The next day was a rest day.

Rido woke up with his entire body feeling like it was made of wood. Bending any limb resulted in soreness that was so severe he felt he might be dying. He simply laid there limply, dreaming of turning into a tree and never moving from this spot, his bed.

Alas, not only was it impossible for him to grow roots, he couldn’t even remain in bed.

Valor, who was living in the same tent as him, had already woken and gotten dressed. He’d left, probably to eat with the other servants, and returned with the cruel intentions of waking the Heir for the day.

“Rido, how long are you going to stay in bed?”

When it was just the two of them, they were on nickname basis.

The young man didn’t speak, firmly keeping his eyes closed.

“You know it’s obvious you’re awake, right?”

Rido opened his eyes into a squint.

“I think I shall remain here for the rest of the day.”

Valor laughed, “In your bed?”

“Yes. I am thinking that leaving my bed is overrated.”

“You’ll feel better after moving around a bit.”

“Yes, but, um, it’s before it feels better that’s the problem you see.”

Valor rolled his eyes and pulled at Rido’s thin blanket, all that was needed in this heat, exposing him to the mild, cool air. The younger man didn’t even grab for his blanket, he was too sore to bother.

“The East’s all-around Regional Champion is definitely not allowed to hide away in his tent all day.”

“So my reward for winning is torture, is that what you’re saying?” He lamented loudly, “I shall never win anything ever again if I’m to be tortured like this! I was a fool to fight my Mother on losing Regionals. She was right, mediocrity is definitely the safest way. I shall endeavor to be mediocre from now to my greatest ability!”

Valor knew he was just whining and muttered in exasperation,“...why are the young so dramatic?”

At that moment Fijo barged in excitedly.

“Rido you got an invitation to dine with the Duke!”

Valor raised an eyebrow, “Which Duke?”

Quite a few Dukes had property in the Capital. They would attend the Sunage Games just to meet up with distant relatives and friends or to gamble their money away.

“Who else? Duke Invierno!”

Rido asked sharply, “What’s he want with me?”

Fijo’s scratched the tip of nose, already used to Rido’s antagonism towards the Invierno Family.

“Heir Invierno won all the competitions, but for the North, just like you.”

Rido wasn’t surprised that Heir Invierno had won all four tests of skill.

It was to be expected of someone he acknowledged as his equal.

“So?”

“Well, you know… erm… perhaps the Duke wants his son to be friends with the best man in this year’s Games?”

Rido smiled bitterly, “More like he wants to scope out the competition. I’m definitely not—”

He wasn’t able to finish because, at that moment, the Marchioness barged in.

“My son!” She smiled cheerfully, “Why are you still in bed? Do you plan on being a lazy, slothful child forever?”

“....good morning to you too Mother.”

When a person was struggling in the morning, the worst thing was having a cheerful person approach them.

Marchioness Fresa walked over and looked down at her son. After the work out he got yesterday, it wasn’t surprising he was painfully sore today.

“You’ll feel better if you do some stretches.”

Rido sighed heavily, closed his eyes for a moment, and simply nodded.

The Marchioness held up a fancy, silver rimmed invitation, “The Invierno Family is inviting all the winners over for a big celebration tonight! I thought this was a good chance to thank Heir Invierno for helping you and Squire Fijo a few days back. After you eat breakfast, we’ll go into the city and find a gift to give him.”

Rido made a face.

“I doubt he’s expecting a gift for that. He probably doesn’t remember. A simple thank you should suffice.”

She snorted, “If he didn’t expect anything or even remember, doesn’t that make him a good boy? So few decent nobles in the world, the ones who do right ought to get rewarded, even just a little.”

The young man furrowed his brow. Though that was true, he still instinctively rebelled at rewarding Heir Invierno for anything.

“Anyway,” Marchioness Fresa continued, “stop dawdling! If you take too long, the heat will be unbearable! That city stinks to high heavens at the peak of the day, I can’t stand it!”

She turned to Valor and instructed, “Make sure he stretches properly and drinks plenty of water.”

The Marchioness then bent down and kissed Rido on the forehead before lifting her skirts and hustling out.

The moment the Marchioness was gone, Rido began complaining, “Why must I go? Isn’t it enough I’ve got to lose to Heir Invierno? Now I’ve got to give him a gift beforehand? Hah! Who is Duke Invierno fooling? That party is just a chance for him to gloat over his son’s success! Absolutely insufferable, that whole family—”

Valor put his hands on his side, “Why didn’t you tell the Marchioness that if you feel so strongly?”

Rido paused his grumbling and blinked innocently.

“She was so happy, how could I tell her no?”

“You’re such a mama’s boy.” Fijo teased, amused by how Rido would respond entirely differently when dealing with his Mother.

Rather than denying it, Rido simply huffed.

“Help me up, will you? I don’t want Mother wandering around in that city during the heat. It really does stink.”

———

Felicia held her chin and asked the people inside the carriage, “What would be a good gift for a Heir Duke?”

Rido looked at his mother with a pinched expression.

“We rushed out here and you don’t even know what you want to buy?”

‘Hooooo… this boy sure is testy today!’ She thought, raising an eyebrow. Rido was a very well behaved young man, so it was unusual to see him in a foul mood. Since he was probably still sore and aching, she would let his snippy attitude slide.

“The only Noble sons I’ve bought gifts for are you or Heir Marron.” Felicia pursed her lips, “And Heir Marron is easy. Just buy any book on managing land or some obscure ancient knowledge and he’s happy.”

“What about a nice pocket watch?” Valor suggested.

“Wouldn’t he have that already?”

“Are you trying to go for something unique?” Valor shook his head. “A Ducal house won’t lack for anything, I’m not sure that would work.”

Felicia sunk into contemplative silence.

‘What do you think, DARS? What kind of gift should I get Heir Invierno?’

[Valor is correct. There is not much Nubarron Invierno doesn’t already own. He won’t be impressed if you go for something expensive and classy. I advise aiming for a thoughtful gift.]

“....yes, a thoughtful… mmmm…” She mumbled out loud, causing the siblings to glance amongst themselves in amusement and Rido to sulk. ‘I’d need to get something that he’d be personally interested in then…’

[What about something sweet?]

‘Sweet?’

[He likes anything sweet.]

Felicia’s face twitched at this revelation.

She knocked on the small window that allowed her to talk to the carriage driver. It immediately opened and the driver’s face peeked through.

“Yes Marchioness?”

“Find the best bakery in the city and take us there.”

“I’ll have to ask around and I can’t vouch for the recommendations I get. Is that a’right with ya?”

“It’s fine. The most important thing is to leave the city before it starts to smell.”

“As ya say, Marchioness.”

They were on their way into the city and hadn’t arrived yet. It had a tall wall and the gates were heavily guarded, especially with so many people visiting. When the carriage came up to the gate they had to wait in a line.

Even though they were high nobles, they couldn’t cut the line. Just about everyone in the city right now was a high noble or related to one. Unless the person was a duke or royal, there’d be no preferential treatment.

This worked out for the carriage drive. He could ask other people in line about places to visit. When they got to the gate, he asked the guards too. By the time they were in the city, he had several places they could try and had even got detailed directions.

The most recommended bakery was very clearly high end and meant for people with a large expendable income. There was already a line going out the door. From the looks of it, nobles had sent their servants to get baked goods rather than stand in line themselves. Felicia, however, boldly stood in line with her son and the siblings as if she belonged there.

The servants in line couldn’t help casting curious and amazed glances. It was obvious Felicia and Rido were nobles based on their clothing. Who ever heard of nobles waiting in line?

Rido could feel the glances and couldn’t help asking again, “Are you sure that gifting food is a good idea?”

“My taste in gifts is always impeccable.” Felicia responded proudly and then added, “And this isn’t just food, but the highest quality treats. Hand selected by my magnificent self and Heir of Fresa March. Just the labor involved in this makes the gift priceless.”

Rido muttered darkly, “I don’t see why I need to pick something out.”

Felicia frowned at her son’s response. He’d stretched, eaten, and gotten enough water. How long was he going to be this grouchy?

‘Was I this moody when I was a teen?’

[Teenagers are biologically predispositioned to be moody.]

‘...so yes?’

[Yes.]

“You will personally pick at least one thing from this store.” She folded her hands across her chest. “Do you understand?”

Rido pursed his lips slightly before nodding.

As expected, it took quite some time before they got in. Though it was well before lunch, it was still hot and they were sweaty from being under the sun.

To keep control of the crowds, only a certain number of people could enter. The staff was surprised to see a noble patiently waiting to enter. They got fawned over because everyone else was technically a servant. The servants, some of whom worked for ducal households, were disgruntled at the random noble who’d popped up and disrupted things, slowing down their ability to purchase.

Rido initially picked something at random, but Felicia immediately rebuffed him and sent him to look again. Cheap gifts only worked if they were done thoughtfully, just grabbing whatever wasn’t allowed.

The young man wandered around the large bakery in a funk, Valor trailing behind him as was proper. After doing this for several minutes, he found his eye drawn to a particular outrageous looking bread.

It was a new type of sweet bread, chocolate flavored, more a dessert than something to eat with a meal. Chocolate was a foreign treat that had recently become popular in this region and was finding its way into various types of foods, even being made into a hot drink. It could be very sweet or bitter, depending on how it was made. Rido preferred the darker, more bitter variety.

This particular chocolate bread was clearly the sweeter kind and, as if the baker thought that wasn’t enough, had covered it in various kinds of colorful candied fruits, sugars, and glazes. This was definitely a sweet aimed at women and children.

Just looking at it was enough to make Rido and Valor feel indigestion. Who could possibly eat something like this and not feel ill afterward?

Immediately following this scathing mental judgement, Rido’s face brightened.

This kind of sweet bread ought to be expensive and rare. His Mother liked sweet things. If he suggested this one, she’d probably agree and even think he was being particularly thoughtful.

But Heir Invierno definitely wouldn’t like it.

After all, what kind of boy their age would like something like this?

He felt extremely clever and mentally gave himself a pat on the back.

———

“Marchioness Fresa, I’m so glad you could join us this evening!” Duchess Invierno was all smiles as she greeted Felicia.

It was the Duchess’ duty to greet the mothers and the Duke’s job to greet the fathers. As there was only the Marchioness, the Duke focused on other people.

Felicia gave a shallow curtsy, as was appropriate for her station.

“My son and I were pleased to receive your invitation, Duchess Invierno.”

Duchess Invierno nodded and then greeted Rido, “Greeting Heir Fresa, Champion of the East, you honor us with your presence.”

Rido tilted forward in a bow, “The honor is mine, Most Excellent Lady.”

The Duchess gave a light laugh. “No need to be that formal. Just call me Duchess and all is well.” She pointed to a spot where a crowd of teenagers could be seen huddled together, “I won’t keep you trapped in a lady’s conversation, all the young lords are over there. Ah, and don’t stand on etiquette. Tonight all you strapping young men are the same rank: Champions.”

Rido blinked, a little surprised. This was the Duchess’ way of saying that everyone could talk freely to each other without regards to rank. He had not met many Ducal families but his impression was they were sticklers for the rules.

“Ah, my son, don’t forget.” Felicia motioned Valor forward. In his hands was a basket, wrapped in a thin white cloth and tied at the top with a red ribbon.

“Oh, what’s this?” The Duchess asked curiously.

“Heir Invierno did my son a favor a few days back and today we are repaying it with a small gift of thanks.”

“He did?” The Duchess raised her eyebrows. “He never mentioned it to me.”

“Likely, he did not think it was worth mentioning.” Felicia chuckled, “Your boy is not only a Champion in many different skills, but also has good character. You have every reason to be proud.”

The Duchess could tell the difference between flattery and genuine compliments. When she heard the Marchioness praise her son honestly, she was instantly pleased.

“What did you get him?”

“I hope you don’t mind, but we brought food.”

“Food?”

“Yes, there’s a famous bakery in the capital, you might have heard of it, Delicioso Rico.”

“I have heard of it!” The Duchess looked delightly, “In fact, my son likes the bread from there and just yesterday I made sure to get some. He will definitely be pleased.”

Felicia grinned widely and gave Rido a gentle push in the direction of the other young men. “Go.” She then turned to the Duchess and said without any modesty, “My son personally stood in line to get this gift.”

“Oh my, did he?”

The Duchess and Marchioness began to talk earnestly, ignoring Rido completely.

Rido shuffled forward at his Mother’s push and then straightened himself. Since he was here, of course he’d act impeccable.

Walking over with steady strides on legs that still ached, he approached the small crowd. There were 9 boys, including Heir Invierno. The 8 were probably winners of individual championships for the West and South. When they saw him approach, the conversation quieted and there was a mixture of aggressive and curious stares.

As they were more or less equals, it didn’t matter who greeted who. Rido only nodded and said, “Good evening, it’s a pleasure to meet everyone. I am Heir Querido Fresa.”

Heir Invierno was still the host even if this party was treating ranks casually. As the host, he was obligated to attempt to entertain those who were invited.

“It is good to see you were able to make it.” He stepped forward, gave a polite smile, and offered his hand. “I am Heir Nubarron Invierno.”

The hand hung in the air for almost a split second too long, causing Heir Invierno to furrow his brow slightly. He vaguely felt that Heir Fresa didn’t like him, but he didn’t understand why.

Just before it was to the point of being rude, Heir Fresa grabbed his hand and shook it. The handshake was firm, neither too long nor too short, just right, Heir Fresa’s face was serious but amicable.

Heir Invierno relaxed. He must have been mistaken. Why would someone dislike him for no reason? Even as a competitor in the Games, it didn’t make sense to be so antagonistic right at the start. It was more likely this young man was nervous.

He turned to the boys standing around him, introducing the other Champions smoothly, “Let me introduce you…”

After he’d finished the young men began talking amongst themselves again.

“Your Valet really is bronze like metal!” A tall, muscular boy—probably a swordsmanship champion—pointed out. “What’s his skin feel like?”

Valor had been standing quietly behind Rido. Even after getting rudely pointed at, his face remained impassive. He was used to these kinds of comments by now.

“What kind of question is that?” A thinner, shorter boy—most likely a knowledge champion—immediately shot back. “He’s clearly a man, what would his skin feel like if not a man’s skin?”

“But—”

“What’s he carrying?” A stocky boy interrupted.

It was only then that everyone noticed Valor was holding something.

Rido had to force his face not to look annoyed at how impolite they were being. “This is a gift to thank Heir Invierno for his help a few days ago.”

Heir Invierno blinked and raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t remember doing anything that needed a thank you gift.”

“You may not remember, but I haven’t forgotten.” Rido waved Valor forward. “It’s not much, but my Mother and I personally picked these out.”

Valor handed the basket to Heir Invierno.

The young man had barely taken hold of the basket when he commented, “It smells sweet.”

“It should, we got it from Delicioso Rico. They’re famous for their sweets.”

One of the other boys leaned forward and sniffed, then suggested cheekily, “How about you share with your fellow champions?”

Heir Invierno swiftly moved the basket out of the boy's reach and said icily, “This is mine.”

All the boys, including Rido, were surprised at this response.

He must have realized he overreacted, for a slight blush crept across Heir Invierno’s cheeks. He coughed awkwardly and caught the attention of a servant. “Put this in my room, for later.”

“Thank you for the gift.” Heir Invierno cordially added before hurriedly changing the topic, “I heard you got Lord Poder for the Swordsmanship test?”

This was enough to distract everyone.

Rido hadn’t known, but apparently Lord Poder wasn’t just a retired knight but a commander. He was old now, but in his hayday he was the most feared knight on the battlefield. Apparently he still stopped by the Royal Order’s headquarters and terrorized the young knights to “keep them on their toes”.

Of all the volunteer knights involved in the Swordsmanship test, he was by far the most difficult to impress.

———

Later that night, after the party was over, Bar— otherwise known as Heir Nubarron Invierno—walked into his tent weary and ready for bed. He was not, by nature, a social person. He preferred quiet places. But his own preferences didn’t matter since he was an Heir, and Heir’s must know how to socialize.

On his bed was a basket, wrapped in a delicate white cloth with a red ribbon.

“Oh right, the bread basket…”

Bar knew why he’d been given a gift, but he didn’t think his actions were worth mentioning. He was just doing the bare minimum required of a decent human being by preventing one of his leeches from committing manslaughter.

If anything, it was partially his fault that lordling had attempted something so outrageous. Boy or girl, his peers tended to go to extremes to get his attention. This was also why he didn’t like being around people. In their eagerness to “win the (future) Duke’s favor” they would act in some pretty detestable ways.

That so many of his peers thought being cruel and mean was a way to leave a positive impression on him disturbed Bar to no end. Just because he was quiet most of the time, didn’t mean he approved. And he made sure to speak up when things got out of hand. Why did people keep assuming they could win him over with such terrible behavior?

He lazily walked over to the basket and opened it.

The strong scent of sugar and chocolate hit him in the face, causing him to inhale sharply.

He looked down at a medium sized sweet chocolate bread, covered in candies and glaze, and began to drool. Around this glorious piece of sugary goodness, were smaller fruit breads and flakey glazed pastries.

It was as if someone had walked into the fanciest bakery in the world and picked the exact assortment of sweets he would eat.

Very few people knew he had a sweet tooth. His family knew and some very close friends. But only his mother and the chef at home understood the depth of his sweet obsession. If he could eat them for every meal, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, he would do it. For his own health it was good he didn’t but… a man could dream.

Heir Fresa said he and his Mother had personally picked these out. The Duchess, his mother, had confirmed it had been personally picked by them, and not through a servant.

How had they known he’d like these? Or did they not know and were thinking to offend him? It was common to associate sweets and candies with women and children, rather than young men. This assumption was why people didn’t think he’d like sweets, thinking he might take offense to it.

No, that didn’t seem right.

He had a clear idea of Heir Fresa’s character based on how he’d treated that Squire. If he was a little awkward at the party tonight, Bar didn’t hold that against him. Though they didn’t live near each other, he had heard some things: The Fresa Heir was known for staying out of his peer’s social circles, living in semi-isolation, and only going out to see the Marron family— an odd noble family to begin with. It wouldn’t be unusual for someone like that to struggle socializing.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

There was also the Marchioness with her terrible reputation. Though Bar wasn’t sure how much of that was true. His mother said the Marchioness wasn’t at all like the rumors. Though she wasn’t the best judge of people, the Marchioness was known for being pretty horrid and even his mother should be able to tell if even half the rumors were true...

He sat down and picked up the chocolate bread, drooling slightly.

It was common for people, when giving something heartfelt, to pick a thing they would like and share it with another person. Maybe it was just that the Marchioness and Heir Fresa also liked sweet things?

That seemed more likely.

He cheered up slightly at the thought.

Heir Fresa was a bit stiff and sometimes gave off the impression of being prickly, but his character was good and there was strong evidence he liked sweet things…. Perhaps they could be friends?

As Bar bit into the chocolate bread, he gave a long relishing sigh of satisfaction.

Yes, he would definitely send a letter after the Sunage Games were finished, regardless of the outcome tomorrow. They were too far apart to visit often, but they could at least be penpals.

Anyone who could appreciate this kind of delicious dessert was definitely friendship material.

———

The first contest was for horse riding and was the race through the Royal Forest.

Unlike in the regional race, it was clear that everyone involved had a deep affection for their horse. The young men personally brought their horses to the starting line, looking them over, saddling them without anyone’s help. The horses themselves were well behaved and didn’t fear the noise from the crowds or unfamiliar location.

The audience was several times larger. While some families headed home after their sons lost, most stayed to cheer “their region” on to success. And, of course, there were quite a few local nobles who were there for some entertainment or gambling. Horse racing was particularly popular with gamblers.

Before finding her seat, Felicia went over to her son.

Rido’s expression was calm, but his head was hanging slightly, as if unwilling to meet anyone’s stare, and his inky black-green eyes were dim, lacking their usual liveliness. She didn’t need him to explain, she knew why he was disheartened.

She took him by his hand, which unlike most lordlings was slightly calloused, and gave it a squeeze.

“My son,” Felicia sighed a little and spoke in a low voice, “Honor and safety is more important than you winning.”

His eyes remained cast down as he replied, “I know.”

“It was already a compromise with the Regional Championship.”

He shook off her hand and ran his fingers through his hair, laughing in self-depreciation.

“You think I don’t understand? That I’ll disobey? Don’t worry, I’ll obey you. But I don’t have to like it.” He then turned on his heel and walked to his horse, stroking her neck with an air of depression floating about him.

Felicia flexed her empty hand and couldn’t help feeling sad.

It’s not like she wanted to force him to lose. She also wanted him to be able to test his metal against his peers and prove himself. It just wasn’t time yet…

And it was already so risky letting him win the Regionals. The Viscount would definitely come knocking about that once he found out.

‘Being a mother is so difficult….’ She thought morosely, walking back to her seat.

“Are you alright?” Tie asked, sensing something wasn’t right with the Marchioness.

Felicia waved her hand dismissively without speaking.

Tie was on her right and Valor was on her left, Fijo was with the sulking Rido.

Valor was looking at the other contestants, “Hm, Heir Invierno is the only one who’d give him a real challenge. It would be interesting if…”

He didn’t finish the statement but they all knew what he’d meant to say: It would be interesting if they could have raced whole heartedly to find out who would have won.

Soon a sharp bell clanged, signaling participants needed to get on their horses. Some of the horses seemed to sense what was coming and stomped their feet in excitement. The crowd collectively held their breaths and then the bell rang out again.

All four horses leapt forward at the same time.

Glorious competitive spirit skyrocketed as she raced against the surrounding horses. They went deep into the forest, sometimes forced to slow down to get through sharp corners or narrow pathways. The only one able to keep up was Heir Invierno and his horse.

Heir Invierno was thrilled to see the Fresa Heir wasn’t falling behind. It was hard for him to find peers who were his equal and often he had to play down how talented he was so as not to upset people too much. The Sunage Games were the first time he could properly show off and it sent a thrill through him to be able to do so.

But near the end of the course, Heir Fresa’s horse suddenly slowed down. The Fresa Heir’s brown mare could be heard letting out an angry whinny. Heir Inveirno glanced behind. Had something happened?

Cheating was a huge no-no, but it did happen on occasion. Someone might have done something. Or it could just be something unfortunate happened. Horses would sometimes get injured or spooked, or simply lose steam near the end.

Whether it was cheating or an accident, Heir Invierno didn’t slow down. He didn’t dare. There were other competitors behind them that would easily catch up if he relaxed his vigilance.

From Rido’s side, he was pulling on his reins to force Glorious to slow down. The mare wasn’t happy. In fact, she was furious as she watched the competition pass her one after another. At some point she was so mad she actually kicked out her hind legs, as if to buck her rider.

When the third horse came up, Rido let her run again, but still forced her to stay a little bit behind. Glorious put up with this right up until they came into view of the finish line. When she saw the other two horses reach it before her, her horse heart throbbed with intense disappointment. She suddenly stopped and refused to move.

Rido flicked his reins but she wouldn’t move. She neighed loudly, swishing her tail, shaking her head rebelliously and kept all four hooves solidly on the ground. After prodding her a bit, Rido lowered his head and could only sigh.

Glorious knew the difference between a horse race and day-to-day travel. When it came to racing, she wouldn’t willingly back down. He’s known she would take it poorly, but he hadn’t expected her to sulk to the degree of simply not moving.

He dismounted and began petting her neck and murmuring sweet nothings into her ear. At first she stomped a foot and neighed angrily, but eventually she calmed down and finally huffed into his face, showing he’d been forgiven. He mounted his saddle and they trotted the rest of the way.

Even though he lost, he had to finish the race. This was the rule of the Sunage Games: Win or lose, finish above all else. The only real dishonor is to never complete a task.

So said those who created the Sunage Games. In reality finishing as a loser became a kind of “walk of shame” for everyone involved.

When he arrived, the only people in the audience who paid him attention were those who were glad to see the Marchioness get knocked down a peg or two. Those who had cheered for the East were too embarrassed by how the race ended to stay. Most everyone else had run off to watch the winners get their medals.

No one waited for fourth place. Rido might as well not exist.

Felicia and the siblings came up to comfort him but he shook his head.

“Just… just leave me and Glorious alone for a while.” He said quietly, promptly leaving the race grounds with his horse in toe.

Felicia glanced at Valor, who nodded and quickly followed, though at a distance.

The Fresa camp’s jovial atmosphere was gone that afternoon. The meal was quiet and no one really talked to each other.

Next was the archery competition.

They would once again be in the Royal Forest, this time competing in field archery. Unlike in the horse race, a person would go in one at a time with the judge following behind them. They would be tested on number of targets hit, accuracy of hit, and time. And, as if to add insult to injury, the last bit was clout archery— shooting long-distance at flags.

Other than Heir Invierno, the two other competitors were different people. Winning all the Regional competitions made it harder to win in the finals. Heir Invierno and Rido had to compete in all four competitions, while everyone else only needed to do one. The two new competitors were fresh and had plenty of energy, while Invierno and Rido had to recover from a race earlier in the day.

Rido drew 3rd and Invierno drew 4th.

Of the two other archers, only the first one could be considered a true challenger. Rido used the second young man to base off how well he needed to shoot. The first and last half of the archery contest could be seen by the audience.

Rido was very careful on how he lost this particular competition. Most men could do at least basic archery and would know if he was purposefully under performing. The archer Rido pegged for 3rd place missed only one target, so Rido also missed a target. His accuracy was just a little worse than 3rd place, but his time was the same.

Heir Invierno was watching Rido's performance eagerly at the beginning. He'd heard that Rido was outstanding in the regionals, treating the whole thing with a yawn. But as time went on his expression stiffened. Though it was a little hard to tell at first, as time went on the young man was sure: Heir Fresa was throwing the competition!

This was most obvious at the end, when Heir Fresa was aiming at the flags. He held his bow perfectly and then ever-so-slightly adjusted himself to make sure his targeting would suffer.

Heir Invierno really wanted to know what the hell his counterpart was doing. Just watching his one real rival be so halfhearted was enough to frustrate him to death.

When Heir Invierno’s turn came, he went through the course so quickly and with such accuracy, he broke several records along the way. Though he’d done exceptionally well and everyone was congratulating, Heir Invierno's victory left a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Had he really won, or had Heir Fresa let him win? And what about yesterday? Had something really gone wrong with his horse? The question bothered him the entire night and into the morning the next day.

Knowledge and Swordsmanship would be tested on the 2nd day. No one knew what the Knowledge test would be, but the Swordsmanship would be a one-on-one fight.

The priests were once again the judges. The audience for this particular competition was a little smaller too. Unlike the other competitions, this one didn’t depend on raw numbers (being faster or more accurate) but cleverness when dealing with the judges.

To understand when a young man was clever or why the judges graded as they did, the audience needed to have a certain level of cleverness themselves. It was clear a portion of the Sunage audience was self-admittedly not clever enough to understand this particular competition.

Just as with archery, two of the four young men were new. Fortunately the first event of the day required only brain power, allowing Heirs Invierno and Fresa a rest.

Everyone was given a chair to sit on. When it was their turn to speak, they would step forward. Rido was 1st chair and Heir Invierno in the 4th chair.

The priests all filed in and, to everyone’s surprise, the young lady’s maid of Marchioness Fresa filed in behind them.

Tierno waved a hand excitedly towards a dumbfounded Rido. He immediately turned in his seat to look at his Mother, who gave a mischievous smile and shrugged. Rido could only turn around and purse his lips, not finding the situation funny at all.

Once everyone was settled, the first Priest stood up and explained, “Each Priest will ask you a question and, according to our area of expertise, you must give us an answer. There is no right or wrong answer, we only want your honest thoughts on the matter. Understood?” He didn’t wait for an acknowledgement before continuing, “Good. I shall begin. Hopefully you all remember I specialize in apologetics.”

The Priest turned to Tierno and gave a gentle smile, “Please come forward.”

Tierno walked with bouncing steps until she stood between the judges and participants.

“Starting from Heir Fresa and moving to the right, please answer this question: Who is this?”

Rido was forced to stand up and say something without any mental preparation.

What he wanted to say was: This is Tierno, sister, friend, and companion.

Instead he said the exact opposite, “That is my mother’s maid.”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

The Priest’s brow furrowed. “Is that all?”

“Yes.”

The Priest tugged on his beard, clearly puzzled. After a bit he turned to the next young man. He went down the line until he came to Heir Invierno.

The young man had been casting glances at Heir Fresa and only when it was his turn did he give his full attention towards the Priest.

To the Priest he said, “I see a daughter of God, made in His image.”

“A good, scriptural answer, but surely not the only one you have in mind.”

“Hm… I also see a hard working young miss who, I suspect, likes to cause a little mischief for those around her.”

Both Tie and the audience laughed at his observation.

The next Priest stood up and nodded to everyone, his beard bouncing slightly.

“Everyone remembers my expertise is in the study of nature, yes? Good!” He then pointed at Tie, “My question is: What is this?”

As Rido was the first, he spoke the opposite of his own thoughts again, “A foreigner, obviously.”

The Priest gave Rido a long, knowing stare and didn’t bother to ask him if he had anything else to say. He promptly moved on to the other three.

In fact, this was a difficult question to answer. The obvious answer would be a woman or, even as Rido had pointed out, a foreigner. But if it were that easy, the Priest wouldn’t have asked.

When it came to Heir Invierno, he had a thoughtful look on his face.

He looked at the Priest and returned the question with one of his own, “What is mankind? Are we animals? Spiritual beings? By knowing God and His character, do we become more like one or the other? Are we fixed into a single state or perhaps a perfect blend of both from the beginning?”

The Priest blinked several times before smiling widely and clapped his hands in appreciation.

More for the audience than for the young men, he explained, “Indeed, if we can’t properly answer what all men are, how can we answer what we are as individuals? Very good young man, getting to the meat of the problem.”

The last Priest stood up and nodded towards the crowd before sitting back down.

He gave a particularly sharp look at Heir Fresa before his expression became affable again. “I’m all about ancient philosophy, but I think I will do something a little more fun this time. Now then, I ask you fine young men: would you marry this lady? Whether you would or won’t, explain why.”

This question took every young man off guard. They were all nobles. Even if she was a very pretty maid, she was still a maid. What did this old priest mean by asking such a weird question!?

Rido in particular was vexed. Though his answers were all in-line with how the typical noble thought, they had been the opposite of what he’d been thinking. It was clear this Priest had noticed and intended on making him answer a little more honestly.

He bit the inside of his lip, thinking. Finally he opened his mouth, “Isn’t it obvious? How could I, an Heir and noble, bother marrying a maid?”

The Priest eyebrows rose slightly, “Oh, so it’s because she’s a maid?”

“Yes.”

“If she was a Princess, would you marry her?”

“....Sir, she is not a princess.”

“Don’t be purposefully daft, I’m asking a hypothetical question.”

If Rido said "no" then that meant it wasn't her being a maid that was a problem and he'd have to explain why. If he said "yes", then he was risking the reputation of a young girl's reputation. The people in the audience weren't all decent people, they would take his answer and spin it into all kinds of nonsense.

“Still, I refuse to answer.”

“Why?”

“She is my mother’s maid, sir, and how I answer affects her life in my household.” Rido was feeling genuinely irritated at this Priest. “It is easy for you to ask such questions because they don’t affect you. But they affect her— me. And my house’s reputation. Therefore, I refuse. No, I will forfeit this question completely.”

The crowd murmured in shock. The priests glanced at each other, various stages of interest mixed with surprise.

Despite Rido’s claim of forfeiting, the Priest wasn’t particularly upset and instead looked pleased. He nodded and said, “You have given a kind of answer even in forfeiting. Your withdrawal is denied. You may sit down.”

Rido sat down angrily, knowing this Priest had won.

It had already been stated: there was no right or wrong answer to any question. The priests had tested raw knowledge in the regional competition, but this time they were testing character, maturity, and insight. In other words, the priests wanted to know how these young lords personally applied the knowledge they’d learned over the years.

Parroting “socially acceptable” and popular answers wouldn’t impress the priests. Rido understood this and had simply given the stereotypical “noble answer” to their questions, knowing they’d be displeased. But these priests weren’t stupid, they’d seen through him immediately. The last priest had used a different approach, touching on something personal, to get a genuine response from him. And it had worked.

While Rido was busy cursing these priests for being wily, Heir Invierno’s turn came up.

The young, silver haired young man cleared his throat and said somewhat sheepishly, “I wouldn’t marry her because I don’t know her.”

Rido's posture stiffened, his head whipping around to stare at Heir Invierno in shock. He wasn’t the only one. No one expected that answer.

The Priest in question was also surprised.

“So you would marry her if you knew her better?”

“Only assuming I like her enough.” Heir Invierno paused, “My mother would not approve such a match, which would be… mmm… unfortunate, for everyone involved. I might even lose my title as Heir if I forced the issue. For me to marry her, I should have to like her quite a bit to go against my family and lose my title.” He looked at Tie apologetically, “Forgive me, Miss, but I think it is most unlikely I will like you that much.”

Meanwhile Tie blushed. Heir Invierno was really handsome and she hadn't expected him to talk to her directly. She stuttered out, “How could I be offended enough to demand your forgiveness Heir Invierno? It’s just a question for the sake of argument, naturally I won’t take your answer seriously!”

“What if she was a Princess?” The Priest asked curiously.

“Eh…. mutual attraction would still need to be accounted for.” Heir Invierno paused, “Also, marrying me would be a step down. Would she be alright with that? And where is she from? Even within our own country, many people dislike living so far north because of the cold. Is she from this area or a foreign princess? What kind of culture does she come from? Will she be able to adapt well? Will she get along with my family?” He blinked, “Frankly, I still don’t know if I would or wouldn’t, princess or no.”

The Priest laughed, “Young man, you’re quite practical.”

“It comes with being the Heir. Who I marry won’t just affect my family, as you know.”

The Priest continued to chuckle and nodded, “That is true.”

With that, the Knowledge test ended. The priests would get half an hour to discuss who would get what place. Until then, the young men could converse among themselves, take a bathroom break, or have their servants get them something.

Heir Invierno walked over to Rido and grabbed him by the arm, dragging him a little distance from everyone else.

“What are you doing?” Rido asked icily.

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”

“Huh?”

“Don’t act stupid,” Heir Invierno was keeping his voice down but it didn’t hide how upset he was feeling, “You think I can’t tell you’re losing on purpose?”

Rido didn't meet Heir Invierno’s eyes, unintentionally giving a tacit agreement.

“Why are you doing this?” The silver haired young man asked in exasperation, “You are good enough to win. You might even be able to beat me—”

“What might?” Rido harrumphed, “I could definitely beat you.”

“Hah! Empty boasting! You’ll never be able to prove it now, after losing on purpose.”

Rido’s face flushed red with suppressed emotions. It was hard to throw every contest after tasting victory and praise. Now his main rival was harassing him about it too! The stress, regret, and frustration bubbled up to the surface and he blurted out:

“What do you know about it? You’ve got a father to protect you, lower nobles who support you, a flourishing fief.” He sneered, “It must be nice to have everything handed to you on a silver platter without trying.”

Heir Invierno’s mouth fell open slightly, stunned at the open hostility.

A little confused, he asked, “You’re jealous of me?”

“Who’s jealous of you?! I know my worth. I don’t need contests to prove anything to me.” Rido spat out, his jumble of emotions making him irrational. “Who cares what you have and I don’t? What you had handed to you, I’ll grab with my own two hands! And I’ll be better for it!”

With that, Rido stomped back to his chair. He sat down, his aura so dark the other contestants instinctively moved away from him.

Heir Invierno watched this behavior in amazement.

Heir Fresa was obviously jealous, but he was also frustrated. If he’d wanted to throw the contests, why be frustrated? It was clear that he wasn’t losing willingly. It was being forced on him. Putting aside why someone would force a Heir to fail, who had the power to request such a thing?

Only one person came to his mind.

Heir Invierno sought out Marchioness Fresa. His sharp eyes caught the women in the crowds. The Marchioness was looking at Heir Fresa, a slight frown on her elegant face.

There was no disappointment or anger in her expression, like one would expect.

Could it be the Marchioness forced her son to lose? Why would any mother force such a humiliation on her own son…

Heir Invierno lips edged downward as he thought.

Usually people were jealous of him because he was the Heir to a Duchy, or the huge amount of land his family owned, or the massive wealth and connections to the King. Those were the standard reasons he got enmity from anyone.

For having a father?

For having capable nobles?

For having a flourishing fief?

This was the first time anyone had been jealous of him over such things!

At least he could understand Heir Fresa feeling bitter about him having a father because Marquess Fresa died shortly after the Heir was born but the other two…

What exactly was going on in the Fresa fief????

———

When the judges had made up their minds, the contestants all sat down again.

By this point, Rido had calmed down. He realized he’d spoken too much to someone he barely knew and was both vexed and embarrassed with himself.

When Heir Invierno went to pass by him, he spoke stiffly in a low tone, “What I said before, ignore it.”

Heir Invierno paused his steps and turned to him.

“I don’t think I can.”

Rido expression instantly darkened.

“But I won’t tell anyone.” Heir Invierno added, a wry smile on his face. “I don’t make it a habit to gossip about what I’ve been confided in.”

“Who confided in you?!”

“You did, apparently.”

Heir Invierno continued to his seat, leaving a frustrated Rido behind.

———

Rido lost the Knowledge Competition, as expected, while Heir Invierno won his 3rd Gold Medal.

He walked over to his Mother, who hugged him. She felt him tremble slightly in her arms before his body turned rigid and he hurriedly pushed himself away from her. There were no tears in his eyes but everything else about him was drooping.

Felicia didn’t know what to do.

Since last year she’d been trying to adjust his mindset to the idea of not winning at the Games. He wouldn’t accept it and argued with her. Maybe because he’d spent so many years suppressing his talents, he just wanted one chance to really show off. After a year, they’d come to a compromise.

She thought he’d be happy, but she under-estimated the power of the Sunage Games in a young man’s life. As a woman and an outsider, Felicia didn’t “feel” the importance of these games in the same way as the natives and those participating. However, seeing how all the young men and their families responded to losing, she had finally understood.

It was no wonder he argued so much with her about it. This was a make or break moment for him. By winning so thoroughly at the beginning, it made the losses later even more bitter. It didn’t help how people looked at him with pity, ridicule, or even pleasure. It made the weight of losing even more unbearable.

But what could she do? Really, she couldn’t let him win! It was already a headache dealing with the fallout from the Viscount over her “incompetent” son having won the Regional championships…

‘Being a mother is so difficult…’ She lamented in her mind, ‘I’m sorry Mom, sorry I took you for granted! Sorry I never took your frustrations seriously and only cared about my own feelings! You worked so hard to raise me but I was such a butt!!!’

DARS simply bounced on her shoulder sympathetically.

He knew that Felicia wasn’t that bad a child. For every frustration she gave her parents, there was a corresponding joy. In fact, she gave them much more happiness than grief. That is, until the end when she died and all memories of her were tainted with sorrow.

Which was why he didn’t comment one way or the other.

It was enough she could speak of them like this, without being sad at their separation.

———

The Swordsmanship test was tough. Through lots, the four contestants would be paired into two and have to fight each other. The losers would be grouped together and the winners would be grouped together. The losers would fight each other to determine 3rd place, while the winners would fight to determine 1st and 2nd place. Everyone fought twice.

Rido was frustrated to the point of wanting to throw something when he was paired with Heir Invierno. He did want to fight Heir Invierno but not this way, not when he couldn’t fight against him properly.

Wood swords and daggers were given to the participants. They were lighter than their metal counterparts but sturdy enough for the competition's purposes. The reasoning behind using wood and not metal was that even a blunted metal weapon could break bones in a moment of inattention. As noble sons, no one could afford them getting a broken bone, or worse. And while it was true a person could be seriously hurt with a wood sword too, it was more difficult to do and probably meant foul play was involved.

Disarming the opponent was the point of these fights. Causing serious physical injury to an opponent would disqualify both fighters. This harsh penalty made those involved cautious. The whole reason they were there was to win, and to that end they wouldn’t do anything risky that might hurt the other person.

This competition was the second most popular event in the Sunage Games. It was packed with people, including all the volunteer knights. Lord Poder was there as well, his tanned wrinkled face all smiles.

The stage was simply a circular portion of flat ground roped off in a circle, surrounded by the audience.

The armor participants wore was a mix of metal plating and hard and soft leathers. It even came with a helmet that covered the ears and nose. This armor was light compared to the full metal plating typically worn by knights. It wasn’t practical in a battle or life-or-death struggle, but for competition purposes it was fine. The point of it was simply to soften a hard hit from a wood sword so that it only left some bruises.

Rido and Heir Invierno faced each other, already feeling uncomfortable under the weight of their “light armor”. They didn’t typically train in armor, as they weren’t knights, and they were both keenly aware of the extra strain on their body. It would slow them down and wear them out faster.

For Heir Invierno, it was important to finish as quickly as possible. He had every intention of winning, and needed to conserve his energy for the next fight. Rido, however, had no such restraints. He was losing no matter what, why not take his opponent down with him?

He felt a certain delight in knowing he could make Heir Invierno next match harder simply by wearing him down here.

The bell rang and Heir Invierno shot forward. Rido stepped to the side to avoid him but didn't take the chance to strike. This happened once more before Heir Invierno realized that his opponent was purposefully stretching out the fight to wear him out. Heir Fresa planned on losing again and, that being the case, would try to drag him down with him.

Annoyed at such a ploy, Heir Invierno retreated to the rope and glared at his opponent.

“Do you plan on running from me through the whole match?” Heir Invierno asked angrily.

Rido raised his wood sword and rested it on his shoulders cockily.

“Why not? I’ve got to amuse myself somehow.”

“You could actually try to beat me.”

“Hah, aren’t I trying just fine?”

“You think you’d win if you did?” Heir Invierno sneered, “Delusional, spoken like a true loser.”

The cocky expression on Rido’s face stiffened. Heir Invierno used that moment to charge forward. This time he didn’t try to knock the other’s sword away, simply hit at any exposed area on his body. Despite his words Rido wasn’t trying, leaving most of his body exposed.

The wood sword hit him heavily on the left arm and then leg. Rido staggered, hissing in pain. He would definitely walk away from this bruised.

Heir Invierno didn’t move away but spoke in a low voice, “Fight me, Fresa. I’m not such a pushover you’re guaranteed a win simply by putting effort into it.”

Rido grit his teeth, his eyes flickering toward his Mother in a moment of hesitation.

Heir Invierno smacked Rido on the opposite side, near his knee, causing the young man to lose his footing and then tackled him. Pinning down the Rido to the ground, Heir Invierno growled, “Stop looking to your mommy for permission and fight like a goddamn man for once in your life.”

The last thread of rational thought snapped in Rido’s mind. With a heave, he violently pushed Heir Invierno off him and began charging to hit. The two young men spent the next few minutes striking at each other, using their swords as if they were real.

The audience’s mouth dropped.

These two were clearly not fighting to disarm!

Marchioness Fresa ran over to the judge and clamped a vicious grip on his arm, shaking him violently.

“What are you doing you idiot! Call off the fight!”

The referee, a knight, frowned but didn’t remove his eyes from the fight, “My Lady, they have not broken any rules.”

“Not broken any—?! They’re fighting like they want to kill each other!”

“And?”

“What do you mean “and”? They’re only supposed to get the other person to drop their weapon!”

“Right. What’s your point?”

She pointed at the two young men, “They aren’t doing anything like that!”

“How they go about disarming each other doesn’t matter, as long as no serious injuries occur.”

“In what way does it look like they’re—”

The referee cut her off with a sigh, “Women really don’t understand a young man’s heart.”

Felicia froze.

“...I beg your pardon?”

“These games aren’t just about winning, but proving oneself before their peers.” The knight chuckled, “It’s clear these two are more concerned about proving something than winning. As I said, as long as the rules aren’t broken, they can do whatever they like.”

Felicia's lips formed a thin line and she stomped back to her seat. When she sat down, she crossed her arms across her chest and stewed.

Valor glanced at her with a knowing look.

“He didn’t agree?”

Felicia glared at Valor.

“I told you he wouldn’t.”

She only harrumphed in response.

———

The sun sizzled above, the heat causing the two to sweat heavily, and the weight of the armor pressed on them slowing their movements. No matter how energetic they started, the two young men were quickly getting worn down. Despite the exhaustion, neither was willing to give in or give up.

After several minutes of violently expressing his anger and frustration, Rido’s temper cooled and he came back to himself. If they continued like this, they would end in a tie. Though it was rare, that did sometimes happen. In such cases, a coin would be tossed and the winner would be decided “by God’s hand”.

Rido really couldn’t risk being “chosen by God” and getting 2nd place.

When Heir Invierno came in for an attack, Rido purposefully held his sword at a slightly awkward angle to defend himself. The two wood swords collided and the reverberation of the hit and weird angle caused Rido to drop his weapon.

There was a moment of stunned silence from everyone, then the referee announced Heir Invierno as the winner and the crowd roared. Heir Invierno stood there, arms hanging limply at his side. He wasn’t reconciled and took no joy in winning.

Rido walked over to his opponent and pat him on the shoulder.

“We could have kept going—”

“Invierno,” Rido cut him off, “Take the win and thank you.”

“Thank…?”

He grinned widely, “You were the perfect sword dummy to take my frustration out on. I feel refreshed.”

“...”

Heir Invierno fingers clenched together in a fist, ready to punch that pompous smile.

The Invierno family and friends swarmed the roped circle, pushing Heir Fresa out and cutting off any chance Heir Invierno had to say anything back to him. All Heir Invierno saw was Heir Fresa’s back as he walked towards his painfully small party of supporters.

Marchioness Fresa hugged him with tears in her eyes and the three foreign servants stood nearby with worried expressions.

Heir Invierno hand unclenched and he turned to his parents and supporters, putting on the appropriate smile and saying what was expected.

A vague sense of unease settled in the back of his mind.

———

Heir Invernio won the battle but lost the war. He’d exhausted most of his strength and drive going after Heir Fresa. The fight for gold and silver ended with him getting silver, 2nd place. It was disappointing to everyone but him.

When he saw the wood sword fly out of his hand, he gaped for a moment and then laughed out loud.

Heir Invierno had forgotten something important: Heir Fresa had originally wanted to exhaust him to the point that he’d lose his chance at the gold, and that’s what he’d done. Even when the black haired youth lost, he won.

This kind of person was worth being friends with, if for no other reason than making an enemy out of him would be a terrible idea. Heir Invierno vowed in his heart to make the Fresa Heir a life long friend by any means necessary.

Heir Fresa, who had lost his second battle in a matter of seconds, had already gone back to camp. While washing the sweat off his face, a shiver ran down his back.

He glanced around, eyes narrowed.

Why did he suddenly feel he was in danger?