Fiore--Chapter One

Far off from the main region of Fioré, just west of the plains, lies a small mining town by the name of Corale. Corale is a typical town, with a narrow sandy road that winds into the centre, that is separated from any other villages by the vast plains that surrounded it.
The plains themselves were so dry that the earth cracked and boiled with temperatures that could just as easily roast a man as you could a small chicken. It is said that, out there, nothing survived save for the various species of cactus which, if you ever had the unfortunate luck to be stuck on the plains, provided quite a sweet and refreshing juice.
On first entering the town, you are greeted by a large sandstone arch that welcomes the visitors into Corale. The arch is made up of rough stone and a winged figure rests on top of it, looking down on those who enter. On either side of the arch are two sandstone buildings that loom over the desert road and provide shade during the earlier hours of the day. These two buildings are the main storages where the coal mined that week was kept, until officials from the city came to collect it. When the town was younger, and more populated, these buildings use to serve as the town hall, courtroom and jail. Although they were the oldest buildings in town, compared to the other structures they were kept quite clean.
This was mainly due to the fact that the buildings were owned by the minister for coal in the main city, and so he paid them a little on the side to keep the place looking appropriate when officials came to collect the coal or when public events were held in the Town Hall. Of course no public events had been held there in years but it still served for a small source of income.
The rest of the town had the same buildings, though they were smaller in size, and their once bright sandstone had faded into a dull yellow filled with cracks that winded all the way to the roofs, threatening to break apart the whole dwelling. The houses were parallel to each other, marking a narrow street that winded up to the town centre where the buildings widened and circled around a courtyard filled with chairs, sticks that had fallen from the two large oak trees and thin lines that were tied onto each of the trees to that they could hold washing.
The courtyard was the only place that provided some shade and a little edge of grass that the little children played about on. When night began to fall, the entire town would meet in the courtyard and have feasts. These feasts weren’t lavish with exotic food, it was mainly just short-grain rice and some form of dried meat, but they brought everyone together. It was a very close community in which its members believed in hard work rather than getting without giving.
Tonight, everyone had gathered in the courtyard to celebrate another successful day of mining. This usually happened every night except for when something horrible had happened at the mine, which had luckily only happened once this year; then they would remain inside consoling each other. Nevertheless, tonight they were all out enjoying each other’s company and enjoying the small feast that all the wives cooked while the men had been at work.
“Another great feast me gal.” Sergio, a bulky labourer, bellowed loudly, clapping his hands together as a plate of steaming rice was placed in front of him.  He leaned over to pluck a piece of dried meat off his fork in the fire, dabbing it into the rice before it disappeared behind his dirt-laden grey beard. All the townsfolk over the age of eighteen were gathered around the small stone fire and making small talk while eating the same rice and meat mixture that Sergio had begun devouring.
“Better get in quick Twitch, ‘fore ol grizzly guts Sergio eats the lot”. Jasper, a thin and frail old man chuckled loudly as Sergio threw billowing taunts and complaints at him. He gestured towards the meat on the fire and moved aside so Twitch could take his share.
Twitch was the youngest of the miners, having only just turned sixteen he was allowed to work only because of his ability to see well in even the darkest tunnels. He was by far the scrawniest of the town, with shaggy brown hair and pale skin like the rest of the miners. The clothes he wore always seemed to hang off him like that didn’t fit, and that was because they didn’t. Living in a poor village you can’t expect to get new clothes at all. In fact, the thin grey shirt that he wore had once belonged to Nab who hadn’t worn it since he was young; and that was a long time ago. His black shorts had one surviving pocket out of three, which carried his small knife that he used for nearly everything he could think of, were kindly donated to him by Jasper. Needless to say, if Sergio’s donated clothing had been old, Jasper’s clothes were truly ancient. Like all the younger members of the town, he wore no shoes. “It’s to toughen you up so you’re ready for a bigger job in the mines”, Sergio would say before going into a rant about the good old days. “Why, when I was li’l, I had nothing except a pair of tattered overalls…” His wife Hedda would usually cut him off about then with a quick “oh shut yer tap and eat.”
His real name of course wasn’t Twitch, but he had been called that for so long no one remembered his real name. He had come to the town when he was only newly born, deserted of all things, and as he grew up the mothers noted he would twitch his right hand whenever something upset him. And so he became known as Twitch. It didn’t happen as often now as it had when he was younger, but when he was really upset or something was bothering him his right hand would begin to twitch lightly. So far it hadn’t happened for a few months, the last time it had was when there was a large accident and one of the tunnels nearly collapsed on poor old Jasper.
Everyone had finally settled and the conversation had died down when Jasper revealed terrible news. “We gots another letter tell’n us we need to up the minin’ of coal.” He threw the letter down on the table in front of the fire and ran his bony fingers through his thinning white hair, grumbling as he continued on. “That’s the second time this year. Any more an’ we’ll have te dig up a new mine.” There were murmurs of agreement and nods being passed around.  “The minin’ business is hard as is without this.” An eerie silenced filled the courtyard.
Bolt, one of the middle-aged miners, gave a short chuckle. He was a lean fellow with broad shoulders and a slightly hunched back. He had gotten the nickname Bolt one day when he had thought there was a snake in the mine and he ran as fast as he could to escape. It turned out it was just Sergio dragging his pickaxe along the ground which made a hissing sound. Needless to say, he didn’t like his nickname at first but had learned to grow into it. Around here, getting a nickname meant you were part of the community; it was a great honor. He threw his arms up, resting his hands on the back of his head and released a long sigh.  “Hate to think of what it’ll be like when the boys get roun’ to it.”
Twitch thanked Jasper and left the discussion to join the other kids who were listening to one of Gurren’s stories. They all enjoyed his stories and would often sit round for hours just to listen to them, but no one liked them or believed in them as much as Twitch did. Since he was young he had always dreamed of one day learning elemental magik and becoming one of the four masters like in Gurren’s stories. Of course he knew that it was impossible to learn magik if you weren’t born a member of the royal houses and of royal blood, but he still liked to dream. Gurren often told stories like this, about the royal houses, the four masters, a strange half-human man that once walked from Fioré to Méarre with nothing but twelve carrots and a mouthful of water. It so happened that tonight, he was telling Twitches favourite story.
“Ah Twitch, come an’ sit down.” He gestured towards a free spot across from him and tucked a pipe between his lips. Because Twitch was allowed to work, the other kids would tease him and often tried to stay as far away from him as possible. They moved to clear a large space for him so no one had to sit too close. “Now where was I? Oh yes!” A few smoke rings emitted from the pipe and floated towards the sky as Gurren’s gruff voice filled the air. “Air, Water, Earth and Fire. Eons ago they were known by different names, names that gave them power. That was a time when humans would speak using the ancient language, when creatures roamed the earth and coincided peacefully with the humans. Everything had life, and that life was made up of the four elements. Their names in the ancient language still emanate power today, even though we can no longer control them. Eyre, Mar, Tar and Fir. With these words, one could bend the world to whatever they desired.”
At this point, Gurren would always take a long draught of his pipe and blow more rings into the night sky before looking serious and talking in a low whispering voice. “However, like all things, there are those who wish to possess that which they cannot control. A dark power began to rise, and from it; Fauxmir the Dark was born. Fauxmir was a man obsessed with power, he began to study the elements with a passion that’s said to be unhealthy for any man. The more he studied, the further he fell into a downward spiral of evil magik and demons. It was not long before he became so powerful that you had no choice to submit for if you didn’t, death was the only thing that awaited you—”
“—That’s enough Gurren, you’ll scare the children and they need to go to bed.” Hedda waved her hands impatiently. “Come come of te bed. Jed I’ll have none of that. Twitch dear make sure you don’t stay up too late, you’re with Jasper for the morning dig.” Twitch nodded and said goodnight. Because he didn’t have any parents, Twitch was allowed his own house and could stay up as long as he liked; yet another reason why the other kids shunned him.
Slowly, all the lamps outside were dowsed and the courtyard was thrown into silence with only the breeze making a noise and Gurren’s pipe quietly simmering. Twitch gazed up at the stars, it was a beautiful night. He picked out a few stars that were aligned and shined brightly in a cross and, as he always did, he reached his hand up as if he could touch them; feeling he cold breeze brush against his arm.
“Reach for the heavens boy”, Gurren broke Twitch’s gaze as his rough voice filled the night air. “There’s an old saying, that if you reach for the stars, you only get what you set out to get. If you reach higher, everything you wanted and more will be yours.” Gurren often came up with sayings like this one. Maybe it was the cool air getting to him, but Twitch thought that this advice was particularly interesting. He looked quizzically at Gurren but, like always, his eyes gave away no secrets. Another moment, and many smoke rings later, Twitch worked up the courage to ask Gurren something that had been on his mind since he had started his story.
“Gurren…” Gurren raise an eyebrow as if to say ‘what is it?’ “How was Fauxmir defeated? I mean, he isn’t around now so he must have died one way or another.” Twitch waited as Gurren tipped the burnt contents of his pipe on the ground, pulled out a small brown paper bag which he kept the foul smelling leaves that he put in his pipe, and lit the leaves. He drew in a long breath, folding his arms into his chest to keep warm, and used the pipe to gesture as he talked.
“Vanished!” The word hung in the air like a bad omen. Twitch couldn’t help but to shiver as the trees swayed in the breeze. “After he successfully conquered all of Ismère, Fauxmir was challenged by four elemental masters, but before they could reach him at his palace, he was gone. When the four masters realised this, they spent the rest of their lives creating the four regions, as we know them now, so that no one could ever conquer the land again. When the great dragon Vrai had learned of his disappearance, he came down from Raa; the mountain just north of Fauxmir’s palace. Like a raging whirlwind, he came down upon the palace and, to make sure no one could take over, he opened his jaws to let forth a brilliant flame that left nothing untouched.”
“Do you really think that all of this happened?” Twitch inquired. Gurren just smiled and gave a quick wink.
“If you believe it, anything is possible.” He then coughed loudly, placing his hand on his chest and leaning forward. Hedda appeared from her house and crossed the courtyard, placing a harnd on Gurren’s shoulder to steady him.
“That’s enough for tonight Gurren, you’ll catch ye death out ere.” Turning towards Twitch as she helps the frail man to his feet. “And I think it is bout time you got te bed instead of listening to an old fool’s made-up stories.” Without another word she began to lead Gurren off towards his small hut near the town gates. Looking over his shoulder, Gurren whispered something nearly inaudible in Twitch’s ear as he was escorted past.
“Eht Cit de Fiorn.” He left on those words as Hedda gently guided him towards home. Eht Cit de Fiorn, no one had spoken that name in almost fifty years. Twitch remembered Gurren mentioning the name a year ago, but he was very vague. Surely if there really was a whole city that was reduced to ashes it would be in the history books or maps of Ismère. Whatever it meant, Hedda was right, he had to work in the morning and there was no way he would be able to dig if he was tired.
The moon had just started to set when he finally got into bed. He looked around at the various ornaments and keepsakes strewn around his dark bedroom that he had found when mining. Whenever he found something hidden in the dirt that he hadn’t seen, he would bring it back and place it in one of the many shelves that stacked up against the walls.
Over the years he had collected many different things including a strange fossil that he had found while digging with Jasper, pieces of cloth and clothing that Hedda had found while she was replacing Sergio who was sick with a ghastly flu, and; his most precious of items. Sitting alone, in a dusty blue box lay an old coin. It had once been a bright golden colour which was now marked with dirt from years of being in the soil, and a flame-coloured  symbol surrounded by a ring. It was unlike anything Twitch had seen and it definitely wasn’t any form of currency that they used in Corale.
He turned over, clutching his pillow tight and tried to get to sleep, slowly massaging his right hand as it twitched gently. As he slowly fell into slumber, his thoughts were filled with old coins, elemental magik, a dragon torching an entire city and the dark face of Fauxmir looking down on him.