eyes as he sauntered over to the door, leaving me alone with the stranger. It felt like I looked at that door long after it shut behind him as I felt those blank red eyes land on me. In reality, it might not have been that long, but when I felt those eyes for long enough, I looked down to meet them.

Again, I have no idea how to describe it when the man looked at me. The memories of my brief interaction replayed in my mind as I lowered myself into the chair in front of him. As I thought, I knew it must have been extremely judgmental for me to feel the way I was feeling, and remembered how he was indeed pretty kind when I spoke with him. I tried to take up a casual appearance that Gardner had without forcing it by also putting my feet up on the desk. At last, when I was completely comfortable, somewhat reclined, and looking at those "unique" eyes, I asked as normally as my mind and voice would allow;

"I- uh. What can I do for you, Mister?..."

I thought for a moment. Had we exchanged names? The conversation that day after returning from the Sevieri scout replayed in my mind, but I couldn't remember. There were certain parts of that conversation I remembered vividly, but the name was a giant blank space… I couldn't even recall even mentioning my own name to him. Before I could ask how he even knew to ask for me, I finished what I was saying;

"… I'm terribly sorry, but I don't believe I ever learned your name."

No more than a second passed before he answered with the word, "Ulysses," spoken in that very same deep voice I distinctly remembered, a tone that reminded me of Graham's, but a name that made me recall another part of the conversation between my ancestor and the two strangers.

With a mind stuck elsewhere, my mouth asked the question more pressing to the present;

"Good to meet you, Ulysses. Is it alright if I ask who might have referred you to me? I don't believe we ever exchanged names when we chatted a few days back…"

My mind grappled with what to say that wouldn't offend the stranger, while also unable to shake that strange feeling I got whenever I so much as saw the man across the desk. Still half wondering why that name was familiar to me and its relevance to the conversation mentioned previously, I added cordially;

"… I'd be happy to assist anyone who asks for me personally, but you might understand why I'm curious for a direct summons from a man I only met once..." still seeing absolutely no change in the face beneath the dusty grey breathing mask, and just now noticing he still hadn't blinked a single time since I arrived, I finished simply, "… Who exactly referred you to me?"

A momentary silence lingered between us, his face had not changed, and he said again in that emotionless spine chilling deep tone;

"I don't know his name. I was just in the Trinity Inn when someone told me to speak to you."

That answer did not help anything. All it did was help my mind focus more on the present as I tried to think who could possibly have told him to speak to me about anything at the Trinity Inn this time of day. I asked;

"Was it Martha by chance?..." Just as I realized he said "I don't know His name," I corrected, "… a man at the bar perhaps?"

The only men in there I imagine who knew of me were perhaps Martha's boys who clear tables, take orders, and serve food and drinks. Before I could think much more, the red-eyed man replied simply;

"I don't know."

As curious as I now was, I realized where I could have been at this very moment, and came to the mental conclusion "It was probably Ranger Townsley" while simultaneously deciding to move this along as I shrugged and said as kindly as normal,

"No worries, not important… Either way, is there something I can do for you?"

Once more, without any change in tone, without any blinking, his chilling voice came muffled through the mask over his nose and mouth;

"I'd like a Bible please," and although I had been un-justly preparing mentally for his question to be, "What is the best means of further infiltrating your boy's dreams?" the answer he gave immediately eliminated the spine-chilling feeling I had upon seeing him tonight, in exchange for a feeling of supreme annoyance.

I kept my composure and slight smile, but his request made me internally let loose a long sigh as I mentally said to him, "You couldn't have asked literally anyone in Gardner's detachment for that? Or Gardner himself?"

Still, the request was innocent and simple enough. I stood from the chair, already planning my fast walk back to Carl and Jessica's wedding reception as I replied, "Sure thing."

Standing up and maneuvering around the desk towards the filing cabinet next to the four waiting chairs, I retrieved the little key from the back and opened the top drawer. I pulled one of the miniature Bibles from the top, making a mental note to ask Constable for more since it looked like there were only a dozen or so remaining, and closed the drawer. After locking the cabinet back up, I took my place back across the desk, seeing his eyes fixed forward still. I flipped through it briefly, and slid it across the desk to him with the simple words;

"Here you go, Mr. Ulysses…" I gave my warmest smile despite my internal annoyance, ready to bolt back into town for my speech before adding as kindly as possible; "… Is there anything else I can do for you? And please don't take this the wrong way, but any of the others could have given you one, ha! Any man of the guard is more than happy to provide free Bibles to those who request them and answer any questions…. Also, again, no offense, but I have an event inside town I gotta attend."

I watched the man as he silently took the book in his hands, and I was still smiling kindly without trying to force it. As he flipped through it briefly, lingering on some pages I could not see, I felt the need to mention that the miniature ones were free, but if he needed one with larger print in order to read it better, he could purchase one in the market outside or from the scrap chapel…. I decided not to say this for fear that mentioning his eyesight might offend the man.

After another moment, he looked back up at me. Standing there half ready to leave, half ready to mention where he can find one with larger print, the man's blank eyes met mine as he asked;

"What page should I start on."

I was not sure how to answer that, especially since it sounded more like a statement than a question. I usually answer that question a dozen times a year, but my mind was still more focused on where I would rather be. After a second, I processed the question a little more and suddenly thought of the last person to ask me that question, Ranger Townsley. I answered without thought;

"Jonah's popular at the moment, really short, lots of meaning…" I paused for a second, remembering Who my community is all about, and added, "… but personally I wouldn't be doing my job if I didn't suggest the books of Matthew, Mark, Luke, or John first…"

I gestured to the book, he appeared to read my mind and appeared to discover the page at the front with all the Books organized by Old to New Testament organized by page number. When his eyes returned to me, I asked again as politely as possible;

"… Now unless there's something else, I really need to get going. The others out there under Lt. Gardner would be more than happy to answer any other questions you have. I also work the gate station tomorrow, and will gladly help, but I'm just expected inside... no offense."

My fingers began drumming the desk as he appeared to look me over in the short quiet moment. My kindest smile remained on my face as the moment continued, and after only perhaps three or four seconds, he said;

"Just one more question. Why do you, 'Paul William Young,' follow Christ?"

And all thoughts of returning to the reception began to fade from my mind as I felt the smile leave my face. The question repeated in my mind, I felt the scowl I was better known for by the people outside take over my countenance, I sank into my seat, and I wondered how on God's green earth this man knew my middle name as I spoke directly to those blank red eyes across the table;

"Who exactly is it who referred you to me again?"

The man had not moved, had not blinked as I sat upright, hands clenched, and without an ounce of the cheeriness we guardsmen needed to display to those who come to our walls asking about God.

His question repeated in my mind again. I wouldn't be surprised to learn that my own children were unsure of my middle name. The only people of New Canaan who could easily tell someone my name; were my wife, Constable Hanshaw, Leslie, and possibly Michelle, who were all inside attending Carl and Jessica's wedding. The man answered the question just as he had before;

"I don't know his name. I heard mention of you in the Trinity Inn this night."

Like before, I decided to simply accept this non-answer, although I certainly did not let that smile from earlier return as I looked into the glowing red. The silence after this went on, I considered testing to see if Martha or her boys knew my full name at some point in the future, but part of me felt the situation in which he heard my name was slightly more complicated. A chill went through my spine, a chill at the thought he might have heard the same voice I had heard that may have told him my name… That was harder and harder to believe as I looked deeper into those blank eyes, seeing something I could not identify. Good, evil, what sat behind those eyes was something indistinguishable, but something powerful. At last, I felt the words leave my lips;

"Tell me who you are. Where you are from. Why are you here?"

The man remained in place, the miniature Bible sitting on the desk between us, and my mind again ran through the one conversation I had with him in a flash as he began.

"I am from Dry Wells, a former tribe of the Arizona. A tribe occupying the shores of the Colorado. My tribe fell to Kaisar (Caesar's Legion). I watched them die to the Kaisar they helped conquer Arizona. I crossed the Colorado, walking the west. Found a home in a place called 'The Divide'. The Legion followed me there. Met with NCR in the town. I watched my home get ripped apart like two hounds fighting over a scrap of meat… and then, the fire. The earth erupted, killing all, killing man and beast alike, Legion, NCR, the world swallowed them all in the dust and fire…"

It's been mentioned before, but this was not the first time I heard of what happened at the Divide. News of what happened in that land, a land west of Vegas, beyond where almost every New Canaanite had gone, had reached us in the months before Graham arrived. For a while there, talk of what happened at that faraway land called "The Divide" was the talk of the town and the talk of the market outside. Various versions of the story reached us, a tragic story that could most easily be summed up by the story of an independent town under annexation by the NCR before it was attacked by the forces of Caesar's Legion. A people caught in a conflict they wanted nothing to do with before one day, the earth exploded beneath the town and turned the place into a completely uninhabitable stretch of the desert.

Stories of "The Divide" came with tales of walking corpses flayed in the extreme winds that lingered after the eruption. They came talking about extreme radiation, and never before seen beasts that came crawling out of the cracks in the earth like demons from Hell. The stories also came with explanations of the destruction coming from underground detonations within the old-world nuclear silos surrounding the region. As frightening as each story of the Divide was, our home was so far from it, and stories of the incident faded from discussion within the walls not much more than a few weeks after first hearing the news…

Our home was simply too far, and life carried on in the day-to-day. The stories of The Divide were replaced by news of this incident, then that incident, which of our allied tribes were harmed in raids, which tribes were doing great now, etc, etc. And then, the news of Joshua Graham's return came when I carried that man into the Temple that night in late October of 2277, and we were soon flooded with stories of what happened to the Legion down south that caused our brother's return.

The man continued speaking as I thought of everything he spoke of and watched him ever so subtly change. As I listened to the story of the blank-eyed stranger and heard what his life was like in lands I'd only heard stories about, I saw a change in the man's face and found myself thinking more about Graham.

"… I am the only one. The only one to survive what happened there. But I am not the only one to walk away from The Divide. There is one who didn't feel the burns, receive the scars, of what happened there…"

As the man spoke about this tragedy, the aftermath, and this "Courier," I could clearly see his mouth open slowly, showing a fierce, white-hot burning anger in those eyes deep inside the hollow emptiness. He spoke on, and I could visually see the man's mouth open even behind the mask, and although I have no way of proving what I saw, I could see his teeth as sharp as fangs on a deathclaw as his words continued to trickle out through the muffling of the mask, each word dripping with blood.

The terrifying image the man carried with him wherever he was, on purpose or not, seen by men like me, or unseen by men like John, I was finally able to understand what I was looking at behind the eyes since I first caught sight of him. It was an anger, a rage I had seen many times, and felt almost as many. It was a roaring inferno of hatred for what he'd survived, what happened, and who got to escape it.

"… I don't know where he went, but I know what he did. I know the cause. I watched him carry it to the Divide. Then he got to escape what he made happen."

The eyes were glowing brighter and redder than I could have ever thought possible during the pause. He remained sitting across from me like a statue, his slow words and their deep sinister tone still echoing in my mind during the short pause.

I had no idea what to say, but I suppose my mouth had some idea as I found myself saying to the man;

"So that's why you're here? You're looking for the man who destroyed The Divide and got to walk away?"

I could not tell you the tone in which I asked that, but I can tell you that I was no longer thinking about my speech for Carl and Jessica at all. I was not annoyed at all, the man clearly needed to speak to someone, his words still so heavy with hatred of so much he endured. He lifted his head slightly, those eyes now glowing even brighter, the fangs behind the mask dripping a bit more blood, and as each word slowly left his lips, his demeanor calmed;

"… No… He'll come to me when the time comes..."

And then, there was silence.

The silence between us went on, and I thought of his terrible story. I wondered how or if his terrifying presence came from The Divide, but the anger within him was so clearly present, not at me, perhaps not even at the other one who left the Divide, perhaps just at life in general.

There was a very real part of me that saw the horror in the man's mere presence that half wanted to pray for him, to pray for him to be unburdened by all that anger… The other half of me was ready to battle this man or his demons while also being monumentally terrified by what I saw in the way those eyes grew brighter. I saw the white-hot hate behind the mask, every word of his story continued to echo in my mind, and then a foreign thought hit me…

I thought of how he didn't answer my question.

I thought of his hate for the man who took his second home from him and began to think how intense his hatred must also be for the one who took his first home from him. I thought of the man who took his tribe from him standing just beyond the glow of the warming flames around the reception tables. The man responsible for so much trouble when…

Then I thought of what that man listening to the speeches and dining with the guests of Carl and Jessica's wedding told me that Christmas Eve of 2277. The friend he had sent to the Divide. The friend of the Legion he sent to The Divide before the place was destroyed by the person this man of soul-devouring hatred just spoke of.

How possible was it that Graham was the one who ordered the destruction of this Ulysses man's tribe only weeks or months before he sent his forces to destroy this man's second home in the Divide? The intervention of an anonymous courier aside, Graham had sent the forces of Caesar's Legion to battle the NCR forces at The Divide. Graham had sent the Legion to rip his home apart in war before this man's home was consumed by an event that could only be described as apocalyptic if not by story, then by the presence of the stranger alone… and Graham had such a large role in this man's entire tragic past.

The silence between us went on, and I was paralyzed, unsure what to think when I was staring at a true victim of Joshua Graham's past. The image of that burned man standing just beyond the light of the reception went through my mind again, now seeing that image in a new way, a way I couldn't help, a way of disgust…

And then I thought of who was within the light of the warming flames between the tables. I saw the guards gathered around their sweethearts, saw the wonderful women of the various trades wiping tears and wearing their best dresses, the grandmothers of the newlyweds, the brothers, the fathers, the mothers, the sisters, the Constable, Leslie, Emilia, Carl's best man, the beautiful bridesmaids, the beautiful tears of my wife Dani, and the smiling faces of my children…

Completely stuck in thoughts of what I was hearing from the stranger, what I heard, and what I should say or what it would mean to this man fueled almost entirely by hatred… I looked at this embodiment of seemingly totally justified rage, simultaneously worried, sympathetic, and ready to viciously defend the people in the glow of the reception flames… He still had not answered my last question.

"You never answered why you're here… You mentioned you're from Arizona. Caesar's territory. I only ask because we've had the occasional stranger in the past month in search of Graham. Whether treasure hunter, bounty hunter, NCR, or Legion, there's been all kinds of people coming up here looking for Graham. You look pretty capable, and if I were you, I would seek anyone like that Courier, Caesar, or Legate Graham in all my waking hours... It doesn't seem outside the realm of possibilities for a man who had his tribe destroyed by the Legion to come up here looking for the ghost of the Legion's former second..."

Despite how much I had said, the second I realized what I was saying, I felt the nearly overpowering urge to throw my hand over my mouth and apologize to the stranger. I kept my composure, owning the words, and looking at him trying to show sincerity, sympathy, and concern in place of my countenance of one who was a guardsman of New Canaan, Not, a child of God. The silence after I spoke went on, and I looked into those eyes, expecting to see them glow brighter again, and ready to apologize sincerely at the first slow word to escape the mask.

That never happened. His face remained the same, and after already far too long, I heard the question "Why are you here?" ring in my mind once more before my eyes fell to the table, and what sat in front of him.

He was a man of pure rage, a man of supreme sorrow, and I had personally been the one to give him a place to put that anger that was clearly devouring him in more ways than one. I studied that book on the table, and looked to those eyes, again seeing no change, and the second the first syllable of my apology left my lips, the man spoke;

"I'm not here for Joshua Graham… I have no doubt he will get what is due…" The glow in his eyes fell completely dim, and the anger in his soul began to visibly evaporate while I was stuck thinking two things at once. Both things making me feel even more need to apologize for any amount of judgment I felt, or any amount of error in the words I spoke;

I heard the name he spoke in response to my assumption and thought back to the Frumantarii incidents in the past year, especially the most recent one. That name he spoke, his admission of it, his ability to even say it, had done all it needed to in order to diminish one worry in the back of my mind. I thought of those devout servants of Caesar we'd find looking for Graham. How excellent they were at blending into the masses of wasters and merchants and guards out in the wilderness. They were incredible at what they did, able to deceive anyone save for Graham, all the way up until they were asked to say the name their Lord Caesar forbade them from ever speaking again. Although it was only the smallest part of me that considered this man to also be a Frumantarius, his ability to say the name, told me that even if he was here for the man, it wasn't out of love for Caesar, it was for hate at what happened.

Then, before he could even finish what he was going to say, I saw that Bible in front of him, and my demand from earlier "Why are you here?" went through my mind again. I realized that it wasn't him who was the one who refused to answer the questions… It was me.

Looking into the fading hate in those blank lifeless eyes, the question that started this whole thing hit me again, "Why do you, 'Paul William Young,' follow Christ?" as he answered my last question for him;

"… I'm sitting before you to learn why you, Lt. Young follow your God, to learn, about why your community does what it does this far into the wilderness. I want to learn from you. Not from your people. I don't want to know what your people are trained to tell strangers who ask, I want to know why you follow what you follow."

Silence again.

I didn't know what to say, or even think. The last traces of that anger behind the eyes cooled, the mouth behind the mask shut, finally sealing the blood in those fangs back within, and now it was my turn to speak.

I didn't plan for this conversation by any means. I was not ready for the question. I recalled what I told Mr. Ramos before leaving the wedding reception, and thought about the two strangers my ancestor met when the snow began to fall. I told this man what I'd told my men of the guard a few times throughout the years, what I told my wife before I married her, what I told my Michelle before she left for the dangerous wilderness, what's been playing in the background of my mind for the past 22 years beneath the day to day.

...