The Knight and the Desert Isolated in the desert there stood a Kingdom beset by four walls. In the midst of the flames, a lone knight bearing the emblem of his king, set out to capture three suspected fugitives. He was tall, imposing, shaved. He was arrayed in armor of fine metals, bearing a lance and riding a fearsome horse. Behind them was a cell made of unbreakable material, carted on the back of the saddle. Upon his neck was a cross, bearing the image of the King of Kings. Into the desert he rode by sun and by torchlight, to find those who had escaped capture in the riots. After some time, he saw upon a dune in the distance what looked to be a man older than any other in the kingdom, running towards the sun in its ascent. As he rode closer the Knight barked, "Halt! In the name of the King and the King of Kings, supreme masters of Heaven and Earth, identify yourself!" The Knight held his lance to the back of his neck. He stopped and turned. As the Knight inched closer he could see that this man was not old, but rather deformed. He had an elongated skull. He was dressed in black robes, like that of the heretics who gathered in the night in the catacombs to do God knows what. His skin was pale, like that of somebody who had not seen the sun in a century. His eyes glowed red. And when the knight peered closed, he could see fangs glinting in the rising sun. "Please have mercy! My name is Kul D'Kau'aul. I only wanted to know what the King was hiding from us. He keeps these books from the before-times locked in the castle vault. I knew somebody who had access, and how was I supposed to resist? I didn't realize the knowledge inside would deform me like this. I didn't know I would be hidden from the sun forever. I didn't know how good her blood would taste. You can't imagine the rush of all this power! You can't imagine the humiliation of being so freakish! I didn't want to bite them! I've broken the commandment against witchcraft and I'm sorry!" The Knight needed to hear no more. He grabbed him firmly by the wrist and opened the door to the cell. On he rode to find his second fugitive. After some time, he saw upon a dune in the distance a young girl running towards the sun in its height. As he rode closer the Knight barked, "Halt! In the name of the Lord and the Lord of Lords, supreme masters of Heaven and Earth, identify yourself!" The Knight held his lance to the back of her neck. She stopped and turned. Her most obvious identifying feature was clear immediately. Her beard. It was brown like pine bark. She wore a blue dress, with white collar frills. A closer look revealed this dress to be splattered with blue and red paint (or what looked to be paint). She looked scared and confused, and yet determined. "My Name is Ada. I didn't want to kill him. He told me he wanted to tell me a secret. I trusted him. The noyef just wanted to get handsy with me. I carry that knife on my hip for protection! He scared me! I didn't want to hurt him, it just happened. I've murdered somebody! I'm sorry! I've broken the comandment against killing and I'm sorry!" The Knight needed to hear no more. He grabbed her firmly by the wrist and opened the door to the cell. On he rode to find his third and final fugitive. After some time, he saw upon a dune in the distance the shape of a man running only under the light of night. As he rode closer, the Knight barked, "Halt! In the name of the Light and the Light of Lights, supreme masters of Heaven and Earth, identify yourself!" The Knight held his lance to the back of their neck. They stopped and turned. What the Knight saw horrified him. The man who could only be seen by the light of the Knight's torch looked exactly like him. Sans the armor and horse and cell, he too was tall, imposing, shaved. His clothes were torn in various places, as if in a struggle or duel. Upon his neck was a cross, bearing the image of the King of Kings, but with the visage of his face chipped. He had the same determination in his eyes. "Don't touch me! I know I have committed the sin of sins, the murder of murders! When the King ordered the execution of my brother, I just couldn't look upon the law of this land as anything worth following anymore. I couldn't stand to watch innocent lives ruined by his commandments! I had to kill him you see! I've broken the commandment against regicide! I had to, there was no possible world where this was not the result! There just wasn't! I'm telling you that there wasn't! Why aren't you saying anything?" The Knight stood still, his horse reigned in. He was terrified. He was looking into the tattered image of himself. He had duty to the King, but in some strange way, duty to this mirror, this taunting spectre. He felt the light filling him, commanding his hand to thrust his lance into the chest of the man standing before him. As the sanctified and consecrated instrument of the Kingdom became one with the heart of the fugitive, the knight felt but a pinch in his own, and a puff as if dust had been released somewhere. As he gazed down at his own chest, his armor somehow pierced by some unseen blade. By the torch in his other hand he could make out a single color. Red. Blood. Or was it paint? The world became confused, the Knight could feel himself nauseous, losing control of his motor functions. As he began to move unexpectedly, his horse became startled and bucked him backwards. He crashed onto the ground, hand still gripped upon his lance, and felt his chest crack. As his consciousness faded, he could feel the quickly-dying body of the fugitive slowly descending the lance onto the Knight's own chest plate. At the breaking of dawn and the extinguishing of the flames, a lone person stumbled from the now ashen Kingdom. Upon his back was a crank lyre case. He was dressed in no fancy fineries, accompanied only by a small dog. He was shaven only halfway, his left side being fully bearded, as if shaved for a joke in his sleep (or perhaps for fashion). Upon his neck was the image of a Trident, with no subject of suffering upon it. His pace was stilted at first, as if haven woken up from a particularly drunken night. He spoke thusly to his dog, "C'mon Yama, the party's dead here. We gotta go look for the next one. There's nothin new under the sun, but there's new suns boy! I hope they have mead where we're goin!" At once his stumble became a skip, his feet never sinking into the sand. The sun burnt his neck but he did not notice. He was as innocent as they came. And in the desert lit by the now risen sun, and in his still drunken eyes, he could see green where others could only see the desert. And as he skipped, the land recognized his step.