Pelo Hermon sat at the table, subconsciously fiddling with a beautifully crafted piece of parchment—the program for the Longsong Theater, delivered every weekend afternoon. Normally, he would have already selected a play that interested him, instructed the butler to pay the deposit, and sent the invitation to Sheryl.

But he couldn't focus on a single word.

Today was the seventh day since the expedition began. If all went smoothly, his father should have returned with the Duke yesterday. Perhaps they were delayed on the road, or perhaps they were simply tired and rested for an extra day in Border Town? He tried to reassure himself, but the unease in his heart slowly grew.

The Fourth Prince, Roland Wimbledon, had left too deep an impression on him. Pelo even found it incredible that such an outstanding prince could have such a terrible reputation in the royal capital. Cruel, spoiled, incompetent, unlearned... none of the labels matched the prince he had met.

That was why his unease was so strong.

He feared the Duke would lose to him.

"Young Master Pelo," the butler called from outside the door, "a letter has arrived from the fortress."

From the fortress? Pelo was taken aback. "Bring it in quickly."

Unsealing the letter, the first sentence made Pelo stare in disbelief.

It was a letter from the Fourth Prince!

Duke Osmond Lyann attacked this King's territory with force, attempting to rebel, but failed. The Duke himself has been executed on the battlefield. The Longsong Fortress is now in this King's hands.

The Duke had lost? His heart sank, and he continued reading.

Besides a few die-hard elements, most of Duke Lyann's accomplices have surrendered and confessed their crimes. Rebels against the royal family should be executed, but this King is merciful, only executing the ringleaders and those guilty of unforgivable crimes. The remaining participants can be redeemed with money, according to the custom of past battles. The exchange location is the Longsong Fortress lord's castle; the list follows.

The wording of this official document was extremely awkward, not the common language of diplomacy, but its meaning was perfectly clear: the Duke's rebellion had failed; if you want prisoners, bring money.

Pelo's gaze shifted slightly, and his father's name appeared prominently at the top of the list.

"Hedis!" he shouted the butler's name. "Prepare the carriage! I'm going to the fortress castle!"

...

The Goldensilverflower Earldom was east of the fortress. By the time Pelo arrived at the castle district, half an hour had passed. The lord's castle was surrounded by "militia" he had never seen before. They wore no shining armor, no cloaks or ribbons, and held strange short sticks with sharp spikes at the ends. But their neat, upright stance exuded a palpable sense of pressure.

After announcing his identity, Pelo was led into the courtyard, then escorted by a guard to the castle hall.

He had been here many times, but today, he felt like he was entering completely foreign territory. The guards stationed in the corridors were all unfamiliar faces, and no one nodded or smiled at him; they simply stared at him blankly. At the entrance to the hall, a knight greeted him.

"Your name?"

"Pelo Hermon," Pelo replied with slight displeasure. He didn't like such interrogative conversations, so he emphasized, "Sir Hermon."

"Oh," the other party seemed indifferent, glancing at the list in his hand. "Earl Sharafi Hermon is your..."

"Father."

"My respects," the knight said, but his expression showed no apology. "I am Carter Lannis, the Fourth Prince's chief knight. Please come to the side room first; we need to check if you are carrying any weapons."

After a thorough search, Pelo's God's Stone was also taken away by the guards.

"That's not a weapon," Pelo reminded him.

"Of course not," the knight nodded. "We'll return it to you after the meeting, don't worry."

He opened his mouth, but finally held back. Return it? That God's Stone was a top-quality item, worth at least fifty gold dragons. It was almost impossible that they wouldn't replace it with a lower-quality one. Oh well, he thought, consider it part of the ransom.

Walking into the hall, the Fourth Prince was sitting in the main seat, writing something. He looked up, saw Pelo, paused, and then smiled. "We meet again, Ambassador."

Still the familiar face and tone, Pelo relaxed slightly and bowed. "Greetings, Your Highness."

"Sit," Roland waved his hand, gesturing for him to take a seat. "You must already know what has happened. Your father has not been harmed; he was among the first to surrender."

"Thank you for Your Highness's mercy," Pelo said quickly. "I don't know how much ransom Your Highness wants. As long as Goldensilverflower can afford it, I will have the money sent immediately."

"I don't need money," Roland shook his finger. "I want livestock and people."

Wanting livestock was normal. Even fifty years ago, conflicts between lords often ended with the loser compensating with cattle and sheep. Pelo had seen this more than once in historical records. But... what did he mean by wanting people? "Your Highness, cattle, sheep, horses, Goldensilverflower Earldom has plenty of those. But as for the people you mentioned..."

"Simple, I want masons, stonecutters, carpenters, farmers, serfs," the Prince handed over a scroll. "You can convert them according to the values on the list, as long as the total is three thousand." He smiled. "By the way, since the Earl is the highest-ranking prisoner, the value is also the highest."

Pelo spread the scroll on the table.

It was filled with occupational categories and livestock types, followed by a number, such as: Cattle 3, Sheep 2, Stonecutter 10. He immediately understood what the other party meant.

A value of three thousand meant a thousand cattle, or three hundred stonecutters, to redeem his father. Of course, his territory did not have that many cattle or stonecutters. And just arranging and combining the items on the list would create many choices. As a noble who dealt with trade every day, Pelo instantly realized there was much room for maneuver here. If he had a few days, he could calculate the optimal solution, satisfying the requirement of three thousand points with the least amount of spending.

"Your Highness, may I..."

"One day, I can only give you one day," Roland held up a finger. "That only refers to the time you have to make a choice. After all, gathering so many materials and people will take three or four days. And I won't be staying here all the time. At most a week, I will leave this place."

"But one day is really..." Pelo suddenly paused, staring at the Prince. "Wait, what did you say... you're leaving?" What did this mean? If the letter was correct, the Duke was dead on the battlefield, and the Longsong Fortress was in His Highness's hands. He was actually saying he was going to leave? Could this place be worse than that small, broken Border Town? No, that wasn't the point! The point was, if His Highness left, who would manage this magnificent city? His heart was a maelstrom of shock. Would the Duke's children inherit it? It was obvious that was impossible; were they waiting to regroup their armies to avenge their father? The other five great families besides the Lyann family, or other noble families?

"That's right," Roland nodded. "I will take the ransom and return to Border Town."

A thought suddenly surged in his heart, and once it appeared, it could no longer be suppressed.

"Your Highness," Pelo swallowed and asked in a low voice, "Is there... a value for redeeming the Longsong Fortress?"