Chapter 12: The Petition for Tedium
The strategy meeting took place outside Tutor Maeve's classroom the next morning. Opal was still managing her fluctuating energy, while Kian had reappeared, wearing a clean tunic and looking deceptively innocent.
"The key is motivation," Kian whispered to Lance and Opal. "Nobody wants to be assigned to the Debris Vault. It's dark, dusty, and requires weeks of tedious manual categorization. The only person allowed to assign it is Dean Eris, and she only gives it to students she considers completely non-threatening."
"So, how do we convince the Dean that the Silverwoods legacy and the Volatile Firecracker are non-threatening?" Opal asked, adjusting her nylon backpack.
"You," Kian said, nodding to Opal, "need to display maximum confusion and minimum interest. Look like you'd rather be anywhere else. You, Lance," Kian continued, "need to display maximum tedium and minimum competence."
Lance thought about his greatest Mundane achievement: memorizing obscure historical dates for no practical reason. That was the angle.
They found Dean Eris in her office—a severe, copper-plated chamber where the air felt thin and cold.
"Silverwoods. Verma. You are here to discuss your continued deficiencies in Siphoning?" Dean Eris asked, without looking up from her desk, where she was examining a series of complex schematic diagrams.
Opal immediately embraced her role. She slumped dramatically, then managed to trip over an imaginary lip in the carpet. "Dean, I'm so sorry. I'm finding the Siphoning theory to be... very confusing. The Motes just don't want to go where I tell them."
Dean Eris glanced up, her lip curling slightly in confirmation of Opal's ineptitude. "Expected. Verma, you will continue basic Mote Siphoning until your volatility is contained."
Then she turned her full attention to Lance. "Silverwoods. Your containment was adequate. But your Siphon score of ten units remains abysmal. I need to see drive. I need to see commitment to the foundational principles of the Aetherium."
Lance swallowed and adopted the tone of a deeply enthusiastic, but completely boring, history enthusiast.
"Dean Eris, I have been reflecting deeply on the foundational principles, specifically the Aethelgard era of the Founding Lineages," Lance began, carefully dropping the word he'd heard in the Flicker.
Dean Eris stopped working. Mentioning the Founding Lineages was a risk, but Lance quickly steered it toward the mundane.
"I believe my primary deficiency is a failure to appreciate the sheer volume of material involved in the foundational process. I am finding it difficult to understand the systemic categorization of the original artifacts—how the Master Stabilizers of the ancient era cataloged their discoveries."
Lance pulled out his history textbook and tapped the cover—the anchor for the Flicker.
"To truly master Siphoning," Lance continued, sounding ridiculously academic, "I need to immerse myself in the purest, most stable residue of the past. Not usable artifacts, but the discarded, chaotic materials that demonstrate the sheer, daunting scale of the original project."
He leaned forward slightly, pushing his "pathetic" enthusiasm. "Dean, I humbly petition to be assigned to the Forgotten Debris Vault. I wish to spend my remedial hours cataloging the disorganized remnants of the Aethelgard founding—the broken, unpowered artifacts. I need to understand the organizational principles of the past before I can master the power of the present."
Dean Eris stared at him, absolutely speechless for a moment. Her severe expression slowly morphed into one of cold amusement.
She clearly saw him not as a threat, but as an overly dedicated nerd whose sole desire was tedious, mind-numbing labor—the exact opposite of Kian's rebellious spirit.
"You want to spend your afternoons in the dust of the Forgotten Debris Vault, Silverwoods? Sifting through broken shards and useless copper filings?"
"It would be an honor, Dean," Lance confirmed, projecting the perfect image of a student who was dedicated to the most boring aspect of their studies.
Dean Eris nodded slowly. "Very well. Your assignment is approved. You will report to the Forgotten Debris Vault in the Research Quarters tomorrow morning for cataloging duty. If you find anything remotely functional, report it immediately. If you disturb the integrity of the debris piles, you will spend the rest of the term cleaning the Void Weavers' containment unit."
She handed him a laminated, yellow security pass.
"You have found your commitment, Silverwoods. Now, find your Siphon score."
Lance and Opal walked out of the office in stunned silence.
Opal broke the tension the moment the door closed. "You just begged for the most boring job in the Aetherium," she whispered, her eyes shining with pride. "That was brilliant. You completely weaponized your inner nerd."
Lance smiled, clutching the yellow pass. He had used his weakness—his low-key, methodical nature—to access the very heart of the mystery.
"Now," Lance said, leading the way out of the Annex, "we need to find Kian. The Research Quarters are off-limits, which means he's going to need a bigger distraction than a dropped tray of utensils."