Chapter 9: Chapter 9: THE EXAM I

Dawn had not yet broken when Jalume came to pick Sagiri. He had not been able to sleep anyway and he had heard him coming long before he knocked on his door. Him and the seven officials accompanying him were dressed in new official uniforms that looked more ceremonial and not the basic scout uniform they wore when they picked him up.

“We leave now.” The carriages hummed loudly on the silent roads as they pulled into the central road. The Kaya and the exam Council Headquarters are in the same part of the city. It is partly to show the relationship between the Kaya and the exam council. Once kids hit the age of thirteen the most genius in traditional arts and other subjects were recommended to join the tests where the best of the best were picked to join a high school. Tagayia was founded on geniuses and hard work and it was only fair to give the cream of the crop an opportunity to push the state forward in the future. The exams were tough but they were mostly on history languages and the secret traditional arts. Other tests were involved too which are a secret and failing more than half meant you have no future. Some always gave up but others could come again the next year better and stronger.

The Grand Exam Council is the highest institution governing all learning, merits, and national certification. It was founded centuries ago by scholars, seers, and engineers who believed no knowledge should exist without discipline and character. As much as the knowledge of students was tested, their character and discipline was also tested.

Chairing the council and sitting in the highest position is the high assessor. He chairs and oversees all examinations, approves new syllabuses, and safeguards the Seal of Merit. Under him are the nine observers. They are nine mysterious figures who appear at major exams. They never speak publicly and always wear veiled masks. No one knows their full identity the same as the high assessor. Under the nine are the seal masters who guard the exam scripts. Each script is locked with a name seal that can only be opened once by the student who bears its name. Then there are the trial wardens who Command exam halls, ensure fairness and prevent cheating, then the ink keepers who are librarians or archivists, they store every exam ever written and maintain the history of the exam council. Then, specifically from the Aruke tribe north of the east whose secret tribal art is reading emotions and detecting intentions. who only the purest of clans get to learn it are the mind readers. the position is the only monopolized position in the whole council. They are Elders trained in detecting intention, truth, and emotional stability since they were young and they are essential in oral exams.

The lowest of rank is that of the gate registers who consist of low ranking elite wardens whose job is to check identities, control entry, and maintain order.

The horizon had already settled into its pale gold when sagiri and his baby seaters finally reached the foot of the exam Citadel. From afar, the building looked like a mountain carved by by ancient stones. Supporting it are seven rising terraces, each glowing with thin blue ornaments veins that pulsed in slow, deliberate rhythms. Up close, however, the Citadel was overwhelming. Black volcanic pillars twisted upwards so high. On both sides of the door silent artificial waterfalls streamed down artificial book statures , falling in perfect soundless and repeating the motion. The air tasted of stone, old ink, and the faint sting of tension.

One of the gate wardens stepped forward the moment Sagiri came into range. They wore the standard uniform, dark brown tunic, hardened crescent-shaped shoulder guards and copper-threaded boots. their faces however were hidden behind their helmet.

“You are late,” he said to Jalume while reading the name plate now hanging on Sagiri’s neck. It seemed that he had been expecting them. Any person from any of the over a hundred clans of Tagayia bore three names. The personal name that only one person bore in three generations, the clan name and the tribe name. Sagiri however had one name and when he asked his parents they had told him it was because they were from different regions and they failed to decide which tribal name they could give them. That was a fat lie because a child took their fathers clan name and tribe name. The name tag was given to him by Jalume before they left.

“You all fall back.” The ward said referring to the eight officials and suddenly sagiri felt lonely and looked at Jalume. Their relationship though like that of a merchant and his goods lasted ten long days and he wasn’t so heartless as to not miss his tense company. “Only the student gets to enter.” The warden added starting to open the humongous gate. For a moment Jalume’s gaze softened but it hardened again.

“This is as far as we go, do your best.” He tapped his fist to his chest before retreating and disappearing into the carriages.

“You’re the aged candidate?” the Gate ward said when the others had left. It was not meant as an insult on the contrary it was factual.

Sagiri nodded. “Yes.”

“Place your hand on the Identify Frame.” He said pointing at a platform just outside the gate with artificial hands curved into them. The Identify Frame trembled when Sagiri touched it, lighting up with recognition. Most frames glowed softly. His flared violently bright, too bright as though trying to read something beyond human measure. Memories and echo reflections of how the Frame came to be and the thousand of hands who touched it before him came crashing to his mind. Nothing like that had ever happened and he had only ever thought he could read human minds by touching them. Can I also read into mediaeval structures just by touching them? He wandered, staggering back a little bit as the echo inside of him swallowed the memories of the sigil frame.

The Gate wardens stiffened. The Identity frame had never reacted like that. It only glowed softly to register and verify candidates identities, yet it was glowing violently in front of his eyes. He had seen a dozen aged candidates brought in before but the sigil frame had not vacated any different. His mind piqued with interest wondering if this aged student he had been asked to let through without question was something special.

“…Unusual reaction,” he murmured.

Sagiri removed his hand before the glow grew dangerous. “Is it sufficient?” A long pause followed, the warden still amazed by what his eyes had beheld. Then he stepped aside slowly.

“Proceed. The direction Marshal will show you the way.” He said distractedly, looking at the youth covered from head to toe in a black cloak in a new light. Sagiri walked along the polished pathway. Inside the gate, the main walkway curved toward the main terrace. The stone beneath Sagiri’s feet was smooth, unnervingly warm, humming with the residual energy of thousands who had passed before him.

At the first bend stood a direction Marshal, tall and lean, wrapped in an ash-grey coat trimmed with blue. His ash-grey coat fluttered in the morning wind as he stood straight-backed, signal rod in hand. Students usually approached in crowds, chatting nervously. But the approaching youth walked alone. A lone figure in a place built for masses. The marshal waited for him to approach.

“You are the aged student,” he said flatly.

“I was homeschooled,” Sagiri replied. The Marshal scanned him with the glowing end of the rod. The light flickered, hesitated, then steadied.

“You carry no artifacts from outside. Good.” He tilted his head. “But your pulse is racing.” Sagiri shrugged.

“Anxiety.” He lied but the archive usually took a toll on him every time it got activated and he had not anticipated it to react to the sigil frame. He was still recovering from the event. The Marshal didn’t believe him but he didn’t press.

“Script Runners will take you to your chamber. You will not join the youths already inside.” It was exactly what Sagiri expected. A separated path meant control. Surveillance. Someone was already manipulating his placement.

Good.

He continued forward, jaw set as they walked the path for a few minutes. When they approached another building, Two Script Runners appeared from a side passage, lightweight boots barely touching the floor.

“This is the sixteen year old,” one said softly. “The other aged candidate.” the other stated. Both examined him with open curiosity or maybe wariness. Sagiri nodded. His birthday was still a month away but in a sense he was already sixteen. he had always felt much older than his age.

“This way.” it seemed there were other candidates like Jalume had mentioned and they were being kept apart. They moved swiftly and he followed them closely. As they approached the citadel, a prickling sensation crawled across his skin. The Citadel was calling to the archive inside of him. It was calling onto it like the frame sigil had. His power, which had been dormant since the journey starred inside of him. Not now, he thought trying to control the power he yet could not understand. It didn’t stop it or listen to him, it stirred beneath his ribs like a waking ember. Two other Guards waited at the entrance of the Hall region, armor glowing with soft, ember-like runes.

“Aged candidate,” one announced. They Guards held another set of signal rods. It seems some students carried cheating materials. They let out a screeching sound when they came close to his oru-shells.

“What are those?” they asked suspiciously.

“My hearing aid.” He said. “I have a hearing problem.”

“Take them off. You cannot enter the exam hall with any ornaments.” The power inside of him was stirring too much and then telling him to remove the oru-shells was like telling him to walk into a danger zone without a weapon. He had adjusted one ear so he could hear Jalume, the warden and the marshal along the way and it was already too much.

“I can not do that,” he said. His voice came out harsh and cold. “I use them to hear,” he lied. Their job was the opposite but they did not need to know that. If he took them off then he could fall straight to the one pulling the strings. He needed to hold the power back and not lose control at any point.

“His core temperature fluctuates strangely,” one guard whispered. Sagiri met his exposed eyes calmly.

“I am nervous.” He answered. The guard stared at him for a long moment. For some reason he felt uneasy and nervous. He had whispered to his partner and yet he had heard him. They both stared at him for another moment then nodded.

“Proceed.”

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