Rich Little Heiress and Her Cannon-Fodder

Murphy really wanted to go back to Cadman City and discuss escaping with Triss.

Unfortunately, Femis Cecilia Lasombra had already requisitioned him. Without orders from that huntress commander, he, the messenger, could only stay here.

He knew full well that the other woman hadn't requisitioned him and his two servants because she'd seen potential or a spark of talent in him. This was purely another cannon-fodder assignment.

But Murphy couldn't refuse. What could he do when the young lady's father was a clan leader?

Salokdar Collinsman Lasombra, clan leader of the Blood Eagle Clan and one of the oldest dukes among the vampires.

They said he was an individual who had lived from the ancient era of the Holy Blood Procession all the way to the present. The "Holy Blood Procession," when the vampire clans first appeared and spread across the continent, had taken place a thousand years ago, at the beginning of the current era!

Over those thousand years, the Blood Eagle Clan had risen from weakness to its peak and then declined to its present state. Its power had never fallen into other hands; it had remained firmly in Salokdar's grasp.

That man was the Midnight King of all Transia. Even within the Bosia Confederacy's power structure, and indeed that of the entire continent, the Blood Eagle clan leader was among the select few at the top of the pyramid.

Murphy obviously couldn't oppose someone like that, even if the person standing before him was only Salokdar's daughter.

But vampires couldn't reproduce, so Femis, like Murphy, had been transformed from a human through the Embrace. Though she looked like a rich little heiress, who knew if this woman was actually another centuries-old monster?

It was nearly midnight.

Beside the bonfire outside the village, hooded Maxim was cooking barley porridge over the flames for a late-night snack. Mirian was helping roast skewers of horse meat to fill their ravenous stomachs.

The two were working together, but their relationship was anything but harmonious.

There wasn't much to talk about between a vampire worshipper poisoned by superstition and a rational scholar-in-training. Their life experiences were worlds apart, too.

Several hours had passed since the little players had left. Maybe they were already enjoying some hot and delicious takeout, which made Murphy, sitting far away from the bonfire and forced to gnaw on bland barley porridge, feel intensely envious.

After such an intense battle, he really wanted a sip of ice-cold soda to soothe his throat.

That was what he thought, but his face remained expressionless. He tugged his hood lower, then set his bowl aside.

The bonfire flickered, sparks drifting through the air. The heat from the flames made Murphy uncomfortable, yet the human soul in his body yearned for the light and protection of a fire beneath the night sky.

This conflict between body and mind gave Murphy an incongruous air in the eyes of the other vampires.

With the firelight behind him, he picked up the witch hunter's combat knife issued to every witch hunter and examined it. Murphy planned to test out his newly acquired item identification ability.

As he stared at it, a translucent information label soon appeared beside the knife:

Name: Crusader Combat Knife

Quality: Standard · Veteran

Traits: Standard Sharpness · Psychic Contamination

Item Description:

This weapon was made by the Avalon Church for its followers in the Kingdom of Isha during the unification wars on Greeny Island in Year 675. Its streamlined blade gave it excellent balance, while also making it suitable for hacking in combat. The holy oak handle, tempered by natural psychic energy, gave these weapons additional lethality against dark creatures.

After the witch hunters emerged, the Crusader Combat Knife became their standard equipment. But after the Avalon Church launched its shameful rebellion against the Plantagenet Kingdom in the early years of the Ten-Year War, this classic design became a symbol of traitors.

Murphy stroked his chin as he looked at the entry.

He couldn't accurately judge the weapon's value, so he picked up the female witch hunter Natalie's oak-handled hunting sword, which was obviously much more refined.

As expected, this time the entry was different:

Name: Replica of Avalon's Blessed Sacred Blade

Quality: Masterwork · Commander

Traits: Exceptional Sharpness · Exceptional Anti-Magic · Enhanced Psychic Infusion · Purifying Flame

Special Classification: Blade of Faith · Only usable by followers of Avalon; use by heretics triggers a psychic backlash

Item Description:

When the Avalon Church converted to the faith of the Druids of the Castilian Peninsula in Year 500, the original Council of Elders was given three sacred blades, wonders of nature. Although the techniques used to make those blades could not be reproduced in this age, during the long period when the Avalon Church served as the state religion of the Kingdom of Isha, the Glamor Council still made more than 150 replica sacred blades by various means and bestowed them upon the saints.

Note that this Blessed Blade does not belong to Natalie Finnockia Lawson. She inherited it from a deceased relative, and therefore cannot fully unleash the power of this Blade of Faith.

Perhaps you should be grateful for that.

"Natalie Finnockia Lawson?"

Murphy toyed with the dormant Blessed Sacred Blade in his hand and glanced at the female witch hunter nearby. She was bound, stripped down to her undergarments, and still unconscious.

The fact that she carried a weapon that clearly looked so extraordinary already showed that this gray-haired, brawny woman must have a rather unusual identity.

Besides, comparing the two weapons had helped Murphy figure out the item classification system in this world.

"Masterwork" was clearly better than "Standard," which probably referred to craftsmanship. "Commander" was clearly better than "Veteran," which probably described the item's quality.

Thinking about it, this made sense. It was much more reasonable than having things flash purple or orange in his hands. After all, this game's selling point was realism and hardcore gameplay.

Now that he understood, Murphy sorted through the spoils in his hands.

He kept the best masterwork weapons for himself and Maxim, and stored the remaining standard weapons for the little players to use.

These adorable and capable little players were his foundation. Since their personal strength was lacking, equipment was especially important. Arming them had become an urgent priority.

There were also the "closed beta rewards" he had to give them after this round of testing.

The players' actions were ridiculous, but generally predictable. To get along with them, he needed to keep the game fun, of course, but wonderful loot was also a crucial part of the gaming experience.

He couldn't just pass off any old junk as loot. The items had to meet a few conditions:

First, they had to be rare enough.

Players didn't like things that were everywhere.

Second, they had to be distinctive.

Ideally, they'd catch everyone's eye at a glance. Showing off was all about looking cool.

Finally, they should have some commemorative value!

Something with gold text in the item description, for instance. Its collectible value would have to be top-notch.

Such things weren't easy to find, but clever Murphy had already reached an agreement with young Lady Femis about this during their conversation.

It was a lopsided exchange.

He couldn't get everything right away, but he'd already obtained some of it. He could surprise the little players when they logged in.

"Murphy, come over here!"

The young Lady Femis's call interrupted Murphy's thoughts. He immediately set down the Blessed Sacred Blade and stood up, walking toward the young lady, who was concealed in the darkness behind him.

She maintained her "small stature, big attitude" demeanor and didn't waste time. She got straight to the point:

"In three days, a transport convoy from the Plantagenet Kingdom will pass through Transia. It'll be near the Filthy Swamp in the south, in that narrow stretch of Smuggler's Woodland."

The young lady took out a fairly precise military map of the Transia region. She marked a spot at the southernmost edge, where it bordered the Dark Mountains, and said to Murphy, who was listening attentively:

"The clan leader's secret orders explained the situation. It's a shipment of special military supplies that General Loren, who's commanding this invasion, purchased specifically from the halflings of Shire for use by the Plantagenet Pioneer Legion under his command.

"If the Pioneer Legion gets its hands on these supplies, it'll be even harder to contain its forces, which are already breathing down our necks. So we need to seize the shipment!

"Of course, considering how badly you failed at your job as a messenger—you exposed yourself and drew the witch hunters after you—the enemy has probably already been warned. So the objective has changed: destroy it.

"We need to reach Smuggler's Woodland and complete this inevitably difficult interception within three days. I need every available hunting force, so you and your blood thralls are included.

"Was that clear enough?"

"I understand."

Murphy nodded.

As he looked at the military map in his hands, the information in his mind stirred again. He picked apart the key details in the young lady's words. A few seconds later, he said:

"As far as I know, the war between the Plantagenet Kingdom and the Bosia Confederacy has been going on for ten years. Both sides are exhausted, as if trapped in a muddy bog. So I'm curious: what kind of military supplies could have an immediate impact on an army stuck in a quagmire?"

"You ask too many questions, and I don't know the answer."

Young Lady Femis kept a cold expression and waved her hand with a decisiveness entirely at odds with her size and appearance.

"We don't need to know. The Midnight Hunters only need a target to act! You need to take your servants and act as a harassment force to slow the convoy. You've proved you're capable of this by defeating two witch hunter squads.

"I don't need you to engage them head-on!

"Hold them up, draw their attention, split them apart! Create an opening for me and my hunters to ambush them. That's all.

"Once you've done that, you can take your commendation back to Cadman City. Lady Triss will be proud of you, and your family will reward you, too."

"You may be small and look like a middle schooler, but you tell lies without even blinking. You little fiend!"

Murphy viciously grumbled to himself.

As a seasoned office drone who'd been struggling through life for nearly ten years, how could he be fooled by this kind of childish reassurance?

So he bluntly asked:

"So in your plan, my servants and I are bait and cannon fodder, right?"

The young lady didn't answer. She only stared at him, her crimson eyes so calm they were frightening.

Murphy snorted and shook his head.

"No wonder you're father and daughter. You're both equally cold and ruthless. It seems you understand perfectly well that, as a nobody on the fringes, I have no right to bargain with you.

"Fine. I'll accept this suicide mission.

"But I need some help."

"I've already given you all my spare family ceremonial cloaks, and promised you at least thirty sets of the finest family formalwear when you return to Cadman City! That was what we agreed on."

At the mention of this, young Lady Femis spoke with a peculiar tone.

"Though I don't know why you're collecting such useless things, I've already given you the help you asked for, Murphy. Don't push your luck."

"Collecting luxurious things is just a personal hobby, and they're not even weapons! Am I supposed to kill dangerous enemies with them by looking stylish?"

Murphy spread his hands and replied in a lightly teasing tone:

"Look at me, a nobody on the fringes, willingly offering up my life for your cause. You won't even grant me this last little favor? Is this how your father taught you to treat the dignity of us Midnight Nobles?

"Besides, I'm not asking for much!"

He held up two fingers before the young lady and stated his terms:

"Twenty sets of family retainer leather armor and matching weapons, for both melee and ranged combat. They don't even need to be especially good. I have to arm my servants so they can last a little longer in front of the enemy.

"Don't think I'm asking for the moon, either.

"Look, if we all die, you can always salvage the supplies."

"Take back that tasteless joke, Murphy! You insolent brat! Do you take me for some beggar on the roadside? Why would I let my subordinates use things that you've used?

"And take them from the dead, at that?

"That's utterly undignified!"

The young lady, who cared deeply about proper appearances, spoke coldly with a look of disgust.

"Besides, you have only two servants and three captured witch hunters. Why on earth would you need as many as twenty sets of armor?"

"I recruited quite a few blood thralls who'd suffered terribly at the hands of the witch hunters along the way. If I call for them, they'll rush to my side, loyal and furious."

Murphy blinked, then pointed to the group of elite vampires huddled together nearby, talking quietly in the dark.

"Besides, I need a decent set of commander's gear to establish my status in the eyes of my servants. Maybe I could borrow a set from them.

"Also, I've recently been studying interdimensional creature summoning. If you have any psychic-energy manuals or family swordsmanship manuals, perhaps you could let me borrow them."

Young Lady Femis looked at Murphy strangely. After a few seconds, she said:

"Is there any point? You only have three days to prepare, Murphy. You're no genius, or you wouldn't have achieved nothing. Of course, I think the family's harsh assessment of you is somewhat unfair.

"At the very least, your ambush at the ruins of Morland Village was fairly impressive."

The young lady was certainly sharp-tongued.

But she was also fair-minded. At least she wasn't like the other vampires, who looked down on everyone and couldn't see Murphy's victories. After thinking for a moment, she nodded.

"Fine. I'll provide everything you need, but you'll hand your witch hunter prisoners over to me."

She pointed to the three witch hunters beside the bonfire and said:

"We already captured one, but that isn't enough.

"My interrogator will dig every detail about the White Oak Warband out of their minds. Those people, scattered across Transia by the Tower of Rings and General Loren to cause trouble, have become a serious threat.

"Consider it an exchange, Murphy.

"Deal?"

Murphy didn't hesitate for long. He nodded and said:

"Deal! Thank you for your generosity, young lady. A beautiful and generous woman like you is sure to be rewarded. Mother of Night will surely protect you."