It was a time of great decline and despair. Mankind was scraping an illiterate, bestial existence out of the ruins of once-shining empires. Forgotten were the secrets of how to make the straight roads and the great structures that still dotted the landscape. The memory of these empires was so dim that some places attributed these ruins to giants, for mortal men could never have built such wonders. Libraries were few and those who could read them fewer still; what knowledge remained was carefully preserved by monks and guilds who barely understood it, let alone how we came by the knowledge to begin with. Indeed, in those times a stack of half a dozen books was regarded as a library. Order was maintained through force of arms, not law; the common people were stalked by banditry, plague, famine, and godless hordes out of the East. With each passing year, structures decayed, populations shrank, knowledge faded, and hope dimmed. The end times were nigh--that was plain as day to anyone.
I guess. I'm not familiar with the 1001 setting exactly, just the 1001 I lived through.