People are creatures of compromise.
Had you asked the pampered sons and daughters of the wealthy from the University College to work for free at the trading companies—calling it an "internship"—they would have surely balked. The first step is always the hardest, and the program’s inaugural year would have t with enormous resistance.
But if you told them they wouldn’t receive their diplomas and would be sent to the front lines in the Holy Kingdom as cannon fodder upon graduation, then suddenly, gaining experience at a corporation would seem like a rather excellent and necessary alternative.
Rorschach set the term for three months. The Empire’s prevailing expectation was that the war would last for two months. This ant the "deterrent of death" would hang over them for at least that long. Add in an extra month for their patience to wear out, and the total ca to exactly one quarter.
With a single letter, Rorschach had university students across the nation providing him with free labor. He was, after all, a Mage well-versed in pedagogy, psychology, and the art of getting rich.
When King Albert showed Rorschach’s letter to Prince Otto, the look on the Prince’s face was priceless. ’You can actually get away with that?’
But he knew it was the urgency of the war that created the opportunity for such radical change. Otherwise, in tis of peace, how could they be so tolerant of a "catfish" like Rorschach? Rorschach himself would say that individual effort had to be combined with the tide of history, and finally, backed by one’s Casting Ability.
The majority of students were confused and dissatisfied with the new regulations, but they finally started paying attention to the companies. However, one group was ecstatic, eagerly signing up for Basif, Fanta, and the new Steel Factory.
At Wertzburg’s Grammar University College, there was a hobby club called the "Thoth Key." Though its mbers were all ordinary people with no chance of entering a Magic Tower, that didn’t diminish their profound interest in Magic. So, it wasn’t so much the companies they were after, but rather the legendary figure rumored to be the boss behind all three.
The club occupied an abandoned classroom in a corner. For an air of mystery, they kept the curtains drawn and used candles for limited illumination. Scrounged-up Magic Books and ritual items were scattered in the corners. Perhaps the only authentic item they possessed was an Oily Skill scroll, purchased with their pooled pocket money. The viscous grease it summoned was treated like a treasure, stored in a wax-sealed glass jar.
Because they also ceremoniously stewed recipes from who-knows-where in a cast-iron cauldron, the enclosed space always had a persistent, strange odor.
The club was just one botched potion-brewing accident away from being forcibly disbanded. It was Rorschach who gave these young people new hope.
"Martin, how did it go?"
Martin had applied to the new Steel Factory, but as a Grammar School student, he couldn’t exactly work with molten iron using poetry. Sure enough, when he opened the reply from Kempson, it began with "We regret..."
"No good. I was rejected. They suggested I check the food factory for a sales position or... a marketing and planning role?" ’He hadn’t expected so companies to even have positions like that.’
"According to the intel from my uncle, Rorschach Mage has been seen most often at the new Steel Factory lately." The club president scratched his head in frustration. Without exception, he and all the other mbers had been rejected by all three companies. The liberal arts students felt the distinct hostility of the world of science.
The club mbers sighed collectively.
"Let’s go. We can still try other trading houses... My dad said he’s already qualified, so he can sign off on our proof of internship." With that, they blew out the candles and filed out of the clubhouse, discussing whether they should drink sweetened white wine that night.
Martin was about to leave as well, but he felt a tug on his sleeve.
"Vogel?" The person tugging at his sleeve was a girl nad Hanna. She mostly kept to herself in the club, always focused on her card and crystal Divination.
In the common tongue, "Vogel" ant "little bird," and Hanna’s voice was indeed as lovely as a warbler’s song. After making sure only she and Martin remained in the classroom, she whispered, "Actually, my application for the internship at the new Steel Factory was accepted."
Martin was stunned. "Really? Vogel, tell everything!" ’After all, most won in Bayern studied the arts. Did the Steel Factory need soone with an artistic background? Or did this Miss Vogel have so special connections?’
Hanna explained her reasoning to him. The Steel Factory didn’t need anyone who knew poetry, art, or music, but it probably needed people for statistical work. She happened to know bookkeeping, had ntioned it on her application, and, just as she’d hoped, received an offer.
Hanna ca from a wealthy rchant family. Her parents had wanted her to learn basic accounting so she could manage the household finances when she beca the mistress of her own ho one day. They had even hired a private tutor for her. She never expected that skill would beco her ticket into the factory.
"But I don’t know bookkeeping. To be honest, I get a headache just looking at numbers." Martin shook his head. "So, all I can do is congratulate you, Vogel."
"But I want to go with you, Martin. Think about it, it would be terrifying to go to Kempson all by myself, without anyone I know." Hanna summoned a special kind of courage, her freckled cheeks flushing slightly. "There are still a few days left. I can teach you. It’s actually very simple. You just need a little bit of arithtic and to be thodical..."
Martin hesitated for a mont, then promised Miss Vogel, "I’ll give it a try."
...
And so, Martin really did get the chance to intern at Kempson.
The two of them kept the tutoring sessions a secret from the other club mbers, and when it was ti to leave, they kept their departure a secret from their families as well, renting a carriage together. Neither he nor Hanna knew why they felt the need to be so secretive, but that was just how it was. By now, their relationship had ward to the point where they were sharing lunch face-to-face in the carriage.
As they passed through a residential area of newly built bungalows and arrived at the bustling factory district known as "The Pit," their breath caught in their throats. The people in the pit below looked tiny, while the expanded blast furnace and the Central Tower, still under construction, stood like pillars for the entire grand structure, as if waiting for a roof to cap them.
"It’s like an open-air theater from the Old Empire, staging an opera to please a Divine Spirit," Martin said, finally managing to articulate a description he thought was quite clever.
"Please, follow ." The two were led to an office where a young man was fiddling with an iron bucket.
Martin grew a little nervous. ’Is there another interview?’ If there was another test, his half-baked arithtic skills would surely be exposed.
"No, my friend. This is just a simple test. It won’t affect your internship." The man in charge of the test was Andre. He offered a gentle smile, trying to ease the newcors’ anxiety.
Rorschach’s "Mass-Produced Caster" project was about to begin. Targeting only young children would an waiting too long for results, so not a single university intern at any of the three companies was to be overlooked. Every one of them had to be tested for magic potential.
"Please put this hat on. It might be a bit heavy." Andre first placed the activation device on Hanna’s head. The military Nobility of ancient tis possessed a technology to stimulate Magic Power resonance in ordinary people. Based on this principle of "resonance," the device inside the iron hat, once charged, could stimulate the subject and cause their Endogenous Magic Power to enter an active state.
Hanna’s breathing grew slightly labored. Andre activated his Arcane Vision to carefully observe the test subject’s Magic Aura. Martin grew worried, standing helplessly to the side, unable to do anything but watch.
Andre took out several sparkling crystals, comparing them one by one to Hanna’s Magic Aura before making a note: "Age 17, female, amber-colored Magic Aura, Third Level intensity, concentrated in the head and extremities."
The final sentence would change Hanna Vogel’s destiny forever:
Possesses casting potential.
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