Two strangers sit in a small tavern, across from each other in front of a fire. A collector and a wanderer. They sit in silence, listening to the crackling green flames. The two strangers eye each other. One wears a pin of a smiling moon-sun, the other carries a tattoo of a golden city.
"What's the city?" The collector points to the tattoo.
"One of gold and clouds. It is a grand city. It is where my ancestor's fire burns. And of you? The moon-sun?"
"It is a sign of an old thing. I doubt you've heard of it."
"Try me."
"It seems we both have stories. I shall share mine if you share yours."
"Fine. It begins with one man. He rose from the grave, and found a paradise, at the base of Yggdrasil. He was working one day, when he found a child, left alone in a river. They were blue with the cold, and stayed that way forever. He raised them till they grew to adulthood. The child was now an adult, and the man built a home in the paradise. After he died, the adult found more and more people began to settle in the paradise, they tried to organize the settlers. But they thought the adult strange, nonconforming, different, and unnatural. So they rejected the child of the founder away. So, they travelled far, far away from that place. They wandered for days and nights. They traveled for so long, that they even began to divine secrets about the worlds, given by the worlds themselves. It seemed they pitied the adult. Because of this, the worlds shared a few secrets with the adult. And the adult used these great secrets to create a grand city. It rose out of a mountain, yet was never plagued with cold, heat, or even discourse. It was, and is, a perfect city. A perfect design. And that is where I hail from."
"A perfect city. The very idea is impossible. Nothing is perfect. If I may ask, does your city exist in stasis, away from entropy and Time?"
"No. It is in a world, if that's what you mean. It is affected by Time."
"Strange. I would like to see this place for myself. But, it is time for my story."
"It begins with a mortal. He sought knowledge, more than he could ever glean in life, or in the grandest of libraries. So he found a branch of Yggdrasil. He took a rope, and hung himself from the branch. Eventually, his 12 followers found him, and entombed him. After the first day, his soul was released. On the second day, he wandered, searching for The Tree of Worlds. On the third day, he found it, and sat in learning with The Tree itself. When he had learned all The Tree taught him, it asked for something of his. He offered his eye, and The Tree agreed. Then, he awoke, and told his followers of the knowledge he had learned. He told it to everyone he met, and the scraps of knowledge were written down in books that spread across the world. In time, the man eventually died, and the true meanings of the Yggdrasil were lost, corrupted by men and others."
The wanderer rose.
"That is your story?"
"It is my story, but not my story."
"Thank you for the stories, but I must leave."
"Leave? It is howling outside, like a demon!"
"And still, I must go. Good day."
"Good day."
--+ Collector's Journal+--
Today I met the wanderer. They told me about their city, by a tavern fire. It goes something like this. The son of a founder was abandoned, so he left his home city. He goes on to find another one, free from guilt and abandonment, a perfect city. But even there, in a perfect city, there are those who plot against this perfection. I shall add more later. More strange is the city the wanderer speaks of. They say it is a perfect city, but a city that exists in Time. How? Time and people corrupt. How could a perfect city exist in Time?
