Carried on Hilda's back to the infirmary, Calton regained consciousness before long.
His only injury was losing consciousness from a poorly placed hit to the jaw; nothing else was wrong.
But even with his eyes open, Calton still felt like he was dreaming.
"What in the world..."
The scene he'd witnessed before blacking out was just too hard to believe.
The nimble movements that slipped precisely through the small opening exposed in his excitement. And then, the moment Enoch threw his punch, the complex pattern that floated above his heart—what was that?
For that brief instant, the pattern spread from his chest along the extending fist. Those intricate lines, resembling a tattoo, emitted a faint glow.
The moment the pattern-covered fist met the aura, the aura began to forcibly disperse. The softened aura couldn't withstand the immense power packed into the fist.
After that, it shattered his sword and the punch that followed knocked him out cold.
"I didn't expect all my limbs to still be intact."
He had stepped forward thinking the current Enoch was weaker than him.
But defeat changed the story. If there was one thing Calton had learned from observing the ongoing succession battle with no clear winner, it was that House Zahav never let a challenger go quietly.
Yet here he was, perfectly alive. No, according to Hilda, he'd even received treatment paid for with a mere 1 gold.
Receiving just 1 gold in treatment after a sparring match intense enough to cause unconsciousness held special meaning for House Hereib.
It dated back to Calton's father—the founder of House Hereib, the first to pledge loyalty to House Zahav—and the Zahav Duke of that time.
The founder would receive 1 gold for every spar, and his eyes lit up at the chance to make money, visiting House Zahav daily.
The Zahav Duke, seeing his relentless spirit, promptly knighted him as an adventurer of great tenacity.
Afterward, he worked tirelessly to live up to the unexpected title, becoming an outstanding knight.
With the family's short history, it wasn't ancient lore and was fairly easy to uncover. It was a famous anecdote, after all.
The intent behind recreating that old tale was something even Calton, a hardcore martial artist, could easily guess.
"It means he wants me to become House Zahav's sword once more. Not out of obligation, but sincerely."
Looking back now, Enoch seemed on pretty good terms with Karen. Close enough to overlook most rudeness, perhaps.
With strength beyond expectations and the Kesef family's favor already secured, House Zahav's survival shouldn't be an issue.
One lingering question remained: why stage such an elaborate show?
"Hilda. What do you think?"
"...I don't know. Dad said he's different from the other Zahavs, but he looks the same to me."
"Hm. Proving himself is the safest bet. As you know, Hilda, the family has been a bit chaotic since the last succession war."
"Even if that's the reason, did he have to provoke and knock down Dad? No one is more loyal to House Zahav than him."
"It's the opposite. That's exactly why the Young Lord included me in his plans. Once I understand everything like this, I can brush off all the resentment."
"I can't!"
Hilda shouted, lightly touching her chest where Enoch's finger had pressed.
She acknowledged Enoch after this incident. He could prevent the worst-case scenario Calton always worried about—House Zahav's downfall.
But unlike Calton, Hilda was utterly fed up with the Zahav family.
Hadn't she received far better offers from other houses multiple times? She wanted to bolt right then and there, but held back for Calton's sake. And yet...
'Summoning me to his bedroom separately...!'
Even with a woman's body, she was still a knight. Being treated this way was infuriating.
'...Well. Still much better than the others.'
Her anger softened a bit as she recalled the sordid histories of the other succession candidates—far more vulgar and brutal.
Zahav's eldest son, who led the knights into the dungeon for periodic subjugations and went missing... effectively dead.
His martial prowess was exceptional, but so was his foul temper. He often clashed with the rigid Calton.
If it had been the eldest who defeated Calton this time... he surely would have taken his head. Even if he showed mercy, he'd have ripped off a limb or two.
House Zahav's sadism toward the weak had crossed the line long ago.
That was Hilda's biggest disappointment with the family and why she distrusted Enoch, whom she'd just met.
'He ended the fight cleanly, prepared the 1 gold like Dad said. Raised elsewhere, he seems a bit different...'
Just as a flicker of long-abandoned hope began to rise...
What flashed in Hilda's mind was Enoch treating the Kesef girl like a pet and shoving his hand into her bosom to hand over the gold.
"Tch!"
House Zahav was infamous not just for brutality, but for their poor habits with women. She'd vaguely heard they were called something like "Golden Sun" as a derogatory nickname in the capital.
'The Young Lord is a Zahav too. If he's relatively mild-mannered... he'll be that much more of a womanizer.'
Baseless slander. But Hilda had lived as a Zahav knight for nearly a decade.
A Zahav who wasn't brutal or vulgar? She couldn't imagine it.
'He'll show his true colors eventually. Dad might be blind, but he can't fool my eyes.'
Hilda clenched her fist.
'Only I can save House Hereib...!'
Though they'd never really been in danger.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
On the way back to his room with Karen, Enoch suddenly flinched as Hilda's parting glare resurfaced in his mind.
She wouldn't actually come looking for him... right?
Her eyes looking this way weren't normal... whatever. It didn't matter.
A bit impulsive and spontaneous, but today's rascal act had been perfect. He'd dropped his reputation not in front of Karen, but before numerous retainers.
Thinking about it now, it was great that it was none other than Calton who took the bait.
House Zahav was a family that made sealing off the southern dungeons and the monsters spilling from them their creed.
That capability made them rulers of the south, and knights held high status as a result.
Yet he'd taken down one of their leaders, the knight commander, and thoroughly crushed his dignity.
In a family valuing martial might, earning backlash from the military order of knights brought him one step closer to his goal of expulsion.
With satisfaction, he called out to Karen walking ahead.
"Karen. That wraps up today's meetings, right?"
"No. You still have dinner with Lady Jevella."
"Ah."
He'd forgotten.
As he awkwardly scratched his head, Karen paused and turned to him.
"What will you do? I haven't informed the Young Lord whether you've accepted or declined the invitation. There wasn't time."
"Your words have some bite, Karen."
"I wouldn't dream of it. I'm House Zahav's steward. Even if a whim ruins a hard-scheduled plan, I wouldn't hold resentment toward my charge."
"Yeah, yeah. You worked hard preparing, and I messed it up, so you're sulking."
He lightly tapped her crown, and her cheeks puffed slightly before deflating back to her usual blank expression.
She thinks I didn't notice... but I saw it all. No expression change, but her thoughts were obvious.
"Hmm. What to do. I'd love to call it a day, tell him to eat alone, and rest..."
"..."
Karen looked at him with eyes full of unspoken words. He shrugged.
"But it might be good to meet properly once and talk. Aside from crossing paths a few times at the previous Patriarch's funeral—my father's—we haven't really met."
"Well thought. Lady Jevella is a good person. As acting Patriarch, she handles all sorts of matters big and small, so she'll surely help you adapt to House Zahav faster."
"Is that so."
He planned to get kicked out within a month anyway, so adaptation didn't matter...
No. If she's that important with heavy responsibilities, it could be an opportunity.
He'd already earned enmity from the knights, symbols of military power.
But such a vast house couldn't run on might alone. Administrative tasks must underpin it all.
Jevella's "various affairs" surely fell into that category.
As a woman unable to inherit the bloodline ability, her respected position and heavy duties must involve non-combat work.
In other words, he needed to stack "rascal dislike" with Jevella too.
Not like with knight commander Calton, where he could pick a direct fight.
More precisely, it just wouldn't be as effective.
Non-combatants wouldn't resent losing a fight.
As he pondered how to specifically wreck things and leave a bad impression on Jevella...
Karen nodded, her tone more relaxed than usual, as if relieved.
"Well thought. Lady Jevella is someone who will one day lead the family alongside you, Young Master Enoch. It won't hurt to learn about each other sooner."
"That phrasing is ripe for misunderstanding... ah."
Right. It wasn't a misunderstanding.
Jevella was his half-sister (not really) and, in the incestuous noble House Zahav, his arranged fiancée.
...Messy.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
House Zahav's office.
A woman peered at a document in a room so meticulously organized it bordered on obsessive.
"My. Knight Calton in one go? Without even drawing his aura, using some strange power?"
Rare pure white hair in the south, porcelain skin. Her cheeks and lips were rose-tinted.
"An interesting child. My new little brother."
Perhaps because she hadn't inherited Zahav's bloodline ability—no signature golden hair, brown skin, or rugged aura—she was simply endearing.
Jevella Zahav curled her lips at the fresh report.
"Then I suppose I should prepare something a bit more special."
Her violet eyes gleamed through narrowed lids.
Unlike her mouth, Jevella's eyes weren't smiling.