Dawn was not yet on the horizon when Zenner excitedly jumped out of bed. Unlike the majority of the city that was still in mourning for the not so sudden, but not entirely expected death of the bicentennial magician; The youngsters of the city and surrounding areas between the ages of 11 and 12 were, like Zenner, too restless to stay another minute in their beds and wait for the sun to make its appearance on the horizon to start their activities. Today was a very important day for them, especially for those with limited resources as it is in Zenner's case.
In the old days before the big war it was said that every house, even the most dilapidated barn, was equipped with magic lamps of incandescent light, which were easy to make and very cheap, according to some history books it was simply a matter of going to a swamp and picking up one of the stones submerged in its waters, place them on a metallic surface and that's it, you would have a green light lamp that would last about 2 to 4 years depending on how long the stone had been submerged in swampy waters and the type of metal used for the base, just like that a pseudo artifact was made. Today it is no longer the case.
A revolutionary invention came to replace them during the war of magic: Candles, it was a cylindrical object with a fibrous and incandescent center surrounded by some fat or wax depending on the area where they were made, however, although they solved the problem of night visibility to a certain extent, they brought with them many other problems, such as fire or poisoning risks, in addition to the fact that their price and rapid consumption led them to become something only for the middle and upper classes.
As one would expect an impoverished household like Zenners did not have candles, torches or anything in his humble home that could help him improve his visibility in the morning gloom, what he did have was a good memory of where he had left his belongings the night before and good reflexes, which helped him to quickly find his best change of clothes, jump over his sleeping roommates and head to the river without disturbing or waking anyone.
If it were an ordinary day, Zenner's actions would have made more than one of his cohabitants wonder about his well-being or possible demonic possession, since he is not someone who usually wakes up before dawn to walk to the river, wash up and return in time to have a piece of stale bread for breakfast with a piece of some suspicious meat. Miraculously there was meat on the table as it was a special day.
It was the day all the young people looked forward to once a year, the day the results of the Silvaner scholarship would be announced. In the weeks before his death, August, like every year, was present supervising the different exams that young people embarked on to prove their worth and get one of the 5 free places a year to study at the prestigious Silvaner Institute.
The Silvaner scholarship stands out from all the others in existence for a couple of very important aspects: no matter the social class, demographics or gender, any young person between the ages of 11 and 12 can apply, the winners will not benefit only from having access to free quality education, but they will receive an allowance of 100 zeny a year for up to a year after completing their studies, it is worth mentioning that an average lower-class family can survive on half of that, so earning one of the five spaces per year is seen as the salvation and envy of all middle and lower class citizens, otherwise schooling in the institute is too prohibitive, having costs that vary from 350 to 1000 zeny per year, depending on the grade and subjects that are in progress at the moment. Being an institution founded by the last human wizard, its prestige and value have only seen increases over the years since its founding. Finally, and what for many was the most important thing, the synodals did not judge only previous knowledge but also the attitude and ability to acquire new knowledge, so that even an illiterate young man would have the possibility of getting a pass out of the life they were leading towards greatness. Exams were made in oral interview format on the expanse of a month with multiple screenings, all expenses covered by the Institute. It was said that almost 30% of the school income was spent every year in such endeavors.
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All of the scholarship winners over the years have become influential people, not only for the city of Taurel, but for the world, in many different areas of expertise. The institute offers classes from history to metallurgy and innovation. Curiously, outside of the history class where it is mentioned, there is no class referring to the Arcane, which is how magicians call magic, magicians, witches and sorcerers are the names that the populations give to them, however, in their private circle the mages of old despised such names and referred to themselves as “Arcanists”.
At some point, August was questioned about the lack of magic teaching in a school founded by a great magician, to which his answer was recorded at the entrance of the institute to prevent them from bothering him with the subject again.
Around the institute, enclosing the multiple buildings, green areas, fields and gardens, there is a fence, one of the few magical artifacts that have survived the sands of time and slips of history, perhaps because of its simplicity, said artifact's only difference to a normal fence is the characteristic of secreting viscous and stinky pus on contact, although it must be emphasized that it is only stinky for humans since certain species of insects such as wasps and some types of ants find its smell so attractive that they have become the free guards and protectors of the area, which is why the only safe access area to the institute is the main entrance, on which gate Silvaner engraved his response:
"Those who are obsessed with the past can never look to the future"
With all this it could be inferred the standing the old mage had in the hearts of the people, his caring attitude towards the enrichment of the culture and forward thinking pushing for progress and equality had made him a paragon of hope for the many, such as Zenner, that se no other way out of his current predicaments. His parents were long gone, so long that he couldn't even remember their faces, maybe they have loved him, maybe they regret not leaving even a token for him to remembrance upon but as magical resurrection and talking with the deceased was something only found in history books Zenner might never know the answer. Not that it really bothers him. One may long for, but won't really miss that which is unknown.
Today's dreams and hopes no longer lay in having a loving "normal" family but in raising as a phoenix from the ashes of his old life into the promised glory that the best education can give.
His confidence of such streaming from the appreciative eyes of his multiple interviewers and the 3 contact scrolls he was given as the screenings advanced, it was known to all those where getting more expensive as the years pass, even when they're one of the few magical contraptions still in production, something to do with how trees used to make the paper can still accumulate magic passively despite the thinning of it on the ambient.
Sadly, as often happens when hope is denied, Zenner's world came crashing down when his dash across the city ended at the gates of the Institute, where in bold and strong words the five lucky names of this year's scholarship's owners were stated. He wasn't on such a list.
Unknown to him, but not to the well informed, this year entrance had been tampered with, the Silvaner family had decided to be a little more elitist on their pick of students to provide for, leaving the wishes of August joining him in dead.