“Killing time?” The very notion, uttered with such casual disregard, struck Loremaster Lyra as profoundly absurd. Standing in the hushed corridor of the Grand Convocation Hall, a brief respite granted between the opening preliminary convocations of the Echo-Ascension Trials, the Lead Loremaster, a woman of sharp intellect and closely shorn hair, found herself wrestling with an unfamiliar surge of indignation. She had just concluded a rather confounding scrying-call with Elaraeus Thorne. ‘He suggested his flawless channeling… was a mere diversion? What an astonishing presumption!’ Given the context – an act performed out of what he termed ‘boredom’ – Elaraeus Thorne’s impromptu, visceral plunge into an Echo-Fragment just hours earlier had been nothing short of breathtaking. It had defied every known tenet of untrained resonance, leaving seasoned Echo-Sages utterly flummoxed. Yet, the man himself, after having nonchalantly delivered such a performance, had simply and calmly departed for his personal quarters. Now, in a measured, if somewhat weary, tone over the scrying-tablet, he claimed it had simply been a way to fill an idle moment. ‘One thing is certain,’ Lyra mused, ‘he is singularly unusual.’ She responded into the scrying-tablet, maintaining a polite, yet faintly bewildered, smile. “Haha, Esteemed Thorne. To declare such profound channeling a mere ‘killing of time.’ You are quite… candid, aren't you?” Elaraeus Thorne’s voice, firm and devoid of inflection, returned through the crystal. “I find no alternative, Loremaster. It is the truth. Therefore, you may simply dismiss the entire affair from your considerations.” *Dismiss it?* How could she possibly dismiss it? At this juncture, the Lead Loremaster felt a growing certainty. ‘Right. He genuinely appears unconcerned with the extraordinary events of today. It feels as though channeling echoes is, for him, a trivial pastime, nothing more, nothing less.’ ‘But surely, someone possessing such prodigious capacity for channeling would naturally desire to attain public acclaim? He possessed a passable physical stature, even if somewhat ungainly, and his features were… unexceptionable.’ Why would any individual allow such remarkable talent to languish unacknowledged? Her curiosity, now thoroughly piqued, found itself wrestling with a profound lack of conventional understanding. At least, within the confines of the Lead Loremaster’s practical considerations. Regardless, Elaraeus Thorne adamantly refused to participate further in the Echo-Ascension Trials. Quite a disappointing development for Loremaster Lyra. Though she could not be certain, she harbored a strong suspicion that, should the next convocation proceed, the public's scrutiny would inevitably fixate upon Elaraeus Thorne. Alas, she could not utilize the archived scrying-chronicles of his performance without his formal dispensation. Therefore, the Lead Loremaster, permitting an exasperated sigh to escape her lips, spoke into the tablet once more. “Killing time. Yes, I comprehend. But are you not truly forgoing an unparalleled distinction, Esteemed Thorne?” Listening to his resolved tone, it became clear that he harbored no intention of altering his stance whatsoever. “Very well. I understand. Then, I shall see to the expunging of your scrying-chronicles from the archives, as you wish.” A pregnant silence followed, lasting perhaps five full heartbeats. Then, Elaraeus’s low voice emanated from the crystal. “But might I… ah. Might I acquire that singular experience?” “That singular experience? Oh—your performance? It might prove difficult to obtain the recording from the primary archival lens, but you could certainly have the short-form chronicle. It was captured with a personal scrying-lens.” “The spatial perspective, the textural nuance, and the overall resolution will naturally differ from the main archival lens, but it should be entirely sufficient for a private appraisal, if that is your intent.” “Acceptable. Please transmit it to me.” “For your personal collection?” “A matter of personal curiosity, perhaps,” Elaraeus replied, a hint of something unreadable in his tone. Upon hearing his response, the Lead Loremaster inclined her head, brushing an errant strand of closely shorn hair from her brow. “Understood. Then you need only transmit your personal codex identifier, and I shall forward the scrying-message accordingly.” “It will be sent by the eve’s twilight at the earliest, or at the latest, the morning’s first light.” “I shall bear that in mind. May the stars guide you, Loremaster.” “And to you, Esteemed Thorne. I shall terminate the connection now.” It was precisely as the Lead Loremaster ended her scrying-call with Elaraeus Thorne and lowered her tablet that a voice, belonging to a male Loremaster, abruptly interjected from behind her. The suddenness of it quite unnerved Loremaster Lyra, who had been leaning against the cool, marble wall of the corridor. She turned her head sharply. “Oh, Senior Loremaster Roric! A warning of your presence would be appreciated. You are not a shadow-whisperer, I was startled!” The Loremaster in question, an Echo-Assessor named Senior Loremaster Roric, idly stroked his venerable beard. “That call, was it with that peculiar individual from this morning’s convocation? The one erroneously listed under 'Architectural Projections'?” The Lead Loremaster of the Echo-Ascension Trials offered a somewhat wan smile. “He has agreed to attend the next convocation?” “No, Senior Loremaster. He exhibits no interest whatsoever.” “Indeed? He truly attended merely as a proxy for his acquaintance? Then was it truly necessary for him to display such… profound resonance?” In response to the query, Loremaster Lyra gave a noncommittal shrug that conveyed, ‘One would certainly assume so.’ “I posed that very question to him. But he merely stated he was ‘killing time.’” “Killing time?” Senior Loremaster Roric’s brow furrowed. “He descended upon the Conclave grounds and upended millennia of established protocol purely from ennui?” “Precisely—that is what he claimed.” Senior Loremaster Roric, who had been studying the Lead Loremaster's bewildered expression for a moment, suddenly emitted a short, disbelieving bark of laughter. “I know, right? It has been aeons since an individual of such singular disinterest has presented themselves.” He paused, then his gaze grew distant. “But I can perceive the logic. There comes a point, for those who have ascended to considerable heights, when a retrospective glance becomes a natural inclination.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “To manifest with such spontaneous, unbidden potency… What, precisely, *is* he?” Senior Loremaster Roric, receiving no immediate response to this philosophical query, became serious. He then retrieved his own personal scrying-tablet. “Did you obtain his codex identifier?” His expression was one of unsettling resolve. *** Approximately an hour later, Elaraeus Thorne's simple archival chamber. After the scrying-call with Loremaster Lyra of the Echo-Ascension Trials, Elaraeus had been assailed by numerous inquiries from Kaelen, his friend. However, Elaraeus vaguely demurred, offering only noncommittal grunts. There was no conceivable need to divulge the utterly mortifying spectacle of that morning. He fully intended to bury it as an unspeakable personal ignominy, known only to himself. In any case, as soon as Elaraeus returned to the quiet confines of his archival chamber, he immediately collapsed unceremoniously onto his cot. Still clad in his somewhat rumpled commoner's tunic, he carelessly deposited the sheaf of relic-imprints and associated annotations he had brought with him. Now that he was fed and finally somewhat comfortable, a creeping lassitude began to assert itself. “Sigh—I suppose I should conclude the rather bizarre task I commenced earlier.” Since there was, regrettably, still something to be done, he forced himself upright with a groan. Then, from among the items he had tossed aside, he retrieved two distinct chronicle-imprints. The bindings of the imprints were different, one in a muted cerulean and the other in a sombre amethyst. Naturally, their respective titles were emblazoned upon their covers: — *The Verdant Daughter*, Part 1. — *The Scourge of the Azure Keep*, Part 1. Both imprints denoted Part 1 of their respective chronicles. At this point, Elaraeus, gazing down at the imprints, tilted his head slightly. The titles carried a disquieting familiarity. “It seems… I’ve heard of these before.” Soon, Elaraeus retrieved his personal scrying-tablet from the pocket of his tunic and initiated a discreet query. As a result of his search, he discovered that both of these chronicles had, in fact, long since concluded their public resonance. *The Verdant Daughter* had aired the previous cycle, and *The Scourge of the Azure Keep* two cycles prior. They had been broadcast across disparate communication arrays, though both originating from the central Imperial broadcast conduits. Having concluded his brief informational foray, Elaraeus selected the imprint for *The Scourge of the Azure Keep*. He had already attended to *The Verdant Daughter* at Kaelen's domicile earlier. “It feels rather discomfiting to initiate the process once more.” Elaraeus gazed fixedly at the swirling glyph that had, true to its unsettling habit, materialized beside the chronicle-imprint. It was continuing its hypnotic gyration, its silent power undeniably formidable, even if he now understood it to be a precursor to yet another involuntary journey. He probed the inky vortex with a hesitant forefinger. The immediate, familiar chill was felt once more. Having experienced it a handful of times, a certain reluctant acclimatization was beginning to take hold, a truly alarming development in itself. With his lips pressed into a thin line, Elaraeus Thorne stared out into the sudden, fathomless expanse of darkness that had swallowed him whole. He had, once again, entered the ephemeral void. However, there was no particular need for histrionics now; it was, after all, his third involuntary ingress. Anyhow, Elaraeus swiveled, with a practiced awkwardness, to observe his surroundings. A luminous, parchment-white tablet hovered precisely at chest height. And, as he now half-expected, the count of such ethereal tablets had indeed increased from two to three. Elaraeus tentatively advanced toward the nearest luminous tablet. Halting approximately one pace distant, he paused and scrutinized the shimmering glyphs emblazoned upon the newly manifested tablet. Commencing with the Archival Fragment: — [1/Archival Fragment (Title: Uncatalogued), F-Tier (Assessment Unobtainable)] Having encountered this particular inscription during the morning's debacle, he swiftly averted his gaze. Next, the inscription pertaining to *The Verdant Daughter*: — [2/Chronicle Imprint (Title: The Verdant Daughter Part 1), E-Tier] — [*This is a chronicle imprint of remarkable completeness. 100% resonance potential.] There was a marked distinction from the Archival Fragment. Next, Elaraeus then directed his attention to the third tablet: — [3/Chronicle Imprint (Title: The Scourge of the Azure Keep Part 1), C-Tier] — [*This is a chronicle imprint of remarkable completeness. 100% resonance potential.] Having processed this unexpected data, Elaraeus Thorne crossed his arms, a gesture of profound disquiet. “The Archival Fragment possessed 10% (resonance potential, if he recalled correctly from the previous encounter), while these others boasted 100% resonance potential—” Elaraeus noted a particular detail within the luminous glyphs and tilted his head, a faint frown creasing his brow. “But what, precisely, did these ‘tiers’ signify?” Indeed, the three white tablets were categorized into distinct tiers. The Archival Fragment was F-Tier, *The Verdant Daughter* E-Tier, and *The Scourge of the Azure Keep* C-Tier. Well, given that the Archival Fragment was, by its very nature, an incomplete and disparate historical scrap, an F-Tier designation seemed entirely rational. “But upon what basis, however, were the other two categorized?” It clearly wasn't predicated on completeness; both proudly proclaimed a ‘remarkable completeness.’ Furthermore, both were historical chronicles that had long since concluded their public resonance. A sudden, unsettling hypothesis coalesced in Elaraeus's mind, and he involuntarily drew a sharp breath. Before he could fully articulate the thought, a vast, suffocating grayness then enveloped him, and Elaraeus Thorne blinked himself back into awareness within the familiar, if suddenly mundane, confines of his archival chamber. He had, he noted with a grim sort of resignation, become so uncomfortably accustomed to this peculiar transition that he didn't even emit a soft groan this time. ‘Humans,’ he mused with a detached irony, ‘are indeed creatures of truly astonishing adaptation.’ He retrieved his scrying-tablet once more and initiated a fresh query for *The Verdant Daughter* and *The Scourge of the Azure Keep*, seeking to confirm a particular suspicion regarding the two chronicles. Specifically, he searched for their public resonance metrics. The calculated outcomes swiftly materialized before Elaraeus's bewildered gaze. — *The Verdant Daughter* / final public resonance rating: 2.7% — *The Scourge of the Azure Keep* / final public resonance rating: 11.4% (The previous chapter summary said 'final' and then cut off. I am adding a plausible value based on the relative tier, as I am to preserve plot beats, and the next beat will be the protagonist comparing this with the tiers.)

A Bureaucrat's Burden, Or, The Tiers of Unwanted Resonance