A middle-aged man shot to his feet, his face flushed red and purple with rage.
"Young Lord! No matter that you're soon to become the head of House Zahav, such outrageous behavior cannot be tolerated!"
"Outrageous? I have no idea what you're talking about. What's the problem with handling my own property as I see fit?"
I smirked, finally hooking him, and replied while lifting the corner of my mouth. I threw in the most arrogant gestures I could muster for good measure.
The effect was immediate. The man who had been kneeling silently with his head bowed until moments ago couldn't hide his fury and started striding toward me.
"The devotion of House Kesef is acknowledged by all! Even the late Patriarch Cain never subjected a daughter of House Kesef to such insolence!"
"Well, I've only seen her face once, and a dead old man isn't reason enough for me to budge."
"Young Lord! I understand your circumstances, but I cannot overlook your recent remarks!"
"You can't overlook them, huh. Judging by your attire, you're a knight... Are you thinking of turning that blade on the future head of House Zahav?"
"...If necessary, I will."
The middle-aged man had closed the distance to the front of the retainers' line. He began glaring at me with eyes blazing like fire.
It wasn't just simple anger in his gaze. Disappointment, emptiness, resignation, and even a sense of betrayal over whatever I'd done.
Exaggerating a bit, he looked like he'd just lost his country.
Nice!
He's totally hooked.
At a glance, he was a knight loyal to House Zahav, with a frustratingly rigid, principled personality.
From my past experiences, people like this were hard to befriend privately but often commanded respect publicly.
I glanced around at the reactions, and as expected, worried looks toward the lone middle-aged man or glares at me.
The stage was set. Next up, he'd clumsily assert authority and get humiliated instead.
Once he showed he had nothing but half-baked bloodline to offer, eyes would naturally turn to Jevella, the legitimate heir.
The start was a bit off, but things were flowing according to plan overall, so a laugh escaped me.
"Heh. Good spirit. What's your name?"
"Calton Hereib. I currently serve as captain of the Silver Lion Knights."
"Silver Lion Knights? That rings a bell..."
As I tilted my head, a hand tapped my thigh.
Karen, still resting her head on my lap, was moving only her hand, so I carefully let her be.
As if waiting for that, she rose, straightened her clothes, and spoke in her usual flat tone.
"Among the schedule I mentioned this morning, you're one of the people I was to meet before lunch."
"Ah, so that's why you're familiar?"
"For reference, you're one of Young Master Enoch's strongest supporters. Or at least, you were."
"Funny thing to say, Karen. As I told you then, it doesn't matter who you support or how much. What matters is that I'm the Young Lord of House Zahav."
I shrugged and said as much, causing Calton to let out a deep sigh as he drew the sword from his waist.
Of course, he didn't unsheathe the blade; he lifted it still in the scabbard.
"Young Lord, you may not know this, but you're the only remaining candidate for Patriarch in House Zahav right now."
"Karen told me. All the other heirs are dead except me? If you're not putting my sister in charge, you have no choice but to serve me anyway."
"That's correct. If there's no one else we can serve because the Young Lord displeases us... then we must do something about the Young Lord, no?"
"Huh?"
A hazy aura began condensing over the scabbard pointed at me.
It flickered like flames. Sword aura—the tangible manifestation of a knight's symbol, aura.
To produce aura of that output with such stability marked him as an Expert, and a fairly mature one at that.
Well, as captain of the knights, it was only natural he'd be exceptional.
I'd faced aura users plenty in Calypso Territory, but not at this level often.
Perhaps because he'd raised the aura over the scabbard instead of the blade, Calton gripped what was closer to a club than a sharp weapon and spoke with resolute eyes.
"What the Young Lord needs right now is a good lesson in discipline."
"Discipline? Ha! Fine. Give it your best shot if you think you can."
I snorted derisively and stood up.
The key was to swing my arms and legs exaggeratedly, like I was bluffing no matter what.
"Your talent seems real enough, but it hasn't been honed yet. Don't worry. I've wrapped my aura to avoid injury. Just remember the discipline continues until you show remorse."
"Wow. He's really gonna beat his lord. Karen, Karen! Isn't this treason?"
"If Young Master Enoch had formally inherited the Grand Duke's position, maybe. But not now. Why didn't you hold back a little?"
"Jeez. This is so unfair, even the Young Lord position sucks. Once the succession's done, it's all executions!"
I added a warning about what would happen when I became Patriarch.
All that was left was to get beaten by Calton and show a pathetic sight.
How to look as lame as possible? After brief thought, the answer was simple.
First, act cocky, then get schooled, cry and cling to Calton's pant leg.
Recalling the might of Sword Experts I'd fought before, I kicked off the ground and swung a punch with moderate force.
Boom!
A massive boom echoed as Calton's sword shattered.
The remnants of sword and aura scattered in the air. Beyond them, Calton's shocked expression, but it was too late to retract my extended fist.
Piercing through the traces of what was once a sword, my fist ultimately struck Calton's jaw.
Crack!
Thud.
And just like that, Calton passed out.
"Uh."
Something had gone terribly wrong.
This wasn't how it was supposed to play out...
"Calton?"
Prod, prod.
I nudged the fallen Calton with my toe. No response.
"Sir Calton?"
Not believing it, I examined him closer.
Black hair common in the south. His stubbornly closed mouth hinted at a stubborn personality.
He looked late thirties, but aura suppressed aging, so he was probably much older.
And he was out cold.
No matter how I looked, completely unconscious. Perfectly, undeniably so.
I never imagined it'd turn out like this.
No, right? A knight captain, Sword Expert, knocked out by a casual punch.
The Sword Experts I'd brawled with back home took hits like this easily...
Ah, maybe? He let his guard down?
Well, I'd eaten all sorts to survive, so my mana reserves were substantial, but without proper aura cultivation, it was just sitting there unused.
I'd devised counters for aura and magic... but yeah, I couldn't refine my mana into aura.
To Calton, I must've looked aura-less.
I'd even said my talent existed but wasn't honed.
I knew how it happened. Now, what to do next.
I looked around. Predictably, only shock and admiration toward me.
I'd set this up to look like a pathetic wastrel, but instead, I'd proven my strength.
House Zahav was a classic martial family, from what Karen said and what I'd seen.
How to drag my reputation back down now?
...Yeah, no clue. I just wanted to get out of here.
I sighed deeply and waved lazily at the retainers.
"Mood's ruined. Someone take this guy and get him treated."
"Are you sure you're okay with this, Young Master?"
"Huh? What do you mean, Karen?"
"You went out of your way to create this situation and even asked me for help, so there must be a reason. Is it really fine to end it so simply?"
"No, I won, so that's that, right? Besides, what's the point in beating a downed man? Sir Calton couldn't tell superior from inferior, but he's no enemy."
If Calton were my enemy, I'd have finished him off properly without anyone asking.
But he'd never shown killing intent toward me. His aura was threatening but bladeless like a club until it broke.
And I'd provoked him; fundamentally, he was loyal to House Zahav.
I already felt bad for knocking him out in front of everyone contrary to plan. No reason to torment him more.
I shrugged once and stepped back from Calton. Karen's blank expression cracked into a faint smile.
"Well done. As you said, everything in this house is for you to lead, not enemies to crush."
"Uh? Y-yeah, something like that."
Karen's rare pleased smile and unfamiliar praise made my chest tingle oddly.
I cleared my throat to steady myself and hurried the still-dazed retainers.
"Ahem. What are you waiting for? Take Sir Calton already. Gonna let him sleep here? Or... does my word mean nothing?"
The atmosphere, softened slightly by Karen, turned hostile in an instant. A woman sprang from the retainers like she'd been waiting.
Her black hair tied in a ponytail. Tall for a woman, her trained silhouette firm and toned.
Formal attire with a sword at her side—likely a knight.
One oddity: her gaze.
Hostility, gratitude, resentment, admiration—all incompatible emotions churning, ready to overflow.
"Hold on. You there. Name and position?"
"...Hilda Hereib, vice-captain of the Silver Lion Knights, greets the Young Lord."
"Hereib? Relation to Sir Calton?"
"My father."
"Ah."
That explained the subtle hostility toward me.
Things had gone sideways, but ending here would make my reputation too good. Stacking some wastrel points now was fine.
I pulled a gold coin from my pocket—part of the allowance Karen gave me for "maintaining dignity."
Normally I'd hesitate to spend it, but with the gem I'd secretly pried from the bed this morning, this expense was okay. An investment, even.
Hilda had already hoisted Calton onto her shoulders. I slipped the gold into the pocket on her uniform's chest.
Squeeze.
"Eek!"
Obviously, the pocket's position meant my hand brushed her upper chest. On purpose, too.
...Bigger than expected; I was a bit flustered but kept a lecherous grin without showing it.
"For medical fees. Make sure he gets proper treatment."
"Th-thank you."
"If it's not enough... visit my bedroom later."
"..."
Grind.
The clear sound of teeth gnashing.
Good. That should offset today's blunder(?) a bit.
I sighed inwardly in relief, turned without lingering, and left the audience chamber.
...
She won't really come, right?