“For those who travel through our world, no method is as storied or as important as setting out on foot in England and, with a single mighty bound: ending in France, in Spain, or further afield. And none leave footsteps as light, or as separated, as Andris Peleks. The head of the Gatekeeper's Order has, for many years since the joining of the worlds, pushed the boundaries of our world outwards, ever outwards, and has rediscovered much we have lost. With one step, Mongolia; with another, returning lands of the Seol Eile; then, Cathay; then, Liardet. Andris could tell much of what sits in the borders of the world. Though who knows whether tell of great plains, deserts without end, and realms of pure ice and snow exist in out conjoined world, or are flights of fancy conjured to amuse the white-haired walker.
Somehow the stories always come back the long way first, from the merchants and travellers who go by road, or under Osmund's ships. Or at least the ones that have had time to brew that way are the best, and the ones worth telling. At some point in the future, I shall pen the saga of Andris and the Gate of the Waterfall. It is certainly a riveting tale, if one best told around a camp fire, and not put to parchment.
And yet even as he pulls his bonds further, and stretches his tether to Europe thinner and thinner, if you seek out the progenitor of portals it remains true that the best place to seek for him is in Aachen. Whether organising the Gatekeepers with ruthless efficiency, or consolidating a well-earned reputation as being an eccentric professor at the University, he has never quite lost professed love for the place. I myself did not know him before he threw off his mortality, but those who did have said that the mannerisms of the old sage Andris have crept back over the years.”
— Heroes of the One World, Damien Chanteur
Andris returns from a long leave of absence to find Stanley the Abiding, Demiurge of Discovery lounging in the chair behind Andris's desk. The two look at each other and share the smile shared by any two who are old friends and rivals, but were never buddy-buddy. Andris looks no different from the last time Stanley saw him, but nonetheless he seems to glow with a sort of projected self-confidence. Something has certainly changed.
“Ahhh, Andris. I see you've finally gone and done it.” Stanley said. Andris flashes a coy smile before replying.
“I have indeed. I thought being a Demiurge would feel important and different, but… I still feel like me.” He pauses shortly before adding, “Also, damn you. Discovery was going to be my thing.”
Stanley chuckles, and shrugs his shoulders slightly.
“Well, if you are going to dawdle about these things, then I guess you don't get first pick. What are you calling yourself then.”
Andris pulls himself up to his full height before clearly stating,
“The Demiurge of Exploration. It is like Discovery, just… more Andris. Less Stanley.”
“Well,” says Stanley, “That certainly sounds like you. Where have you been, anyway…”