"As I've been thoroughly briefed by Eschell, you’ve admirably fulfilled my commission, Murphy." After Murphy was seated, the old Duke raised a glass of wine, "A toast from my family to you."
Well, look at this stoic chap, Murphy thought, as the Duke toasted with an air so casual it was as though he doubted the authenticity of Eschell's return.
The other two Arwins, following the Duke's undramatic lead, also lifted their glasses, and the four shared a solemn drink of the deep, blood-like red wine.
Murphy savored the taste. Pure alcohol meant little to him, but this wine... had a peculiar aftertaste.
Observing Eric's apparent satisfaction across the table, Murphy feigned enjoyment of the beverage.
Putting down his glass, the Duke spoke in a serious tone, “According to our agreement, you may now state your request.”
Right to the point—I like your style!
Inwardly, Murphy praised the unfazed Duke. Dispense with the pleasantries; it’s all about terms and conditions.
"What would you—or rather, the Viscountcy you represent—like to receive from me?"
Before Murphy could speak, Eschell, on the opposite side, looked over enigmatically, as if to say something but then turned to her grandfather, "Grandpa, may I ask Mr. Murphy a question?"
The Duke glanced over and nodded slightly.
Delighted, Eschell turned to Murphy and asked excitedly, "Mr. Murphy, have you ever heard of an author called the 'Humble Hero' in the Viscountcy?"
Murphy raised an eyebrow; it seemed his cultural dissemination strategy had reached even the royal capital. Eschell knew of his alias.
As Murphy debated revealing his authorship, the authoritative voice of the Duke commanded, "Anne, take her back to the tent to rest."
"Understood." The maid's crisp voice emanated, and before she received an answer, Anne whisked Eschell out of the tent haphazardly.
The brief comical interlude concluded, and Eric said with a smile, "Forgive the intrusion of my daughter's personality..."
"No trouble at all. In fact, I am acquainted with the author Miss Eschell mentioned." Murphy, sticking to his habit of giving half-replies, was curious to gauge the Dukes' interest.
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But literary pursuits, especially popular literature, did little to excite two men preoccupied with rebellion—they reverted the conversation back to Murphy's compensation.
After a quick mental regroup, Murphy set aside the offer to make them his demonic army's vanguard and proposed alternatively: a piece of land.
The atmosphere inside the tent tensed immediately. The temperature seemed to drop, and as Eric’s smile faded and the Duke’s expression grew stern, Murphy knew he had hit a nerve. Without a reasonable explanation, his well-earned credits might evaporate.
Understanding their reaction, Murphy felt it was time to elucidate.
"Duke, Lord Eric, it’s not what you think," Murphy spoke evenly.
Their expressions softened slightly, waiting for him to continue.
"When Mr. Seth Reed was knighted in the capital, His Majesty entrusted him with a secret command," Murphy divulged, capturing the two men’s attention, "Should the West and the North truly rebel, His Majesty asked Seth to recruit soldiers within his territory to strike back from the South."
"And what does Seth intend?" The Duke asked coldly.
"If Mr. Seth were to side with the King, he wouldn’t have sent me here," Murphy replied with a smile. "Our Viscountcy may be small, and the kingdom might be stronger by a hundredfold, but although Mr. Seth stands with the West and the North, some formalities still require observance."
"I’m not asking you to secede territory, but rather, delineate a piece near the Viscountcy that Mr. Seth will lease for a duration—until the end of the conflict."
"This way, you don't lose land but gain a considerable lease fee. Even your retired border soldiers could replenish frontline numbers."
"For Mr. Seth, it's a mere formality to fulfill the King's order, without risking his lands to an overwhelming army. Indeed, a proposition with multiple benefits."
Once Murphy finished explaining, the two Arwins exchanged glances, their minds whirring. Murphy had laid out the Viscountcy’s strategy on the table – a reed swaying between the kingdom and the West, albeit now tilting discernibly towards the latter.
The old Duke grasped this – it was common for their interests to lead. If mere threats could secure the Viscountcy’s unwavering loyalty, that would be truly odd indeed.
"An interesting proposition. Worth a try," the old Arwin concluded, "So, tell me about the conditions for this leased land."
"Duke, please permit me to refer to this soon-to-be leased land as the 'Concession,'" Murphy suggested, holding up three fingers, "We have no special demands for the Concession, but there are three essential conditions."
"Go on."
"Firstly, we need to control the size of the Concession to about half of the Viscountcy so that it appears Mr. Seth has superior command abilities, without arousing unfounded suspicions from the kingdom."
"Agreed," the Duke nodded slightly.
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Publicly Available Intelligence (strictly confidential):
Physical constitution varies from person to person, and orphans are no exception. Among those taken in by the church, aside from the favored few whose magical talents awaken, the rest face two paths: the first is to accept baptism, don the priestly robes, and learn divine arts through devotion, aspiring towards priesthood or even bishopric; the second is for those with a physical edge, who worship the Goddess of Victory while being taught grand combat skills to incorporate divine spells into battle, ultimately donning the white-gold trimmed armor and brandishing a greatsword as a glorious Paladin (a second-tier profession).