The morning of the exams dawned crisp and bright, Ironforge City buzzing with its usual weekday rhythm.
But for Albert Hugo Deford, today marked the beginning of his greatest test yet. Not one exam, but three—staggered across three days, at three different halls of authority.
The first stop: the Ironforge City Breeders Association.
The Ironforge City Breeders Association loomed ahead, its white stone facade marked by the sigil of a Poké Egg surrounded by grain.
Inside, rows of nervous apprentices gathered in the hall, clutching notes and chattering nervously. Most were in their teens or early twenties—many old enough to be Albert's godparent.
Their murmurs faltered as they noticed the platinum-haired child calmly stepping up to the registration desk, his small frame almost swallowed by the crowd.
At his side, Steven Stone matched his pace. Though he was not sitting the exam, he had insisted on coming along. "I'll wait outside," he had said, blue eyes sharp but gentle. "Just focus on what you came here to do."
And so, as Albert presented his papers and was ushered into the examination chamber, Steven took a seat in the lobby. His hands tightened around the fossil in his pocket, his thoughts unwillingly circling the same question: How will Albert surprise them this time?
The written portion of the exam was scheduled for three hours, a standard test of fundamentals—feed formulations, growth patterns, grooming practices. Hardly difficult, but broad enough to measure whether an apprentice was ready to step into the profession.
Albert began as the others did, but while the hall echoed with scratching pens and muttered calculations, his hand moved steadily, page after page. Within fifty minutes, he stood, handed in his paper, and walked out under the weight of dozens of stares.
In the lobby, Steven looked up from his seat immediately. "Already?"
Albert nodded once. "It was sufficient."
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The second day took them to the Ironforge City Doctors Association.
The hall was older, its architecture less ornate but no less imposing, marked with the symbol of a Chansey cradling its egg. The scent of disinfectant filled the air, mingling with the cries of injured Pokémon being carried to treatment rooms.
Apprentices filed into the exam hall, many clutching worn textbooks or whispering last-minute mnemonics. They were older, many in their late teens, their expressions stiff with pressure. The apprentices in white coats hurried past with clipboards, their eyes widening at the sight of Albert walking toward the examination chamber.
Again, Steven stayed behind. He watched Albert disappear through the doors, his expression unreadable.
The Doctor's elementary exam was also set for three hours, covering treatment basics, physiology, and mental well-being. Case studies were simplified, designed to measure breadth rather than depth—a test of whether the examinee could someday become a reliable doctor under pressure.
Albert took his seat, ignoring the curious whispers. His small hand moved across the papers with the same steady pace. Within fifty-five minutes, he was done. The proctors blinked, startled, but accepted his paper nonetheless.
Outside, Steven stood quickly. "Let me guess. Not difficult."
Albert adjusted his collar, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. "Predictable."
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The third day dawned heavy with tension, the most critical of all: the Ironforge City Researchers Association.
The headquarters towered above the cityscape, its spire crowned with a crystalline dome that gleamed in the sun. This was a hall of knowledge, where theories were tested and truths were recorded. To walk through its gates was to step into history itself.
Here, the examinees were older still, some even adults seeking late entry into the profession. Their eyes widened as Albert, barely five, walked calmly among them.
Albert entered with his papers in hand, every step deliberate. The examiners looked at him with more open skepticism than in the previous days; to them, research was the domain of patient scholars, not immature children. But Albert cared little for their doubts.
Steven lingered outside once more, waiting silently. He had become used to the rhythm of this ordeal—the waiting, the gnawing anticipation, the quiet relief when Albert reappeared. This time, though, he tapped his foot, restless. This one means the most to Albert, he thought. If there's any exam that will define him, it's this.
The exam—three hours long, like the rest—tested elementary research skills: the basics of genetics, evolution, and background study. It did not demand original theories or revolutionary answers; it simply measured whether the apprentice could gather, analyze, and record knowledge with reliability.
For Albert, it was the simplest of the three.
His flawless memory recalled entire texts word-for-word, and his mind filled in the connections easily. By the end of the first hour, his answers were complete. He set down his pen, stood, and walked out without hesitation.
Steven was already waiting in the lobby, his foot tapping anxiously. When he saw Albert emerge, his shoulders relaxed. "How did it feel?"
Albert allowed himself a small smile. "Natural."
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Three days, three exams—each lasting three hours, each left behind by Albert in under one. The whispers followed him everywhere: murmurs of disbelief, incredulous stares from examinees twice or thrice his age, and silent notes taken by examiners who had never seen anything like it.
For Albert, it had been the slow march of inevitability, the testing ground for the knowledge he had gained in his first five years of life.
For Steven, it had been something else entirely: the quiet realization that he was witnessing history being written in the form of a boy with amethyst eyes.
But the exam was not yet complete. As was tradition, all results of the three professions would be announced together, the day after the last exam. One more night of waiting, one more dawn to rise before the verdict of his efforts would be revealed to the city.
Steven walked beside him as they left the Researcher's hall, quiet for a time before finally speaking. "You've already passed, Albert. I know it."
Albert glanced at him, his amethyst eyes calm, voice confident. "Knowing isn't the same as proving. Tomorrow, it will be official."
Steven's lips curved faintly. "And when it is, everyone else will finally see what I already do."
Tomorrow, Ironforge City and the entire world would learn Albert Hugo Deford's name.