And Lance, who had little presence earlier, quickly followed along.

"It seems your meeting with them didn't yield any results."

This sentence seemed to unlock something in Margaret, as the pent-up emotions poured out with her words.

And Lance was able to glean a glimpse of what had happened between the two from her brief remarks.

"They see their children as personal property, manipulating them at will, and at the slightest displeasure, feel their authority is challenged. It's a common psychological phenomenon of feudal parents, but whether it's right or not is another matter."

Lance's attitude here was clearly inclined towards Margaret, omitting any mention of the validity of Lawrence's warnings as a father.

Being moderate isn't a compliment, and neither is being neutral. In this situation, telling Margaret that Lawrence's caution was reasonable would be considered low emotional intelligence.

Because at this time, people are not rational; Margaret would think you're leaning towards her opponent, and Lawrence definitely wouldn't appreciate it either, seeing it as sly pretense, thus offending both parties.

Besides, Lance was hardly interested in advising them; he was just a bystander, happy to see them argue.

He must stir things up; that damn Lawrence dares to badmouth him?

"He actually said the Lord would never let him go, even using me as leverage," Margaret said, glancing at Lance to probe: "Obviously, the Lord is a true knight, totally incapable of such things. How could he say that about you?"

"I am not a knight." Lance was wary of this attempt to flatter him; he was just a bystander and didn't want to be dragged into it.

Lance's straightforward rejection caught Margaret off guard, leaving her with no more probing, and she spoke plainly instead.

"I promise once he's out, he won't return to Bastia, nor oppose Hamlet."

"I need to emphasize, it wasn't I who started the war. It was Lawrence and Alvin who led the Order of Knights to invade Hamlet, killing hundreds along the way. We were forced to retaliate, and only after great sacrifice were they defeated.

If I'm letting you be this Lord, now that the enemy has invaded your territory, slaughtered hundreds of innocent civilians, and have been captured by you, what would you do?"

What a joke, just release him because you say so?

Who's going to compensate me for my losses?

"He's hiding some money, at least a few thousand gold coins I can give you."

Margaret's words gave Lance a deeper understanding of her naivety; he immediately realized she wasn't trying to get something for nothing, merely hadn't yet stepped into the adult world without the Baron's protection.

Margaret's naivety wasn't a reason for Lance to pay her dues, but it did make Lance skip the idle talk, laying out his conditions directly.

"This isn't about money. I need to think about the people who died and the ones still living.

Bastia needs someone of enough status to take responsibility for the failed war, and I need someone to answer for it as well. If I just release him easily, how will others see me as a Lord?

Unless Lawrence can prove his value benefits Hamlet, only then would I have a reason to let him go."

In summary, it boils down to three words—add more money.

Those few thousand gold coins meant nothing to Lance; it required something much more valuable to make him loosen the reins.

Margaret wasn't the type to argue irrationally; she understood the situation but...

"As a daughter, watching my father suffer without doing anything is something I can't bring myself to do."

Margaret slowly shook her head; she must rescue her father.

"I understand." Even someone like Lance didn't want to calculate too much with Margaret and pointed her in a direction, "From now on, you bring him meals, try to convince him. Sometimes it's not me making things difficult for him, but him making things difficult for himself."

Lawrence was ultimately a seasoned soldier; if harnessed, Lance wouldn't let that go to waste.

It depended on how steadfast his loyalty to the Earl was.

"Thank you!" Margaret knew the Lord wasn't heartless; otherwise, he wouldn't have saved so many.

Margaret could only regard it as an unexpected delight; taking time today was already more than enough, and Lance couldn't afford to waste more time on her, at least not until she showed more value.

A single Lawrence wasn't worth that much attention because Hamlet wasn't the small place with just a handful of people anymore. It was nearing a population of ten thousand, and talent was available, or could be cultivated if not.

Lance soon got rid of her and returned to dealing with Hamlet's affairs.

Until his figure appeared somewhere interesting in town—a brewery.

Grain was something Lance had always prioritized. At the start, the situation was dire, with many dying of famine while the storehouse was filled with grain until it spoiled.

So after taking control of the farms, he halted brewing, as it consumed too much grain.

But after resuming trade, he spared no expense expanding the fleet, buying grain and livestock indefinitely, and the continuous transport of grain into storage was something he exchanged gold coins for.

He wasn't the dragon from heroic epics, comforted by gold piled in storage, but a storehouse brimming with grain brought him substantial satisfaction, just like the rats.