Travel Report No. 1: The One Nobody Found

Starting from Bruck, nestled in the heart of Isdraia and defying the current of the Elendar, a council of several dozen scholars works tirelessly to gather and document both historical knowledge and contemporary events. Thanks to generous patronage of the mayor, ample resources are available, allowing for an unprecedented scale of archiving. Thus emerges the greatest and most comprehensive repository of knowledge in all of Isdraia. From this endeavor arises an institution that shall henceforth be known as The Omniscient Archive.

The first archivist to ever set out on a journey had no name and no destination.

It all began the moment the mayor stood before the residents of Bruck for the first time to announce his grand plans for the Omniscient Archive. A sizeable group of esteemed citizens had gathered to listen to his words.

“And so begins knowledge for all, knowledge for Bruck, across all of Isdraia!” the mayor proclaimed at the end of his speech. The crowd applauded. But one person clapped and cheered the loudest. It was a young man, a simple fellow who had likely spent most of his life as a day laborer at the docks. His clothes were little more than rags, and his appearance made a dismal impression. Yet his eyes shone. He called out, “Over here, over here! Let me help, my lord!” But the mayor merely laughed in amusement.

The crowd gradually dispersed, and only this fellow remained standing in front of the town hall. For quite some time, he stood there in awe, gazing up at the towering walls. And finally, he knocked—no, he pounded on the door. When they opened it for him the first, second, and even the fifteenth time, he said only: “Let me help, my lord! I would do anything!” But there was no work for him in the Omniscient Archive. When he knocked for the sixteenth time—that was a few darkenings later, for after all, he did take breaks from his terror now and then—they had had enough and locked him up.

But even as this fellow sat in his cell, he wouldn’t give them a moment’s peace. The guards reported having to spend every single one of their shifts dealing with this pushy and whiny man, endlessly persisting with his pleas and begging. Eventually, they beat him. But no bruises could stop him from continuing his endless refrain. Finally, they begged the mayor to finally kill this fellow or at least banish him from the island. So the mayor decided to hear him out in person, for the first and last time.

“Let me help, my lord!” he beamed joyfully, his eyes brimming with tears. “The Omniscient Archive can do so much for Bruck—bring so much clarity to the darkness, bring about so much progress and development, and redeem us all! No matter what it is, let me help. Let me do the work that no one else wants to get their hands dirty with! Let me gather knowledge and satisfy curiosity!”

And so the mayor found a use for him. Yet no one had ever felt it necessary to ask him his name.

The Omniscient Archive’s first expedition was doomed to failure from the start. They sent this fellow off with no preparation, just a few provisions and a flimsy walking stick in tow. He was unarmed, inexperienced, and didn’t have the faintest idea what he was supposed to do. Even the most experienced of the archivists showed no inclination to instruct him in any way—but how could they? For many generations, they had hidden in the shelter of the Elendar and never set foot on the mainland. None of them had the faintest clue what lurked out there. The archivists were used to sitting in their fancy armchairs and studying what travelers had to report and what libraries had to offer.

This fellow was the first to want to go out there and see for himself. But this fellow was also the first to realize what was required to do so. Blue-eyed—in the most literal sense—he set off. Before he made his way to the harbor, he announced to the Omniscient Archive: “Next time, I’ll wave to you once I’ve climbed the Worldridge!” And then he laughed heartily.

None of the archivists expected this fellow to return after a few darkenings. Rather, they expected him never to return. Yet as the skytides swept across the land, they began to feel a pang of guilt. Not because they were worried about this fellow. The expectations their calling placed upon them were more important.

Eventually, after five tides, the Omniscient Archive found itself reaching a sort of standstill. The pile of unsorted books had vanished, the once-disorganized scrolls of parchment had been sorted by every conceivable criterion, and current events were yielding just enough to keep a handful of archivists occupied. In the mayor’s eyes, there was always something to do—always something to research and learn about his people. Yet the attentive reader should not now believe that, after five tides had passed, it was finally decided to launch an extensive search operation.

No one had ever thought it necessary to look for this fellow.

But one morning, a merchant stood before the gates of the Omniscient Archive. She said she was from the far west of the Fenn Realm, hailing from a small settlement called Fennspring. There, she claimed to have made a strange discovery. It was a notebook full of entries she could not decipher. But the coat of arms depicted on the leather cover belonged to Bruck. They gave her a few dar too much for her find and sent her on her way.

This fellow had recorded every single detail of his expedition, no matter how insignificant. In fact, he seemed to have a certain penchant for useless information. For the first ten darkenings, his field notes consisted of descriptions of the landscape and rather uninformed comments on his surroundings. You’ll hardly find anything more substantial here than his meal planning and ignorance regarding lendo trees:

“The sun’s rays barely make it through the giant trees. Long, green ropes hang from them. Penjas don’t seem to grow here. But I’m sure I’ll find a few more. They have to be here somewhere. Otherwise, I’ll probably have to eat the beetles. They look funny. Not appetizing.

Addendum: Funny-looking beetles actually taste good. You just have to be hungry enough. Best on a skewer. Watch out for the bears—they’re mean.”

Another time, he seemed to have made it through the forest:

“Ha! It almost looks like the Southcrest here! All the trees are gone. Smoke keeps billowing in from the town. But they’re avoiding me now—I stepped on a Wolby’s tail. At least it wasn’t one of those wolves. I’ll keep moving. The flowers here smell a bit off, too. The yellow ones are the worst. In the distance, I see some that are purple. Do they smell like Penja? Or do they even taste like Penja? No funny bugs in sight.”

Two entries later, he proved his utter idiocy once again:

“Penyes drimking iss wondafal, tasts simplu fenntostik! Addendum: Headache. They kicked me out of the village.”

It is the final entry that should have prompted the Omniscient Archive to take notice of this fellow and his abstruse notes after all:

I’ve crossed the river and left it behind me. It’s gradually getting colder, especially as darkening falls. It’s been quite a while since my last mishap, and I have run into nobody. Maybe that’s for the best; maybe being around nobody is the best thing for me right now. My encounters so far have usually turned out pretty unpleasant by the end. The children laugh at me. But is that something that happens to me because I’m here?

I’m sitting under the trees again. There’s still some time until darkening. What will I do when that has passed as well? Like all the others? At some point, I lost count. I don’t even know how many have passed. Maybe it’s time to go.

Addendum: It must be from another time. Soon we’ll have something in common. This world can’t be finite. But for me, it is.”