Tangerine Dream - Green Desert
July 03, 1778
...
For my dear ones,
With the ceremony of before over for all of us, unlike the training given to us by Komakino, the eldest of all commanders and us, as soon as the sun shone, rising from the horizon of the next day, we dismantled our tents, then we moved northwest of Burmecia, until all of us arrived at Vube desert.
Yes, the desert... For someone who came from the wet plains to these dunes of sand, this place might be seen with a shocking gaze of the eye, and the soul. But for me, a Highwind, a traveler by nature, life is made of new experiences. Once you break with your habits, something inside us awakens, this something never meant to be awoken by many. The sleepers must awaken to something new, or else, they are kept in their slumber, in the dark room, where time stands still.
There seems to be a few clouds in the desert, as much as there is absolutely no sign of the Mist, gray as the clouds that once covered the skies for us, but for you that stood there, all remained the same. For the first time, in weeks for me, but in years for many, we all saw the sun shine upon us.
The white star, which brought its heat in the morning, had more heat than expected. Instead of the rain running through our body, the scent and moisture of a sweat came to fill in its place. This sweat, which left our bodies as the air in our lungs, in more quantity than the day before we arrived, carried our tents to be placed here, or there. As I am writing this card, there are other men on the outside, trying to find a place where their tents can be kept. This is because of the sand, and of the things beneath it.
Unfortunately, one of the men had his leg bitten by an Antlion larva. Antlions. Nasty creatures who move freely around sand. They are attracted by the surface vibrations. These creatures, before they grown into something that resembles an ugly beetle with the legs of a crab and the deformed face of a devil, their larvas remain hid in the sand, hunting for preys by excavating traps, which can be spotted as cone-shaped sand pits, to lure them into the bottom, where the larva stays awaiting for the careless ones.
Sensitive to ground vibrations, once the victim falls further into the sand pit, it keeps falling, due to the sand and the shape of the trap preventing them from escaping on his own. Now, upon bitting its prey with the hollow jaws, instead of tearing apart a limb, the larva instead sucks dry the fluids of the prey, mainly blood, and when its finished, the larva throws away the leftovers and fixes the walls surrounding the trap, then awaits for another meal.
Scary, isn't it? For the sons, many fathers say 'don't be afraid', but I will say otherwise. It's natural to be afraid, to carry on some fear, and Hope to relieve such fear. But the Fear is meant to be avoided, know it.
When you become hopeless, you are afraid of anything, even if you try or not, but when you become full or have a single bit of hope, you are fearless. Only the hopeless feel the Fear, and only Fear can block the way, the path you desire to follow. Remember that only the road remains wide open while your dreams are alive. And when there is life, there is Hope.
Think of how many times I risked my life, but not the hope of mine over those situations, alike now. Such as me, who once traveled to the Aerbs on foot, growing calluses for the feet; who climbed the boulders of a single Stone Tower before it crumbled and I felt with the rocks that sustained it on the sea, who had the limbs been turned into stone during an ambush by the Evil Forest, who had the unique experience of swimming on the tides of the Devil's Waterfall, and almost had been sucked in by a maelstrom if it wasn't for the rope tightened onto me by me, the one who knows how dangerous things are, this prior the construction of Lindblum's Gate on the same area.
And I won't forget the time I flew on a Chocobo Copter... Yes, that was a bad idea. Dumbest idea ever, I know, and my bones as well do know.
Don't know who was the one who fell on the trap, but fortunately he is still alive, still feeling the same pain on the same leg. Three other men saved the life, and killed that same larva. Now guess what we do have for dinner? Without a shadow, the sweat runs dry, as the sun may burn us a bit. And that's the desert for many, isn't it?
You, as much as I, may be asking why am I here, on this wasteland at first sight. Well, those were the orders of Sigurd. Truth be told, besides your mother, daddy can't disobey what Sigurd has told his to do, because daddy doesn't know what to do on his own. No one knows. I'm not akin to warfare tactics, but maybe Sigurd is, since he has been there before I came into this. He was already there, giving us orders when I came.
This was before the well-known Airship Revolution came. Before, a succession of wars went through years, and still they do. Not only this war, but the one that still follows us, from within, seen by others from outside. As if we had been pulled backwards, while they migrated to the highest plateaus, we had been left on our own, to build our own history, though some of they brought us the words of the books, the remaining letters of the alphabet, the sounds of our voices spoken, the needle we use to sew clothings, and so many uncountable favors, so many means brought to be later justified for us being 'primordial', 'archaic', 'delayed'.
Sometimes, I wonder if they only know our people, our kingdom just for economics, for the spice, the bittersweet coffee and for the atrocities I hope for not happen, until I and my spear are prepared to deal with such.
If Alexandria does intend to invade Burmecia, then why cross the desert? And how will they find a way to cross the boundaries? Grand Dragons inhabit the Poplos and its surroundings, and I don't think that I would even be able to survive a horde of them on my own. We don't know, but the high command has been informed of the matter.
They somehow found a way to cross from above the heights, which seems to be impossible, except if you have an Airship. These Airships still work with engines that consume the Mist scattered over the air to move, and so they can only move on places where such Mist persist. To fly through the desert is impossible, since they only could land in there, hiding themselves below the dunes somewhere in or out of our range, we still don't know how they got in here, but that they are here, we had been told it so.
We will avoid facing the enemy directly for now, or so Sigurd had said. The current strategy is that we spread our camps around the range of this desert, such a long range from another, in a group of at least five or how many of us can get alongside another, successfully prepared for what will come next, by surprise or advantage given either by ours or the Alexandrians. We do not know their tactics, so it'll be hard to deduce how they are supposed to damage our defenses, whatever is their goal. But we do know what we need to do, and by now, we just await. The inhabitants of this place may be able to help us, since they are our people as well.
'Know about the conditions of the field, and use them for your advantage. If you don't, then the enemy shall progress to take your units out, because all kind of warfare is based on utter deception, and who shall be the one to bring deception?'; or so does seem to be written in The Book of Gizamaluke.
Well, before the fight, I had gotten some facts about Vube, mainly extracted from researchers belonging to Daguerreo, that shall be used to our advantage, at least. Due to the sand, which gains and loses heat quickly, high thermal ranges cause extreme temperatures in the daytime and equally low temperatures at night. So it's hot during the day and utterly cold at night.
Only a few plants and animals survive in these harsh conditions. Some plants had to adapt their leaves into thorns to waste less water during transpiration; others plants had to lengthen their roots to reach the underground reservoirs of water.
Some animals adapted their bodies to be able to live without feeding for days, or even months. If those animals stood without food and water, their internal fat storage would sustain them for days. Others, like small rodents, dug subterranean burrows, only hunting after sunset; cold-blooded animals, like reptiles, need the sun's warmth to keep active; birds uses the heatwave that elevates up from the desert to glide through it and so, the early humanoid rats had to adapt to the harsh environment they lived.
Although being covered by sand, desert soil is naturally fertile. When an animal dies and the corpse's putrefaction starts, carrion animals, like vultures, disrupt and eat the deceased body. Later, the ants take what was left from that carcass to their colonies, inside the earth, where those remains act as a natural fertilizer.
Rarely, an underground reservoir or a river beneath the ground runs in the surface, forming a lake in the middle of the desert, the oasis. The presence of water allows plants to grow around the oasis, also attracting animal life. The water coming from the oasis made it easier for human beings to survive. From founding their settlements to providing food by artificial irrigation, they lived around the oasis until that water dried. When an oasis dried, they had to move to find another one.
A land that once belonged to our ancestors, Vube now belongs to two of our relatives. They are the Libers and the Cleyrans. The Libers, our distant relatives, are mainly composed of the people that belong to a common group of nomads who live freely at the desert, sharing similar aspects as our ancestors. As one of the earliest tribal civilizations of Gaia, they were, and still are, bonded together by mutual needs, mainly their survival.
They live under a dry environment, whose rainfall precipitation is less than 10' (25cm) by year, unlikely Burmecia, whose annual precipitation varies between 21' to 25' at Spring and Summer season (53,34cm – rounded to 53cm – and 63,5cm, respectively), and between 5' and 15' at Autumn and Winter seasons (13cm and 38cm, both respectively rounded). Their skin tone varies from the gray we still carry on, to a brown varying into a dark to a light cocoa skin, like the one belonging to a dormouse. They seem to be the only ones who share these colors, since the entirety of Burmecia's inhabitants only features tones of gray on their skin and fur.
The people of the desert learned that the use of large clothing, primarily made of cotton, works as a thermal insulation material, preventing both heat and cold from entering inside. Turbans are used by both males and females to cover their faces during violent sandstorms. With time, naturally, those people adapted to live here.
I saw one of the chief's feet, and that looked more robust than mine. Those feet allowed him to walk freely through hot sand, as if he almost felt nothing. His eyelashes were wider, to avoid some dust to penetrate into their vision. He almost had no fur, unlike me, a child born in a land whose rain covers an entire pavement and runs along the same as a river.
The Libers also learned to domesticate a few animals, like Mus, who seem to be friendly to him, unlike the wild ones around this continent. As they learned to live through these harsh conditions, they also learned to develop writing and a language. They write in the sand, before the wind takes away their words, or in a piece of cloth, with the pigments of a red to purple dye, made of the beet that they also eat.
Ever since children, the Liberals write with the finger, or with a piece of wood. They stock the food, mainly grass and leaves, or dates and lychees taken from the trees of a nearby oasis marshes by a Mu taught to do this, and meat from what they killed with the javelins on the bowls made of clay, extracted from the marshes of the oasis as well, turned into bowls by the fire coming from inside the kiln, where they also forge the tip of those javelins, on a similar way as we do today, based on such rudimentary practices.
They can't speak our current language, based on the gathering of stranger's phonemes and letters, who came to Burmecia to establish routes of trade, but since we are his descendants, and since some traditions of ancient times are still kept with some of us, their old dialect is understandable. Not complex as today's, but a word and another can be listened to and recognized. Unlike our enemy, we had made an alliance with the local Libers, even before this conflict between nations came into this, as many times it did happen.
Searching for an explanation of the world around them, these tribes developed the first concepts of religion. Ruled by a tribal chieftain, believed to be blessed by the wisdom and knowledge of the gods, these early groups lived with no laws established. To keep order in the tribes, the members feared the will of their gods since they were children.
Each tribe had their own customs, but the belief of several gods, also known as Polytheism, was evident in each of them. Some tribes opted for an early practice of Shinto, by praising the divinities related to the nature forces surrounding them, although they left nothing written about their religion.
As societies become larger and diverse, the youngest males of each tribe decided to leave their communities to discover more about the world they lived, fulfilling their aim of exploring the lands beyond the desert. Followed by their wives, they decided to started a new society, but an impasse between two major options divided them. One side opted to stay still on a specific place, and the other side decided to be nomadic. Those who become nomadic ones are the ones who founded the current kingdom you live, with or without your father.
Also, I'm sorry to disappoint you once again, but it's a lie that Chocobos bury their heads in the sand when they are scared.
Due to the dunes, you can assume their heads are buried beneath the ground, but they aren't. Mostly these Chocobos are feeding themselves with some grass they can find, though Gysahl Greens are their favorite kind of food. Favorite or not, they are dependent on the leaves they can eat, as much as we are dependent on water, either if we live below the clouds, or above the dunes we step.
This heat is dazzling me. The sweat overcomes my body, even inside this tent. One of the Libers brought water to us. By us, I mean Clyde and Bart. They are, besides the only ones who followed me, or had been ordered so, brothers, sons of Major Brandford, an acquaintance of mine.
The skies once blue turn into an orange sky. The sandstorms usually come in the afternoon, from the middle of Vube, where Cleyra and its hid settlement resides. The City of Illusions, as travelers used to call it, Cleyra is vastly different from this, the place where the Libers live.
I was greeted by a kid then. He asked me if I wanted to see his grandma, and so I did. I followed him to the house of his, more like an underground shelter, that looked so cold inside, but I couldn't stay in there for so long. That kid was the one who would deliver the water to us at the tent, so I would later take the water from his, this before I came up in front of his grandma, a corpse sitting still in the middle of the room.
I... how could I say, I had no words to say, as much as… Grandma. That body was well preserved for someone who had died a long time ago.
Unlike us, who carry on the tradition of burying the ones who passed away, the Libers don't bury their relatives. Instead, they use some sort of mummification methods of preservation, such as wrapping pieces of cloth designed for such around their body, and so they let them on the room. Of course, the relatives of such deceased also move the body of his when the food is gone, when there's less for their hunger to be done.
They are also tied in to the water, as much as we. We always had been in search of water, from these times where we lived on this desert as the Libers do, and so do the ones called by Cleyrans. Though they refute being Burmecians as they still believe you and me do, they also are dependent on water, given by the rain of God or not.
Now that the dusk is lowering in, I shall receive such a cold night, as we had been received by the heat, suffered for receiving such, and now we wish it back, for some reason. Even if we are unsure for such a return, unsure of tomorrow, don't worry, because you all are the remaining warmth, not only for me, but for those who came along with me.
Hugs for my dear children,
Zaccharias, Michael, Peter, Leonard, Fratley and Sixty (I want to know the little's name so much!)
Kisses for my beloved Sophia (love you all),
Mr. Prescott Highwind
...
That feeling of being sunbathed by lemons on high noon.
Your skin cracking by every single greenish drop of acid juice... how it burns, how sweet it is to burn. Here it comes! The itchness, aaargh!... ain't pleasant at all. Wasps biting me all over, as I chew their Queen and those deary honey wings... chewing wasps as they bite me all over, sweet Lord! I heard 20 burmecians were wiped out by the Alexandrians, the Mist and the Desert itself.
Those damn alexandrians.. it's not their fault at all. But I'm angry. Very angry. Very deeply full of regrets angry. I just want to come back home and hugh my children and hug my wife and... dunno, just live. Those hands of mine, can they even hug anymore? All they did was hold of a spear, smear of blood, punch, scratch, and all kinds of nasty jobs. I don't want to leave bed, mom...
— ...You feel it too – Clyde stares at me with empty eyes that looked far in the horizon and got lost in the way back home – this agonizing wicked pain... they did something with us, Bart. They took us away from our families, from the world we know, put us in this hell... for what reason?
— I don't know – I do wonder what they exactly did to us. Never that I felt an urge to kill, and I pretend to ignore I saw myself twisting my brother's neck. My brother... – I wonder if the other side thinks the same.
— The alexandrians, huh? Those petty ignorants, they fight for their stupid ideals
— They have families too – who's stupid now?
— Yes, they do – Clyde hates when he doesn't look like an intellectual. Still, he relies too much on the misguided genius persona – I'm really upset right now. All I want, all that lacks in my life... a beer, maybe. Or shoes to walk at sand, my sore toes are boiling as if I walked upon lava.
— It's hot even in here – I was never good at designing tents. Always wanted to sleep below stars, not in a pool of fetid sweat.
— Shall we pray for Bahamut? I'll begin... 'Oh Lord Bahamut, thou art in Heaven, merciful be with us...'
— Wait... That's now how the prayer goes by.
— I'm hallucinating right now, please – okay... your arguments seem beliavable – gosh, where's Prescott with the water? I'm thirsty. Anyway... know what do I really miss, Bart?
— Your kids?
— Nah, they're fine. Once I come back home, it'll be all fine.
— Your wife?
— Cynthia, that pretty? Yes... you're close – I hope Clyde isn't talking about – three words: Sex.
— That's one word.
— That's all you know about sex, a word. Perhaps, Lenneth had to teach you all. So, you and Lenneth-
— We refrain from discussing about our private matters.
— Just saying. Was she a virgin-
— Clyde, please – I fell in despise towards my brother's attitude, which I won't tolerate any further – I respect my wife and I'm commited to preserve her honor under any circumstance.
— If you say so... – as the daytime is soaring, Clyde turns back to his silence – nobody's an innocent.
— I do believe men can be friendly, sweetheart, endearing and great on their own – Prescott came in, with the clay bottles filled of water.
— Thank God! – Clyde sighed in relief. There's no way one can eat water with teeth, unless they saw my brother – did you heard us?
— A little bit – Prescott tries to hide the shame in face for a more refined look – what were you gentlemen talking about?
— Women – said Clyde, who almost drowned himself in holy water.
— I have wife and children – Prescott took a seat on my bedside.
— Me too – Clyde replied.
— I have one kid. Jack's his name – I said with all my heart, knowing I'll be alive to see Jack and Lenneth again.
— You're lucky. To have one kid instead of four – Clyde drank all his water, like a kid whose face is all covered in beans.
— Five. Six counting the baby that was just born, but he has no name yet – while Prescott took small and calculated drinks. As for me, I don't know. I drank my water and kept a bit for later – ooh, my back! The pain at my back is long gone, went to my head and... the poppy seed tea, it rots your brain and kills you dead.
— My... Those little kidney like seeds sure have a wonderful effect when it comes to end pain! – Clyde spoke as if everything went away and a new world opened before his eyes – it's been hours since I took my sip of tea and I still feel it, whoa! It's like getting hit by thunderWhat about you, Bart?
— I... I feel like breathing oil out of a whale in a canvas portrait – it sure is a fantastic feel, but I fear getting addicted to such thing.
— While it's good to get rid of pain, I would advise you to not give yourself in – so does Prescott – effects after drinking poppy tea happen quickly, usually around fifteen minutes, and can last for hours. Eating very large amounts of poppy seeds might block the bowels. Other symptons include impaired concentration, flushed skin, constricted pupils, vomiting and even higher doses the tea can suppress the respiratory system, the heart rate, and blood pressure.
— Don't you worry, Prescott. We'll take as much poppy as we need. Nothing more, nothing less. Just like beer – I believe in Clyde. There are times he's straight up a liar and annoying, but he's my brother, we have a blood tie and I know when he's being sincere. I nod after he says it.
— Alright, I trust you guys – Prescott said, sharing of a reflective wise tone – you see, many drink beer because it's fun and helps you loosen up. It takes the edge off reality, making it just a little more bearable. Then it just becomes a habit. Then... a little more than a habit. And then it destroys life, families and relationships, then all of a sudden you're naked in the rain, feeling cold, alone, sleeping on a roof, and you begin to reflect on the decisions you made in life that led you to this point.
— Damn... did it all happened to you? – asked Clyde, perplexed by Prescott's story. I too feel like my brother, but not even close.
— Not me, but a friend of mine. To think same could happen to me, had not I had moderation...
— Alright, that's our leave. Let's give our dear Prescott the rest he deserves – Clyde said, as he wore his uniform and went outside the tent – follow me, Bart.
— Well, time to patrol – I didn't wanted to leave bed like a five year old, but whatever, Prescott did a lot for us, it's time to do something in exchange.
— Be careful – he said, as I got myself inside the stiff armor and blue clothes wore by all burmecian units.
— Thanks, but to this day, I haven't really saw an alexandrian – I had trouble wearing my pants, it was a struggle to tighten the belt, my helmet does not seem to fit in head, but I do what I can and feel proud of doing so – not that I really want to see one of them. Well, it was an alexandrian who killed my father, but I don't really hate them all for that. I do miss dad, but... what the hell, I have nothing to do with any of this. I just want to go back home to my family.
— We all want to, Bartholomew – Prescott said, laying on his bed – I didn't asked to be here, and there are times I wish I was never born. But you see, one must look throught darkness in order to reach the light. Only a few can stand the light outside the cave, only a few know the truth and come back to spread it to everyone who stood inside the cave. Will they listen? Of course not, they got used to darkness, to not feel pain, to ignore reality throught rooted prejudices.
— That's not living, it's the complete opposite.
— Major Brandford thought the same — I don't know what Prescott sees in me, but it can't be my father, or can it? – he once told me about how a blind man, whose life has been covered in darkness, focuses to see inward. A blind man is the most enlightened of all men, he said.
— Honestly, I would like to turn blind by now, after seeing a lot I didn't wanted to. Like poking my eyes out with a knife. Not that I really want to, because I do want to see Lenneth again. I want to feel her touch, smell her, hold her... I think I'm going too far.
— It's fine. You are not alone when it comes to have such desires – I still don't know who's this Prescott, but he talks to me as if he was my father. I know he was a friend of his, and... I don't know, I miss him a lot, and it's kinda comforting to hear such words of a person long gone throught someone else
— Have you notiched this? It feels like we are not here to fight the alexandrians, but a worse kind of demon – I said, soon as I left the tent.
— Indeed – that's what Prescott said before he slept. It's my turn to guarantee our survival.