Raymond quickly changed rooms. Once he was able to get out of bed, he had no intention of staying in it. However, Wei Wei still wouldn't allow him to walk long distances on crutches. Naturally, the newly made wheelchair became very useful—every day, he could be seen being pushed around by Maico, the wooden wheels clattering loudly against the stone floor, audible from a distance.
Of course, to get out of bed, he first had to complete the rehabilitation exercises Wei Wei had assigned. Initially, it was three sets of leg stretching exercises daily, each session lasting thirty minutes. The schedule was strict, and supervised by both Kama and Maico. Not even a minute could be skipped—only after completing the training was he allowed to go outside.
Given the incentive to leave his room, Raymond endured it. Though the exercises hurt at first, especially in his injured leg, he bore with it. After some time, he realized that the pain was diminishing, and his leg was improving. He stopped complaining and began to take the rehab seriously.
Meanwhile, Wei Wei began preparations for the upcoming civil service recruitment exam. Although Felix hadn't returned yet, things like registration and venue setup needed to begin early.
She ordered registration centers to be set up in all three towns within Sardinson County. As for the examination site, they didn't know how many would attend, but it was sure to be a large number. There were no buildings big enough to serve as an examination hall, so she decided to hold the exam outdoors, in the castle's front courtyard and instructed people to prepare desks and benches.
"It's just for one-time use. No need for anything fancy—long tables and benches made from wooden planks will do."
After the exam, the planks could be reused for other purposes.
Wood was easy to source. With constant road and house construction in Sardinson, wood planks were in high demand. Pulling some aside and having carpenters smooth them down was no big deal.
The real problem lay with registration. Because the exam had been announced months in advance, many outsiders had come specifically to take part. Some were confident they could pass; others were just trying their luck. There were even those who could barely read, just showing up for the fun of it. As a result, the crowd was massive. The initial registration team was too small, and things nearly spiraled out of control. It wasn't until local constables noticed the chaos and stepped in to maintain order that the situation was resolved.
Fortunately, that only happened on the first day. After that, the curious crowd dwindled—because registration required a fee. It wasn't high, just two copper coins, something anyone could afford. But those who came for the spectacle weren't willing to pay, so they dropped out of the line immediately upon hearing there was a charge.
Then came the form-filling, which filtered out another batch. The form was similar to a census sheet, requiring only basic personal information, but those who couldn't read or write couldn't complete it. Getting someone else to fill it out for them was possible—but no one could take the written exam in their place. The notice had clearly stated: that the first round would be a written test.
Some did consider cheating, but most of the participants were commoners. It was unlikely they could find a substitute. If someone was capable of passing the exam, they'd rather take it themselves. Moreover, no one knew what kind of questions would be on the test, so there wasn't much to prepare for.
The announcement only stated that they were recruiting talent, listing departments and positions without detailing the rank or importance. Most assumed they were hiring only low-level clerks.
Nobles, on the other hand, wouldn't bother with a job-seeking exam. Those who could inherit titles had their fiefs. Nobles never needed to "find" jobs and looked down on such work. Those who couldn't inherit would become knights to climb the military ladder or study in the church to become priests. Some might become scholars or merchants, but joining the church—while common elsewhere—was rare in Pradi, where the church was not held in high regard.
Forms had to be filled out personally. A few months ago, this requirement alone would've disqualified most commoners, who had little access to education. But things were different now—thanks to the literacy push within the manor starting in spring.
Though the program only targeted manor residents, those outside still benefited. Free peasants were living within the manor who rented land early on. They weren't part of the serf villages and often lived nearby. Though technically not part of the village population, their children studied alongside serf children, and the teachers made no distinction.
When the castle sent young instructors to teach in the villages, many free peasants would bring their children to join in. Some even sat in on classes themselves during slow farming seasons. Everyone turned a blind eye to status differences as long as it didn't cause trouble.
Eventually, even those newly relocated free peasants near the manor started quietly attending lessons. Though technically outside the manor, they rented land within it and could come and go freely. The teachers didn't mind. Even some nearby serfs initially complained—but once the outsiders started helping with the food costs for the teachers, no one protested anymore.
Over time, more and more people came to audit classes in the villages. Few stuck with it long-term, but some managed to learn enough literacy and math in two to three months to teach others. They left and became instructors themselves in surrounding villages.
Previously, very few commoners were educated. The church monopolized learning, charging high fees that most peasants couldn't afford. In Sardinson County, only nobles and knights could usually afford to educate their children. A literate commoner like Qin was one in a hundred.
Even most castle servants were illiterate. Some learned only after becoming servants, studying alongside literate coworkers. But it wasn't something everyone had the luck or opportunity to do.
The civil service announcement inspired many to pursue education. Though conditions had improved, people still couldn't afford the church's high tuition. Some scraped together enough for their most promising child, but that was rare.
When they couldn't afford church schooling, people turned to literate locals. Though few, they did exist. However, these educated individuals often already had good jobs—especially in Sardinson, where literacy practically guaranteed employment. Those working for nobles as tutors wouldn't lower their status by teaching commoners.
Thus, while students were plenty, teachers were hard to find.
That's where those free peasants who had studied for a while stepped in. Not everyone wanted to farm forever. Some, seizing the opportunity to change their lives, became instructors themselves—just like the young manor teachers.
They would settle temporarily in a village, teaching basic reading and math to anyone who wanted to learn. They didn't limit class size or age. They charged low tuition, much cheaper than the church's, and even accepted goods instead of money. By current standards, Sardinson residents could afford it.
Thanks to this grassroots education system, most towns and villages now had their teachers. After a few months, those who wanted to learn had managed to pick up the basics. Filling out forms? No problem.
That's why registration numbers far exceeded Wei Wei's expectations. Over ten thousand people signed up. The registration forms prepared by the paper mill weren't nearly enough—they had to rush out more.
When the final numbers came in, Wei Wei was a little overwhelmed. Over 10,000 applicants, plus hundreds of manor serfs, meant that the castle courtyard couldn't accommodate them all at once.
So she simply divided the test into five sessions, with around 2,000 people each. Each exam lasted two hours, so it could all be completed in one day. She just had to make several versions of the test paper with similar difficulty levels.
She also had to recruit more examiners. With so many applicants, she only planned to hire about 100 people—just enough to set up a prototype town government in Dingle. It was quality over quantity. The written exam would be the first round of elimination, cutting down to 1,000 candidates.
Then came interviews, which neither she nor Felix could conduct alone. They'd need help.
Still, anyone who passed the first round was already considered talented. Even if only 100 were hired into official posts, the remaining 900 could be assigned elsewhere. Sardinson needed educated people everywhere.
And out of the remaining 9,000, surely many were still employable. Should she organize a job fair later?
Well… maybe not just yet. The factories were short-staffed, but they only accepted locals. With too many outsiders and unclear identities, there was a security risk. That could wait.
As for examiners, she needed to start training them too—so they wouldn't be clueless during interviews.
She reviewed a list of trusted individuals Felix had appointed—knights, stewards, trade caravan leaders, and factory managers. Competent castle servants were included too.
She quickly marked a group of reliable people to serve as test graders and interviewers.
Once this was settled, the entire manor and surrounding region would be buzzing with activity again.
While those at the top were busy preparing for the civil service exam, those below were still in the thick of the autumn harvest. Tax officers were traveling all across the county, collecting grain for the castle. The granaries quickly filled up, and several new storage buildings had to be constructed.
Having too much grain was a sweet kind of problem, but Wei Wei had no plans to sell it. She knew Felix had been training troops in private. While she couldn't assist him with military matters, stockpiling grain was always a wise move.
The busy days rolled on until mid-September, by which point Wei Wei was one hundred percent certain she was pregnant. Felix's letters, sent every three days without fail, also brought good news—he would be returning soon.
Although Felix never mentioned the specifics of what he'd accomplished in the capital—likely worried about the risk of his letters being intercepted—the cheerful tone of his writing made it clear that things were going very well. So Wei Wei decided to wait patiently and ask him everything once he came back.
And indeed, Felix was doing quite well in the capital. His revenge against the Clift family was progressing smoothly. Thanks to his careful scheming, the king had already begun to feel uneasy about his Keeper of the Seals. The king might have tolerated some minor misuses of power—after all, many previous Keepers had committed similar offenses—but he could not tolerate his secretary getting too close to other royal contenders.
The king had only two sons, which was already a weak foundation for succession. The crown prince had long been in poor health. Despite being married for two years, he still had no children. The younger prince, though healthier, wasn't very bright—hardly a suitable heir.
Meanwhile, the Clift family had allegedly been secretly in contact with another royal contender: the king's younger cousin, Duke Romanov. Not the late husband of Queen Mirabelle, but his younger brother—the man who inherited his title after his brother's early death.
It was widely believed that Queen Mirabelle's father had arranged her first marriage precisely because her husband was third in line to the throne, after the two princes. Given the crown prince's sickly nature, his chances of surviving to adulthood had always been doubtful, and the second prince had never been favored. With just a bit of effort, this cousin might end up inheriting the throne.
Unfortunately, the queen's first husband died too soon, ruining both the queen's and her father's ambitions. She didn't even get to keep the title of Duchess—it passed directly to her late husband's brother, Duke Romanov, who now stood as the third in line to the throne.
Romanov was a decade younger than the king and had proven himself with military achievements, smoothly inheriting his father's dukedom. He was one of the few people in the Pradi Empire with a ducal title, and he was both capable and ambitious.
Some even whispered that it was Romanov's fault his brother died on the battlefield—but that was just a rumor, never proven. Still, his presence gave people an unsettling feeling.
The king feared his cousin. Compared to his sickly heir and dimwitted second son, most nobles favored Romanov as a potential successor. That gave the king a real sense of danger—not just for his sons, but for himself.
So once he realized that his own Keeper of the Seals had been cozying up to Romanov, the king's tolerance ran out.
Felix, ever clever, had only leaked a little bit of this information before pulling back. He believed that allowing the king to investigate and reach his conclusions would be more effective—and safer. That way, Felix could stay clear of suspicion.
After all, he was just seeking revenge for Wei Wei. He had no intention of getting dragged into a succession crisis.
He hadn't yet witnessed the Clift family's total downfall, but he was confident—it wouldn't be long now.
Feeling satisfied, Felix stopped pressing the issue and began focusing on expanding his network and influence in the capital.
He attended several banquets, and without Wei Wei by his side, he received many intimate invitations from noble ladies. But Felix, whose eyes were only for Wei Wei, had never succumbed to temptation in the past—and he certainly wasn't about to start now.
Besides, he had Dolores, who had taken it upon herself to "protect her sister-in-law" by fending off all the "suspicious women" who tried to get close to her brother. At every banquet, she stuck to Felix like glue, glaring at any noblewoman who approached. Even if she didn't say a word, her icy blue eyes—so similar to Felix's—made many women feel extremely uncomfortable.
Still, there were always those who ignored the warning signs and continued trying to seduce Felix, hoping to become his mistress and win the heart of this increasingly influential Count.
These women belonged to the upper class's most flamboyant circle: the courtesans.
Beautiful, bold, cultured, and exceptionally skilled at seduction, they were a rare breed among women of this era. The Church encouraged modesty in noblewomen, but not for courtesans—these women were the equivalent of high-class geishas, and they ruled the social scene.
Their charm was rarely resisted. Most men took pride in winning their favor. Many courtesans, born of humble origins, gained access to high society solely through their seductive prowess.
Naturally, Felix—noble, wealthy, handsome, and increasingly powerful—became the target of many such women.
Especially since he had a wife so beautiful she nearly dethroned Queen Mirabelle as the most beautiful woman in the capital. That kind of fame sparked jealousy in other women. They couldn't beat Wei Wei in birth or status, but if they could steal her husband, wouldn't that be proof of superior charm?
Word of Felix's visit to the capital spread quickly, and soon several famous courtesans made a public bet: whoever could win his affection would take home a massive pot of wagered gold.
At every banquet, Felix was constantly on the receiving end of their bold advances—provocations that no other lady of noble birth would dare attempt in public.
Even the nobility joined in the fun, waiting to see if Felix would succumb. Most didn't think he could resist.
But to everyone's shock, Felix didn't just reject them—he despised their advances.
One courtesan, in a particularly daring move, leaned into him with a flirtatious smile and tried to stroke his chest. Felix immediately got up and left the banquet, leaving her utterly humiliated. His blunt dismissal and lack of interest were enough to crush even the most confident women.
Only those close to him, like Allen, just shook their heads knowingly.
"They've got the wrong type," Allen thought.
"Felix never liked their kind—he's always preferred someone like Wei Wei."
And in Felix's heart, no one could compare to Wei Wei.
When it came to talent, most courtesans might master an instrument or two, or perhaps sing or paint. But Wei Wei's guqin playing was master-level, her singing was ethereal, and her oil paintings were in a league of their own.
As for knowledge—at a time when a woman who could read and write one or two languages was considered exceptional—Felix had never seen a language Wei Wei didn't understand. Her writing was refined enough to draft official documents and public announcements. She was also well-versed in arithmetic and other scholarly fields.
In Felix's eyes, everything about her was perfect. Even her flaws were charming.
So no amount of temptation could sway him. He'd rather spend the time writing another letter home than waste it entertaining meaningless flirtations.
As soon as he wrapped up his business, he packed his bags and rushed back to Sardinson County, without a hint of nostalgia for the capital.
The courtesans who had placed bets were furious—they'd lost a fortune, and not one of them had succeeded.
But Wei Wei's allure only grew stronger in their eyes. More and more people in the capital began to accept the truth:
She was the most beautiful woman in the kingdom.