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The content of Fiore had always been locked within a time of great strife that was always followed by hardships. Curses, creatures, and defilers controlled the land, and Before the time when heroes, conquerors, legends, gods came and went as the centuries passed by. One horrid story seemed to curse the land like infected blood through a body, a story of every lasting power struggle that affected every great story. It is always the same tale, never changing in ending only in the beginning as the generations started and finished. The first affected was the dragons, a wonderous race of creatures that lived before men ever walked on earth.
Before all things were the stars, big and empty orbs that lay in the endless space of nothingness. Then out of the nothingness flew a great figure, a being of ethereal power. The world had been created in a single bellow by this strong and large of these beings. This dragon, the first of all dragons named Irene, touched what was the heavens above, breathing light into the stars Causing them to shine above. She created the sky where celestials would live, next, this all-powerful being lay in the endless space between the new light-filled stars creating the world that all would exist on. In her effortless display, Irene had become the first mother. Birthing what would become the next from the stars above. As Mother Irene the first of dragons laid upon the sky, she created the dragons Zirconis, Belserion, Atlas, Motherglare and finally Acnologia the last of her children.
Each child was created to serve a purpose in this new world she crafted with her body, all given specific roles on how to use this new world. Atlas the first of her children was to rule, and Irene's only daughter Motherglare was to stay by her mother's side and watch over her mother's body. Belserion and Zirconis the twins were to balance out the world, with peace and tranquility. The last child Acnolgia was to follow after his older sibling’s place, bringing magic to the world, but Acnologia was selfish. He wanted to keep the world to himself, never under his older brother's rule.
In his possessiveness to rule he fought his siblings for control, finally succeeding after decades of battle. In their war which from fourth on was named the clash of dragons, acnologia tore his eldest brother Atlas apart. Turning him into the great flame that circled the world giving light to his new possession. Next, he ripped his sister from his mother's shoulders waving her back and forth through the sky, allowing her screams to make the wind and clouds causing the new world to forever be turning round and round. Spinning through an endless void that displeased the celestials. Lastly, for his older twin brothers Zirconis and belserion the youngest dragon tied them together, for they were the mightiest of the children. The only ones that could stop him, but could never get along with each other.
With the help of the celestials who wanted to stop The Clash of Dragons, acnolgia was able to compress his brothers down onto their mother, molding the twins into the lands that stretch the world now.
With all his foes now vanquished scattered across his mother, acnolgia flew to the now new content of Firoa where he laid claim to the land as his own. There he knocked down the forest with his large wings that had grown in the time of war. Clearing a singular piece of land that would be forever covered by his shadow in the west. Where the dark plains would be named. Next, he breathed a thick stream of fire to the south. Burning all that lay there creating the frugal kingdom of fire forever now summer due to the flame that still lingered. Once acnologia was done the great dragon began to tire comfortably laying his body down onto north. Where great mountains full of rich minerals and irons mixed into his body and the land. Formed from the thick and rich blood of himself. This is how the iron mountains came into creation, finally as the dragon laid upon the earth settling he left one spot uncovered by his tyranny. A single piece of clearing where the city of light got its start, but one last thing was left. As the beast laid its head in the middle of all. He drew his last breath a small island appeared from this final breath the windy isles that would soon come to be a place of peace between the four territories.
Although the great mother Irene was disappointed by the war that occurred on her great body that had become the world. She gave one last gift to the new world now shaped by destruction and death. Out of the scales of her twin sons zirconis and belserion came the first Men and Women. All many different shapes, sizes, races, and forms carried by the winds of her beloved daughter, now scattered all over the world. Her eldest child Atlas provided the sun that these new beings needed to start a life that would now last generations.
For her last child though the first mother Irene would bestow a horrid curse upon his land. Leaving a prophecy that he would play an important part in. Now bound to the land he would hold deep within him the eclipse gate. A sacred place that would one day open to bring on the era of dragons once again to the world when needed at its most. Over time the people of Acnologias land established the four territories that would rule first the Northern Iron Mountains, second the city of Light, third the Southern Kingdom of Fire, and lastly the western Dark Plains. All needed to play a future role in this prophecy that would help cure the land of its past. To always be at war with one another never able to progress like the rest of the world had freely begun to do.
A deep breath huffed in disagreement as he heard the legend being recited he continued to walk shaking his head. A woman of no particular features stood atop a short stone pillar. Speaking into the busy market her loud voice carried through its hustle and bustle. Some had come to stand below the pillar listening intensely to her words, most were children. Joining in to hear the great tale that they had shared so many times before. Others were fanatics who believed what she spewed wholeheartedly. That one day an era of mythical creatures would one day come back to claim the earth and break its curse. Saving the people in their time of need.
“Believers and their bullshit propaganda” Gajeel sneered. Many of the lower class that lived and worked in the Iron Mountains all followed the same thing. That the story of dragons and a cursed land was just an excuse to not fully exist in the real world. A way to desensitize everyone to what was happening in their homes under the tyrannical rule of their king. “I can't tell that people believe that stuff” another equally scratchy voice laughed along. Carrying a large tan bag of tools that the two had just secured. The small trip had been cut short considering most things in this place were either stolen or broken beyond repair. With the few lucky times that a stall would pecure something new.
“People will believe anything in a way to justify their suffering” Gajeel commented under his breath, causing Boze to stop in his tracks. The sunlight bounced off Boze’s bald head, causing his caramel skin to shine brightly in its light. Blinding the unfortunate souls that happened to be passing by.
“That's oddly poetic of you Redfox? Has raising girls grown you soft?” Boze asked beginning to walk again once he received a glare in response which was more than enough of any answer.
The two young men pushed their way through the crowd leading themselves to a long line where many like them stood. Readying to go into the forge, a nickname given to the place below the mountains, it contained the richest of resources. A place where most worked digging deep into the earth's darkest crevasse and few had the job of smithing weapons. Bringing out the riches of things that would be seen once in a lifetime. Only to be taken away straight to the greedyest of all who kept such treasures for himself, he alone controlled the iron mountains. Gajeel stood in line still as a soldier not moving a muscle as he zoned out thinking about the relaxation that awaited him at home. A strict voice echoed from the front of the line calling on the next ten people. This process took way longer than intended, signing each person's name onto a booklet to ensure that they would be paid the bare minimum. Just for their names to sometimes ‘get lost’ when payment came at the end of the day.
Gajeel shuffled his head to the side, his height providing a perfect view of what was seven other lines. One for each mountain, all full to the brim with people who awaited their turn. It was one young boy who caught Gajeel's eye, he looked younger than when he started working. The boy was covered in soot already a nod that meant he had just come from a different job of the day. Now standing in line to work a second shift, gajeel remembered those days back before puberty had hit him. He was around sixteen working two labor-intensive jobs just to provide for his family of three. It was after his father had left, a drunken fool who cared little for his children. Not enough to even say goodbye.
“They just get younger and younger don't they” Boze announced slapping his hand on his olive friend's shoulder three times. On the fourth, it finally caught Gajeel attention to move forward a few places in line.
“Not my problem” Gajeel responded rolling his eyes once again, now shifting them to the tan sack on Boze's shoulder. Full of what they would need for the day he and his associate had spent half of yesterday's earrings on the supplies. That would hopefully make their work less hard. The sack held new grips for a pickaxe that would help Boze. Though he hated to admit it, Boze had sustained a hand injury when he was younger due to a mine collapsing in on him. The two had also bought a new hammer for Gajeel since he worked on the other side of the forge. A space where only a few individuals bestowed the work of creating whatever the king demanded. It was hard work to stand over an anvil slamming down into its steel, Most of the time it wasn't anything special gajeel made, for the last few months now it had been common things that the king needed. Like an engraved brass plate probably for show, pots and pans things of that nature.
“Next” the strict voice yelled loudly as Gajeel and Boze moved forward once again now getting closer towards the front. “See I told you that coming an hour early was a good idea” Boze gloated. His voice faded into the background once more while Gajeel just stood in line buffering out his blabbering from people ahead and behind. At this point, he deserved a medal for his service to the realm. Protecting everyone's ears from his associates' nonsense day in and day out, the raven-haired man nodded along to Boze's words. Something was happening at the front he could see a man cutting through the crowded line to the right of him. Strange.
He adorned a set of big golden armor and the toughest of furs. This man was one of those people that never went cold through the long nights. Like he had done. The man continued to cut through the crowd ignoring the yells and protest of the people around him. Creating a path that would lead him straight to the man in charge of this whole operation. Once at the front, he seemed to disappear, now lost in the sea of formen and officials. Strange. Gajeel thought as “next” was called again breaking his focus again.
An iron hammer slammed down hard onto his steel counterpart, molding the metal below it into a flat surface. “Another damn plate,” Gajeel thought as he released all his anger into the new project he had been given. A tight deadline was enforced to go with his new assignment, to be done with a hundred and two plates before the midday meal. Which in retrospect was nearly impossible for the timeline given but Gajeel had struck a deal with the formen at the front. “I know you need it, so if you make me a few plates boy I'll cut you a little extra.”
The hammer slammed down again this time sending bits of sparks to the ground as gajeel pounded into the metal. His swings grew more and more unyielding from each slam of metal against metal. “Piece of shit” Gajeel yelled on the last slam hitting the center of the plate and finalizing his set. The young man was pissed, to say the least, he had spent his whole assigned meal cutting through the workload he was given. All for a selfish bastard and a few more jewels in his pocket. The smith finally dropped his hammer no longer new, the base now covered in scratches that cut deep. Gajeel slipped off his long protective gloves made from cheap leather that he had saved up to buy a few years back. Encircling his knuckles to take a much-needed break while the sound of footsteps approached his workbench. More like a work zone since the young man had an issue with working with others around him. Being suspended many times over the years for having disagreements with other smiths around him. Now secluded in his area of the forge where no one could bother him and vice versa. Where he could keep to his work without the pitter-patter of other voices bothering him.
“Redfox someone here to see you” sols annoying high pitch voice announced. Sol was the man in charge of all the blacksmiths. He was a spineless man who seemed to cave whenever something occurred under his watch. A fact from an incident in the past had given the strike as a murder. A little girl's death on his hands from his days as a watchman in the mines and when Sol was asked how he handled it all he did was cower over. “Sir Aria wants to speak to you” Sol shouted when Gajeel would not imminently turn around to greet whoever the hell it was disturbing him.
“I hear you old man” the smith growled, turning around with a raised brow and rubbing away the soreness in his knuckles with a warm towel from an off-to-the-side bucket of water. Gajeel had demanded that all stations have one nearby after a fire incident a few days back, although it was common sense to have water near a hot surface. Sol had never thought to assign anything to the station in case of a fire. After months of telling his supervisor that it was a must-have, Sol had to find out the hard way that Gajeel was right once again.
“So you must be the eclamined Black steel of the forge” Sir Aria spoke to Gajeel the man in question immediately cringed from the nickname. Obviously, he was a knight of some sort, why else would he come waltzing in like he had the right to?
“No one calls me that” Gajeel groaned, throwing the towel back into its bin.
“No one to your face” Sir Aria was quick to quip Shuffling towards an abandoned stool.
“Why are you here?” Gajeel sneered which was followed by a quick demand of an apology by his superior. “I mean no offense but Sir Aria why are you here?” He asked again this time with different wording but all the same sneer and tone.
“I came to see the man that created such a wonderous breastplate. You see I recently survived a gruesome battle and I require a few mending here and there." As Sir Aria continued to talk an ease began to set in gajeels brow. It wouldn't be so bad being enlisted for a private job of sorts. “I'll pay you double of what you work here, for your time taken” Sir Aria finally stated, his large frame getting comfortable in the uncomfortable stool.
“What about the smiths in the palace?” Gajeel asked, crossing his arms over one another.
“I would much rather have the man who made it before handle such a delicate procedure. This armor did save my life after all.” Sir Aria replied with a dry laugh mimicking gajeels crossed arms. The two large men watching each other intently both waiting for the other to give in. All the while Sol stood in the center of the room drowning in a pool of sweat nervous from what the young man would say. Gajeel had already said enough that would get many beheaded before repeating another smart remark but Sir Aria seemed to like Gajeel. Evident by Gajeel still being able to draw breath, “I like you Black Steel.” Sir Aria said cutting the silence.
The knight stood to his feet taking off the gold breastplate, displaying the large long scar that dug deep into his armor from the back. It looked as if some sort of large beast had scratched the man from behind, he was right that breastplate had saved his life. “I will be back in a fortnight to retrieve this from you. I expect it to be good as new.” Sir Aria announced turning on his heels to leave once the thick gold plate had hit the ground. Leaving a loud echo in his place. Sol followed behind Sir Aria as he walked down the tunnel further into the forge and away from Gajeel.
“I need a damn drink,” Gajeel said to himself once the room had been cleared out, now scratching his sore face with a displeased look.
The tavern was deafeningly full, the sounds of women and men alike drunky laughing at anything being said followed by the many different instruments being played at the same time. All combine together to make the most headache-inducing experience one could ever have all at once. Drinks flung back and forth from hand to hand, jewels loosely scattered the grounds probably from a customer who had way too much to drink. A glass shattered off in the distance which would have risen an eye if there already hadn't been so much happening. The wooden door slammed shut its wood leaving tough fingers as a figure walked in eyes scanning for a specific someone but finding someone else instead. Boze stood at the top of a round table contributing to the cheering that erupted like an open flame.
Gajeel helped himself to a seat, one right near the commotion that was gonna get out of hand sooner than later. “Drinks are on me” Boze yelled loudly above the cheering crowd, accompanied by a woman loosely hanging underneath his arm. His generosity definitely was created by his favorite choice of, drink. Winter's edge brandy something both Gajeel and Boze had both come up with in their much younger years. The two men finding comfort at the bottom of a cup together through hardships. “Broze we know you're broke” A man's voice yelled from the crowd causing the drunk man to turn over his shoulder stammering slightly. “What?! Who said that?” he shouted back into the crowd.
Gajeel shook his head massaging his temples as chous erupted. Just then a familiar voice snuck its way into his ears. “Hard day?” the drowsy voice asked, in the meliconlic tone she was known for. “What do you think ?” Gajeel asked with a raised brow greeting the cup that had been sat in front of him. Obviously on the house, considering it was from Juvia and if it wasn't the two would share some words. “I think you should be nicer to the person who gives you free drinks,” Juvia replied in a low tone huffing to herself as she snatched the mug off the table.
A loud clash broke through the air, it was Boze who had fallen off the table, trying to stand on one foot. Probably a wager he had just made, boze was like that. Bringing the good times to others even at the cost of himself. “He's gonna have a hell of a hangover tomorrow,” Juvia said sitting the mug back down allowing Gajeel to snatch it before it could be taken from him again. “You're telling me” he replied gulping down what he could in a single breath, it burned like hell in his throat, almost suffocating. “What the hell is that?” gajeel asked beating on his chest with a hand, trying to regain his composure before anyone else could see.
“It's rum. Rimfire rum to be exact” Juvia said with a small smile. Her long blue hair pulled back in a single braid. Keeping any sort of pieces from getting in her or other's way, juvia had tired blue eyes. Something she had inherited somewhere Gajeel didn't exactly know where. The only thing that the two shared in common was their nonexistent father. Both were hurt by the pain he caused, both bastards without a mother.
“Don't tell me you drink this stuff” Gajeel asked pushing the cup away now dont with its fiery liquid.
“It keeps me awake. We just got a large shipment from the south. It's all that they drink over there.” The blue-haired woman responded, taking hold of the mug to finish down the last of it. As her brother watched from his seat a look of pure disgust shown on his face, juvia had always had what people call a dry sense of humor. She never really smiled much, always down in the blues rather than enjoying her young life. That being said she had the resistance of a sailor. Unable to be influenced by the strongest of drinks, unlike someone they both knew. Who was now crawling his way towards the two using empty seats to regain his footing?
“Why should we trust anything they serve in the south? They're all a bunch of uppity rich pansies.” gajeel was quick to say as his half-sister sat in the empty seat in front of him.
“Why would you think that? I hear they're are pretty great things coming from the south” Juvia asked as Boze laid his head on the back of her seat. Finding comfort in what seemed to be the smell of her hair.
“You smell like the open sea” Boze groaned petting her hair while Juvia paid no mind to his actions. “We get our grain from the south.” She said ignoring the obviously drunk man's words.
“Correction the king gets the grain from the south.” Gajeel corrected waving over another worker at the tavern to give him what he called a ‘real northern drink’. The only time Gajeel Redfox ever had northern pride was when it came to the mention of the other territories in Fiore.
“Careful if anyone hears you they'll send you straight to the dead wave and you'll never be seen again” Juvia joked in her same dry manner. Which obviously gained not a single laugh from Gajeel who sipped on his ale quietly.
“You think that's funny don't you?” he asked. Which made Juvia shrug her shoulders never responding to the question he asked. Just then boze began to stir spouting nonsense like he always did when he got like this.
“You smell just like her ju.” boze mumbled to himself still lightly petting the girl's hair, both gajeel and Juvia knew that there was no malice behind Boze's actions. His lips now lose after his third full cup, “I miss Sue” mumbled once more now making an uncomfortable silence surround the three at the mention of Sue. Bozes' sister. Both Juvia and Gajeel exchanged looks never outwardly saying what the two were thinking, like some sort of sibling telepathy. Finally speaking when the both of them felt that it was needed.
“So we both agree Boze needs to go home,” Juvia spoke up in her flat tone even though she tried to say it in a caring way. “I'll take him back.” gajeel agreed standing up as the tavern continued to below out loud sounds. He wrapped his arm under Bozes, lifting the equally large man to lean against himself. So that they could make the difficult walk back, down the alleyways, and to the district that they called home. As the two walked jaggedly swishing side to side boze sang to himself a sad song. Something that he would usually do whenever he got too drunk to be sane.
“In the shadow of the mountains, where the iron veins run deep” Boze hummed dragging out each word.
“I heard the tales of old men, as they speak of things they keep” continuing with the song. The memory of drunken fathers coming from the minds sings the verses that filled Gajeel's mind as he continued to drag Boze through the street.
“Boze, I don't think this is the time to be singing” Gajeel joked in a light tone, his buzz highlighting his giddy feelings.
“The dragons fought, and the world was torn. A land born from fire, where hope is worn. We drink our ales and cry our woes, for the land we live in only sorrow sows.” boze continued to hum now growing louder with each verse. He could be heard through the empty alleys, while his friend dragged him along. It wasn't until they two were halfway home and Boze was halfway through his song till the two stopped. A group of men dressed in long fur cloaks stood near the end huddled together speaking in a hushed whisper. Stopping as soon as they saw the two men coming toward them slowly.
“Oh, the wind that howls, through the frozen night. Echoes the clash of dragons, the endless fight, from the iron mountains to the darkened plains. We carry the weight of ancient pains.” boze continued to sing as Gajeel stopped. Standing still right in front of the men they all made eye contact with each other. Seemingly waiting for the others to move first before any action was made.
“Just let us pass through and we’ll be on our way” gajeels deep voice echoed against the back ends of the stone buildings.
“Go another way” one of the voices spoke up with a measured tone.
“Can't, this is the only way home” Gajeel responded.
“Kid, take the hint, you're not wanted here” another voice spoke up. Stepping forward seemingly reaching for something. Before the first man stopped him with an outreached arm so that any of them wouldn't pass by his authoritative voice speaking again. “If you know what's good for you, redfox. I wouldn't pass through here”.
Redfox? Did this man just call Gajeel Redfox, that means he had to know him in some type of way. It wasn't like Gajeel wasn't known in his district, but not enough to be known as just Redfox. “No redfox around here,” Gajeel said with a raised brow, setting Boze propped up against a wall. So that he wouldn't fall too hard to the ground. “Oh, the curse that binds us, no end in sight. We drink to forget, but we know it's not right. In the north, we bleed, we live, we die. Under a sky that forever cries.” Boze continued on singing, as Gajeel confronted the two men with a narrowed brow.
The back door to one of the buildings opened up, shining a light into the alleyway. “Hey Metalicana, we're about to start” someone yelled letting in the group who slowly trotted in. Wait did he just say Metalicana? He's heard that name before at some point “Wait, what's your name?” Gajeel asked taking a few quick steps forward. Trying to catch up to the men before the door shut loudly. Gajeel stood there not moving having the choice between that door or his drunk friend. Gajeel Redfox had to make a choice.