The Dawn of the Civil Service Examination
“Introduce exams?”
“Yes, I discussed it with Theodora, and then cross-verified with Lord Alberto and Lord Andronikos as well.”
Zoi's eyes were hollow with exhaustion. Dark circles shadowed the skin beneath them, as if she hadn't slept properly for days.
“How many nights have you pulled?”
“Not every night. Just every other with Theodora... yawn... sorry, glyke mou.”
“You should sleep.”
“Hear me out first, and I'll go straight to bed.”
Zoi's adorable threat. She looked so irresistibly cute that ignoring it wasn't an option—he had no choice but to yield.
“Fine. But make it quick.”
“Heehee. So...”
The civil service examination. Applicants would first have to pass language, mathematics, and law.
“Why make those three mandatory gateways to the next round?”
“To verify the basics, of course. If they can't read and comprehend official documents, calculate numbers on sight, or understand the law, they can't execute public duties.”
Zoi's logic was irrefutable. Without those fundamentals, carrying out administrative work would inevitably lead to endless troubles.
“After that, diplomacy, finance, administration, technology, and military—each as separate exams.”
The government reorganization wasn't fully complete. With the nobles gone, subdividing ministries was constrained, so only essential departments remained.
“Diplomacy tests foreign languages, finance advanced math, administration law and procedures, technology practical skills, and military physical fitness plus specialized exams.”
“Feels like there's more.”
“Right. Finally, an essay exam.”
Zoi's plan sounded almost like the modern civil service test. Hearing it explained why she and Theodora had burned the midnight oil—it mirrored East Asia's bureaucratic systems, like China's imperial examinations or Korea's own gwageo. The two-stage structure even evoked the preliminary and main exams of the Korean system.
“My god... how did you come up with this?”
Zoi had stunned him again. In this medieval era—Europe, no less, where no such system existed—it was revolutionary. To a modern person, exams for civil service were commonplace, especially in East Asia with its historical precedent. But Europe? Only lotteries, elections, or imperial appointments. Civil service exams wouldn't reach Europe until the 19th century, direct contact with China prompting adoption of a system China had introduced in the 6th century. For Zoi to devise it in the 11th century was a leap of eight centuries.
“With the nobles gone, we need merit-based selection, but without clear standards. That's what sparked it.”
“Ah...”
Her reasoning rang true. Without nobles—whose abilities and pedigrees were assured—hiring became problematic. Nobles weren't all competent, but their ancestors' proven prowess offered a baseline expectation. Now, without that, new criteria were essential. Zoi and Theodora had agonized over it, and Zoi's solution aligned meritocracy with objective evaluation: exams.
“Passing proves minimum competence.”
“True. Though there are caveats...”
Exams were efficient, but vulnerabilities like leaked answers or corrupt proctors demanded oversight. And passing didn't guarantee character or fit. Additional vetting was needed.
“For us, desperate for talent, it's ideal.”
Even with education, acceptance took time. Indiscriminate hiring wasn't viable. Exams provided a vital filter to resolve manpower shortages swiftly.
“Once settled, it'll motivate students too.”
“Undoubtedly.”
People studied for self-improvement, sure—but mostly for better lives, which meant good jobs. Civil service exams made perfect targets.
“So you approve?”
“Of course. Brilliant idea.”
“Lords Alberto and Andronikos agreed too.”
Even the practitioners welcomed it. Incompetents only burdened workloads, and this weeded them out.
“Anyway, with glyke mou's approval... handle technology and military?”
“Sure. You could dump more on me.”
“Military's basically another government. I was going to take technology too.”
The military operated separately from state administration, requiring its own hires for admin, finance, personnel—like a government within a government. Hence her guilt.
“But technology's still beyond me...”
“No worries. I'll handle it.”
“Thank you, glyke mou. And...”
Zoi's eyes drooped. He sidled closer; she finally surrendered, eyelids closing. She nestled into his arms, breathing softly in sleep.
Her angelic cuteness. Gently, he scooped her up and carried her to bed.
As requested, he oversaw military and technology recruitment. The issue: scant talent for founding the military.
“Ideally, I'd pull from those who shone in the civil war...”
Angelos, masterful in military admin. Ioannis, administrative star. Himerios, supreme naval tactician. They could anchor it—but all were now central to state administration, making reassignment tricky.
“So, new blood it is...”
Without proven insiders, external hiring was the only path.
“If only an experienced general dropped into our lap.”
The most efficient: poach renowned commanders from foes. Typically via captured POWs. But their war was civil—loyalists eliminated, including Ioannikios's able officers.
“No use regretting. Time to craft external recruitment exams.”
Water under the bridge. Solve now—via exams, like Zoi's approach.
“Wish I could import a U.S. service academy system...”
High school GPA, fitness tests, citizenship—modern requirements. Medieval hurdles: no education system. Impractical.
“Test basic military knowledge first, then fitness.”
Stamina was soldierly bedrock. Not just grunts—officers too, swinging heavy cold steel in close quarters.
“Plus riding exams.”
Commanding wide fronts demanded horsemanship.
“Theory and practice both.”
Same for technology: theory plus hands-on validation.
“Framework's set... now refine with input.”
As he framed recruitment foundations, a knock echoed from the office door.
“Enter.”
The chamberlain entered, bowed, and stated his business.
“Your Majesty, an envoy from the Holy Roman Empire has arrived.”
Allied with Ioannikios, they'd dispatched troops at the magister's request. But scandalous deaths of two commanders prompted unilateral withdrawal. Now, post-civil war, envoys—clearly scheming.