Zubalter stared out the window with a stern and serious expression, clearly avoiding eye contact with his son. It was obvious he had no intention of meeting his gaze.

After a small cough, Zubalter opened his mouth again.

"The weather is nice today."

"Yes."

"The weather is really nice."

"Yes, it is."

Ghislain, now tired of the awkward atmosphere, answered in a bored tone.

An uneasy silence started to settle in the room.

Zubalter, who had been staring out the window without blinking, suddenly began to mutter to himself.

"One side of the northern fortress has been in disrepair for quite some time. They say it'll take about 5,000 gold to fix it... No, forget it. I’m just talking nonsense..."

"…"

When Ghislain remained silent, Zubalter closed his eyes and sighed deeply.

"Haah... Where could I possibly get 5,000 gold in times like these? We’ll soon have to head out to fight the barbarians. Tsk tsk, it's all due to my lack of virtue. My lack of virtue... I never imagined the estate would be this poor."

Ghislain looked at his father with a dumbfounded expression.

He wasn't blatantly asking for money like Albert or Randolph, but anyone could tell this was his way of hinting at it.

Suddenly, a memory of something his mother once said came to Ghislain's mind.

— Your father worries a lot, so he’s always brooding over things by himself. Especially when it comes to money, he can’t bring himself to say it directly. He calls it a man's pride or something like that. He circles around the issue until I pretend not to notice. If I keep ignoring him, he’ll sulk and grumble to himself. Isn’t that funny?

"Wow, I can’t believe it’s actually true," Ghislain thought, unable to speak out of sheer disbelief.

Meanwhile, Zubalter was silently grumbling to himself as he bit his lip.

"Seriously? After all that, can’t he just offer some money on his own? He’s exactly like his mother in that regard. How did he only inherit those traits?"

Still, the Countess had an odd knack for finding money and discreetly giving it to help out.

Remembering those old days, Zubalter continued to mumble to himself.

"Ah… If only someone could donate to the estate, like a development fund or something..."

Ghislain began to ponder his next move.

It seemed Zubalter wouldn’t stop sighing and lamenting until he got what he wanted.

"Well, I guess I can help a bit with the northern fortress. I was planning on expanding it eventually anyway," Ghislain thought. Although he planned to eventually conquer the north himself, for the time being, his father would have to manage it.

He’d already been thinking of offering some support, so covering the repair costs wasn’t a big deal.

"When I sell the runestone, I’ll send you 5,000 gold for the repairs."

Zubalter flinched slightly at Ghislain’s straightforward offer but soon shook his head.

"No, you said you had your own plans. There’s no need to delay your ambitions for something like ‘the estate’s important matters.’"

"It’s fine. I just want to support you for now."

"I said it’s fine. The northern fortress has held up well so far..."

"It doesn’t seem fine to me."

"Ahem, I said it’s fine."

"I’ll just give it to you. No need to argue."

"...Will you?"

Zubalter nodded, still staring out the window.

Though he didn’t show it, he was hiding his delight, pretending to be indifferent to maintain his pride.

"Well, if you insist, I won’t stop you. Thanks to you, the northern fortress will finally get the repairs it needs. Thank you, my son. Ha ha ha."

"Well then, I’m busy, so I’ll take my leave."

"Oh, yes, of course. I can’t keep a busy man like you any longer. Go ahead. I won’t keep you any further."

Zubalter felt incredibly pleased with himself, swelling with pride over how well he’d raised his son.

"Next time, I should just ask directly. Turns out he’s more generous than I thought. Ah, he really does take after his mother."

As Ghislain left the office, he let out a deep sigh.

"Hah, this is even more exhausting."

Dealing with people was far more tiring than fighting in the Monster Forest.

It felt like his mana was being drained just by standing there.

"I better get to the next task quickly."

If he stayed around the estate, he’d be endlessly pestered. It was better to stay busy and keep moving.

Meanwhile, Homern, the estate’s chief steward, had been planning something entirely different from the other retainers.

"Ha! Do they think I don’t know the Archduke by now? He’s not someone who’ll hand out money just because you ask for it."

Ghislain had said he would use the money for the estate, but no one really knew how he intended to spend it.

As someone who had been through thick and thin managing the estate’s finances, Homern wasn’t about to trust mere words.

He planned to get hold of that money himself, one way or another.

"Come on, how much can the Archduke really spend? Sure, training an army costs a lot, but even with the money from the runestone, there’ll be plenty left over."

Besides, Ghislain hadn’t even started recruiting soldiers yet. Most of the expenses would have been for hiring mercenaries and laborers to help with the construction.

If he wasted money on frivolous pleasures, the estate would suffer a massive loss.

But Ghislain wasn’t the only one Homern didn’t trust.

"Before Albert and Randolph get their hands on the money, I need to secure as much as I can."

Those two would undoubtedly try to spend the money on what they thought was important.

Not that they were wrong, of course. Their concerns were valid.

But unlike them, who only thought of their own responsibilities, Homern had to oversee the entire estate.

There were countless priorities: stocking food, repairing walls, recruiting soldiers, paying overdue wages, planning relief for the commoners, repaying debts to merchants, securing warhorses and equipment, and maintaining fortresses.

The estate needed money in every corner, and it needed it badly.

There was no way to handle everything at once, so he had to address the most urgent issues first.

That’s why he believed he was the best person to manage the funds for the estate.

"Hah, if you can’t topple the target, you start by undermining those around them. It’s basic strategy."

Instead of going directly to Ghislain, Homern decided to approach Belinda.

She had been taking care of Ghislain since he was a child and had served as his tutor. Even though the Archduke was known to be stubborn, he couldn’t outright refuse her.

Homern thought to himself, satisfied with his plan.

"This is the essence of politics."

He went to visit Belinda.

"Oh, Homern. What brings you here?"

Belinda looked surprised at the unexpected visit.

Homern had practically ignored her since Ghislain’s rebellious phase.

He hadn’t expected to come to her, either.

"Ahem, I heard you were unwell, so I came to check on you."

"Oh, I’m feeling much better now, thank you."

"Good to hear. You should take care of yourself. You are, after all, responsible for looking after the Archduke."

Despite being treated like an outcast, Belinda didn’t resent Homern.

She understood his reasoning.

When Ghislain had been at his worst, no one in the estate liked him.

Since Belinda had been his tutor, many believed it was her fault he turned out the way he did.

After exchanging some pleasantries, Homern smoothly handed Belinda a small item.

"Hmm, it’s nothing much, but please accept this."

"What is... Oh!"

Belinda looked at the item in her hand, a rose-shaped brooch made of gold and encrusted with gems.

She recognized the logo engraved on it and gasped in surprise.

"Is this... 'Charnel'?"

"Oh, you’ve got a good eye. Yes, it’s from Charnel. Ha ha ha."

Belinda inspected the brooch with a skeptical look.

Charnel was one of the most famous craftsmen across the continent. A piece like this was something rare and expensive, especially in poor Ferdiem.

"Is it real?"

"Of course it’s real. Do you think I’d walk around with a fake? I’ve got a reputation to uphold."

"Why would you give this to me?"

Homern chuckled meaningfully.

"I have a little favor to ask..."

Belinda hesitated at the mention of a favor but nodded.

"The Archduke has recently come into quite a bit of money, hasn’t he? He says it’s for the estate, but I was thinking it might be more efficient if I managed those funds myself."

He quickly waved his hands as if to downplay the request.

"Not that I don’t trust the Archduke, but it would be better if the money were used efficiently. Since I’m already handling most of the estate’s affairs, it just makes sense. What do you think?"

Though he tried to make it sound casual, it was clearly a request for money.

Belinda thought for a long moment before finally shaking her head.

With a sorrowful expression, she returned the brooch to him.

"I’m sorry, but I can’t make that request of him. The young master’s money is his to spend as he sees fit."

"Are you sure? It’s for the good of the estate. You’d only need to say a few words."

"I’m sorry, but I can’t."

Homern continued to try and persuade her, but Belinda only repeated that she couldn’t do it.

Frustrated, he thought of asking Elena instead and reached for the brooch to take it back.

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t pull it from her grasp.

"What the… why isn’t it coming off?"

Belinda looked at him with an apologetic expression.

"I really think you should take it back…"

She held it out for him, but the brooch remained firmly stuck in her hand.

"Is she serious? What’s wrong with her?" Homern thought.

He soon realized the faint blue glow around the brooch—it was wrapped in Belinda’s mana.

"Great, just great. I wanted to give this to Lady Elena, but look at her, clenching her fists and sweating just to hold onto it."

For a moment, he considered raising his voice, but he quickly reconsidered.

There were other patients and servants nearby, and it wouldn’t look good for him to be wrestling a brooch away from a sick woman.

"Now I understand why the Archduke turned out like that!"

With a teacher like her, how could the student turn out any different?

Giving up for now, Homern turned to leave, thinking he would try again later.

Belinda called after him, sounding puzzled.

"Are you not taking it with you, Steward?"

Who was the one refusing to let go? Homern glared at her.

"You and the Archduke are exactly alike!"

Fuming, he stomped away, muttering to himself.

Once he was gone, Belinda smiled contentedly, examining the brooch before slipping it into her blanket.

Outside, Homern fumed as he walked, racking his brain for another plan.

"I can’t go to Lady Elena empty-handed."

The brooch had been his last valuable item, and now Belinda had snatched it away.

He couldn’t bring himself to ask for help with nothing to offer.

After a long pause, a smile slowly crept across his face as a new idea formed.

"Of course! Sir Fergus!"

Fergus, like Belinda, had been loyal to Ghislain since he was young.

And being older than Belinda, Fergus might have more sway over Ghislain.

Determined, Homern decided to approach Fergus instead, and he managed to procure a rare mandrake root to use as a gift.

Even though it was shriveled and not in the best condition, it was still a valuable medicinal herb.

With the root in hand, Homern made his way to Fergus’s quarters.

"Sir Fergus, are you here?"

When he entered the room, he found Fergus sitting on his bed, reading a book.

"Oh, Steward! What brings you here?"

Fergus looked surprised but greeted him warmly.

"It’s nothing, really. I just brought something to help with your health..."

As Homern began to pull out the mandrake root, his eyes caught something.

Piles of mandrake roots and other medicinal herbs were stacked beside Fergus’s bed.

Homern blinked in disbelief, his hand trembling as he pointed at the items.

"What… what is all this? How do you have so many rare herbs?"

Fergus beamed with pride.

"Ha ha, the young master gave them to me before he left for the Monster Forest. Would you like some too, Steward?"

As soon as Ghislain had come into money, the first thing he had done was stock Fergus with enough medicinal supplies to last for ages.

Homern looked at the meager mandrake root in his hand, then at the mountains of herbs beside Fergus, and let out a sigh.

"No… it’s fine."

He awkwardly stuffed the root back into his pocket and left, looking more defeated than ever.