"Three hundred gold coins—that's the absolute limit of what I can afford. Hudson, you should know this isn't a small sum. It's almost half a year's income for the territory."

  The baroness tried to negotiate, but Hudson simply smiled, unwilling to engage in pointless bargaining.

  Had it been the original host, he might have been fooled. Half a year’s income for the territory sounded like a significant amount, but Hudson knew better. The figure was heavily infted.

  If the barony’s income were truly that low, the entire Coslow family would be struggling to afford even the basics. In these feudal times, free citizens were rare; most of the popution were serfs bound to their lords.

  With over ten thousand people in the barony, even basic arithmetic told Hudson that his family's income couldn’t possibly be as low as the baroness cimed.

  Underreporting income was an unspoken rule among the nobility. While the king only levied taxes on trade, the church demanded its tithe—ten percent of all income.

  As devout believers, they couldn’t refuse the tithe. Thus, finding ways to manipute their reported income was the best option.

  If the baron’s recorded income was truly so meager, the tithe alone would have left them destitute. Yet the Coslow family was doing just fine. Clearly, they were among the more "faithful" followers of the Lord of the Dawn—at least on paper.

  "Three hundred gold coins, plus a fine warhorse and a set of armor. Hudson, you’ve become a knight now. You need your own equipment."

  The baroness sweetened the deal, but Hudson rolled his eyes. She was trying to fool him like a child.

  True, a knight needed proper gear. But he was certain his frugal father would provide it. As a traditional noble, Baron Redman cared deeply about appearances. He would never allow his son to be a ughingstock for cking a proper set of arms.

  With Lesuer rendered useless, the financial burden on the family had decreased. There was no longer a need to spread resources too thin. Hudson knew this, but the baroness clearly did not. She was still clinging to the hope of saving Lesuer.

  But in reality, he had already been abandoned.

  Family resources? Forget it. Even if Baron Redman wished to support Lesuer out of paternal love, the other members of the Coslow family would never agree.

  "Four hundred gold coins!" the baroness finally conceded. "Hudson, that’s all the cash I can access. Any more, and your father will notice."

  Though she nominally managed household finances, the true authority y with Baron Redman. What she could access was merely her private savings, and cash was always scarce.

  "The remaining hundred gold coins can be paid in kind. Magic cores, crystals—anything valuable will do. I trust you wouldn’t renege on such a small sum."

  Hudson spoke magnanimously, as if he were offering a grand concession.

  His calm, infuriating expression reignited the baroness’s suppressed anger. Before she could explode, he added:

  "Please fetch the money, and summon the baron. In the meantime, I’ll go check on poor Lesuer. He’s been tied up for three days now—injured, no less. If we dey any longer, who knows what might happen?"

  With that, he turned and left, not giving the baroness a chance to argue. He walked away as if he had already won.

  Stomping her foot in frustration, the baroness forced herself to calm down. As the daughter of a merchant who had married into the nobility, her political acumen might have been cking, but her skills in household intrigue were sharp.

  Picking a fight now, no matter the reason, would only backfire. After all, it was her son who had caused this mess.

  If outsiders believed she had orchestrated the life essence swap, it would be disastrous. On the Asnt continent, divorce was rare—but widows were plentiful.

  Unlike noble alliances, the baroness had no powerful family backing her. One misstep could be fatal.

  Strolling through the ancient castle, Hudson finally approached the courtyard where Lesuer was "tied up."

  The word "hanging" was an exaggeration. The guards weren’t fools. They knew Lesuer was still the baron’s son, and if anything happened to him, they’d be the ones to suffer.

  So instead of hanging, he was "sitting." A maid stood nearby, swatting away mosquitoes, with a pte of fruit within his reach.

  Aside from the ropes binding him to the pilr and his disheveled appearance, it hardly looked like punishment.

  Seeing Hudson approach, the two guards grew uneasy. They had favored one young master, inadvertently offending another—a dangerous mistake.

  Hudson was no fool, and he had two older brothers backing him. The Coslow sons had long been split into factions. One side had the right of inheritance; the other had the support of the baroness.

  If not for Baron Redman’s firm rule, the conflict would have erupted long ago.

  Taking sides? That was out of the question. No one was foolish enough to risk that.

  For now, they had to appease the dy. But in the future? Aligning with Hudson’s faction might be the smarter choice.

  "Young Master Hudson, you’re here!" one of them greeted.

  Hudson nodded. He had no intention of making things difficult for them. Survival was hard enough for commoners in a rigid hierarchy like this. Pying both sides was only natural.

  "What’s going on? Lesuer, my poor brother, why are you tied up here?"

  Feigning shock, he turned to the guards. "Why are you just standing there? Untie him! I’ll take responsibility with Father. I can’t bear to see my brother suffer!"

  To an outsider, it would seem like a touching dispy of brotherly love. But the truth was, he and Lesuer had despised each other since childhood.

  "Enough, Hudson! I don’t need your fake sympathy. If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have been punished by Father! Get out of here! I don’t want to see you!"

  Lesuer nearly screamed.

  Hudson only deepened his affectionate performance. "Oh, Lesuer, you’re so disoriented you don’t even recognize your dear brother."

  Without waiting, he drew his knight’s sword and cut the ropes, proving he was serious.

  At that moment, a stern middle-aged man approached—none other than Baron Redman.

  He had witnessed everything.

  With a gre, he kicked Lesuer, sending him flying several meters. "Hudson, stay. The rest of you, take that beast away."

  When no one moved, the baroness quickly added, "What are you waiting for? Take Young Master Lesuer to treat his injuries!"

  No matter how well she hid it, Hudson sensed her heartache. That kick had been no joke. If not for Lesuer’s strong constitution, an ordinary person would have been crippled.

  Baron Redman was deeply disappointed.

  Mistakes weren’t the problem. The real sin was failing to recognize them. In the world of nobility, stupidity was the greatest crime.

  Once everyone had left, Baron Redman studied Hudson with a hint of approval. "You’ve improved quickly, though your performance just now was a bit over the top."

  Hudson simply smiled.

  He had learned something today—sometimes, pying the fool was the smartest move of all.