The Uninteresting Saga Of Not Very Much At All
Part One:
The Dawn Of What's Left
It has to be said that this is not what you think it is. Yes, this is the discworld, a giant flat world resting on the backs of four relatively gianter elephants who themselves have to stand on something and that something is the most giantest turtle one could ever lay eyes on.* And this turtle, though incredibly giant, swims through a galaxy that makes giant look like a head of pin in a grand hall filled with mighty swords, battle axes, spears and other things that make the head of a pin appear even smaller than it already is.
And it is constant. As all things are. There is death and total destruction as there are ends for all and everything, but there is also constant. Just because something has ended doesn't mean it isn't still there. After all, how else do you explain funeral costs? It was a great King from long ago that declared, "Just because half my Kingdom fell off the edge of the disc, that doesn't make me half a King!" In fact, what did make him half a King was a very large sword being swung in a wide arc at about waist height.
But that's not what this is. This is not a tale of long forgotten kings, or princesses who accidently locked themselves in the tower, or even of heroes banding together and taking what they want from hard-working despots. No. This is, in fact, a story concerning the absence of the narrative...
It had been over a year. Rincewind couldn't believe it let alone understand. He had spent an entire day doing exactly what he had intended to do. Breakfast in the morning, then a short nap, then a leisurely walk around the grounds to look busy, then lunch, then second lunch, then another quick nap before meeting with the Archchancellor to discuss something important (but not really important) and enjoying a cigar and afternoon drink whilst they talked, then of course it was dinner, which was followed by downtime in the staff common room, which in turn inevitably led to The Librarian and Rincewind making the short walk into Ankh Morpork to sample the city's finest drink and food. At the end of the day, as it is now as Rincewind tries to believe, he had walked back to the University and somehow made his way to his quarters.
Lying in bed, staring up the ceiling, he could not believe it. Today had been a normal day. A perfect day, even. A day that was perfectly him. Nothing had got in his way or tried to kill him and no one had pulled him aside to whisper of prophecies, adventure or the oncoming end of the world. Absolutely everything was as it should be.
And as Rincewind tried to get his head round how strange it all felt - to have nothing strange happen to him - he realised with great horror and a terrible lurching feeling in his stomach that every day over the past year had been like this.
He immediately sat up in bed. His eyes wide open. The all too normal grip on his intestines that every late night Dibbler's pie came with had been completely forgotten. This was serious. This was different. This could only mean bad things were happening or were about to happen. With this in mind, Rincewind knew he had to act. It was his duty as a wizard and as a professor of the most famous magical college in all the disc. Yes. He had to do something.
Tomorrow, after breakfast, he'd mention it to the Archchancellor.
* Actually, that's not strictly true, because Great A' Tuin is so large that your eyeballs would have to be the size of small moons to encompass him entirely. There is in fact only one with eyes big enough to see all of Great A' Tuin and that someone is, of course, Great A' Tuin himself.