“Thirty-seven thousand and six hundred,” the lead examiner said. “That’s barely enough to gather all the resources we need from the Forest of Shadows and the Valley of Swamps. Or will you, honorable Markin, go out and get your ingredients yourself?”
Markin didn’t reply. He glanced at Dalit, who was ranked as the ninth strongest disciple of the School, sighed, and propped his chin dejectedly on his hand. The only entertainment he’d have in the near future was to watch the flashes of green sparks light up around the nonentities who had come to take the exam.
Mentor Jean was right: Markin didn’t want to waste his precious time on menial work, and neither did dozens of other Mentors and inner circle disciples. That was why the school recruited so many pseudo disciples. They weren’t allowed t
