The Veyrand Compendium of Skaldarion’s Wonders
From the Private Journal of Sir Alaric Veyrand
15th day of Goldleaf, in the library of Veyrand Manor
The commission letter sits before me still, its wax seal bearing the intricate sigil of the Arcane Explorers’ Society—a compass rose intertwined with an open tome. Three readings have not diminished the weight of their request, nor the tremor of anticipation that courses through my aging hands as I trace their words once more.
“A complete cataloguing of Skaldarion’s wonders,” they write, “encompassing all flora, fauna, monsters, cultures, cuisines, and discoveries of historical significance.” The magnitude of such an undertaking would have paralyzed a younger man with its impossibility. Yet at fifty-seven, with silver threading my temples and decades of careful observation behind me, I find myself not daunted but… liberated.
This shall be my life’s greatest work—The Veyrand Compendium of Skaldarion’s Wonders. Not merely another field guide, but a love letter to the world that has shaped me, taught me, and occasionally tried to devour me with equal measure.
I have spent these past weeks in contemplation, pacing the familiar halls of my family estate, watching the autumn light filter through oak leaves that whisper of approaching winter. The irony is not lost on me that I must begin this global odyssey in my own backyard, here in the Highland Reaches where I was born. Perhaps wisdom lies in this—to truly see the world, one must first see home with foreign eyes.
Lady Aelwyn, bless her memory, once told me that “the greatest discoveries lie not in distant lands, but in the familiar places we have forgotten to observe.” How right she was. How many times have I traversed the paths between Kalene and its subordinate settlements, yet never with the systematic attention this commission demands?
Quill arrived this morning from his hunting flight, settling on his favorite perch with that piercing gaze that seems to read my very thoughts. He knows. Somehow, he always knows when a great journey beckons. The way he arranges his feathers, the alert tilt of his magnificent head—twenty-two years of partnership have taught me to read his moods as clearly as any scholarly text. He is ready.
The Highland Reaches shall serve as my proving ground, my laboratory for developing the methodologies that will guide this comprehensive endeavor. Eight weeks among familiar faces and known paths, yet approached with the rigorous documentation standards befitting a work of global significance. Each settlement—from proud Kalene to humble Prynfell—shall receive the same meticulous attention I would grant to the most exotic foreign realm.
I have commissioned the finest leather-bound journals from Master Aldwin’s workshop in Kalene’s artisan quarter. Their pages await the careful ink strokes that will birth this compendium. My field equipment has been serviced, my lens of insight polished to crystal clarity. The autumn weather promises to hold fair for several more weeks—ideal conditions for the systematic observation and documentation that forms the backbone of any worthwhile naturalist endeavor.
Yet as I prepare for this familiar-yet-foreign expedition, a familiar specter haunts my thoughts. The weight of responsibility presses against my chest like highland air—thin and precious. What if my observations prove incomplete? What if some crucial detail, some vital warning, escapes my notice only to cause harm to future travelers who rely upon my work?
I think of young Thornwick from the Society, barely twenty-three and eager as a hunting hound, who will surely be among the first to acquire my completed work. Will my documentation of the Oathmaws in the highland caves prove sufficient to keep him safe? Will my botanical notes on the stone nettle’s varying toxicity prevent another tragedy like… but no. That path leads only to paralysis.
I must trust in my methods, refined through decades of careful practice. I must trust in the collaborative wisdom of the highland communities who will share their traditional knowledge. Most importantly, I must trust that thorough, honest documentation—even when imperfect—serves the cause of safety better than elegant theories divorced from practical experience.
The Veyrand Compendium shall be my legacy, but more than that, it shall be a shield raised against ignorance and a bridge spanning the chasms between diverse peoples. In cataloguing Skaldarion’s wonders, I hope to weave together the scattered wisdom of countless communities into a tapestry of understanding that honors both knowledge and life.
Tomorrow, I begin with Kalene itself—the city of my birth viewed through the lens of scientific inquiry. Quill and I shall climb to Sunwatch Rise at dawn, and from that ancient vantage point, commence the systematic documentation that will, gods willing, encompass our entire world.
Let this foreword stand as both promise and prayer: that the work begun in familiar highland air shall grow into something worthy of the trust placed in me, something that brings wonder and safety to all who follow the paths my pen shall trace.
May the light of knowledge illuminate even the darkest corners of our magnificent world.
Sir Alaric Veyrand of Kalene Naturalist, Explorer, and Humble Servant of Discovery
