The mana typewriter worked overtime as the Calculor's fingers flew across the keys.
As he pulled the paper fresh from the machine, he dusted off the excess mana residue.
His eyes scanned through the entire page within seconds before handing it over to David.
"This is as good as you're going to get," the Calculor predicted as Liam's advisor sat down, carefully reading the document.
'He really is a former Imperial Calculor…' David thought, skimming through the contract's intricate details.
In mere minutes, Cheng had drafted a contract so meticulously structured, so airtight, that it left no room for argument.
As he reached the crucial section, he read aloud,
"Liam Maddach's opponent shall not be responsible for any and all injuries that may occur to the Young Lord, including death. The result of the battle will be determined by an official referee of Imperial Combat. If any circumstances change, the final decision will be at the discretion of the House."
David sighed.
Everything stated in the contract was within the House's rights.
And the conditions were set against Liam.
Yet, it followed Imperial Law, which meant there was no legal ground to challenge it.
Cheng was right.
This was the best they were going to get.
And it still wasn't good.
The only thing giving David hope was that House Maddach had a reputation for not resorting to underhanded tactics, at least, not for something this trivial.
But the risk was still there.
David whispered the conditions to Liam as he handed him the contract.
"It'll be fine," Liam nodded.
He wasn't trying to convince David.
He was convincing himself.
Without hesitation, he took his blood-red fountain pen and signed his name, using his pre-world signature, a simple, cursive 'Liam.'
Cheng took the paper, glancing at the last empty signature slot.
"I like what you did to your room," he remarked.
Overnight, Liam had transformed his chambers, from a space of indulgence to a space of practicality.
His once lavish main room had been converted into an office.
His bedroom had been moved to one of the smaller rooms.
'But you won't be able to enjoy it for long.'
David locked the door behind them.
"My Lord, you do realize we're betting on the House not playing dirty with you, right?"
"It's a safe bet," Liam replied, already writing out a list.
David sighed. "With all due respect, my Lord, you have never fought in your life. How certain are you that you can defeat Jorvik?"
Liam had read a few books.
Mostly about Jorvik's life.
He had skipped through the unnecessary details and focused on what mattered:
Jorvik's martial skill.
It was a basic martial art, one mandated by House Maddach for all to learn.
When mastered, it was effective.
Especially under the rules of Imperial Combat.
But Liam smiled.
"I'll be fine."
It was a good martial art.
But it was no MMA.
"…But I will need some training. And some equipment to prepare."
He handed David the list.
"A sparring partner. A few heavy punching bags…" He continued listing items.
David hesitated before voicing a concern.
"My Lord, again, with all due respect…" He took a moment before continuing, "Should we consider lowering your weight for this match?"
Chuckling, Liam stood up.
"You don't have to worry. I know I have excess weight. But for now, I need to focus on training. I only have seven days to prepare for the match. I shouldn't be worrying about aesthetics."
Fortunately, to appear fair, the House had extended his preparation time by two extra days.
Of course, this was just for show.
They didn't believe it would change the outcome.
***
These past two days had been strange for Sera.
She had hated Liam.
She had wished she had killed him.
She had convinced herself that, if she had, the world would be rid of one evil person.
She knew that Liam despised talking about his weight.
But now?
He brushed off David's comment like it didn't even matter.
A shiver ran down her spine.
She could still remember the chair flying toward her face.
She could still hear his voice screaming at her.
"Why did you let me grow this way?!"
'Is that all it took? Just the threat of exile?'
But that didn't explain everything.
The competence.
Liam had been, without question, the dumbest member in all of House Maddach's history.
And considering House Maddach had family members who were genuinely mentally deficient…
That was saying something.
'Ever since that day… his face changed. As if… he's a different person.'
***
"Still, my Lord, I really think we should consider an alternative plan," David insisted as Liam changed into more comfortable clothing.
As Liam pulled a t-shirt over his overalls, he exhaled.
"Fighting is the only thing I know."
He turned to David.
"I don't have another plan. But if you do, I'm all ears."
David hesitated.
'Fighting… is all he knows?'
That wasn't right.
From everything he knew about his fief, from the reaction of his family…
The only thing Liam Maddach had ever known was food.
Liam flinched, realizing his Freudian slip.
It was true.
Liam Voss knew everything about Mixed Martial Arts.
But Liam Maddach?
…Didn't.
"Never mind what I said," Liam muttered, brushing past it.
"I need everything on the list as soon as possible."
Then, he left the room.
Jogging.
***
"Baron, he has signed the contract."
Cheng raised the paper.
Gorath, standing by the window, didn't turn.
"I know."
He was watching.
Watching as Liam struggled to jog around the training field—his fat bouncing with every step.
Cheng set the paper down.
"Baron, this is not a matter of importance. When this is over, no one will even remember this moment. Everyone's focus will be on how House Maddach responds to the Emperor's news."
The Baron nodded.
"I know."
But his voice was distant.
"…It's strange, isn't it?"
Cheng's brow furrowed. "What is?"
"When someone is faced with the reality of losing everything—"
Gorath inhaled deeply.
"…It is not a stretch to say that they will do anything to keep what they have."
Another pause.
Then, quietly—
"Maybe if we had done this earlier…"
Gorath's fingers pressed against the windowsill.
"…He might have turned out to be a better person."