Ⅷ
Seated on the sofa, Miss Windsor listened to Arthur's account.
She knew this part of the Witchers' history.
Her father had told her more than once that her ancestor had been one of the finest Witchers.
But...
Why had he been involved with Heber, the Blood Drinker?
Like Imora, the Devourer, that being was called a deity.
More importantly, she was actually a descendant of that Blood Drinker.
The lady felt no honor in this.
Only fear.
At that moment, she finally understood why Arthur had asked her for her blood.
It had been to kill the Blood Drinker.
If he did not die, she would be the one to die instead.
Miss Windsor was certain that the Blood Drinker would never allow his weakness to remain exposed.
Simply put, if the Blood Drinker did not die, she was doomed.
Normally, Miss Windsor would have risen to thank him at this point, then swiftly seized the opportunity to draw closer to him.
But now, Miss Windsor was at a complete loss.
Or rather, she was in a daze.
She could not imagine that her father had died in such a conspiracy.
One could even say that his death had passed without a sound.
In an instant, something she had clung to deep inside simply crumbled.
"I'm sorry about Viscount Windsor's death."
Arthur spoke to console her.
More importantly, it was a reminder.
Now came Arthur's second test.
Ten, nine, eight, seven...
He counted silently.
He wanted to see how the lady would react.
Any response before he reached zero would count as a pass.
In fact, the lady recovered when Arthur reached five.
"Lord Credos, you have no need to apologize.
In fact, I should be thanking you-I wondered what you needed my blood for earlier, and even entertained