100. Voyager
The shocking implications of such a thing rocked through the nobleman's mind, presenting on his face with a dazed expression. Even his attendant, stoic in usually all matters, could not help but shift his already wary posture. Of course, Kalzin and Jeropher merely exchanged glances of confusion and shrugged. Such things were above their pay-roll.
"If you don't mind me asking, what are wanderers?"
Kalzin could not help but ask, his own curiosity overpowering him. The blindfolded man answered, wagging a finger.
"Not wanderers, Kalzin Talontail. It is Wanderers. Just a simple title, given to those like me, who have scattered here from beyond the borders of this mishmash world. You may not know it, but this place we currently sit is a particular nexus that, for such Wanderers, is akin to a light-house at dark sea. A nexus that is forthcoming post-haste, I would wager..."
Giddily reeling like an excited child, the nobleman jumped in.
"Please, Sir Voyager, I would like to extend an invitation to you. Join us, at least for a short while. What you know, the stories...I would stake my entire fortune for a single one!"
The blindfolded man simply shook his head softly.
"I am afraid that I shall not be in this world for much longer."
Seeing the looks of pity on everyone's faces, he hurried to correct himself.
"Not that I am dying or anything, just that the cause of my arrival is hence to come and once it is complete, I must continue on my own journey."
His tone took on that unknowable edge once more, a feeling of something similar to loss. But what could one such as he possibly have to lose?
"Your own journey?"
The nobleman's voice was bursting with his desire to know more. The Voyager replied, amused.
"Well, I am The Voyager. Such a thing would surely imply that I am on my own journey, no?"
"Ah, yes," the nobleman was flustered. "Then, if such a thing is not difficult to reveal, what would the journey of one such as yourself entail? What kinds of exotic worlds have you seen? Is there really other life out there, in the cosmos?"
At last, he had asked the crux of the question that all had been skirting around. Everyone, even his silent guardian, felt their attention be swallowed by the blindfolded man, waiting with bated breath as to what he was to say. He replied softly, gesturing to the sky above.
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"There is more life than you could possibly imagine. A myriad life-bearing worlds in your galaxy, more numerous than grains of sand, than the drops of water in the entire ocean. A myriad galaxies in your universe, each host to just as many life-bearing worlds as each other. A myriad universes, none identical, all strange in their own unique ways. An infinity multiplied against itself thrice, if not more."
He turned to look at them, and they felt in his gaze the weight of a time so ancient the very word had lost all meaning. Of seeing stars born and return to the dust, entire universes coming to life before being swallowed by an ever-expanding cold, or a piercing heat.
"You are just one of those worlds. One, amongst an uncountable number. Each unique, a flame of civilisation that is lit, that burns, that flickers away and returns to the embers from whence they came. An eternal cycle in nigh-every universe, a cycle that you too will follow. Follow, to be forgotten."
The scale of such matters were impossibly huge for those listening to possibly truly comprehend, leaving behind only the residual dread of such an idea. A sheer, cosmic dread. But the nobleman was unfazed, his eyes still burning with curiosity.
"Do you think I..." the nobleman swallowed, his voice filled with yearning. "Do you think we could ever be able to see such sights?"
The Voyager looked at him, his expression impossible to read.
"Of course, why not? Exploration is in your Soul, Plutarch Cavitus, you can never be separate from it. I would grant you just a single warning, however. This galaxy...it is of a certain kind. You are not the first to come to life here, not even the billionth. What that means is that you do not enter an empty stage, nor even a thriving stage. You enter one which is haunted by the remnants of those who came before."
He continued after a brief pause.
"Out there, in the void between stars, lie things beyond your fathoming. Things ancient enough to have lost their names, but not their purpose. Be wary, Plutarch Cavitus, for not all forces that exist are benevolent. Or even apathetic. Many simply wish to see you and your entire world burn and die. Knowing this, would you still risk such a thing?"
The nobleman was conflicted, a warring expression on his face. He hung his head, unable to answer. Or perhaps, he knew his answer, and was ashamed. The Voyager chuckled mirthlessly.
"Curiosity killed the cat, as many used to say. Or perhaps still do, somewhere."
"But then what of you, Sir Voyager? If these things are true, then why, still, do you travel the sea of stars?"
The question of why is a question of purpose. For The Voyager, his purpose was his entire being.
"I once was witness to a certain truth, long ago, that changed me. I cannot share it here, but it is part of what made me what I am. I always had that wanderlust in me, never content to sit still, and that truth only strengthened my resolve. And so I travelled, not just for the sake of it, but also for another purpose. To chronicle. To record. The countless stories that would have been buried and forgotten forever by the cold, unfeeling universes, I alone remembered, and thereby they still lived on."
His tone adopted that obscure feeling once more. Something similar to regret, but less bitter, having long since been accepted.
"That is my purpose, my whole being. A fruitless and impossible endeavour."
A deep baritone voice resounded from outside the illuminating circle of fire, startling all except for the blindfolded man who smiled softly.
"Though no less admirable for having attempted it, Voyager. That which is easy is completed without thought and is therefore thoughtless. That which is difficult is what truly grants meaning."