[Bloodline Trace: A high-tier dark magic capable of using blood, bones, or flesh as mediums to discern familial ties between subjects.]
This rather underwhelming advanced spell is a must for every vampire, given their convoluted family trees. To put it simply, it's like a way to avoid that awkward "Oh, so you're my third cousin twice removed?" moment at vampire gatherings.
Murphy, being the Demon Lord and all, of course, mastered this ability – and gave it a more down-to-earth name: Paternity Test.
Lately, Murphy had become a fixture in the earl's library during daylight hours, with little to show for it. Most of the tomes with endless adulations for the Count Reeds were as useful as a chocolate teapot; the kind of drivel that wouldn't even do for loo paper.
But it wasn't a complete bust. The convoluted Reed family saga, despite its flowery whitewashing, couldn't hide certain inconsistencies, such as the mystery of what happened to this generation's Count Reed's great-uncle.
Murphy, for convenience’s sake, dubbed him 'Little Grandpa'. The so-called Little Grandpa was the brother of the current earl's grandfather. The family chronicle described him as a stand-up guy, a beacon of bravery, and hospitality – practically the poster boy for heroes.
Yet this paragon of virtue went missing at the ripe age of eighteen.
Considering the character of Brother Byron, Murphy wasn't buying the 'brotherly love' narrative. A younger brother, in his teens, just disappears? Swap in Byron's grandnephews, and you've got a plot thicker than last night's gravy.
After sniffing out this tidbit, another individual caught Murphy's eye – Seth, the earl's butler, whose overzealous work ethic screamed 'Red Flag!'
A fabulous butler indeed, so over-the-top that Murphy found it fishy. Everyone knows bosses only spout "This company is our family" when they're buttering you up for something awful. Otherwise, it's "Don’t act like you own the place."
During Murphy's comings and goings, it became clear: Seth was practically a machine, relentlessly catering to every reasonable and absurd demand of Count Reed's.
After piecing this together, Murphy unearthed through a chit-chat with a maid that Seth was an "always-on" super butler. In a non-magical world, he'd be suspect for a cyborg prototype from some cyberpunk corporation.
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Noticing Seth's odd dedication, the family history savvy Murphy smelled a rat. So he turned to a vampire's favorite familial PI tool.
"Mr. Seth, here's my manuscript for the week," Murphy offered.
Though the earl demanded to review the works monthly, the ever-thoughtful Seth suggested a weekly scrutiny to keep Murphy on his toes and not cramming in the eleventh hour.
And so, on that day, Seth fetched the latest work, unfurling the parchment as Murphy's magic subtly stirred, "Sharpen!"
[Sharpen: A mid-tier enhancement spell that temporarily increases the sharpness of an object.]
A hiss escaped Seth as his expression twitched. He withdrew his pricked finger, flecks of blood appearing.
"Mr. Seth, what's the matter?" Canceling the spell, Murphy donned an innocent facade.
"Nothing. Carry on with your work, Literary Advisor. I'll return in a week." Without further ado, Seth handed the scroll back and left.
Once alone, Murphy couldn't wait to check – and sure enough, there was a bloodstain. Blocking off any prying eyes, Murphy took out some bone dust from dear Byron and commenced the Bloodline Trace. Bingo – Seth was blood, and his were the bluer veins.
"Ha, I knew it," Murphy thought. "No one's that into other people's business unless it’s their own."
"His endgame’s unclear, but that doesn't stop me from chasing my own," Murphy mused.
---
As midnight drew near, a hard day's work behind him, Seth returned to his modest chamber within the Count's castle. His routine unchanged for decades, familiarity bleeding into every crevice. Slipping out of his butler's attire in the dark, he lit the lamp on his desk and spotted an unexpected guest.
"Good evening, Mr. Seth," greeted a man, his voice warm yet obscured by a skull mask.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Murphy witnessed the normally unflappable Seth lose his composure.
"Don't be alarmed, Seth. Or should I address you by your full name – Mr. Seth Reed?"
Like exposing his innermost secrets, Seth's pupils shrunk, beads of sweat outlining his brow, "How did you..."
"How did I find out? It must be agony for you, watching the earldom wasted on a gluttonous swine. You, a Reed by blood, reduced to servanthood, never to claim what could be yours."
"Shut it! How did you know? After over thirty years of endurance, it was almost time, I was about to..." The old man unraveled, his meticulous schemes tumbling out, incredulous they'd been compromised.
"About to succeed, or the earl was about to perish? Let me enlighten you. Should the earl die, the king would reclaim these lands. Why, you ask? Because in less than a decade, another human-demon war will erupt. The king would want a loyal earl for strategy and fresh lands to reward the new heroes. Your little play and paid supporters mean squat."
"What do you want?" Seth asked deflatedly, as though his soul had been siphoned.
"What do I want? I too wish to dethrone that pig; he’s in my way," Murphy watched as the reborn spark ignited in Seth’s eyes.
"See, I seek a cooperative earl, and you aim to be one. Ally with me, and we make a splendid team, don't you think?" Murphy's voice was smooth, tantalizing, seeping into Seth's ears. The old butler gulped, longing to decline but found his lips sealed shut.