At the surface new city camp, compared to the blazing recruitment drive for new soldiers at the main grounds, the inheritance program for professionals—which had been delayed by more than half a month due to the Water-Drawing City operation—was proceeding with remarkable efficiency off to the side.
Perhaps because they had learned from the last time, the Mage Corps had optimized the interview process for the second batch of Zelandia immigrants. The only ones suffering for it were the children from Zelandia.
Since these children had all received compulsory education at Zelandia's schools for workers' children, the questions the Mages prepared for them—and the standards by which they were judged—were clearly far beyond the curriculum.
It was said that one unlucky child, perhaps crushed by his parents' excessive expectations, had been under so much psychological pressure that his hair fell out in clumps as he worked through the questions.
In the end, the Mages feared the boy would go bald—or even turn into an idiot—before finishing the test, tarnishing the reputation of Mages everywhere. They ended his examination early and, based on his barely passable results, granted him an apprentice qualification at their discretion.
Heaven have mercy—the Mages of Zelandia had truly gone to great pains to find successors for themselves.
Back when they themselves had been apprentices, they had not felt it so keenly. Under the traditional ivory-tower model of master-and-apprentice instruction, Mages generally possessed their own methods for identifying magical talent, and had long lifespans in which to select one or several apprentices to inherit the spells of their school.
The fact that they had become Mages in the first place meant they had already crossed the threshold that stood like a chasm between ordinary people and professionals. What they faced then was merely competition among apprentices.
Only