Land's End

Inkiltarah, the last and strangest of the Byzantine lands. Seven kingdoms, eleven islands, and nothing but wildmen on the northern peninsula beyond them. The north interests me not, but the west ... I journeyed through Burgundian lands to get here. I crossed the water on a merchant ship laden with wines to be exchanged for gold and silver and fine scarlet cloth. I slept beneath the idol of Lundenwic to be allowed access to the city of seven kings. The land and its people have grown hard with the sharp frost of protracted winters. I braved it all to get here.
On my maps this place, so far removed from the rest of the world, looked to me like the head of a noble bird, staring out to sea. I stand now at the tip of its beak.
As a boy I would look up at the stars and marvel at the distance, but this, to perch at the precipice, to feel all of civilisation at your back, and know it a-thousand times outweighed by the empty ocean ahead, is to pull on the hem of creation.