‘Hey DARS, help me find good allies and friends for that cutie son of mine while we’re traveling.’ They crested a hill and she saw a small hamlet below, ‘And I don’t care who they are or where they come from either. It might be better if they’re commoners, that way that weasel Viscount won’t pay them any attention.’

Unlike noblewomen of this era, Felicia was not set on her son staying within his ‘class’. Networking with peers was important, but so was having stalwart allies. She believed commoners should be included as important allies. And an easy way to get allies like that was by bringing in some commoner children as playmates and grooming them to be loyal followers.

It was a calculative way to think, but anyone she took in would also benefit. Not only would they be saved from a life of poverty, when they grew up they could change the fief into a better place for those who weren’t as fortunate as them.

From then on, whenever they came near a group of people, DARS would leave the carriage and scan them and report back to her. Even if he found someone, she simply had him note their location to find them on the way back.

Soon they came to Marron county. As expected, it was much better maintained than the Fresa march.

“Marchioness Fresa, welcome to my humble home.” Countess Marron gave a nod to Felicia upon her entering the tea room. Usually the Countess would have welcomed her at the entrance, but she kept her movements to a minimum for health’s sake.

“Countess Marron, it's an honor for you to have me.”

“Have a seat,” The Countess waved for her to sit down.

There was already a pot of steeping tea and several sugary delights. She had arrived after lunch but before dinner, and would be staying the night and leaving in the morning. This snack was welcome because she hadn’t eaten much at lunch thanks to her appetite being reduced to nothing from the first half of the carriage ride being so jarring.

“If you don’t mind me saying so, the dress you’re wearing is quite interesting. I’ve never seen that design before.”

Felicia raised an eyebrow, a slight smile on her lips, “It’s something my house seamstress and I have cooked up. The hoop skirt does wonderful things for the figure at a fancy party, but I find it not very useful for anything else.”

Countess Marrow looked surprised, “Are you saying there’s no hoop skirt?”

“None, simply a clever illusion using fabric folds.”

“...that’s amazing.”

Felicia and the Countess had pleasant conversation about current fashion and the designs Felicia was hoping to make popular. The Countess spent most of her time at home and alone, she did get visits from people but many avoid talking about the latest fads for fear of making her feel more isolated.

As they talked, Felicia noticed the door open slightly and a small figure slink in. She blinked several times in surprise and went to open her mouth to comment when the Countess raised a finger to her mouth as she was talking. There was an amused look on her face. Felicia gave a slight nod and pretended she didn’t see anything.

Out of the corner of her eye, the small figure snuck closer. It was a little girl, dressed in the typical frilly dresses of this era. This must be the youngest Marron daughter. She was clearly sneaking, running behind furniture like some kind of fugitive.

Finally the little girl was right behind her mother, an excited look on her face. She raised her hands, wiggling her fingers threateningly and—

“Montana Marron, what do you think you are doing?” The Countess hadn’t turned around, simply setting her tea cup down with a clank.

Montana's mouth turned into a large O and then she began pouting, arms crossed over her chest.

“Mama, how did you know?!”

The Countess turned to look at her daughter, face disapproving.

“Young lady, do you think it’s appropriate to try and scare me, especially with a guest in the house?”

“Papa likes when I do it to him!”

Felicia’s mouth twitched. Did that mean Count Marron let his daughter sneak up on and “scare” him, even with non-family members present?

“I am not Papa. That he allows you to do this around others…” The Countess furrowed her brow, it was hard to say whether she was trying not to laugh or was really annoyed with her daughter. “I will be having a very stern talk with him later.”

Montana’s face blanched, she rushed up and tugged on her mother’s dress.

“Don’t scold Papa! It’s not his fault! I know I was wrong Mama!”

Felicia’s whole body shuddered with repressed laughter. So the youngest was a daddy’s girl and the dad in question was no better!

Countess Marron raised an eyebrow. “Then I should scold you instead, hm?”

The little girl opened her mouth and then blanked, apparently stuck in a quandary. Obviously she didn’t want her father scolded but that didn’t mean she wanted to get scolded in his place!

Shuffling her feet, Montana suggested after some thought, “How about… no one gets scolded?”

The Countess gave a hearty sigh, turning to Felicia she spoke in exasperation, “Please pardon this rude girl’s manners, Marchioness Fresa. She’s only just turned five and not been around ladies much.”

Felicia straightened her face into a cool, collected noblewoman.

“No one is born knowing etiquette, no need to apologize.” She turned a sharp gaze to the little girl. “That said, little girl, if you do not properly introduce yourself, how is anyone to know who you are?”

Montana quivered slightly under Calle’s stare and immediately ran behind her mother, as if to hide.

Felicia looked at the girl, feeling speechless. While it was true her face was a little sinister, she shouldn’t be that scary!

This time the Countess blushed slightly, clearly embarrassed. She grabbed her daughter’s arm and forced her forward.

“Marchioness Fresa is right, introduce yourself as Papa and I have taught you.”

The little girl didn’t struggle against her mother’s pull but also didn’t look happy. She stared at the floor for a few seconds, gripping the front of her frilly dress. A few words were mumbled out but no one could hear them.

“Louder so the Marchioness can hear. And lift up your head when speaking to a guest.” The Countess firmly instructed.

Montana lifted her head slightly and said in a just barely audible voice, “I’m Montana Marron, youngest daughter of Count Carmelo and Bonita Marron. Nice to meet you.”

Standing up, Felicia put both hands loosely at her side and gave a single nod, saying, “It is a pleasure to meet you, Young Lady Marron. I am Marchioness Calle Mora Fresa, only daughter of the Mora family.”

Montana looked up in blank astonishment. Noble children were required to give formal greetings to adult nobles. It didn’t matter if they were children of the King, they had to give a greeting even to lower nobles. Adult nobles, however, weren’t required to do the same. A simple telling of their title and surname was all that was required.

It wasn’t uncommon for adult nobles to use the loose greeting standards for noble children to be extremely rude. Especially if the adult in question disliked the child’s family. Adults sometimes found a perverse pleasure in the opportunity to treat another noble disrespectfully, even if only vicariously through their child.

But Felicia had given Montana a greeting reserved for her peers and treated her like an adult. It was clear the little girl hadn’t expected such a grownup response to her introduction.

The Countess looked touched at Felicia’s gesture of respect.

“Marchioness Fresa, you didn’t have to do that.”

Felicia sat back down and waved her hand dismissively, “It was nothing.”

At that moment there was the sound of hurried footsteps and the door swung open. An older woman and a young teenager both burst in.

“Good heavens, there you are!” The older woman hurried over and picked up Montana, pinching her cheek ruthlessly. “Young lady, what did I tell you!? You know you aren’t to disturb distinguished guests!”

“I just wanted to see Mama!”

“You wanted to scare me, I think you mean.” The Countess spoke mildly.

The older woman looked at Montana with a great deal of disapproval.

“Young lady—!”

“Mama!” Montana had the appearance of a person betrayed. “Why did you tell her!?”

The young teenage girl with the older woman looked seriously annoyed but, showing self-restraint, walked forward and gave a gentle curtsey before the guest of the house, “Pardon our rudeness, Marchioness Fresa. I am Colina Marron, second daughter of Count Carmelo and Bonita Marron. The madam holding my little sister is our Nanny, Roca. I hope you can forgive my sister for interrupting your conversation.”

Because Nanny Roca had a struggling 5 year old in her arms, she could only give a slight bend of her knees in curtsy. As Marchioness had not talked to her first, she didn’t speak to her, as was proper.

Felicia eyebrows rose slightly, amused. Without standing, she gave the same respectful greeting to Colina that she’d given to Montana. She also nodded towards the Nanny to show she acknowledged her presence.

“Children will behave like children, I am not offended and therefore don’t need to bestow forgiveness.”

Colina looked relieved, and then turned to the Countess. “Sorry Mama. She said she was going to the bathroom and then never returned. We only just realized she was taking too long…”

The Countess gave her second daughter a pat on the shoulder, as if in sympathy.

“Nothing can be done about it now.” She narrowed her eyes slightly, “But she can’t get away with disobeying both the Nanny and her Mother.”

Montana stopped struggling against her Nanny, eyes wide at her mother’s words.

“Hm… for this disobedience... I think… no dessert for the week is enough.”

“MAMA!” Montana began to cry, her whole being exuding despair and big tears began rolling down her face. “No, Mama! I won’t do it again! Please don’t take away my desserts! We’re getting tarts this week! Tarts!”

The Countess pursed her lips, unmoved. She turned her head away, waving her hand slightly.

“Away with you.”

“Maaaamaaaaaa! WAAAAAH! NOT MY TAAAARTS!”

Nanny Roca’s face scrunched up, trying not to laugh. The older woman clamped down on the wailing, wiggling little girl and hauled her away. Colina gave another dip of her knees to excuse herself and hastily followed. The wail of “my tarts, my yummy tarts!” could be heard dwindling down the hallway.

The Countess and Marchioness sat silent for several minutes.

Finally, Felicia cleared her throat and tilted her head.

“I’m really curious about those tarts now, they must be delicious to get such a big reaction from your daughter.”

Countess Marron burst out laughing. From then on the conversation went from shallow, polite topics to more intimate topics.

Later, Felicia got to a particular topic she’d been meaning to touch upon. Educating Rido. She cleverly retold what happened concerning her son and the governess so that it looked like Calle had gotten hoodwinked and now she was struggling to overcome the damage.

It was extremely easy to lie while in her host. In fact, it could be said that any time Felicia lied to make Calle look good, her host actively helped her speak more eloquently.

“After what happened with the governess, I am somewhat hesitant to get another governess or tutor.”

“You could wait a few more years? It’s not uncommon for people to wait until their children are 10 to start teaching them to read and write.” What she did not add, but they both knew, was that those children weren’t Heirs to their fiefs.

Felicia shook her head. “No, my son is both clever and extremely smart. Children like that will learn whether they are taught or not. But if they learn without a teacher, they are likely to learn the wrong thing, which will make things harder when he is older.”

Somewhat to Felicia’s surprise and exasperation, Calle was more than willing to boast about Rido to her peers. Though her host didn’t appreciate her son as a mother, she appreciated him as a tool for raising her own reputation higher. And a mother with an outstanding son was an easy way to gain prestige. This kind of self-centered stupidity really made Felicia want to flip some tables.

“Ah, I see what you mean….” The Countess furrowed her brow, thinking. “It would be quite a lot of work, as I know you’re already managing your house and fief but… you could educate him yourself?”

Felicia gave a half-smile, pleased that the Countess had mentioned it first.

“I had thought to do so, but I’m not entirely sure how boys are educated. The late Marquess only had daughters and I myself am an only child, so I know very little about the particulars for boys.”

The Countess nodded slightly and then asked, “Would you like to see how my son’s study is set up? He’s quite a bit older than Querido, but the basic tools remain the same from child to young man. We also have an extensive library that he’s been using since he was just a boy. There are even some old books and scrolls passed down the family stored there.”

“That would be extremely useful!”

Without further prompting, they both went to the study of the only son of the Morran family.

Boys and girls got different kinds of education. While both noble boys and noble girls learned the basics of reading, writing, and counting, their studies diverged greatly beyond that. Of course, young Calle only studied just enough to keep up with her peers. She hated being tutored but loathed the feeling of being left out even more so. Since all her friends could read and write and count up to at least 10, she had to do so as well. Therefore Felicia knew what girls learned but just barely.

The only son of Count Marron was Serio Marron, aged 15. He was the Heir to the Marron estate and fief. While some boys threw their weight around when they were heirs, not so for Serio. He took his position very seriously, studying and learning with a grave and sincere attitude from a young age.

He unfortunately took after his mother, tending to be a bit sickly and prone to sneezing fits during the spring and colds during the fall. His eyesight was already poor and required him to wear spectacles. Though he could hunt and knew the basics of swordsmanship, he was unfortunately not good at either.

Felicia found all this out from the Countess in just the time it took to get to his study. She spent most of the time trying to keep a straight face during this conversation. Serio sounded like a Ye Old version of a nerd.

“Here we are, Serio’s study.” The Countess came to a door and opened it.

Inside was a room, likely originally a tea room of some sort, that had been converted into a study. The walls were lined with bookshelves and there was a large desk sitting in front of two narrow windows. Above the desk, or anywhere that had open wall space, there were large pieces of paper with maps on them. Manuscripts were neatly rolled up and tied with a thin piece of twine, and books seemed to be categorized by genre rather than alphabetical order. The desk had a stack of paper, abacus for calculating larger numbers, and a curious wood square.

“May I…?” Felicia asked before touching anything.

“Feel free.”

Felicia opened the wood square and finally triggered Calle’s memories about what it was: a wax tablet. There was a thin layer of wax over a framed piece of wood. Similar to a book, it was hinged with narrow leather straps. This was what the Marquess and Viscount used for writing down tallies, bills, or short notes.

There was a metal stylus with a sharp end and a flattened end sitting on the desk. Apparently the flat end would be held over a flame just long enough to heat it and then used to flatten the wax— that is, erase the marks on the wax created with the sharp end.

From Calle’s memories, she knew that children were given quills and cheap berry ink and scrap paper, parchment, or even wood planks to practice their alphabet. Depending on how long it took the child to learn, it might be years before they ever got to touch a clean piece of paper. It’s not that clean paper was obscenely expensive, but it was just pricey enough that no one would give a child learning their letters one to write on. That would be like taking their money and throwing it into the ocean, a total waste of resources.

“Did he use the wax tablet when he was younger?” Felicia asked as she put it back down.

“He did, though that one was smaller. It was used in conjunction with the abacus for counting large numbers and sometimes for note taking during a lecture.”

“Hm… should I get my son one?”

“He’s a bit too young, I think. The tablet requires quite a bit more force to write on then a quill. Seri didn’t use one until he was ten, if I remember correctly.”

Felicia nodded, feeling a bit embarrassed for not realizing something so obvious. Calle had never used a tablet. Not because it was forbidden or anything, but because tablets were basically work tools. And Calle hated working. Felicia had never used a wax tablet either. Between the two of them, they had no idea what it felt to actually use one.

She continued looking around the room. The maps on the walls showed the Marron fief, nearby fiefs including the Fresa fief, then the all of Salvias, and then neighboring kingdoms. The fief maps were fairly simple and crudely drawn. However, the map of Salvias was shockingly detailed, almost like a work of art. The larger, country maps were all similar to the map of Salvias. While Felicia didn’t know how accurate it was mathematically, it at least gave a proper sense of distance to places and looked beautiful.

“You said Serio is away at school?”

“We’re very fortunate the nearby university had an opening.”

“University? Not a…” Felicia quickly searched around in Calle’s memories, “...grammar school?”

“We do have a grammar school in the county but they only teach the basics, which Serio learned from a private tutor.”

“I… I see…” Felicia was thoroughly baffled by this information and it was showing on her face.

Calle didn’t know much about schools, since only boys attended. Her lack of knowledge led Felicia to depend on her own knowledge of how education worked. Naturally there was an information gap. The first one being that a high schooler was attending university! Was that normal? Or was the Marron Heir a genius rather than a nerd?

The Countess completely misunderstood what was confusing her guest.

“Are you surprised I didn’t have him start assisting his father once he completed his basic education? I know that’s what many do. He’s certainly mature enough to start now…” The Countess looked thoughtful, “But it’s not as though there’s any reason to rush him into working the fief. My husband is plenty healthy, it’ll be quite a few more years until he’s close to thinking of stepping down. And Serio loves to learn. So I thought I might as well let him learn as much as he can, while he can. A young man can never have too much knowledge after all.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, when did he go to University?”

“Last year.”

Felicia’s mouth opened in surprise and then thought for a moment, “At the risk of sounding ignorant, what is the usual age for boys to attend university?”

“Not at all, universities have only been around for a few years. Certainly your father and husband never attended one, naturally you won’t know either.” The Countess very kindly gave Calle plenty of excuses for not knowing something a mother ought to know before answering her question. “I believe most boys are 16 or 17 when they start.”

“Ah, and your son was 14... You must be proud.”

“It’s not as though he’s the first to enter at that age.” The Countess said humbly, though her face clearly showed she was proud. “As long as the boy in question knows his basics, he can attend.”

“There’s no age restrictions then?”

“None. Serio told me a 29 year old was attending one of his classes,” Countess Marron chuckled lightly, “Though I imagine at that age he’s there with the intention of becoming a priest or monk.”

“Eh? They have religious studies there too?”

The Countess looked at her, puzzled. “Religious studies?”

“Yes, er, to learn the holy scriptures?”

“But don’t all studies involve the holy scriptures?”

“Huh?”

“Eh?”

They both stared at each other, both were confused by each other's confusion.

‘DARS, what’s going on here????’

[Secular schools don’t exist in this part of the world.] DARS explained quickly. [Higher education was started and maintained by the church. The original purpose of these schools was to train the next generation of clergy for copying scripture and other ancient texts. Only later were nobles and the wealthy allowed to attend, for a fee of course. Therefore, all the courses are approached from a religious standpoint.]

‘Urk, why doesn’t Calle know something this basic? She’s making me look like an idiot!’ Felicia inwardly complained, while outwardly she gave an awkward laugh. “Goodness, I appear to be woefully lacking in my understanding of… of children’s education. When I go back home, I will look into this more in depth.”

The Countess gave her guest a funny stare. Felicia hurriedly walked over to a bookshelf and grabbed a book, hoping to change the topic with the content of the book.

“Oh my!” She couldn’t help exclaiming. She’d grabbed at random and was surprised to find the book was beautifully decorated with paintings around the text and the text itself looked like artwork. It was very beautiful and reminded Felicia vaguely of pictures she’d seen of ancient European books. “This is quite lovely.”

“Ah, that one was originally my husband’s…” The Countess was distracted, or perhaps more precisely let herself get distracted, and they proceeded to talk about the various books in study. It seemed that outside some books of law— such as the laws of the fief and the King’s Law—most books in this study were poetry and philosophical in nature. The manuscripts were copies made by Serio of previous years fief records. This included things like the amount of rainfall in a given year, crop yield, tax increase, law additions or alterations, unusual weather or happenings, any big events, etc.

“...we just got our first printing press in the county capital a few months ago. We were lucky to get one—”

“You have a printing press?” Felicia interrupted, surprised.

“So you’ve heard of them?”

“Er, vaguely.”

“Hm..” The Countess was clearly thinking, ‘How could you know about the printing press but not know anything about universities?’

“In my circles, there’s been some chatter about them being a novelty.”

“Novelty?!” The Countess' eyebrows scrunched together, clearly outraged. “Nonsense! They are revolutionizing the written word! We were so lucky to find someone who knew how to make one! Do you know we already have a bookstore in the county capital now? A whole store with just books! I wish I could see it myself, it must be glorious— oh, but last time my husband went he bought some books from there for me, hold on a moment…”

Before Felicia could say anything, the Countess excitedly left the study.

‘...She’s got to think I’m the most neurotic person…’ Felicia lamented to DARS after she was left alone.

[The host’s reputation was so bad that it is unlikely anything you do today will make it worse.]

‘...thanks?’

A few minutes later, the Countess returned. Her face was pink but also pale and she was breathing heavily. Apparently she’d strained herself getting the books in question.

“Are you alright—?”

“Here, this one is my favorite!”

Felicia didn’t have a chance to properly inquire about the Countess’ health before she’d shoved a book into Felicia’s hands.

The title read: Star-crossed Lovers, Under a Distant Sky.

This sounded suspiciously like a corny romance novel.

“...”

“This is my second favorite.”

Another book was placed on top. It read: Treaties of the Nations: A Political Dissertation.

Felicia now understood which parent Serio inherited his nerdiness from…

The Countess flipped open the Treaties book. The book was clearly printed. It wasn’t quite as nice and clean as what Felicia was used to seeing from her timeline, but it was still reasonably well done.

“Isn’t it amazing? I heard they can print over 3,000 pages a day with just one machine!” The Countess had lost all semblance of being a steady, mature noblewoman. Her eyes glowed brightly with feverish interest. “I really want to see one in person but Mel—er, Count Marron definitely won’t let me.”

“How unfortunate.”

“Being ill like this is really just…” The Countess sighed heavily, then gave a small smile. “Well, that is the nice thing about books, is it not? Through them, for a moment, we can imagine ourselves someplace outside of the house.”

As Felicia turned the pages, she realized with some amusement that the Countess had two loves: her family and books. The corner of her lip curled up slightly.

“That’s true though…” She paused. “...it’s not as lovely as the hand-copied books you showed me earlier. I personally prefer books with pretty pictures in them rather than words.”

Countess Marron’s mouth fell open slightly and for a second thought the Marchioness was being serious. She then noticed the slight smile and mischievous twinkle in the Marchioness’ eyes and realized she was being teased.

She suddenly burst out laughing.

In that moment, a friendship was made.

Felicia met all the family, except Serio who was away at University, and found them to be a fairly laid back and enjoyable family to be around. The only person who she didn’t get along with was Count “Mel” Marron. It wasn’t because she didn’t try, the man simply didn’t want to get along with her.

It’s not that he was rude, he was polite. Extremely polite. To the point of making her feel like a stranger on the street, in fact. Every awkward pause in conversation was directly caused by him if he happened to be there. Even when the Countess gave him several “knowing glances”, he persisted in his “polite” behavior.

At least the children, including the oldest daughter Linda, made up for his prickly behavior. Linda was a cheerful, energetic woman who still managed to have perfect manners. Unlike her nerdy mother and brother, she enjoyed the outdoors. She proudly declared herself a horse enthusiast and, of all things, a sharpshooter. Colina had more traditional feminine pursuits, cooking and embroidery. Lastly was Montana, who loved tarts and spent the entire evening pouting because she couldn’t get any.

After trying one of the tarts, Felicia decided it really was Montana’s loss. They were quite delicious.

The next day, Felicia left right after breakfast. This time the Countess went outside to see her off as she got onto her carriage.

Just before stepping on to the carriage, Felicia hesitated.

Somewhat nervously, she asked the Countess, “Perhaps… the next visit… my son may also come along?”

The Countess' posture stiffened, though her expression remained neutral.

“I’m afraid Montana will be a bad influence on your son at the moment.” She gave an awkward laugh, “Perhaps after she grows up a bit?”

“Oh, yes, as you say. It was only a passing thought.” Felicia felt flustered for a moment and then got herself together. “It’s been a pleasure spending time with you and your family. I will send you another card soon.”

“I look forward to it.” The Countess responded, this time her smile was more genuine. “May God guard the road you travel on, Marchioness Fresa.”

“May your house be blessed, Countess Marron.” Felicia responded in kind and then hastily got into her carriage.

Once inside and far enough away from the Marron Mansion, she gave a heavy sigh and leaned on the carriage wood window lazily. She’d tried but wasn’t surprised by the results. After all, nobles didn’t schedule playdates for fun, it was also about networking and potential marriage partners. Even if Countess Marron had good feelings towards Calle, that was a different matter from potentially having her youngest daughter marry the Fresa Heir.

At least Calle behaved reasonably well during the visit. This was partially because Felicia and the host had a truce but also because Calle behaved differently around her peers. With those who were near her age and of similar status, Calle was neither rude nor overly accommodating. Basically, she was somewhat normal, which made it easier for the things Felicia wanted to say to get through.

Once they got into Fresa March, Felicia had DARS identify the people he’d spotted on the way to the county yesterday. The choices were further reduced based on how many Felicia could take back with her. She had limited space and time.

In the end she chose a man who’d lost his leg and three siblings.

The man happened to be hobbling through the town’s main road that her carriage was also using. She had the carriage stop and popped her head out and called out the man in question.

“You there, cripple! Come over here, I would have a word with you.”

Felicia mentally spasmed at how inconsiderate her host was being. All the good feelings towards the host she’d gained from her visit with the Countess were instantly vaporized.

The man turned around, the flash of anger on his face immediately vanished at the sight of the carriage and the woman poking her head out of it. Everyone in Fresa March knew the Marchioness came from Mora County, and their colors were black. What’s more, the Fresa carriages were a flashy red and gold, with the herald of a fox.

Since the Marchioness had called him, the man could only hobble over. His head was bowed and he didn’t speak, keeping “properly humble”. But she noticed his hands were clenched into tight fists.

Felicia looked over the man carefully. His clothing was patched and dirty, his red hair and beard were a mess. He had a make-shift crutch he’d put together and a single bag slung over his shoulder. Everyone in the March looked like this to some degree, pitiful and poor. But underneath the poverty and filth was a big, sturdy man.

In an extremely arrogant and belittling tone, Calle asked, “What do people call you, cripple?”

“My name is Claro Curtidor, Marchioness Fresa.”

“And how did you lose your leg, Cripple Claro?”

The man trembled slightly and Felicia could pretty well guess it was from him holding in his anger. She felt extremely sorry for him, as well as herself. This was not how she wanted their first meeting to go down.

But it was also her own fault for opening her stupid mouth...

While she was busy lamenting her host’s inability to be a decent human being, the man in question was struggling to control himself. It was several seconds before he could respond in a calm, respectful voice.

“I lost my leg in a riding accident.”

“Riding? Like a horse?”

“Yes.”

“Hah, how on earth did someone like you afford a horse?”

“I was originally a Knight for the Fresa March.”

“You are no longer a knight then?”

“...though I am retired from the Fresa March’s service, my knighthood has not been rescinded.”

“Really? Why? Isn’t it useless for you to retain your knighthood at this point?”

“A knight’s honorable title remains until he dies or is disowned by his teacher.”

“Ho-oh, is that so? And how is that working out for you?”

“Pardon?”

“An honorable title won’t get you food nor a roof over your head. Basically, no matter how high the title, no one can see past your being a cripple and a burden to keep around.”

She could almost hear him grind his teeth as he spit out, “My Lady speaks the truth.”

“Hm…” Her eyes narrowed, this guy was impressive. She was slinging all kinds of insults at him but he managed to keep his cool and even admit to points that were (more or less) true. Bravo! DARS could really pick people. “I’m in a generous mood today. Though you are lacking a foot to stand on, I have a use for you. Climb up and sit with the coachman, you are hired.”

Getting hired after being thoroughly trash talked would surprise anyone, much less the down-on-his-luck Claro. He immediately glanced up to verify she wasn’t playing a nasty prank. But where he expected to see arrogance, mockery, disgust or pity, there was none. Her expression was one of polite interest. It wasn’t the face of a noble having fun at a commoner’s expense, but someone talking serious business.

The difference between the look on her face and the words from her mouth momentarily confused him and he continued to gap at her stupidly. Finally, she raised her eyebrows and coughed twice, reminding him he was being rude. He immediately looked down again but the confusion in his heart remained.

He didn’t move from his spot but she didn’t force him to move either. This was also strange to him. She had ordered him to sit with the coachman, and he’d disobeyed. He should have gotten some kind of punishment for that, even a verbal warning. The fact that she said nothing, didn’t it mean she didn’t care?

His original assumption that she wasn’t serious surfaced in his mind again and his heart hardened.

With a great deal of stiffness, he finally responded, “My lady would not be pleased to hire a cripple. I am slow to do even basic tasks and some tasks I can not do at all. It will only lead my lady and her loyal servants to frustration.”

“That’s true,” She immediately shot back, “it’s a good thing I am hiring a knight and not a cripple.”

He hesitated, unsure of how to respond to her statement.

“But I am a cripple—”

“You are a knight, yes?”

“..ah… yes but..”

“Then I will hire you, the knight.”

“The Marchioness knows that without my leg I am useless?”

“For fighting a war and running around, perhaps, but that’s not what I need you for.”

“...then what does your ladyship need me for?”

“To train my son in combat and self-defense.”

There was a noticeable pause between the two.

“Marchioness… your son... might you be referring to the Heir Childe Querido Fresa?”

“Did I acquire another son? Who else would I be referring to?”

“You want me… to train… the Fresa Heir…?” His body trembled again, but this time from shock and a rising excitement.

“Isn’t that what I just said?” She tapped the side of the carriage impatiently and repeated her earlier order, “Now that you understand, sit with the coachman. I’m in a hurry to get home and this conversation is slowing me down.”

“You really… want me..?”

“Goodness, if I have to repeat myself one more time, you will be walking the rest of the way to Fresa Mansion!”

He blinked several times. Wasn’t that just another way of saying she was absolutely hiring him, even if he had to walk all the way to his new job?

Claro stopped his questions and then turned to climb up on the front of the carriage. The coachman was there and offered a helping hand. Claro accepted the hand, knowing doing it himself would only create a longer hold up.

Once he was properly seated the coachmen glanced at him curiously before he flicked the reins and the carriage moved forward.

Claro Curtidor sat there in a daze.

What on earth had just happened?

———

They traveled for several hours along a bumpy, badly maintained road. At some point they passed by a large tree. Sitting under the tree were three children. One was a young man, likely not much older than 12 or 13, and with him was a little girl and a little boy. They were somewhere between 5-7 years old.

Again, the Marchioness stopped the carriage. She had only taken a single maid with her to the Countess home.

“Do you see those little commoners over there?”

The maid looked out the window and nodded.

“Go bring them to me.”

There was a single pause of surprise and then the maid smoothly said, “As you wish, Marchioness” and got out of the carriage to do as instructed.

The maids around Calle were all very professional. They had perfected the art of being unnoticed but always available. Their outfits were plain and appearance tidy, their faces were even more plain because they kept a neutral expression on at all times. No matter what their lady demanded, they did so without word or complaint. Unless it was something like the cat o’ nine tails, it was hard to get a response out of any of them. It made them a little creepy, as they all seemed like copies of each other.

Felicia found herself stumped on how to deal with them. They were excellent at their jobs but they weren’t loyal to her. They worked for the Viscount, who they were more afraid of than loyal. They were the type of people who would do anything to survive, whether that meant taking a beating from their lady or being a snitch for the Viscount, they’d do it.

They were people Felicia found one part vexing and one part pitiful. Of course she could kick them out and the Viscount wouldn’t complain. Calle had done that in the past already. The problem was the new people that replaced them were the exact same types and inevitability capitulated to the Viscount demands.

The Viscount’s intelligence was really distressing. He had eyes everywhere. Even if she tried to replace his people with her own, he’d either bribe or threaten them into doing what he wanted. If that didn’t work, he’d blackmail her directly. He knew she’d poisoned the Marquess and he knew Querido didn’t have an ounce of Fresa blood in him.

Honestly, the best option was to kill the man. But he was rarely in the mansion. To get to him, she’d need someone skilled and loyal to herself or who could be bribed into doing it. The problem was she had none of the first and the second type had already been bought by the Viscount. She supposed she could try doing it herself but what if she failed? Worse, what if she succeeded?

Felicia wasn’t emotionally ready to murder another human being with her own hands. Calle could probably do it, but Felicia? Her strong sense of justice wouldn’t allow for it unless it was a case of self-defense. And the Viscount may be awful, but she didn’t feel threatened enough to kill him… yet.

The maid ala spy came back with a trail of children following her. The expression on her face was slightly warped, showing a rare sign of unhappiness.

Felicia had thought Claro had been in bad shape but these kids were worse. They were painfully thin and she couldn’t even begin to guess when they’d last had a bar of soap touch their skin. Her host squirmed in distaste as they neared the carriage window. They stank and she swore she saw bugs crawling in their hair. But to Felicia, the worst was their eyes…

….their eyes were glazed and hollow, like a doll's eyes.

After seeing how abominable their condition was, she thought for a moment. She tapped on the front of the carriage and a small door popped open. The coachman could be seen peeping through.

“You there, move my trunks to the top of the carriage. I want the three children put at the back.”

“Eh… as ya like, Marchioness.” The coachman said with a surprised look. DARS happened to be floating by the coachman’s window. When the coachman went to close the window, no one noticed— not even Felicia—that DARS had caused the window to get stuck. There was an inch space left open, just enough for someone to peek in if they had the mind to do so.

After a moment the carriage could be felt moving as the coachman began pulling Calle’s luggage off and moving it. While he was doing that, she turned her attention to the filthy children. Her host felt extremely uncomfortable at the sight of them, which was why Felicia was putting them in the back. Honestly, even she was worried about the lice and bugs that were likely infesting them and could spread inside the carriage.

Clearing her throat, she thought about what to say. With her host, she couldn’t possibly say something truly comforting or nice, but if they could compromise, at least it wouldn’t be as bad as with the knight.

“I am Marchioness Fresa. You three are now under my employment. Get on the back of the carriage when it is cleared and stay there.” After thinking, she added, “If you stay put and do as I say, I will make sure you are fed.”

For the first time, a flicker of life showed in their eyes.

The oldest croaked out, “Food?”

She frowned slightly, why did how he said food sound odd?

“Yes. Working for me means you never go hungry.”

The boy leaned down and whispered something to the two children.

Three pairs of eyes suddenly focused on her at once. The dead expression had turned to one of eagerness, to hunger, and trepidation. Under other circumstances their fear of her might have made them hesitant, but their circumstances were such they didn’t have the energy for real fear anymore.

“We’ll sort out the details later, in the meantime, to the back with you.” She made a sweeping motion of dismissing them and turned to the maid, “Make sure they are properly seated and won’t fall off.”

The maid's brow wrinkled, clearly disliking this order. However, she couldn’t directly disobey so she made sure to keep as big a distance from the children as possible. Felicia closed the window and spent several moments breathing heavily in distress.

‘DARS, they looked so awful… this country is at peace but why are there three kids here who look like concentration camp victims? My fief sucks! If I knew it was this bad I wouldn’t have waited!’

[I did say they weren’t in good shape and needed to be taken in soon to maximize their usefulness.]

Her lips quivered slightly, brow furrowed, and she clutched her chest. In both her lives, she hadn’t understood what real poverty looked like. She’d been sheltered by her family, in two lifetimes. For the first time, she really understood and her heart ached from the knowledge.

DARS floated over and bounced on her shoulder, [Do not feel bad. Today you saved their lives. They will never forget it.]

The door to the carriage opened and the maid stepped inside. Felicia rearranged her expression to one of indifference. The maid sat down in front of the coachman’s window, blocking it completely.

Neither woman noticed that a brown eye set in a dirty face had been sneaking a peek inside the carriage. That eye had been staring at the Marchioness intently through the cracked window from the moment her ladyship had talked to the children until the maid came back inside.

But DARS noticed and a ) flashed across his face.

When they arrived at the next town, Felicia had her maid go out and buy bread, cheeses, hard meats, and water for her “new employees”. The three children scarfed down the food like hungry wolves, not caring how they looked or the mess they made. The maid was disgusted and hurried away from them.

Claro, however, was much more restrained even though he was just as ravenous. Despite his filthy appearance, he ate with an elegance that was only found in nobles. The coachman watched him eat, eyebrows raised.

“Ya related to a noble by any chance?” He couldn’t help asking after confirming his seatmate wasn’t putting on a show.

Claro almost choked on his bread at this observation. “What? Why would you say that?”

The coachman shrugged, “Just thinkin’ ya eat a bit better than most.”

Claro looked down at his food, face conflicted. He’d been eating normally and yet someone still noticed the difference.

“...knights often spend time with nobles, naturally we pick up things.”

“That so?” The coachman didn’t believe him but wasn’t blind to the attempt at deflection. “Ne’er been around a knight when they ate so maybe yer right.”

The two were in silence for a while after that, one eating, the other sitting comfortably. After eating his fill, the coachman flicked the reins and the carriage began moving again. Claro asked a question that was pressing on his mind once they’d exited the town.

“Is the lady always like that?”

The coachman glanced at him, an eyebrow raised. Even without further explanation the coachman instantly understood.

Since they were in the front and the road noise muffled their voices, the coachman gave his honest opinion, “Her mouth is a’ways been full o’ nettles a’right but lately… well… she isn’ too bad as far as a noble goes. Ya don’ gotta worry about her if ya work proper-like. It’s tha’ other one ya need ta’ look out fer.”

“Other one?”

The coachman lowered his eyes and voiced, muttering, “Viscount.”

“Ah.” Claro’s face remained passive but a flash of something passed through his eyes.

“Anyway,” The coachman gave him a hearty pat on his shoulder, “As long as she don’ change her mind, yer in fer a good life now!”

“Change her mind? Does she do that often?”

“She use ta’.”

“..and now?”

“Well… I guess thatsa matter a’ time.”

Claro squinted his eyes and stopped talking.

In fact, he’d heard all kinds of rumors about the Marchioness, not a single one of them good. When she said she wanted to hire him, he had every intention of turning her down. Even if she beat him to death, he wasn’t going to work for her.

But being given the opportunity to train the Heir… that he was willing to risk his life for. The Marchioness might be hopeless, but that didn’t mean her son would be the same. If he could be a big enough influence in the young boy’s life, he could change the self-destructive path the fief was heading down.

What he had seen, when the Marchioness thought no one was looking, had made him doubt his initial assessment. If she was upset by the state of those children, why hadn’t she been honest about it? And why had she pretended she wasn’t bothered when the maid came back? Wasn’t that her personal maid, shouldn’t that be the one servant she was her most relaxed around?

He’d thought he understood what was going on in the fief but now… he found himself in doubt.

The last town before reaching the Fresa Mansion was large and relatively well off compared to other places. This was because the Marchioness spent copious amounts of money on non-essential items and was very impatient when she did. Though she was willing to shop in distant cities, most of the year she was in the mansion and so most of the time she shopped at the nearest town.

This town had a lot of accomodations, including an inn that was good enough for nobles to stay at. A high end inn, by nature, would have a room that their guests could use for bathing. This would be easier than having to lug water to individual rooms. She had them stop at the inn, she then gave a large sum of money to her maid and said:

“Have all three children properly cleaned and given new outfits. Nothing fancy. If they are hungry or thirsty, take care of that.” Knowing this maid really disliked the children, she added, “You can hire someone to deal with getting them cleaned. If there is left over money, keep it as a reward.”

The maid’s eyes showed a flash of greed before returning to normal. She nodded, “Yes Marchioness.”

“Ah, but do try to keep all this under an hour, will you? I am going to have lunch at the inn and I want to see them presentable before I finish and we go home.”

The maid gave another nod and immediately set out to do as instructed.

Felicia got out and said to the coachman, “I’m going to eat at the inn. The cripple with you needs a proper cleaning and some simple clean clothes.” She handed him a large sum of money as well. “He doesn’t know the area, help him. Keep the leftover, think of it as a reward.”

The coachman cheerfully took the money, not bothering to hide his glee, and said with enthusiasm, “As ya like, Marchioness!”

Felicia then entered the inn and got herself a seat. As the nearest town to the Mansion, even without her black hair and eyes, everyone knew who she was. They had a special table set aside just for her and were accommodating to the point of annoyance. She ate and drank slowly, making sure to give everyone plenty of time.

She was on her fifth cup of wine and beginning to worry about getting tipsy when her maid finally arrived and told her everyone was clean and fed. Felicia was eager to leave and see what everyone looked like without dirt, grime, and flees covering them.

Claro Curtidor was the first one she spotted, mostly because he was the biggest. Washed and in new clothes, he finally looked like the knight he’d claimed to be earlier. He had a pair of sharp brown eyes and a muscular build. His beard and hair had been trimmed, with his hair pulled back in a simple twine tie, which allowed his modestly handsome face to finally show through. She inwardly clapped and gave a whistle of approval, while outwardly she nodded.

The three children were a really big surprise. They’d been extremely filthy, to the point she couldn’t guess what their hair color was and had only observed they had cyan colored eyes.

First was the most obvious thing: their skin was a light but very obvious bronze color. This wasn’t to say they had brown or dark tan skin. No, their skin was literally a light *shiny* bronze color, similar to metal or certain rare P*kemon. If today hadn’t been overcast she suspected they’d actually shimmer.

Her whole mind crashed to a halt at what she was seeing. It had taken her weeks but she’d finally accepted the weird hair colors, now she discovered the weird colors didn’t end at the hair but went straight into the skin.

‘I feel like I’m taking crazy pills! What is going on with the genetics in this world?! It doesn’t make any seeeeeense!!!’ She gave a mental howl of frustrated astonishment but externally only continued gazing at the children intently.

“Marchioness, they aren’t dirty. They were scrubbed thoroughly but it seems that is their natural skin color.” Her maid seemed to have noticed her lady’s confusion and tried to provide a helpful explanation.

Hearing such a stupid statement finally broke Felicia out of her stunned silence. She cast her maid an incredulous stare before regaining her composure. It was only then she noticed: not only were their eyes cyan, their hair was too.

Her whole body stiffened at the sight. If the shiny P*kemon skin was strange, having the same eye and hair color was downright alarming.

Trying to remain calm, she ordered, “The children will sit inside the carriage with me from now on.” She swept a look at Claro, adding, “Though you’re missing a piece, you’re still too big. Stay with the coachman.”

Claro furrowed his brow slightly but he didn’t look angry. Rather he glanced at the children and then at the Marchioness, and seemed somewhat aware of her reasoning. He gave a single nod and hobbled to the carriage’s front.

The two young children looked confused while the oldest of the three looked cautious. Now that their bellies were full and they’d been cleaned and put into new clothes, they had finally begun to pay attention to their surroundings. They hesitated when they came to the carriage door.

Felicia frowned at their behavior. “Why are you hesitating? The carriage won’t eat you. Get in.”

Because she was nervous she didn’t control her facial expression and gave them a fierce glare. The smallest ones shuddered in fear, while the oldest subtly moved himself between her and them.

Seeing this behavior, she pinched the bridge of her nose and forced herself to calm down.

“I wouldn’t harm people I just hired to work for me.” This time she kept her face neutral. The oldest of the three bit his lower lip but nodded. With her insistent but no longer threatening stare, he hurried the children inside.

Only after everyone was inside and the carriage was moving did Felicia finally relax.

“You there, the oldest one,” She pointed at the boy in question, “What are you called?”

He hesitated before finally saying, “Valor.”

She narrowed her eyes and finally realized what had bothered her before.

He had a thick accent.

The name he gave was very “native” to this region but nothing else about him could be classified as “native”. It made her strongly question whether that was his real name.

But she didn’t dig. It wasn’t a good idea to force him to divulge information in front of her spy-maid. And if she really needed, she could have DARS tell her later. Which she definitely would do, since she was regretting not getting more information about them already.

“Then, Valor, you are being hired as a personal servant to my son.” She nodded to the smaller ones, “Those two will be his playmates. When they are older, they too will be his servants.”

Valor’s face scrunched in displeasure, causing Felicia to raise an eyebrow.

“Oh? You don’t like the idea of honorably serving the next Heir to the Fresa March?” She shrugged, “Then consider feeding and cleaning you up an act of my goodwill. You can leave now and whatever happens to you won’t be my problem.” She made a shooing motion. “Away with you.”

“No!” He shouted and grabbed her arm in a panic, startling the children with him. They gripped his clothes, eyes large with fright and starting to water.

Felicia saw their actions and her heart ached, but she kept her face impassive. Shaking his arm off, she spoke lazily, “Though I lowered my standards to allow you this opportunity, you don’t want it. Why should I press the issue on an ungrateful commoner? Honestly, I should have expected as much, commoners never were very smart...”

She closed her eyes and raised her chin, as if dismissing their existence.

The young boy lips pressed together and his hands clenched on his lap. He seemed to be having an internal struggle. When the two children tugged on his clothes, he seemed to make up his mind. His shoulders slumped and he gave a heavy sigh.

“I take job.” He nodded toward the children. “They take job. Good, yes? Good?”

Hearing his choppy speech on top of his heavy accent, her belief that he’d given her a fake name solidified. She was dying with curiosity but held it in.

Opening her eyes up, she raised her eyebrows and smiled. “Good, very good indeed.”

He didn’t seem reassured, so he asked while patting his chest, “Job, mine?”

“Yes, you have the job.”

He sat back down, or maybe he lost his balance. They’d hit a large pothole in that moment and the entire carriage swayed to one side.

Once he was sitting back down, he took each child under one of his too-skinny arms and whispered to them in a language Felicia and Calle were not familiar with. The two children listened carefully and then noticeably brightened.

After that, the carriage lapped into silence. The maid was side-eyeing the children, clearly curious. Felicia wasn’t surprised. They were obviously foreign and their colors indicated they were nobles of some kind. So how did they end up destitute?

“DARS, what’s the story of these kids???’ Felicia immediately asked now that she had a chance.

[You know the Fresa March has an inland port, correct?]

Felicia dug through Calle’s memories. Sure enough, she remembered a river port. It seemed the Fresa March, being a border fief, had a river between itself and the neighboring nation. The river from Calle’s memories was large and Felicia easily put two and two together. The river was likely a major source of international travel and commerce.

The Viscount was really an “amazing” guy, sucking the commoners dry despite having such a major source of income from the river port.

But, well, until recently Calle was part of the problem too…

‘Yeah, I know about it. They came in from there, I take it?’

[Correct. In fact, they are runaway slaves. The ship carrying them stopped at the port to get supplies and they escaped from there.]

‘I thought slavery was illegal in Salvias??’

[Yes but not all the surrounding nations are the same. Slave traders can stop in Salvias for supplies but they can’t sell anyone.]

‘....runaway slaves… where are they from?’

[The Vardent Lands.]

‘Never heard of it.’

[Not surprising, that place is far to the east of here.]

‘How did they end up as slaves?’

[Captured during a war after their parents were killed and their home destroyed.]

‘.........oh.’ She snuck a glance at them. ‘If they’re runaways… is someone going to come looking for them?’

[Unlikely. They’ve been on the run for months. The reason they are in this state is because they are trying to avoid getting caught.]

‘Huh, that’s kind of impressive isn’t it?’

[Yes.]

‘Their hair and eyes…. Am I wrong in guessing their parents weren’t regular blue collar workers in that Vardent place?’

[Correct. Their family on both sides had noble blood, though their father was a high ranking military man rather than an administrator.]

‘...military… so when you say his parents died… uh…. Doesn’t that mean their dad fought and died in the war? And then the enemy went to their home and slaughtered everyone in the family but the kids?! Is that country doing alright!?!?!?’

[The Emperor of the Vardent Lands will win in the end, but the war won’t end for another two years.]

‘...well frick… they went through all that and still almost starved to death...’

[The fact that they almost died is why they are so useful for you.]

‘....I don’t want that kind of usefulness…’

[Those from the Vardent Lands take life-debts very seriously. You not only saved Valor but his siblings as well. Once he realizes that it is thanks to you all three are alive and living well, he will try to make a life-vow to you… but don’t let him, have him make the vow to Querido instead. He will never betray Querido once he makes that vow.]

Felicia mentally sighed. ‘I feel a little scummy using his sincere gratitude for my own ends…’

[It’s not like he won’t benefit too.]

Felicia mentally scrunched her nose. She knew that. From the beginning, she knew it and had mentally prepared herself. She just hadn’t expected such a tragic back story...

‘Oh yeah… Didn’t I say I wanted commoners? Why’d you pick kids who’ll stick out? There’s no way the Viscount won’t take a keen interest in these shiny Pok— children.’

DARS circumference flashed and her voice could be heard coming out of him: ‘I don’t care who they are or where they come from either.’

[Those were your exact words. You were also the one who picked them out of many in the end, not me.]

‘...I feel so attacked right now…’

[Do you regret choosing them?]

‘Of course not. I didn’t know about them before but now I do, how could I regret? At most it’s just annoying because of that stupid Viscount… but I’ll deal with the head headache somehow...’

[That is very like you.]

‘...do you mean that in a good way or…?’

[I am only making an observation.]

It was another hour before they arrived at Fresa Mansion. Unlike last time, the only people waiting were the senior servants and the Heir Childe and his Nanny.

When Felicia saw Rido waiting, she could hardly contain herself. Barely waiting for the carriage to stop, she threw open the door and ran out. Rido saw his mother running towards him and ran to meet her, she grabbed and lifted him up, giving him a fierce hug.

She spent several moments rubbing her face all over his like a cat, when she felt his body stiffen in her arms.

“Who are they, Mother?”