In the great overview of the countryside state of Rothen, within the enchanting realm of Gerwanis, lay the city of Venlores—a place where nature and architecture intertwined to create a breathtaking paradise. The air was filled with the melodious tunes of flutes, harmonizing with the rustling leaves and the distant murmur of cascading waterfalls. This countryside, a hidden gem, surpassed the imagination's limits with its beauty and charm.
As one wandered through the cobblestone streets of Venlores, the sights were nothing short of a fair-tale. The cityscape was a harmonious blend of quaint village life and vibrant market activity. Small buildings with white-washed walls and blue-domed roofs lined the streets, reminiscent of a place where time stood still. The buildings' architecture echoed the style of ancient, untouched civilizations, with every corner adorned with intricate frescoes that depicted tales of old.
The surrounding landscape was an artist's forever dream within a dream within a dream. The super upside down rainbow mountains stretched across the horizon, their flat peaks were kissed by the first light of dawn, reflecting hues of purple, blue, red, pink, green and gold and their pointed ends touched the ground instead. These mountains were said to be the remnants of an ancient battle between Gods (just a belief, that ain't true, people have mistaken a fight between men as a fight between Gods), where the skies themselves wept colors of peace. The phenomenon, unique to Gerwanis, was an awe-inspiring sight as the vibrant colors shifted and danced with the changing light, creating a living canvas that never ceased to amaze.
The coast was lined with golden-sand beaches that sparkled like diamonds, and the waters held an impossible shade of turquoise, as if the ocean had stolen the sky's brilliance. The small sea unnamed but was home to vibrant marine life, and at night, it glowed with a natural bioluminescence, turning the waves into a canvas of swirling lights. The underwater coral forests were home to creatures found nowhere else on Aeartha, their forms both beautiful and mysterious, like the ethereal sea serpents said to guard the treasures of the deep.
At the heart of Venlores itself, the architecture was as good as it could be, even without any super technology. The buildings, inspired by the calderas of old, had an ethereal quality. They were built into the cliffs, overlooking the sea, and seemed to merge with the landscape. Each structure was painted in shades of blue and white, with terracotta roofs that caught the light of the setting Yigritha, casting a golden glow over the city. The narrow alleys, paved with colorful mosaics, were lined with bougainvillea-type flowers that cascaded over the walls in a riot of pink and purple.
In the distance, the Great Plateau of Venlores known as Rigthilmisilil, rose above the city, offering a panoramic view of the entire countryside. From this vantage point, one could see the patchwork quilt of fields, the emerald forests, and the glistening sea. The plateau was crowned with ancient ruins, remnants of a lost civilization, where the air was thick with the scents of poisonous flowers and the whispers of forgotten times serving a purpose in the story.
The night sky over Venlores was a spectacle in itself. Free from the blinding lights of modern cities, the stars shone with a brilliance unmatched. The galaxies stretched across the sky like a river of diamonds, and the occasional meteor shower added a touch of magic to the already surreal landscape. It was said that the skies of Gerwanis were blessed by the gods, and those who gazed upon them would find their dreams filled with visions of wonder and inspiration.
The land of Gerwanis was a country renowned not for its wealth or power, but for its serene beauty and the gentle souls of its people. Governed by the modest yet wise Kingdom of Xixar, under the benevolent reign of King Ishizal Lensior, Gerwanis was a nation that embraced the simpler, more harmonious aspects of life.
Floriculture and horticulture were the lifeblood of Gerwanis, turning the country into a vast, colorful garden.
King Ishizal Lensior, known for his wisdom and kind heart, ruled from the modest yet elegant Pyramid Palace, which stood at the heart of the capital city, Kharsa. The palace itself was a marvel, surrounded by gardens that bloomed year-round, showcasing the best of Gerwanis' flora. King Ishizal was a ruler who believed in leading by example. He often walked among his people, tending to the royal gardens himself and engaging in conversations with the gardeners. His deep connection to the land and its people earned him immense respect and love from all corners of his kingdom.
Under Ishizal's rule, Gerwanis thrived as a haven of peace and prosperity. The country's economy, while not driven by grandiose industries or vast resources, was sustained by the export of its exquisite flowers and plants. The markets of Kharsa were always bustling with merchants and travelers, drawn by the allure of the rare and beautiful flora that only Gerwanis could provide. It was said that a bouquet from Gerwanis could melt the coldest heart, and many foreign dignitaries sought these blooms as gifts and symbols of goodwill.
But there were also some poisonous flowers. Their scents itselves could kill people if they sniffed their mesmerizing odors. Some flowers were poisonous even if they had no odors. These flowers were used to kill by deception in parties or meetings, usually for revenge or power inheritance.
In the end, despite its lack of military might or political influence, Gerwanis was respected by neighboring nations for its commitment to peace and its rich cultural heritage. The kingdom was a beacon of tranquility in a world often torn by strife and ambition. Its people lived simple yet fulfilling lives, finding joy in the beauty of nature and the arts. Festivals celebrating the harvest and blooming seasons were common, filling the streets with music, dance, and the vibrant colors of floral arrangements.
Enter Fheniz Wrings: Age 7.
On a bright and lively day, the bustling market streets of Venlores were alive with chatter and the clinking sounds of merchants selling their goods. Amidst the vibrant scene, a young boy with a determined yet curious look wandered barefoot. He wore a blue vest and red loose shorts, his short yet spiky hair a mix of black and grey, standing out against the sea of ordinary faces. This boy was none other than Fheniz Wrings, a seven-year-old known for running small errands—delivering newspapers and fixing radios for the townsfolk. His old slippers had given up on him, and he was on a mission to find a new pair, despite the discomfort of walking on the pointed stones that covered the streets.
"Ouch! Oww!" Fheniz winced as he hopped from one foot to the other, trying to avoid the sharp stones. He muttered to himself, "They say 'look ahead and walk,' but they also say, 'look down and walk.' Sigh, what am I supposed to do? How should I do that simultaneously?"
"I bought those slippers from a ragman back then, and they didn't last long enough, today I had to deliver the newspapers bare feet. But that time I didn't have enough money. This time I'll take it from a good shoe seller." He said as he wandered.
His frustration melted into determination as he spotted a peculiar shoe shop at the corner of the street. The sign read, 'Wingy-Bingy-Tingy-Singy-Dingy-Zingy-Pingy-Ringy Shoes.' Fheniz raised an eyebrow at the absurd name but shrugged it off. "What's in a name anyway?" he thought, deciding to step inside.
The shop was dimly lit, with an array of shoes and slippers stacked haphazardly. Behind the counter, a rotund man snored loudly, his face comically scrunched. He wore a black and yellow striped T-shirt and pants, topped with a brown coat with a zip. His nose was as round as a rissole, and his beard was a curly mess, reminiscent of... well, pubic hair. A smoking pipe dangled from his mouth, emitting thin wisps of smoke from some dope flower. Fheniz watched, amazed, as the man seemed to inhale and exhale smoke even in his sleep.
"This is a sight to behold," Fheniz whispered to himself, smirking. He approached the counter and pressed the call bell. The man didn't budge. Fheniz pressed it again, and again, and again—twenty times, to be exact—until the man jolted awake, coughing out smoke and dropping the pipe.
"Wha'cha want?!" the man barked, his voice gruff with irritation.
Fheniz grinned, "Now I understand why you keep a call bell.... no one keeps a call bell in a shoe shop."
The man glared, "Ya come to joke?"
"No, to buy slippers," Fheniz replied, unphased.
"Wha'cha size?" the man grumbled.
"Eight," Fheniz responded, eyeing the various shoes around him.
"Eight's outta stock! Now would'cha get lost," the man snapped, waving a hand dismissively.
Fheniz frowned, "Out of stock? Does your stock even sell? Considering the weird name of your shop and your behavior with the customers?"
"Bitch, that not ya concern," the man retorted, clearly not in the mood for pleasantries.
Fheniz glanced around and spotted a pair of blue slippers. "I see a large eight on that pair over there," he pointed out.
"That ain't no eight, that's an infinity symbol," the man said, scratching his head.
"Infinity? What's that?" Fheniz asked, genuinely curious.
"Man, go home. That ain't ya size," the man insisted, leaning back in his chair.
Fheniz crossed his arms, determined. "Forget that. What's infinity?"
The man sighed, exasperated. "Ugh! It's something that got no end. Get it?"
Fheniz tilted his head, puzzled. "How's that possible? Everything has an end."
The man groaned, clearly regretting engaging in the conversation. "Man, you wanna cry about that here? Take it and go. That'll be 1200 wafferions." He pulled the slippers from the shelf and tossed them on the counter with a loud slap.
"1200?!" Fheniz exclaimed, shocked. "That's way too much! I only got 150."
The man's face twisted into an amused smirk. "150?! Wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring," he chuckled, a strange laugh that echoed the shop's bizarre name.
Fheniz raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "Your laugh's as weird as your shop's name. And what's there to laugh about? 150 is the deal. Give me that!"
The man narrowed his eyes, clearly enjoying the banter. "Ya know what? Why buy this? That ain't ya size, the build quality is weak, the toe post will come off, and the design will be gone soon. Not for ya."
Fheniz smirked, unflinching. "I'll still take it. It'll seem like I'm even above something that has no end."
The man's eyes widened in surprise at the boy's words. "Ohh! Wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring. I see, you got the dreaming on. I'll give ya that for 200."
"150," Fheniz insisted, standing his ground.
"190," the man countered, his tone gruff but intrigued.
"150," Fheniz repeated, unwavering.
"180," the man tried again, but Fheniz was relentless.
"150," he said firmly.
"170," the man sighed, rubbing his temples.
"150," Fheniz said with a mischievous grin.
The man threw up his hands in defeat. "Ugh!! Cheeky brat! Stubborn and foolish. Take it for 150 and get out."
"Thank you!" Fheniz beamed, handing over the wafferions and quickly slipping into the slippers. They were clearly too big, more like a size 10 or 11, but he didn't care.
"Oh, they're quite big," he noted, wiggling his toes in the oversized footwear.
"Told ya, but you took the deal. No refund," the man grunted, crossing his arms.
"I ain't asking for one. But I had a question," Fheniz said, looking up at the man.
"What now?" the man sighed, already regretting asking.
"Why did you drop the price so suddenly? I thought I'd have to bargain more," Fheniz asked, genuinely curious.
The man paused, then chuckled softly. "Uhhh, you said, 'it'll seem like I'm even above something that has no end.'"
"So?" Fheniz tilted his head, intrigued.
"I liked the line, that's all," the man admitted, a rare smile creeping onto his face.
"That's all?" Fheniz echoed, unconvinced.
The man shrugged. "I like people who like being above normal. This country is filled with too many normal people, simple and boring, meh!"
"Umm, okay?" Fheniz replied, still processing the conversation.
The man leaned in, a glint of sincerity in his eyes. "You said you would stand above something that has no end. That's no normie line, even if it's impossible."
"Impossible? Why is it impossible? I told you, everything has an end," Fheniz countered, crossing his arms.
The man smirked, nodding. "Yeah, yeah, brat! I understood, even infinity has an end."
"Yeah! Now that's not normie," Fheniz said with a satisfied grin.
The man chuckled, a rare sound in his shop. "But you know there's still something that doesn't have an end."
Fheniz's eyes widened with curiosity. "Again? Well, what?"
"People's dreams," the man said, his tone surprisingly serious.
"People's dreams?" Fheniz repeated, the concept unfamiliar but intriguing.
"Yes! Except people here have none. Sighs," the man sighed, the weight of his words hanging in the air.
"Ahhhhh, now I get it, why you sleep so much," Fheniz teased, grinning.
"UGH! THAT'S NOT WHAT I MEANT, BRAT!!" the man exploded, waving his arms in frustration.
"Whoa, okay, then what?" Fheniz asked, barely holding back laughter.
The man glared, clearly annoyed. "You'll understand when you have a dream. And I ain't talking about the dreams you have when you sleep. A dream is something that you want to do in your life, to achieve something big, to become what you want to become. When you find it, you'll understand."
"How can dreams have no end?" Fheniz asked, genuinely curious.
The man sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead. "BRAT, NOW YOU'RE TROUBLING ME. I TOLD YA, YOU'LL UNDERSTAND LATER. NOW STOP MESSING WITH MY BRAIN. I AIN'T TOO PHILOSOPHICAL. ALSO, EVEN TOO MUCH PHILOSOPHY BORES ME."
"Okay, okay, but one—no, two last questions," Fheniz said, raising two fingers.
The man groaned, rolling his eyes. "What'cha gonna take to leave me at peace?"
"Just the last two," Fheniz promised, holding back a grin.
"Bark then!" the man huffed.
"What would you need to rise above infinity?" Fheniz asked, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.
"How'd I know?! Get some wings and go above it, wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring," he retorted, his voice laced with a playful tone, as if he found joy in teasing the young man before him. His thick eyebrows furrowed in mock seriousness, but his eyes gleamed with a mischievous glint. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards, betraying a barely suppressed grin.
"Wings, okay! Last, what's your name?" Fheniz asked, tilting his head slightly, genuinely curious yet maintaining an air of nonchalance. His expression was one of mild amusement, clearly entertained by the eccentricity of the shopkeeper.
"Huh? My name? Though you won't remember, Burohagikun." The shopkeeper's voice dropped slightly, as if expecting the name to not stick in the young man's memory. His posture straightened, taking a bit of pride in his odd name.
Fheniz raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk playing on his lips. "Your name's as weird as your shop's name."
Burohagikun's eyes widened in exaggerated shock. "WOULD'CHA STOP WITH THAT ALREADY?! IT'S NOT WEIRD!" he exclaimed, flailing his arms slightly, his voice rising in pitch. His face flushed a bit, a mix of frustration and embarrassment. He seemed almost comically defensive, like a child being teased about a silly nickname.
Fheniz chuckled, clearly enjoying the banter. "It is," he insisted, crossing his arms with a smug look, his tone teasing but lighthearted.
"IT ISN'T!" Burohagikun shot back, leaning forward slightly, his bushy beard quivering with each emphatic word.
"It is," Fheniz repeated, nodding slowly as if to further provoke the shopkeeper.
"IT ISN'T!" Burohagikun's voice grew louder, and his eyes narrowed in playful annoyance.
"It is." Fheniz's expression remained calm, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
"IT ISN'T!" Burohagikun seemed almost on the verge of stomping his foot in frustration, his face now fully red with mock outrage.
"It is."
"IT ISN'T!"
"It isn't."
"NO IT IS!" Burohagikun yelled, then blinked, realizing he had contradicted himself. His face scrunched up in confusion, and before he could correct himself,
"Not a surprise." Fheniz was faster.
Fheniz couldn't help but laugh at the unexpected twist. "YOU SON OF A BRAT!" Burohagikun bellowed, shaking his fist in the air, more in show than in any real threat.
"I don't know who my brat parents are anyways," Fheniz remarked nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders, the statement slipping out with an air of casualness that contrasted with the underlying seriousness of the admission.
Burohagikun paused, taken aback by the sudden shift in the tone. "You an orphan?" he asked, a touch of genuine curiosity and sympathy in his voice.
"Hmm, yeah." Fheniz's reply was soft, almost contemplative.
"Since when?"
"Since birth."
Burohagikun's expression softened, a hint of understanding crossing his features. "Wha'cha name?"
"Fheniz, Fheniz Wrings with a 'W' they say, but I guess, that's not my real surname." Fheniz's voice carried a hint of uncertainty, as if he had long accepted the ambiguity of his origins.
"Wrings? Sounds like wings plus rings, wing-ring, or better I'll call you 'Wrings The Wings', wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring," Burohagikun said with his laugh, trying to lighten the mood, his tone turning playful once more.
"Is that so? Now I remember, it's you whom people call the man whose beard's like pubic hair," Fheniz quipped back, his eyes twinkling with mischief as he delivered the playful jab.
"WHAT'CHA SAY BRAT?! COME HERE!" Burohagikun roared, half laughing, half shouting, pretending to chase after Fheniz, who had already turned to run.
Fheniz darted away with the slippers he had been wearing, laughter bubbling up as he made his escape. "Thank you for the slippers! Uncle Burohagi!!" he called back, the sound of his laughter echoing as he disappeared down the street, leaving Burohagikun shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "I can't run behind him even if he is wearing slippers two sizes above his size, 'cause am too fat to do so, wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring, wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring, wing-bing-ting-sing-ding-zing-ping-ring."
After a while, he stopped laughing realizing that his own gruff exterior couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying a fondness for the young troublemaker.
Pronunciations:
Rigthilmisilil: [RIG]+[THIL]+[MEE]+[SEE]+[LIL]
Ishizal Lensior: [ISHI]+[ZAAL]+[LEN]+[SEE]+[OHR]
Xixar: [ZIG]+[ZAAR]
Kharsa: [KHAAR]+[SAA]
Burohagikun: [BOO]+[ROW]+[HAA]+[GEE]+[KUN]