[ WP ] Fit as much world-building as you can into a totally mundane event

Aeaerin saw the pile before it was too late and stumbled. 
 
 
 And he thought of the dirt beneath his feet, how soldiers from the ancient civilization of Feykor once walked here. How they had burned this city to the ground and built it back up with the forgotten stones left behind by the Golden Giants who had disappeared from the world long ago…legends can only wonder and speculate as to what happened to them and where they might have went. This new city they named Cile and they ruled here for centuries before being decimated by the Red Sickness which forced blood from their mouths and eyes and noses. A coup was swiftly executed by the lesser Moahs, forced into servitude for time forgotten until this final moment of good fortune. 
 
 
 And he thought about the clothes he was wearing sewn by the hands of Durak, the Lost Wizard of the Hemlock from the silken string of the Arnoch, Spider-widow of Darkness and Despair. The Arnoch was slain by the mighty knight Lady Varish said to carry the light within her and without. She, singlehandedly, saved the realm from the invasion of Ckurths, the fell beasts that stalk the portals to the Below Realm. This place, this shadowy, silent place is where the evil one Wester, long ago banished from this realm, is said to rule. The Feykor tried to conquer him. Then the Moahs, then the Arish, and Torks, and Stavs. All have failed. 
 
 
 And he thought about the dual blades he carried on a silken, silvery cushion before him. Legends spoke of them as sisters and called them by their proper names Bael and Shi given to them by Master Smith at the beginning of known time. Smith had walked the Starsands from seven long years before she had found enough starstone to forge the blades. She climbed into her golden forge and flew up to the high peaks of Elona, where water from the heavens above fell fresh and pure and the fires of Elona herself blew hot and fierce in the chill breeze. The sisters were born at the moment Smith struck the long scarlet ingot, breaking it into two perfect pieces ready to be folded three hundred times, until they were indestructible. Lady Varish herself wielded them in the battle for the realm, an unstoppable whirlwind of justice and rage. 
 
 
 And he fell. Right into the pile of horse dung. He could feel is smush up and into his clothes, turning the once brightly colored silk to brown and green. The pillow, stuffed by the Good Queen herself landed with a soft plop in the piss in front of him and he watched as the dual blades bounced once, twice, thrice across the cobbled street of the Gilded Quarter, right into the path of an oncoming steamcar. The metal wheelcase of it smashed into one, two of the blades slightly bending the first, breaking the other clean in half. The driver honked and yelled something unintelligible at Aeaerin, waving his finger around in an obscene gesture. 
 Mouth agape, still slightly in shock, Aeaerin sat up slowly, hoping beyond hope the task he took up with the Chancellor Hast would still be acknowledged and confirmed as completed and the High Court for Science and Space Study would still accept his application for a lecturer of full tenure. 

