The first day of the games was filled with tension and excitement. The participants had nightmares, some barely slept, and even the confident ones woke up a little earlier than usual.

Because of the size of the competition, each region was given different skills to test. The North had archery, the East had horse riding, the West had sword fighting, and the South had knowledge. They would then switch to a different skill the following day. After four days, the winners of the Regional Champions will have been decided, there would be a rest day, and then the 6th day would be the finals, and the 7th day would be a massive party to celebrate all the boys coming of age.

As part of the East Region, Rido would naturally be on a horse. The first test was simple. The horse would start unbridled and unsaddled. The boys would then bridle and saddle their horse, get on it and ride a certain distance, and then take off the bridle and saddle at the finish line. Whoever dropped their bridle and saddle on the ground first “won”.

Though this test was very basic, noble sons rarely harness their own horses. It’s not that they weren’t taught how, they just considered it menial “servant’s labor”. Even if their father’s warned them that they’d regret being lazy later, many ignored their parent’s advice. Thus, though they technically knew how to do it, many were slow.

Four subgroups had to be created for this test because of the amount of people participating this year. The winners of the four would then be given a second test later in the day, after their horses had rested.

Whether you were in the first group, which raced in the morning, or the last group that raced near noon, was entirely luck of the draw. Everyone showed up in the morning and pulled out straws that had their tips dyed from a pot. Whichever color they got would be their group. Rido got the morning race.

They would start and end in the same place. Immediate family members could sit directly behind their starting point, while extended family and friends were given spectator spots further back. All along the starting line, families were calling out encouragement and suggestions to their particular participant.

The Fresa group was relatively calm. Felicia spoke very little, as silence was always the best option for her. Tie was looking around excitedly while also making sure her Marchioness was comfortable. Valor had already scoped out the competition and, based on the arrogant expression on his face, did not view them as a challenge. Fijo was standing with Rido at the start line, looking bored.

They were the smallest and quietest group there.

Every participant was given the same sets of bridles and saddles and saddle clothes. Prior to starting they were given time to clean their horses and check horse’s hooves. The attending Squires could be tasked with this or the participant could do it.

Rido did everything himself from beginning to end, which was why Fijo was bored. This is something he’d been taught by Valor. If Rido wanted a smart but obedient horse, he couldn’t depend on servants to do all the grooming and care. He needed to do it himself.

Glorious was personally raised and trained by Querido from when she was a filly. She was a bay mare, meaning she had a brown coat and black hair. It was a very common color, and paired with her being slightly small compared to the other horses, made her seem plain and insignificant.

Rido and Glorious had a calming influence on each other. Even though this place was loud and unfamiliar, the mare wasn’t alarmed. She could see, smell, and hear her human companion and knew not to be scared. Even the unfamiliar saddle did not bother her at all, because Rido had brought the equipment up for her to sniff beforehand.

The other horses were not doing so well. It was clear they weren’t used to all the noise or the unfamiliar environment, and they definitely didn’t trust their riders. One almost kicked a Squire in the head, which would have been an instant kill.

A loud, piercing bell could be heard over the din, indicating the race would start soon. The crowds quieted and the participants and their Squires got everything in place. A man walked down the line, loudly explaining the rules again and warning against cheating.

The man walked to a small, raised platform and held up the bell. Everyone held their breath and then the bell lowered with a loud pang-pang.

All the boys moved at once.

Rido calmly began saddling and harnessing his horse. Despite his relaxed expression his hands were moving at top speed as he expertly finished, rechecked his straps, and then mounted Glorious. With a flick and “heeyaa” they propelled forward. Shortly after, two other horses with riders followed.

Glorious was a gentle horse most of the time, but had a mean competitive streak. The moment she sensed other horses following, she sped up. They had just arrived at the start of the loop when a scream erupted from behind.

Rido glanced behind and got the gist of what had happened: someone’s saddle had slipped, causing the ridder to frantically grab at the horse to restore their balance. When they did this, they pulled on the reigns, almost colliding with the horse next to them. The people behind THEM found themselves having to slow down slightly to get around from the mess of riders cursing at each other and spooked horses.

Glorious sped through the loop until she was now facing the starting line. Some riders were so far behind they hadn’t entered the loop yet. In what seemed like a flash and a blink of an eye, Rido and Glorious were back at the start. He quickly dismounted and began unharnessing her.

With a thump and a jangle he dropped everything to the ground and a loud pang-pang was heard, followed by a yell: “Heir Querido Fresa wins the first race of the day!”

The small Fresa group erupted in cheers. The Marchioness, Valor, Tia, and Fijo all huddled around him, giving him slaps on the backs and hugs.

It was only then that Rido became aware of his surroundings. He had been concentrating so hard he hadn’t paid attention to anything but the task at hand. Only now that he’d finish did his mind relax and begin to observe again.

As he was being congratulated, other riders had finally reached the finish line. Despite someone already having won, they had to complete the race all the way until the end, otherwise they wouldn’t get their wood medal and would go home empty handed.

Though his family was happy for him, those in crowds were in a state of shock or anger. No one had expected him to win. And by so much.

It would not be the last time they were shocked.

The race that decided the Championship for Regional horse riding was not actually a race at all. The horses had been ridden hard earlier in the day and, to make things fair for the person who raced in the afternoon, it was decided not to test speed.

Instead, they tested the young man’s horse knowledge and actual riding skills. These were all basic things, like “What food must a horse avoid eating?” and being able to ride in a tight figure 8. But as each test was passed, the questions got harder and what was requested of the rider was also more difficult. Someone who left the care of their horse to other people or rode only in maintained roads and flat places wouldn’t be able to know the answers or complete the tasks.

Not only did Rido answer all the questions easily, he argued a few points. The judges were all horse enthusiasts and welcomed any known method that might produce happy, better trained horses. Rather than being upset when he talked back, it made their evaluation of him higher.

The last riding skill test was a free-for-all and the only criteria was to impress the judges. Rido learned all sorts of strange and interesting saddle tricks from Valor. He put them all to good use. He did things like: having Glorious walk backwards on her hind legs, doing a handstand on his saddle while his horse was moving and things of that nature. The judges, who were lucky to see any of these boys do more than back their horses up properly, were thrilled.

Felicia smacked Valor when she saw the saddle tricks and asked him what he’d been teaching her son when she wasn’t looking. Saddle tricks were fun to look at but, as with anything related to horses, posed a risk. Valor simply looked innocent and claimed Rido had insisted.

Querido won the East Regional Horseriding Competition.

The next day was archery. The first test was target archery. Just like the day before, sub-groups had to be made because of the amount of people. Rido comfortably won the target archery competition and then went on to win the field archery competition as well. To the fury of the other competitors he actually dared to look bored through the whole thing.

Querido won the East Regional Archery Competition.

The day after was the Knowledge test. Felicia was most nervous about this one, as it was a test of the teachers and not just the student. She had to balance her “future” knowledge with the common knowledge of the day, otherwise no one would understand her son and he wouldn’t understand anyone else. Thus, he was taught a “classical” curriculum, standard stuff everyone knew, and her “custom” curriculum.

As children, Valor, Fijo and Tie hated this split method of learning. Felicia’s custom curriculum would sometimes contradict the classic curriculum. They didn’t understand why they needed to learn incorrect information. But Rido never complained, absorbing everything she taught like a spunge.

While Fijo and Tie would remain disgruntled over having to learn everything twice, Valor and Rido understood why it had been done after they grew up a bit. Valor, being the oldest, was most keenly aware that the Marchioness’ education was odd and if they had only learned her way, they would have been thoroughly lost within society.

The judges were priests, each having a specialized field. Some were focused on theology, others on “known” nature, and others on philosophy. The first test was simply writing the Holy Scriptures from memory. Any boy with a decent education learned to write from the Scripture. They ought to know the passages asked of them, because when they were younger they had to write it out so many times.

Of course, by the time they were 16, they’d long since gotten passed the point of writing huge chunks of scripture. They usually knew common passages by heart, but not necessarily all the surrounding text. So while they could easily write out portions of it, the rest was questionable.

The nice thing about the knowledge test was the “winner” didn’t need to be mistake free, they just needed to make fewer mistakes than the people next to them. Often a boy won by virtue of making one less mistake than everyone else, not because he was particularly sharp. This somehow brought a lot of comfort to all the boys involved. It seemed to them the winner had mostly won through luck.

But this year was very unfortunate. Rido was in their group. When it came to raw memorizing, he excelled. He wrote everything out without making a single mistake. He didn’t even blotch his ink. His clear, concise handwriting and perfect recitation got the praise of all the judges and scowls from all the boys who felt like they’d just been made to look stupid.

The next test was a mix of observational nature and identifying different quotes from different philosophers. Once again, a person could win simply by being a little smarter than everyone else. Once again, Rido made everyone look like an idiot by answering perfectly every time.

One of the judges commented jovally, “I haven’t seen a boy this smart since Heir Marron! Seems like the smart ones always come from the East!”

“Not this year. The North is putting up a good fight. That Heir Invierno will definitely give this young lad a tough time.”

When Rido heard Heir Invierno get mentioned, he couldn’t help narrow his eyes and feel a slight sense of disgruntlement.

Querido won the East Regional Knowledge Competition.

If winning the two regional competitions was luck, the third was talent. No matter what people had thought of Heir Fresa—which up until now had been nothing—they sat up and took notice.

The last competition was for sword fighting. The judges were the nationally renowned Knights of the Royal Order. They personally guarded the royal family. Some judges were retired knights, while others were high ranking active members of the order.

This was possibly the hardest part of the competition, as just being looked at by one of these knights was enough to make the boys break out into nervous sweats.

The first test was laughable on paper but actually very difficult to perform: manage to land a single hit using a wooden practice sword on one of the Knights of the Royal Order. Knights would simply stand there and let the young men come at them, eventually disarming the losers to show their time was up.

Even for Rido, this would be difficult. No matter how much he practiced, it couldn’t be compared to a Knight’s training. He was also sorely lacking in experience too.

Truthfully, none of the boys in this test would be able to land a hit on one of the Order if the knights really didn’t want to get hit. The way to win against these men was to impress them. If they thought your skill was impressive enough, they’d leave an opening. If the boy in question was as good as they thought, he would take it and pass. If he wasn’t, it was his loss.

All the participants knew they needed to impress their knight but… well, that’s a vague thing to ask of a person isn’t it? And what impressed one Knight may not impress another….

Rido thought about what impressed Lord Curtidor, his teacher and a retired knight: good form and persistence. From what Lord Curtidor said, that was the basic training of all knights. Since he didn’t know the knights he was dealing with personally, he decided to go with the most generic method instead.

The knight he was assigned, Lord Poder, looked old. His hair was completely white and his face was covered with wrinkles. He was definitely a retiree who volunteered for fun. But Rido didn’t underestimate him just for that. This retired Knight stood straight like a rod and the arms under the long sleeved shirt looked big, indicating muscle.

When they were signaled to start, Rido began to circle him while keeping a distance from Lord Poder’s wood sword, as he’d been trained. Lord Poder naturally followed the young lad in front of him with interest. After Rido had completed his circle he determined this retired knight still had good footing and immediately attacked.

Rido didn’t use any complicated moves nor was he really trying to hit Lord Poder. He was simply testing the other person, seeing if there were any noticeable weaknesses. If this had been a real fight he wouldn’t have taken this approach, but since he had the time, he didn’t see why he couldn’t sound the old man out.

The old Knight stayed on the defensive as Rido tested him. After attacking and retreating, Rido noticed that Lord Poder was a little slower when defending his lower, left side. The difference was slight but it was there. He decided to focus on that spot.

Lord Poder was pleasantly surprised to see a young nobleman capable of properly sounding another person out. Usually these young lordlings learned basic forms, just enough to fight respectably in a duel and defend themselves in an emergency. They had no idea how to test someone to figure out their weakness.

More impressive, this young man figured out his weak spot, the product of an old injury. When the boy started focusing on that one spot, Lord Poder chuckled. If he was allowed to fight back, this boy would have been sent flying and his injury could be given a rest. But that was against the rules, so he either let this young man wear him out and he’d wake up in pain the next morning, or he let him have a hit.

Rido saw Lord Poder’s defense on the side he’d been attacking noticeably loosen and an opening appeared. He’d been hacking at this old man for who-knew-how-long, the sun’s rays were fierce and he was drenched in sweat and just wanted water. He almost cried out with relief that it was over when he landed the hit.

While he bent down, hands on his knees and breathing heavily, he looked around and realized he was the first to land a hit. He had passed!

Lord Poder walked up to him and slapped him on the back, “Well done. Do you want to start now or take a break?”

Rido immediately straightened, becoming more alert. No one actually knew what the second competition would be to decide the Regional Champion. A suspicion came to his mind at the retired Knight’s phrasing.

With this thought in mind he found Fijo nearby and had him quickly get a water skin. Once he took a big swig of water, he came back to Lord Poder and asked to continue.

Getting the water skin proved out to be a very good idea. The next portion was a competition of endurance. He was given a plain sword and told to follow Lord Poder. Filled with questions, he did as instructed and soon discovered he was running.

And running some more.

Sometimes Lord Poder ran fast and sometimes he ran slow. The sword he’d been given was used too. He would be told to hold it over his head, to swing it, to point it at a certain angle, all while running.

They ran through the thick parts of the Royal Forest, waded through a river, climbed over a small mountain—something he wasn’t even aware existed until he had to follow a grizzly old man over it. If he hadn’t brought his waterskin, he’d have passed out from dehydration a long time ago. As it was, he was barely keeping up.

At one point, Rido wondered if Lord Poder was a real human being.

How could a man this old be able to run this long!?

When they reached the finish line, he didn’t even know it was the finish line. He only heard Lord Poder say, “You can stop.” and he collapsed in a heap on the ground, thoroughly exhausted and wheezing.

Lord Porder leaned over Rido and stared down at him in curiosity.

Rido saw this white-beared man was only suffering from a sun flushed face and heavy sweat, but otherwise looked perfectly fine and couldn’t help crying out in frustration, “Are you a monster!?”

The retired knight grinned broadly.

“Who is your teacher, young man?”

“Lord Claro Curtidor, retired Fresa Knight.” Rido responded automatically and then squinted with suspicion. “Why?”

This question was never answered. In the background, completely ignored while they were conversing, the announcer had clanged his bell, the sharp ringing echoing out across the grounds.

He shouted excitedly, “Heir Querido Fresa wins the East Regional Swordsmanship test! Huzzah! Lord Almighty, this is the first young man in 20 years to win all four championships for the East Region! Fantastic!!!!”

Shortly after saying so, Marchioness Fresa rushed forward with Fijo, Valor, and Tie to give him cold water and hearty congratulations.

Rido was, frankly, too exhausted to be happy.

He was mostly thinking he should have Lord Curtidor increase the intensity of his training when he returned home. Though he technically won, he was clearly trounced by an old man…. Even if the old man was a retired Knight from the Royal Order, it was enough to embarrass him to death...

———

Felicia held her head high.

When they first arrived, she had been more or less ignored by her peers. There were a few who knew Count Morran that she took the initiative to visit, but no one came to visit her. This was what happened when a noble’s reputation was at the bottom of the trash heap. It was almost the same as being friendless.

However, Querido won every game for the East Region and now the other noble parents couldn’t ignore her even if they dearly wanted. The gazes she got were a mixture of envy, admiration, and silent anger— as if she’d cheated their sons out of a “sure” victory. Occasionally someone would set their pride aside and talk to her a bit.

Most of them were Noblewomen. Their intentions were obvious.

“Marchioness Fresa, congratulations on your son’s victories.”

A plump woman with pale pink hair and deep pink eyes had approached Felicia.

“Ah, good evening Countess Naranja.” Felicia didn’t hide her smugness, “Thank you. My son takes after me so it’s not surprising he won. Truly a magnificent example of a high class family producing a high class child.”

Countess Naranja’s originally gentle smile strained slightly. The subtle implication of Felicia’s sentence was that those who lost to Rido weren’t raised by high class families.

“Is Heir Rido already 16 or will he turn 16 later in the year?”

“He’s a summer baby.”

The Countess expression relaxed a bit.

“If that’s the case, he should be attending parties starting next season, correct?”

“That’s how it’s done traditionally.”

“My daughter is holding her Debutante Ball in the fall, I was wondering if your son might not attend?”

Felicia lips curved slightly, “Mmm… when was your son born?”

Countess Naranja froze.

“In… in the… early spring.”

“Oh, you had one right after the other, is that it? Very fortunate of you! I only had one child, though at least he’s extraordinary.” Felicia boasted shamelessly and then seemed to think of something, “Oh yes, how is that younger sister of yours doing?”

“F-fine.” Countess Naranja managed to squeeze out. “She’s just fine.”

“Mm, really unfortunate about your parents passing and her constant illness. If not for that, she’d surely have gotten married by now and had her own children. My understanding is she’s quite the beauty so it’s really a shame...” Though her smile was pleasant, Calle’s black eyes were boring into the other woman. “Instead you’ve had to raise her in your home for 16 years. Despite being family, it must be… tiring.”

Countess Naranja's whole face turned ugly, her body trembling from suppressed rage.

“If you’ll excuse me.” The Countess spat out and promptly left.

Tie had been standing behind the Marchioness and watched this whole exchange with wide eyes.

She couldn’t help shuffling forward and asking in confusion, “Marchioness, why did you pick a fight with her?”

The Naranja County was in the north. The Marchioness and the Countess basically never saw each other. How could there be bad blood between them?

Felicia narrowed her eyes.

“You recall Heir Childe— ah, he’s not a Childe anymore, I must get used to that—Heir Fresa, telling us of how Squire Fijo was treated a few days ago?”

Tierno’s usually happy face warped with anger. Though Fijo wanted to keep quiet, he had been forced to tell them all the gritty details at Rido’s insistence. This was a safety concern and it wasn’t wise to hide it. After all, what was done to Fijo could happen to Valor and Tierno. If they weren’t careful and prepared for it things might get out of hand quickly.

“I remember.”

“Countess Naranja is the mother of that person.” Felicia was referring to the orange haired boy who’d almost killed Fijo in a moment of stupidity. It was her policy not to remember the names of people who did anyone she loved wrong.

Tierno’s mouth dropped open.

“And she dared to try and set her daughter up with Heir Rido?!”

“Mmmm. It does astound the mind she thought her family was good enough.” Felicia snorted angrily. “Imagine Heir Fresa being married to a woman raised in a family like that? Hah!”

Tie had a distinctly gossipy expression appear on her face.

“So did the Count and the Countess’ sister really…?” She whispered, eyes bright with curiosity.

“Well…. It was just a rumor back in the day.” Calle was the type who relished in other’s misery, as it took her mind off her own. Right up until Felicia took over, she knew every bad rumor about every family in high society. “I threw it out thinking to irritate her, but it looks like there was some truth to the rumor.”

Tie gasped, scandalized.

“And the sister still lives with them?! How could the Countess allow it? Doesn’t everyone say mistresses get stuck in a town nearby or some such?”

Felicia sighed, looking a bit sad, “It’s possible she doesn’t want her sister there but has no choice.”

“How can she not have a choice?” Everyone knew noblewomen dominated the home.

“Hm, the Naranja family has a reputation for their men being cruel and domineering.”

“....oh.”

“There may also be a chance the sister was not initially willing either.”

“..................oh.”

“I do find it curious that there was a rumor that the Countess was threatening to divorce about 16 years ago. Shortly after, her parents died and her sister moved in with her. But the sister never leaves Naranja Mansion and is very rarely seen in public. Whether she wants to be there or is forced to be there, I don’t know.”

“...is… isn’t that really terrible?”

“Indeed, it is quite terrible if it’s true. But there’s no proof, so who can say?” Felicia sighed again. “Honestly, if she had not brazenly approached me like that, I would never have brought up such a nasty topic. But whether she is a victim or not, just by that one boy I see how she raises her children. She either purposefully neglected his education out of spite, which I can not tolerate, or all her children are like that. Goodness, how could I expose Heir Fresa to a family with such muddy morals?”

Tie nodded seriously, “Marchioness is wise.”

Felicia huffed, “Just sensible. I will naturally make sure my son marries only the best woman.”

“And have you decided who the best is yet?”

“Whoever he likes, of course!”

“You’re really going to let him pick?”

“Did I raise an idiot? I have some confidence that he’ll pick a good girl who will love him sincerely.”

Tie thought for a moment.

“Honestly Marchioness, I don’t think that will work.”

“What? Why?”

“He’s really ambivalent about girls. Valor will take a second peek at a pretty woman when he thinks no one is looking. Fijo trains all the time but he loves when girls give him attention. But Heir Rido? He’s always training, never takes a second glance and basically doesn’t care whether girls give him the time of day or not.”

“That…. That is… eh?”

Felicia scoured her mind, trying to find an instance that disproved Tierno’s pointed observation. But when she thought about it, she couldn’t find anything. Rido was an obedient child from beginning to end. All the things she taught him on how to respect women, he punctually followed. To the point that, apparently, he never even gave them a second glance.

She had been focused on his education and survival, marriage had only been a passing thought. After all, how could he marry a girl into their family with the fief in chaos? Until the Viscount was dealt with and they gained some stability would she bring it up. Since it wasn’t on the table, she didn’t bother to make any inquiries about his likes and dislikes.

But for him to lack interest… was he gay?

She thought hard about how he acted around men. There were quite a lot of top quality men in the Mansion thanks to her hiring practices, so if he bent that way there should be a sign...

No matter how she thought about it, he treated everyone the same: polite, kind, and firm when needed. There might as well not be male and female sexes with how well balanced his treatment was!

Then she thought about the video she watched, how the “original” Rido failed to woo the Princess. She thought he failed because he wasn’t genuine and didn’t know how to “pretend” love, having never received any growing up. Now though…

‘DARS, what was the extra goal for this mission again?”

[“Help Querido find ♥love♥ and start a family of his own!”] DARS supplied helpfully.

‘It… it can’t be the reason that’s an extra goal is because he doesn’t… he’s just innately… doesn’t know how to love…?’

[He knows how to love.]

Felicia sighed with relief.

[Just not romantically.]

‘I… I don’t have to teach him… right?’

[How will he know if he is not taught?]

‘How am I supposed to teach him?! I already taught him about the birds and the bees and he’s still like this!’

[Romantic love is more than sexual love.]

‘That’s not helpful!’

[Then why not pull from your own experiences?]

Felicia, who had a host with a skanky past and almost no personal romantic experience despite being on her third life, had only one thing to say to that:

‘Ah, frick my life!’