The weeks pass steadily as I learn the necessary questions.

Animosity toward the Jal only grows more heated as we travel further South.

The times when we must resort to violence are rare. There is a strong fear of government officials and most show us deference.

We eat frugally in our campaign.

Census takers don't carry much coin to prevent the attention of bandits.

Every 2 weeks or so, we report to the bureau office in the city of Quolm.

It's a poor city and the slave markets are depressing sights as we walk through the city streets.

"Meridian's bringing his war to Quolm," a voice whispers.

"Oh, shove it. Just cause the slaves worship the ghost doesn't mean we have to believe in it."

"But, the barbarian has been championing Meridian and she's drawn the major tribes of the region to her banner." The man pauses. "They've been chanting Meridian the immortal when they go into battle."

A silence rings out. "But, the martial sects can stop them, right?"

A woman sighs, "If the rebels don't gather more momentum..."

The conversation echoes in my mind as I drink tea with Gilead.

"You're taken to gossip, young lord?"

Gilead smiles over his cup.

I shrug, "It's better to know than not to."

"Ha-" he laughs. "All the rumors I've heard in my time. How many of them turned out to be true, I cannot say.

"But, never have I heard of the dead returning to life as Meridian is claimed to have.

"He is like a spark landing in dry hay.

"I suppose the truth of it doesn't matter so long as enough people believe."

I absorb his words. And, I feel guilty.

People are fighting and dying while I drink tea with the enemy.

But, then, he isn't my enemy.

I wonder if I'm not just a hypocrite.

Our respite in Quolm is brief and we are again patrolling for census data.

Weeks become months in the professional man's company.

We're not quite friends. But, we get along well.

The desolation of the slave lands is depressing.

I remember the arenas from my time as Meridian.

Slave cage fights.

Men and women fighting and killing for their lives.

The slave lands strip people of their human dignity.

We don't visit them. But, I smell the blood in the air.

Time passes on an ever-onward trend until, at last, Gilead looks to me.

"Is there anything about our work that you do not understand?"

I think about all the tasks I've performed under my mentor's watchful eye.

"No, sir."

He measures me with his gaze.

"Then, congratulations. You are a monitor of the census bureau."

I'm surprised by how easily he says it.

I bow, "Thank you, sir."

He waves aside my formalities.

"Report to the branch office to get your next assignment."

"Yes, sir."

We part on the road, him off to who knows where and me off to find my next task.

I sigh. They've been following us for months.

Now that I have parted from my mentor, they close in.

2 men and 3 women approach from 5 different directions.

"Meridian," a leading woman says.

I take a deep breath.

"What?"

They all take a knee before me.

"Lord, we have been sent to watch over you until you are ready."

I bite my lip, "Ready for what?"

Her eyes are down as she says, "To lead us."

I scratch my head.

"I'm not your leader."

"Lord, we rallied for you. If you do not save us now, many of us will die."

Her gaze rises to pierce my eyes.

I think for a minute.

"I'm going to the city. Find me when I leave."

Triumph registers in her eyes as, once more, her eyes turn down.

With that, I walk on by.

Shit, I think.

The heretic's purpose remains.

Why does a ghost hold so much power over me?

Because it's my ghost.

Shit.

The next few days pass quickly.

I spend some time searching the market to find what I'm looking for.

As I leave Quolm, I come upon a stream.

They're approaching. But, I mind my task.

I wet my hair and applied the red dye to change my hair color.

I feel them watching me as I painstakingly apply the coloring.

Blood-red strands cascade from my head.

My work done, I turn to the witnesses, each on a knee.

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"Well," I say. "Lead on."

Excitement stirs in my attendants as I am led across the barren landscape.

Day and night we run. My stamina is better than my fellows. But, each is a spiritualist of some measure.

I feel the presence of thousands of warriors around us in camps of various sizes.

I recognize them for what they are, the martial sects.

They surround a city of adobe clay structures.

Many tens of thousands guard against an assault.

We weave through the sentries and guards to find our way into the city.

It's night still. But, the alert goes out that intruders have come.

The alarm dies as they recognize the 5 people I ran with.

Word echoes of their return and who they returned with.

Hushed whispers carry in the moonlight.

"Who is that?" one voice whispers.

"A recruit, I guess."

"Maybe he's a spiritualist."

A sage voice says, "I hope he's a powerful one."

"You don't think..." the voice doesn't finish its sentence.

"Think what?"

"Meridian."

The whispers silence as we walk through the streets.

Running out to greet us is the titan of a woman, Ivona the barbarian.

In tow are the Boros brothers and several others.

"Meridian," Ivona cries out with joy.

I fear she'll take me up in a bear hug when she reaches me.

"You're here to fight with us?" comes Ivona's hopeful question.

I take a deep breath, "Yes."

My affirmation hangs in the air before I see smiles spread across the faces of the company.

Herrus, the dark-skinned man, steps up. "Then what do we do? Yes, Meridian may be here. But, we are trapped. One more spiritualist doesn't fix that."

Ivona looks displeased by his words.

"And, tell me" she accuses. "How many have you killed on the battlefield?"

Herrus clicks his tongue and steps down.

"What do we do, Meridian?"

I look to the woman who has been fighting my war while I studied.

"Battle at first light. Only spiritualists.

"We'll target their camps one at a time."

"Are you out of your mind?" Herrus bellows.

"You want us to send the few spiritualists we have on a suicide mission?"

This man aggravates me. It was men and women like him who betrayed me.

"Fine," I say as I turn away from the gathering. "Stay behind."

I march my way out of the city. Ivona and the Boros brothers my only comrades.

We wait in line between shelter and ruin.

"You ready for this?" I ask.

Ivona cracks her knuckles. "I was born for this. Nice hair by the way."

A smile tugs at my lips.

"We're always ready," Albert says.

Zach looks pensive, "I want to see you going all out, Meridian. I know you're powerful. I just don't know how powerful."

I flex my muscles and channel chi throughout my body.

"Let's find out together."

The first rays of dawn cross the horizon and I begin running, sword in hand, ready to pierce the heavens themselves.

A horn blasts as our advance is recognized.

Adam has never been killed before. But, this day, I will.

A regiment of martial artists is rallied as the rest of the camp rises from their bedrolls.

Arrows are loosed. But, my chi catches them in the air and drops them harmlessly to the ground.

And, then, we're upon them.

My blade carries chi bombs as I make a wide arc at the front-line soldiers.

Gore splatters around as the spiritualists try to shield against the assault.

As I leap over the crowd of martial artists, Ivona comes barreling into the shocked men and women. Her massive mace shatters what little defenses they had.

The Boros brothers clean up as I face the next challenge.

I weave through lance and spear, leaving a thin red line where I pass.

Hundreds of warriors project out with their chi bombs. But, I maximize the power of my spirit vine and create a field where their energies dissipate.

Those who think there is safety in numbers find the flaw when I project an area of effect gravity wave that breaks their spines.

Screams of pain and anger spread through the camp.

But, more than anger, there is fear.

I fall back to reinforce my party and we cut a line through the beleaguered martial artists.

When they try to run, I move to break their escape route.

This is how Meridian fought. There's no room for cowardice.

But, as many as I cull, many others recognize their danger and flee to the other camps.

Horns blast as regiments of martial artists rush across the open field to meet us.

The camp is forgotten, and we strike out at the reinforcements.

Ivona is bloody, most of it being her enemies'.

And, the Boros brothers are playing it safe while I jump over a company of soldiers.

As I rise over them, I press down with the weight of my spirit vine.

It happens too quickly and cripples them.

Chi bombs flow from my tireless spirit.

Just as the reinforcements arrive, they are decimated.

More soldiers arrive. But, their morale suffers as they watch their brothers flee the front line.

Eventually, no more reinforcements come and my party takes a moment the breathe.

"Dammit, Meridian," Zach says. "What are you?"

I shrug.

Ivona claps a big hand on my shoulder. "Glad you weren't just chasing ladies like other little princes do."

My thoughts of Siri are stirred.

Can I take her as a traitor to the state?

"Enough chitchat. There are still camps that need scourging."

"Yes, sir."

From there we spend the rest of the morning traveling from one encampment to the next decimating would-be defenders.

Many flee to report their defeat to the lords of their respective sects.

My team sags with fatigue as we stare out from the final camp.

"I'm leaving."

I say it bluntly to leave no doubt.

The Boros brothers hold their tongues.

But, Ivona is hurt.

"All this," she gestures to the dead. "And, you're gonna go back to playing little lordling.

"We need you."

I sigh, "I have things that I want to protect. Things that will be put at risk if I become known as a traitor."

She is silent for a moment.

"Fine," she says. "Keep playing. We'll be fighting."

With that, she walks away.

The brothers nod to me before following the giant woman.

I take a deep breath and sprint off into the wilds.

Before getting far, I find a river.

The dye in my hair isn't permanent. So, a little soap and water see my natural color return.

I am late in getting back to Quolm. But, the administrators at the census office show no sign of having missed me.

My first solitary assignment will lead me West.

I remember the times I was out West as Meridian.

I recall having met Sandra out there. It will be nice to see the land again.

But, there is another side of the region that puts me at ease.

All the same, my feet carry me away from Quolm.

Time passes on the road.

My thoughts are everywhere as I walk.

I've joined the war on the Jal. Even if I want to hide it, the stigma remains.

A small food service business sits at a crossroads. Such businesses are rare in the South lands.

But, as I move Westward, I find a more prosperous land. If only marginally.

The land of the 12 tribes.

I fear being drawn further into the war if I reconnect with the tribes.

After the insurrection, the tribes have been severely repressed. I drew them into a war and lost.

I put the pointless thoughts behind me as I find a seat in the restaurant.

A man runs the business. His head is sparse for hairs.

"What can I get you?"

I look at the other patrons.

"Whatever you got that's ready."

The man nods and begins putting together the meal.

"They say," I overhear, "that Meridian himself fought at the Slaughter."

"Yeah," comes another voice. "And he dipped his hair in the blood of his victims. His supporters are all dying their hair red."

"Slaves are so stupid. That'll just make it easier for the inquisition to take them."

"I don't know. The Slaughter changed things. Everyone who doubted Meridian's existence is taking this little war more seriously."

"You don't think he's immortal, do you?"

A silence hangs over the room as my plate of meat and tubers is set before me.

Coin passes from me to the businessman before I dig in.

The conversation around me falls away as I enjoy my meal.

After eating, I continue my journey.

Along the way, I find small villages and ask my customary questions.

I find myself guided by Meridian as I subconsciously chase the path I walked with Sandra.

She's been dead 20 years. But, she is alive in my heart.

Siri is Adam's love. And, chasing ghosts will bring no happiness.

I adjust my path. I don't need to see my old haunts.

My work leads me to many destinations.

On several occasions, I am chased off and have to note the date and location of the hostile village.

On the road, I cross a file of chained-up men and women being led off to some slave market.

The guards are relatively few and I could free these pitiful people.

But, I harden my heart and carry on with my duty.

The head guard recognizes the seal of a civil servant on my neck and calls for the slaves to move off the road.

I nod my head to the man, loathing myself.

I spend weeks cataloging the statistics of the region.

There is an office of the bureau in the nearby city of Trenor.

I recall this city as being the capital of the 12 tribes. This city holds a sacred relic that the tribes revere.

The census office is orderly and I soon have my information under review.

Before I take on another workload, I take the opportunity to explore the city.

As Meridian, I never had the opportunity to come to this city.

As I wander, I see a congregation of citizens gathered together.

Curious, I approach the gathering.

On a raised platform a speaker is addressing the gathering.

"Brothers and sisters, it is time to rise. We of the tribes have spent the last 16 years watching our sons and daughters being led off to die violently in cages and worse.

"We have suffered indignities ever since the Judgment that ended the campaign of Meridian.

"But, now we have a second chance.

"The legendary warrior lives and we must be present to the moment. We must rise against the Jal."

The masses murmur with energy.

"We followed Meridian before," someone cries out. "It is precisely because of him that we are in this state."

Several voices share their agreement.

"With 3 spiritualists," the man speaking to the masses says, "the Uncontrolled decimated the martial sects.

"What more do you think he could do with all of us?"

I find the weight of their dialogue hanging heavily on my shoulders.

These people have made me into a saint.

As the gathering continues, the sound of marching feet carries over the voices.

City guards with wooden clubs circle the gathering.

A man clad in red robes comes out from behind the guards.

The man sniffs the air as though smelling something rotten.

"You," he points to the man on the platform, "are under arrest."

The man on the platform blanches.

"This gathering," the man in red continues, "is dismissed."

Several voices grumble their discontent.

The man scowls at the men and women, "If you want to be arrested for treason and sedition, please join him."

No one stands in defiance as they go their separate ways.

I watch the one man being taken into custody. His death is almost a certainty.

The man in red sees me. His eyes drawn to my seal.

He nods respectfully to me before turning to leave.

All I do is watch.

The city guards march off, leaving me alone in the town square.

After a long moment, I move on.