"Don’t worry, the life essence is only being lent out temporarily. It will be returned in a few years."

  The baroness spoke with forced composure, but the faint unease in her expression betrayed her true feelings. Life essence was indeed obtainable, but the timing was uncertain. Even when it became avaible, it typically circuted within noble networks, exchanged for favors rather than simple trade.

  Seeing his mother’s hesitation, Lesuer’s frustration deepened.

  "A few years? How many 'few years' do I even have?" His voice was ced with bitterness.

  By the time the essence was returned, his younger brothers would be of age to use it. And him? He’d likely be overlooked once more. His hatred for Hudson surged anew. In his eyes, everything was Hudson’s fault. If not for that bastard, he wouldn’t have stolen the essence, wouldn’t have tarnished his reputation, wouldn’t have been reduced to this.

  Revenge. He needed revenge.

  But how? Hudson was a knight now. A direct confrontation was out of the question—Lesuer was no match for him. Poison? Assassination? Those were foolish fantasies. He cked both the resources and the allies to attempt such a thing. If he so much as whispered the idea, someone would report him in an instant.

  Even his mother wouldn’t help. No matter how much she resented the situation, she wasn’t reckless. She understood that Hudson would soon be leaving to make his own way. And once he was gone, his fate would be beyond their control.

  Just as the baroness was about to leave, Lesuer suddenly spoke up.

  "Wait, Mother! Is there going to be a war?"

  She hesitated, then nodded. The mobilization order was no longer a secret. Baron Redman had spent a sleepless night after receiving it, and as his wife, she had shared in his anxieties. War was unpredictable. If something happened to Baron Redman, their comfortable life would be over. Even if the heir treated them with courtesy, her sons’ futures would be in jeopardy.

  Lesuer’s eyes gleamed with malice. "Then let Father take Hudson with him. He’s already a knight—it’s time for him to go to war."

  His voice dripped with venom. "The battlefield is unpredictable. If something happens to him, no one will be surprised. And if we arrange for a little 'assistance' at the right moment, our problems will be solved."

  The baroness frowned. "No. The soldiers who serve our family have done so for generations. They won’t be easily bribed. And even if someone were willing, your father keeps a close watch. Hudson is a knight now—three or five strong men wouldn’t be enough to take him down. Any attempt to harm him carries enormous risk. If we fail, if even a hint of suspicion falls on us, the consequences will be disastrous."

  Lesuer clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. Another rejection. Another reminder of his mother’s hesitance. In his eyes, she was weak, incapable of seizing opportunities. If she had acted sooner, if she had been more ruthless, Hudson would never have reached this point. If they had eliminated him years ago, the Coslow family would be his to inherit without challenge.

  His mind spun with resentment until his mother’s next words broke through his thoughts.

  "We can’t act directly," she mused, "but st night, that brat volunteered to lead troops into battle. Your father refused."

  Lesuer’s lips curled into a slow, sinister smile. "Then we must do everything in our power to make sure he goes."

  Excitement surged in his voice. "The battlefield is unpredictable. If Hudson dies there, even if Father suspects something, he’ll have no proof."

  The baroness hesitated. "But, Lesuer, if the pn fails and Hudson earns military merit, it would be a terrible setback."

  She was unaware of Hudson’s true intentions—his pn to avoid battle and prioritize survival. If she had known, she wouldn’t have hesitated.

  Lesuer scoffed. "Mother, you give him too much credit. Don’t take Father’s encouragement at face value—he says the same things to all his sons before they leave. It means nothing."

  He leaned in, voice dripping with disdain. "You know Hudson as well as I do. He has no experience leading troops. On the battlefield, just standing his ground without panicking would be a miracle. Expecting him to earn military merit? Ridiculous. The other nobles aren’t fools—if there’s any glory to be had, they’ll cim it for themselves. Without Father there to protect him, Hudson will be nothing more than cannon fodder."

  For once, his reasoning was sharp, his assessment chillingly precise, as if some mysterious force had sharpened his mind. The battlefield would be the perfect pce to dispose of Hudson, and if luck was on his side, his other two brothers would follow soon after.

  Then, at st, the Coslow family would be his.