As he sat there staring blankly into a fire, watching the flames dance a show for him, he, for that minute, lived in awe. He sat wondering, the flames dancing along his deep green eyes. He was alive, the world around him was moving, ceaselessly. Riger had only a rare notion of how anything worked, he had visited the windmill, and had seen how the grain was but it the hopper, and the spinning blades ground it nicely into a fine flour. He had seen the way the sparks had lit the first embers of the very fire that now blazed warmth down his long, brown hair. He had seen the hinges on doors, the dancing light from a stained window in the church, the way the bows he had used worked, and a vast majority of things. Though, they were all meaningless to Riger now, he needed more. And so from that moment onward, Riger set forth in search of the gears that put the world forth in motion.