For the platoon, this would be their final day of learning. It would be focused on the values of the Argentian Military. Coursework was always pulled from the handbook they had read cover-to-cover numerous times. Now, it was also being delivered to the platoon verbally during multiple consecutive speeches: about what it even means to be a soldier.

“A soldier of Argentis is the sole embodiment of the nation’s meritocratic and intellectual superiority.”

“Every soldier is not only a warrior, but a scholar. You have been trained rigorously in the sciences and philosophies.”

“To don the uniform, is to pledge oneself to a service in cause greater than any lone individual. You are a custodian of our nation’s aspirations, committed to safeguarding our academic sanctuaries, as well; our nation’s future.” etc... etc..

The entire platoon had been sanitized to accept this information as it was presented. These young men and women were glassy-eyed as they remained fixated toward the speaker. On the lecture hall stage was an out-of-campus Prodean, the Dean of the Cloudushen Academe who headed all three of Cloudushen’s education branches, and the Rector who was responsible for the schools of Ushenfield in totality; a politician.

The Rector didn’t bother with introducing himself before speaking. Everyone knew his name already. His speech started in the early morning, and it was now time for lunch; a lunch the platoon wouldn’t be eating today. On and on with “...this balance of knowledge gives our forces their unique edge...”, or “Ensure that every decision you make is precise! Informed! Strategic!”, and “The unwavering loyalty of you, and those around you, will ensure that in the face of any adversity, you will remain resolute!”. Spoken with tonal inflections emphasizing certain words in a continuous, monotonous manner.

The speech remained unimpressive. However everyone in the class, Temora included, was bemused by the Rector’s ability to maintain a fiery voice. As if designed for that purpose, projecting a morning’s worth of volume into an open room.

“Right, and with that said. We will begin the testing, to ensure you are the soldier we want you to be!” The Rector bellowed lowly up from a midfield gaze into the raised seats of the students in front of him.

Every single person in the hall attempted to hide a sigh of relief. Which collectively was audible throughout the hall as a humming drone of breathy exhaust. Four men from the entourage that surrounded the leadership on stage, began to pass out packages of loose paper row by row to the congregation of students. Splitting off in a choreographed movement that appeared to optimize efficiency.

Temora looked down at the pages. Military stationery, typeset with clean printing, and the smallest font she had ever seen in print. She looked toward the rows ahead, slightly below her, where a student was squinting and struggling to read the script.

A gavel was tapped onto the desk at the head of the lecture hall stage where the Rector was now seated. He raised his hand to Temora. A warning to indicate that she was doing something she should not. She quickly returned her head to her testing package.

Argentian schools had an honor system when it came to work merit. The worst academic crime a person could commit was plagiarism; or cheating. Expulsion did not simply remove you from a single school, but from Argentis’ system of education entirely. Without an education, and papers proving that an education program was completed, it was difficult to find work. Without work, you had no home. You would be relegated to a life of poverty or piracy.

Not a single person she knew ever admitted to cheating on an exam. From here, she had an advantageous position. She could, despite its small font and her head down toward the desk, see words written on the student's exam sheets ahead of her. The Rector on the other side of the room would clearly see her eyes moving toward that direction. It was pointless to even try.

Temora wouldn’t be doing that of course, as she was a star pupil; every teacher’s favorite... to her disdain. She did not hold any contempt for her educators, but rather felt she was being constantly observed. Socializing with them elevated that pressure over the long term, bit by bit. The staff talked to each other and about her. Eventually, they knew her before she was on a class schedule for the next year.

This test was a massive document of 75 pages, with two or three questions on each page. For the first half of the exam, questions were lengthy puzzles told in the framework of a story. Some were math, and others were logic. Many were comprehension-focused, and a few contained diagrams and scale drawings. The second half of the test contained math, factual, and physical science questions. Rouge memorization, order of operations, geometry, basic machines, and some questions related to newly emerging technology; such as the gemin engine, electricity, and radio.

To save on paper, and to make tests easier to grade, these test packages were reused. They were newer prints and lacked yellowing due to age. As always, a single grading sheet and ample blank paper were supplied at the bottom of the stack. A student had to flip each page over to its reverse by their numerical page number. Failure to do this would penalize a test score by a small amount. The layout of the desk of every student in the hall was the same; absolute conformity. Almost down to the position of their pencils.

Halfway into the evening, the first of the students started to approach the Rector’s desk to turn in their finished work. Then the first quarter of the platoon was followed by the first half. Temora was still in possession of her exam. She had finished it not long after the first of the students turned theirs in. Yet, she was checking over every question to ensure that she would not miss an opportunity being skyborne due to a trivial error in penmanship.

After about three-quarters of the students submitted their work, she approached with own finished submission sheet. She feigned a smile toward the Rector, who did not reciprocate it. Her smile disappeared into a repressed smirk which then too subsided as she walked back to her desk.

Finishing the exam did not give her permission to leave. In the Argentis system of education, exams were graded promptly after they were handed over. Lengthy papers came back the next day. Sometimes other instructors would be given the task of grading work for their peers’ students. It was all part of the job. There were three instructors here grading exams, consequently the grading was quick.

A gavel strike followed by a name indicated that an exam had been graded. “Moseme.”, the Dean handed a sheet out to Cocole that was different from the one that he handed in. He approached the desk, deflated, and was unsure of his future in that moment. After looking into the exam certification, it showed a green stamped pass mark; a standard passing grade. He gave a thumb up to Albe across the room, who had yet to receive his rating.

“Tomel.” A shaking, nervous young man with a thin build. Price approached the desk with a head down, and barely functional after this day-long stent in the classroom. From her seat at the top, Temora could see the bright yellow stamp on the front of his certificate. A poor passing grade, good enough for military service, but questioned if he would be a good fit for this more ‘specialized’ group of soldiers.