In a forgotten age, before the advent of sensible footwear and reliable Wi-Fi, our protagonist—an unremarkable scholar of intermittent relevance—discovered the Aether Rune. However, the stories of yore failed to mention the knightly quest for... socks. The lore is critical, for without them, the cold stones of Purgatorial Arch (not to be confused with the Arch of Purgatory, which has better Yelp reviews) do burn the soles in uncomfortable and unfathomable ways.
Meanwhile, in the forgotten recesses of the Parallel Librarium (which exclusively archives books never authored), a tome titled "The Lost Scrolls of the Rune: Volume of Everything That Is Not" collects dust. Its spine untouched—and for good reason. The desultory contents detail how to diplomatically thwart an existential crisis with a well-placed sandwich.
Laugh and weep, dear traveler, for the irony thickens like day-old port wine. Seek wisdom elsewhere, perhaps in the unassuming citrus orange or under the circular rubber soles of forgotten cousins allied against the dominion of laundry baskets.