The  Squireship Trials were held on the extensive training grounds of the Duke’s estate, and were designed to seek out the next generation of Rhinestadt Knights from a collection of lower noble houses and commoners. As a Duke, Rhinestadt had the right to own his own private army of knights and foot soldiers that were loyal to him. He then swore his oath to the Empress, to protect her and the Empire should the need arise. Even as a commoner I could see the potential risks of this system, but from what I could glean from my studies it was an archaic system left over from the previous Emperor. The current Empress, Eliza Dol Vaniar Drachen the First, was a major reformer and had successfully managed to dismantle the archaic and dangerous systems of her father throughout the Empire; all except within the Rhinestadt Duchy. I didn’t really know why Rhinestadt got special treatment in this regard; perhaps the Empress owed him a favour or two. Either way, with a little bit of luck and a lot of effort, becoming a high ranking knight was the only way a commoner like me could gain access to Violette.

I arrived at the crack of dawn with a crowd of other commoners, most of whom were applying to be foot soldiers. Though not particularly glamorous, it was a job that offered decent pay and rewarded those of a more… violent disposition. But I wasn’t interested in joining them; no, I was aiming for the top, and my competition arrived soon after in carriages. 

The noble children were all from families beneath the Duke. It was a common way for families to strengthen bonds; sending their youngest to serve the Duke assured him of their loyalty. As a result they were practically guaranteed to pass the Trials whether they were skilled or not; to them the competition was a game. Meanwhile I needed to prove that as a commoner I had something better to offer than familial ties. 

The trials were broken up into a number of different challenges. On each challenge a contestant would receive a score, given by a panel of knights. Those who passed enough challenges were then given to an active duty knight to serve as a squire, thus starting their path towards Knighthood. 

As for the challenges themselves, there were five of them: Two obstacle courses, one on horseback and one on foot, a shooting contest, a written exam, and finally a swordsmanship tournament. 

I’ll be honest; I was terrified. The horseback obstacle course would be a challenge, especially as I had never ridden a horse in this life. The foot course was one place I could make some ground; I had done a lot of running in the last two years, and had some confidence in my physical ability. The shooting contest was more difficult; my father could only show me his own guard issue rifle: how to handle it, clean it, take it apart and put it back together. But despite that, the written exam would likely be the hardest; I knew how to read and write in this world’s language, but only to an acceptable degree. Not only that, there was no formalized education for children like me; I could only hope my game knowledge would save me. 

Lastly, there was the sword tournament. This was my best chance; it was the thing I had spent the most training on, and I knew that if I was underestimated by my opponent it would only work in my favour. Though my father was no genius swordsman, a guard knew how to fight and how to survive. Despite my fears, I was more determined to win than anyone. 

All the squireship candidates were sent to wait in a fancy tent. I got a good look at my rivals here: twelve noble children and five commoners in total, all between the ages of eight and twelve. Two of the commoners were clearly wealthy - likely from merchant families. Their clothes were no worse than the nobles, though they didn’t have a right to own their own swords. The other two commoners looked like their origins were closer to mine; ragged clothing and a needy look in their eyes betrayed their desperation. I could sympathize of course; I was hardly any better. But while their desperation stemmed from a dream, mine came from the cold knowledge of what precisely would happen to my benefactor if I failed. I could not fail. 

“Hah, is this the best competition you commoners could come up with?” An irritating voice broke through my thoughts.

I looked up from the corner of the tent where I sat, far away from everyone else. A short aristocratic girl stared down at me, an expression of disdain written across her face. But as I looked up at her, a strange feeling of familiarity overcame me as I took in her features. She had straw blonde hair which, despite being tied up into a high ponytail, reached the small of her back. Her lips were a lush red, and her cheeks had a healthy blush; a sure sign of makeup. But what was most striking was her eyes; they were a bright sea blue colour, almost as if they were photoshopped.

It suddenly hit me where I knew her from, and I tried to suppress a giggle as I realized she looked exactly like she had been ripped straight from a Barbie Saddle And Ride Adventure Set™.

“I’m sorry, is there something on my face?! What gives you the right to laugh at me.”

“N-no… sorry, haha… you just look like someone I know…”

“H-how dare you! I look nothing like a commoner!”

“Haha, even your speech fits the stereotype…” Another snort of laughter escaped me; the fact that I ran into the walking stereotype of a Mean Girl was just too funny.

“Hmph! Outrageous! What are you even laughing about?!!”

“Hahaha… oh dear, this is too much…”

“I demand an explanation!”

Another shriek of laughter escaped me as she spouted yet another classic line. It was like this girl was an amalgamation of every female bully stereotype: from the classic shoujo villainess, to a petty elementary schooler. Even her angry pout was on point. 

“How dare you! I will have you flogged for this insult!”

“Haha… haha… I… I didn’t insult you though?” I managed to gasp out. My stomach was starting to hurt from the absurdity of the situation.

“I beg your pardon?!” 

I clambered to my feet, and took great pleasure in watching the girl’s face turn to fear as she realized I was nearly two heads taller than her. I gave her a cheeky grin, not caring if she was insulted or not; it wouldn’t matter either way if I passed the trials. 

“I was only laughing, you know? I never said it was at you… or would you prefer if I had?”

“Wh- what?!” the girl sputtered, confused by my absurdly stupid logic. 

“I can laugh at you if you want me to. Though I charge a fee for that service… well, you’re cute so I’ll give you a discount.”

“C-cute?!!” Her make-up became visible as her face turned a far more interesting shade of red. Goodness, she was fun to tease. “I-I knew it! You are making fun of me!”

“Not at all. I haven’t been paid yet.”

“Bah! You can’t fool me! You’re just a peasant girl who doesn’t know her place! No, a carrot top! You’re tall and thin, and your hair is the same colour as a carrot!”

Her pitiful attempts to regain the upper hand caused me to bite down on my lip, restraining another bout of laughter.

“Well, I suppose that makes you a beet, since your face is as red as one. That’s nice, we have nicknames for each other now!”

“N-nicknames?! How dare you! I-”

“Ignore her Marianne, she’s just trying to rile you up.” One of the other noble boys interrupted our fun, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder. 

“Rile her up?” I recoiled in mock outrage. “Certainly not; I was only trying to make friends. She’s the only other girl here after all.”

“Friends?! Is that what you call making friends?!” Marianne’s voice was practically a shriek. 

“Ignore her. Come on, the commoners are a waste of time anyways.”

I watched in amusement as the boy pulled her away. She certainly was fun, and ironically enough I was grateful to her for the distraction from the overwhelming anxiety I was hiding under a casual smile. 

Fortunately the wait was not drawn out any longer as the tent flap opened and a soldier stepped through.

“Good morning everyone. My name is Sergeant Foster, and you will refer to me as such.”

The man’s head was completely shaved and his eyes were grey and frigid, giving me the impression that he was a cold hearted and serious man. His constant expression of minor irritation didn’t help either.

“During today’s trials, your family’s nobility status is meaningless. War is the great equalizer, and if a knight chooses to accept you as a squire, you will serve that knight regardless of whichever noble house you came from. You will each draw a number by which you’ll be referred to. If you inform anyone of your real name, or loudly announce that your father is the Earl of such and such, you will be disqualified. We don’t need any whiny brats here.” He sent a glare towards the crowd of noble children in particular as he held up a coarse bag. “Line up and take your numbers.”

To my surprise, none of the noble children put up a fuss at this. It seemed they had been warned beforehand how the trials would work. The commoners however, had excited expressions on their faces. Perhaps they thought this system would give them a fair chance against the nobles, but I knew better; this did nothing to make up for the difference in training the noble children would have already received at home. 

Once we had all finished pulling, the soldier pulled out a list and cleared his throat. 

“Now that you all have your numbers, please pay close attention. Numbers one to four, proceed to the stables for the horseback trials. Five to eight, you are to head to the obstacle course on the training ground. Numbers nine to thirteen are to head to the shooting range, while thirteen to seventeen are to go to the barracks for the written exam.”

I glanced at the slip of paper in my hand and read the number twelve. It looked like the shooting trial was my first challenge. 

The soldier continued. 

“At each trial you will be given a score out of one hundred by the judges. Once your trial is complete, you will be rotated to the next one. Arguing over your score will get you nowhere: the judges have the final say. At the end of the day, only the top two scorers of each group will advance to the swordsmanship tournament, however they must have at least two hundred points total. Then, depending on your performance in the tournament, you may be considered for squireship. Is that clear?”

A chorus of 'yes' came from all the participants as the Sergeant continued.

“Each trial has its own set of rules, but you will be immediately disqualified if you are caught fighting with, sabotaging or otherwise causing harm to your fellow contestants. You are only here to prove your own abilities, nothing else. Now, compete with honor and good luck to all of you.”

With that he gestured us out of the tent, sending us to each of our respective destinations.