King Crimson - The Sheltering Sky

…

Wealth.

It insulates, protects. How much money and influence are enough to keep an only man away from the rest of the world? A fortress to defend an only man. Everyone has its walls, its defenses. All it takes is the right person to find a way in.

— ...Commander Sigurd! Commander! Sigurd!... SIGURD! Si-gurd! – I yelled like a desperate little girl, running out of breath and tumbling over a dune. Even at night, the desert's heat remains the same. That, or sand's so cold it burns like snow.

— What is it that you desire? – A soldier came next to me. He looks terrified, and it should be.

— I-I...I h-have a message... An impo-important mes-s-sage... – My throat is so dry I could barely speak. It's what happens when you walk miles away on a freaking huge desert, barefoot as worst offender.

— This better be important. – I took a better look at the 'soldier' and he wore silver gold armor. It was the Prince of Burmecia, in front of a peasant like me. God, how much I wanted to slap his face...

— What is happening? Why all this turmoil? – Sigurd said, elegantly coming out of its royal tent. So many men built a desert palace for him. Common men who never built a house with their own hands, who had no combat experience whatsoever. Sigurd be damned.

— Sigurd! – The Prince said, exhausted from taking a few steps. Well, rich boy, why don't we exchange places so you feel what it's like to walk through this wasteland on your own, with only a knife as your defense against who knows what kind of monsters you can find. I swear I saw walking skeletons...

— ...Clyde Brandford, I presume. – The commander approached my ordinary persona. He looked down like I was an ant crawling its arm. Do you let the ant walk in your skin as you feel its annoying legs, or do you blow it away like its life is insignificant, worthless?

I was ready to find out.

...

— ...And then Prescott defeated the 'shadow flier' who presumably had put many of our soldiers to their demise? – Sigurd, benevolent as the great man he is, let me in. He even offered me a cup of Burmecian chai. Inside its tent, it almost feels like home. So I told him about the story Hyuuga shared with me.

— Is that true? – My Highness looked skeptic throughout the entire talk. And I'll never call him 'My Highness' ever again.

— It is true. I trust Prescott Highwind's words. – I said, sipping the warm chai. It actually was so hot it ended up burning my tongue, but it's not right for a guest to complain inside the host's home. I have no respect for these people, but Father Brandford taught me that you must be respectful even to the ones who hold you with a knife on the neck.

— Tomorrow we'll find the body of this, err... creature. – Sigurd spoke in a tone of worry and fascination. – Little yellow dots for the eyes, you said?

— That's right. Prescott told me it was anything but human. – Like both of you, mediocre dunces! Imagine saying it right on Sigurd's face, I wonder how he would react. We're outside Burmecia, there are no laws but punishment. I could punch the commander's skull so hard it would break in small jigsaw pieces, but I don't want to underestimate his puppy.

— Maybe it's a weapon made by the Alexandrians. – The Prince said. He might be a newcomer, but what if that idiotic look on face is just an impression? If he is hiding something, and that not being his sexual orientation.

— We don't know yet, Gabriel. Maybe it could be a new specimen. There are a lot of uncatalogued beasts and plants roaming around the world, yet to be discovered by men. – Sigurd may be a dick when it comes to take away a hundred men away from their families and loved ones, but he does not hide the fascination he has for Science.

— What if there are more Black Mages? – And the Prince does not seem to appreciate silence. In fact, he looks far more distressed than myself.

— More of that thing? Impossible. But there's a chance.

— A small chance, yet to be considered. – Sigurd said coolly, as he stood in his serene and collected mood. – You said that thing, the Black Mage... it spoke, as well as it followed orders of killing?

— That thing followed orders. Of the Alexandrians, of course! – The Prince yelled a petulant cry of help that did nothing but make him feel pathetic.

— My Highness, please... – I'd feel pity together of Sigurd, this if they had less caviar on their mouths.

— Yes. Of course. – Gabriel took a sip of chai and was left with a cold, bitter glare in face. – What I'm saying is that none of this feels like a coincidence. Someone is behind all of this. The Alexandrians...

— We don't know if the Alexandrians are behind it. A wild guess, as foolish as a blind man trying to find a black cat in utter darkness. – Sigurd raised a fork and its voice to the young Prince.

— Not everything is the Alexandrian's fault, you're saying. Like my father's death... – Gee, talk about teenage angst.

— We have a visitor, My Highness. Behave yourself in front of visitors.

— But Sigurd!... – The Prince has been boiling for a while. He has finally erupted. – They have been exterminating us since the dawn of time! Have you forgotten about the water poisoning that happened centuries ago? Didn't human foreigners provide the poison agent that killed 18 million of our people?

— That's enough. – Sigurd bursted, but it was a polite one.

— 18 million! Counting artists, poets, warriors, women, children... People that had nothing to do with any of it.

— I said that's enough, My Majesty. – Sigurd said calmly. He treated the Prince like a baby who had no right to answer. Nothing new, not that I care... I'm just a bystander in front of them arguing. – Acting superior when you're just confused never won anybody any prizes.

— But the humans... we live under constant threat. They killed us, they killed my dad, who's next? – I wonder if the Prince feels insecure because he's outside his Palace and all the stewardship is gone. Or if he feels that way since he left his golden cradle and kashmir diapers behind.

— Just because a group of humans does some bad stuff it does not follow that all humans are bad. You've fallen into a logical error. Also, you recall the many times our own people fought one another without any external influence, right?

— Yes... I do. – Gabriel nodded in benign approval.

— Arm yourself with knowledge. Please think before you speak.

— Yes, Sigurd... – What I have to say is that Sigurd is good at devastating someone only with arguments.

— Please forgive our Highness's boorish attitude, Mr. Brandford. – The Commander pretends to act it's all fine, like he didn't tear apart the one who's like his own child.

— Clyde. Just Clyde is fine, Sire. Mr. Brandford is my father, you see.

— Major Bartholomew Brandford... Indeed, a good man. – Sigurd closed its eyes, feeling the bitterness of the chai and the recollections he had of father. – A shame he died so young.

— Thank you very much, with all my heart, for granting your honorable presence, Commander Sigurd. – I said, feeling the words I just said were not mine, like controlling an arm outside the skin. Like my father said, be respectful even to your worst enemies.

— I should thank you as well, Clyde Brandford, for the information you have delivered. You may leave your position, and have a good night. – The way Sigurd says 'go fuck yourself' sounds so formal that I feel like, you know, fucking myself a little bit more.

— May you and our Highness have a good night as well. – With that said, I left the Royal tent, but not before kneeling, almost bending over my butt before them. I used to do a lot of mooning as a kid, but I don't feel like doing this sort of childish stuff. I have grown up a bit to know how powerful it is to stay quiet and see the circus on fire.

Minutes later…

— ...Leave me alone. – With his head sunk underneath the pillow, Prince Gabriel of Burmecia felt a righteous presence in his bedroom.

— My Highness... – A black-hearted, half-baked Sigurd came in a sort of apologetic way, without warning.

— I already told you I'm sorry. Please, leave me alone. – Gabriel pleaded in an unforgiving tone, soon as Sigurd sat on the tip of his bed.

— You are not alone, Gabriel. I promised your mother that I would take care of you if something happened to her. – Sigurd knows his voice does not sound any comforting, in fact it's that one voice you hear from someone who's disappointed with you all time, but the Burmecian Commander knows he has a soft side which he nurtures inside stoic looks and silver armor.

— I don't want to be born, I'm just a baby... People die in front of me, people I don't even know... who don't know me as well... – Gabriel shivered in fear and cold, despite lying near a fireplace. – And you, Sigurd... I know you are hiding something from me. You... you promised my mother that you would take care of me. That you would protect me. Is that why you don't tell me about what you're hiding? About what you saw on those ancient scrolls...

— Yes. That's why. – Sigurd said immediately. – I don't want to see you hurt. To be fair, I don't know what's with young people these days, but I do miss the imagination and verve of the little zealot I used to teach. He had a light, romantic light in its eyes, and he would throw himself into the fray at every turn. A reckless boy afraid of its own shadow, but willing to fight against all odds. You know who I'm talking about... I am looking at that boy right now. Hardly the stuff of Burmecian legend, but I tried my best to make him feel confident of himself.

— So what? What is your point? – Gabriel felt worthless, crushed by Sigurd's lecture. – Why can't you just say 'I love you, have a good night'? Why do you need to be all poetic and less direct?

— Because I wanted to show how much I care for you, My Highness. – Sigurd's blood went to fervent boiling inside its veins.

In the old days, he would be saluted on every corner of any street as he did nothing but wave its claws in silence to the crowd. Even when he rarely brought a resilient smile, he had a hard time taking care of the youngest Prince of Burmecia. On his short stay as the head of the Dragoon Knight academy, it was bad enough teaching the adolescents with a thin veneer of whining deference and rebellious spirit waiting to be set free in an uproar of anxious complaints.

A few of his students were killed. Two or three fatalities, but Sigurd preferred to not dwell on the down side. He wanted to inspire those around him. Besides, the exquisitely arrogant Dragoon crybabies have long complained before the deaths.

— Sigurd... If you care for me, why do you insist on hiding secrets from me? – Prince Gabriel, in comparison, looked brave and strong. That, or Sigurd has discovered a fatherly side he doesn't show very often.

— You see... – No matter the mistakes committed by His Highness, Sigurd would be prompt to forgive them, and that was his intention after long reflecting. – I don't know what Trance is all about.

— No more hiding. – Gabriel threw away his pillow and faced the Commander with tearful eyes. Tell me what you know so far... I won't tell anyone else.

— My Highness...

— I swear, in my mother's name, I won't tell anyone. Between me and you and only. – Sigurd knew the Prince was serious about it. He would not usually swear in his sacred mother's name in vain.

— Fine. Very well. – Sigurd proceeded to explain. – As far as I can tell about my research on Trance, or the 'Drive' in a few translations... It is not a weapon, it is not a force of nature, it gives one inhuman strength and it might be Burmecia's salvation, or its eventual ruin. Trance is induced by a surge of emotion.

— Like emotions giving one's power?

— Yes. Sort of. Some registers I borrow refer to it as a kind of possession one's unable to control, a gathering of evil spirits that are discharged into the atmosphere in a sort of destructive energy like a thunderbolt out of clouds. It comes as unexpected, and there are a lot of blank words afterwards, so that's all I know about Trance so far.

— I see. – Gabriel took the time to internalize all the condensing bits of information he has just acquired. – What if one of our men enters Trance and is unable to control it? Will they kill the rest without noticing? And what if the Alexandrians discover how to induce Trance?

— Let's take a rest. Tomorrow I'll answer all your questions. – Said Sigurd, covering the Prince with a blanket, like how he used to when he was a young mouse. – Good night, little Prince.

— Good night, big Commander. – Gabriel closed his eyes as soon as Sigurd blew the candle and left his bedroom.