From then until never

Lyeasrakardsul, the great Liar

"Live by the Sloth, die by the Sloth."
-Lyeasrakardsul, headmaster of Dalmicir magick, member of the council of sorcerers, master of the cult of some, keeper of the archives, chronicler of visions, and chastiser of sorclings. Although he would never admit thinking it, and even less saying it out loud.

***

Lyeasrakardsul's given Kor name was a nice monosyllabic Lug. He was born, screaming and wailing, in the age of displacement. In the latter middle of the age to be precise. Of course, those who birthed him weren't aware that more than half the age had gone by, or that the skinny one-eight Kor would have a role to play in ending the age. Nonetheless, as the headmaster of Dalmicir magick, the historians of sorcery, Lyeasrakardsul would have liked that kind of attention to historical detail in anything, and especially in a biography about himself.

He was a happy child, if somewhat strange. Raised by his grandparents in Absumo, the boisterous Pirate archipelago. They lived in one of the two rival cities, Loba and Kost. Which city, he could no longer remembered. He hadn't bothered to try to divine which one either, because in this, like in so many rivalries, the two cities were basically identical. What mattered was that even with his peculiarities, he was accepted there, and felt safe, even loved.
His "behaviours", as his grandfather had called it, was something he would later develop into an art. For example, at his third birthday, uneasy about the children messing around and being disorderly. He first said the words that would become something of a mantra. "I've always enjoyed a good silence, tense or otherwise."
When a Xefef sorcerer arrived claiming magick had been sensed in the toddler, and ripped the four year old from his grandmothers tattooed arms. Some people surely thought good riddance. They wouldn't have said it aloud, but no likes a smart-arse. Eventually, he was forgotten, because no one outside Empris was ever told if he was alive or dead. But his closest family debated for a long time, whether it had been the attitude, or the magick, that made the sorcerer come for him.

Perhaps is was a bit of both, because in those cases were magickal talent wasn't enough, Lug rose through the ranks of sorcery by sheer stubbornness. Although he wasn't a fan of going to Administration, the Xefef college. He finished the indoctrinary grades for sorclings without much trouble.
Promoted to apprentice, he was allowed to choose his sorcerer's name, Lye-as-rak-ard-sul. He then moved on to the Archives, the Dalmicir college. Where he would spend most of the next seven-hundred plus years, often content in the silence

It took him a hundred years of grunt work in the Archives to rank up to professor, at this the third of the five ranks, he was allowed to communicate with the outside world. However, anyone who would have remembered him was long gone. Sorcerers live a long time. There are several reasons for this, stubbornness being just one part of the equation, and as hinted, Lyeasrakardsul had that in abundance. The willfulness was both his strength and his weakness, since he couldn't turn it off in situations where it wasn't prudent. Besides, being too pig-headed to die, he thought of as a good thing. But there were other moving parts in the equation that would make him the oldest living sorcerer, parts he had no understanding off, but that's a story for another time.

Even though he knew beforehand that everyone he had cared for was dead. It was still a slim solace that he was now allowed to move out of the apprentice barracks, and into one of the Dalmicir tower's single rooms. He chose a practical piece of furniture for it as his first personal item. Also allowed by his new rank. It was a plain, solid wood, rocking-chair. Nothing fancy or ostentatious like many personal items. Still, it fit the model of what a sorcerer should have, a place to sit and read, to study, to learn. He thought it might be easier on his back. As he would spend a lot of time sitting in his room learning a secret memory technique he had discovered, and told no one about.
The mind-palace technique wasn't something officially taught in the Archives. Nevertheless, from his extensive reading about the greatest Dalmicir practitioners, he had pieced together that most of them used something similar. Some had by accident, or by choice, left clues behind in their writings. Clues for those stubborn enough to read between the lines of rambling paragraphs that seemed go nowhere.
As the frame for his memory, Lyeasrakardsul chose the image of a leaky, beat up, pirate-ship. Jerking its way through hard seas. Learning to remember almost everything fit well with the Dalmicir schools quest: Omniscience. However, what he liked about was being able to remember most of what he read. It was real time saver when doing research, and it fit with his 'do-less' interpretation of the unofficial Dalmicir motto: "If there's a problem, ignore it until it goes away, someone else can fix it."