January of 1204 sacred history. It's my exam day. The companions are Abel, Mother, and Fee. Actually, I was planning to come with just Abel, but I decided to bring Fee because she would not let go of me. My mother is there to protect us. Unfortunately, we don't have an exclusive maid.
"A lot of people!"
My sister seems to be someone who doesn't care about crowds.
"Aren't you nervous?"
"Heyki Huaki. I saw the past questions, and they were as easy as a joke. I want a flying class system."
The venue is bustling with people. The content of the exam is simple, so the expressions of the examinees are quite relaxed.
(Speaking of which, the literacy rate among commoners was low. If you think about it, the people here are, in a sense, elites...)
From what I've observed, the literacy rate in urban areas is relatively high. Conversely, in rural areas, only a select few—like the mayor and merchants—can read and write properly. Economic factors seem to play a role in this disparity.
There are more opportunities to earn money in urban areas compared to rural regions, and there are also places to practice magic. With reading, writing, arithmetic, and a magical license, the options for one's future greatly expand. It's good to see commoners actively learning and aiming for better opportunities.
By the way, in this country, elementary schools are exclusive to the aristocracy. Commoners only learn the basics at practice areas. However, if a commoner is exceptionally talented, they might proceed to the Royal Academy.
Well, we finally reach the exam venue. This place is divided into two sections based on social status—one for commoners and another for nobles. It's not a complete separation, just a temporary one for exam day.
(I want to look over at the other side...)
Naturally, the nobles are on the other side.
"You can't cause trouble," my mother reminds me.
"I'll just take a quick look."
"Fuamo! Fuamo!" Fee clings to me tightly, even as a two-year-old child. My mother and Abel follow at a distance as I take a peek into the noble section.
The atmosphere is certainly different.
The children are dressed in expensive attire, and everyone seems to have a servant. Most of them appear to be in elementary school, around six or seven years old. Many have the smug look of someone thinking, "I'm so smart, aren't I?"
But then I see her—a beautiful little girl with a gentle expression.
I don't sense the arrogant aura typical of nobles. Her demeanor is calm and dignified, like the moon floating in the night sky.
"You're young," I thought to myself.
The moon-like girl seems much younger than the others. She's probably around my age.
"-?"
She notices my gaze and turns to look at me.
How does a four-year-old carrying a two-year-old sister appear in her eyes? She might think I'm just someone who came along with my family, not a fellow candidate.
The moon-like girl gently bows in my direction.
What a refined gesture!
I give her a nervous smile, and she walks away gracefully.
"Wow!" I exclaim out loud.
That's it!
She's the perfect model for how I'd want my sister to grow up—elegant, yet unpretentious. I wish for Fee to embody such grace.
"What? What are you doing? Foo, Ni-Tasuku!"
"Oh, I also love Fee!"
"Kya!"
Satisfied, I return to my mother.
"Did you see something interesting?"
"Yeah. I saw something inspiring."
That moment left a lasting impression on me. Well, there's little chance of meeting her again.
As expected, the exam was simple.
First, the candidates touch the magic meter. The meter doesn't measure the quality, quantity, or attribute of magic—it merely checks whether magic power exists or not. If someone lacks magic power, they fail instantly, but this is rare since most examinees verify this beforehand.
There's no practical test for the tenth-grade license. The written exam is the only other hurdle.
Scoring 80 or above ensures a pass, but achieving 90 or more is challenging due to a few tricky questions. Here's an example:
Tuesday, water, soil, wind. Which is the burning attribute in this?
It's that basic. One could pass even without studying. However, the remaining 10 points are where it gets tricky. Those questions seem designed to prevent a perfect score, as if the examiners are saying, "We'll let you pass, but we can't make it too easy."
I aim for a perfect score—not just for my family, who is rooting for me, but also for Abel, who has taught me so much.
I breeze through the questions, determined to earn full marks.
"Time's up!"
After the written test, some examinees gather in groups, excitedly discussing the answers. Many seem to be stuck on those elusive 10 points. I don't join their discussions—I can't stay long since Fee is waiting for me. I quickly leave the venue.
"Nita! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
The exam lasted about an hour and a half, but for Fee, it must have felt like an eternity.
"Okay, I'm sorry. You did so well waiting for me. You're amazing!"
"Nita!"
It feels like we've been apart for years. Fee hugs me tightly as I stroke her head.
"...How did it go?" Abel asks with curiosity.
"I think I passed. I just wonder if I got a perfect score. There was a tricky question about the second root source of surface magic. That might be the most common area for deductions."
Abel's expression remains calm, but I can tell he's satisfied with my answer.
That day, we celebrated by eating at a restaurant. It was our first time dining out as a family.
One week later, the results were announced.
As usual, more than 80% of the examinees passed. However, only two candidates achieved a perfect score.
Those two were an unnamed commoner and the fourth princess of the country.
Both were just four years old—the youngest to pass.