I Revived My Maid, Now She Hungers for My Blood

“Let’s go,” she said, her voice as even as always. “It’s time to return.”

The two of them walked back to the campfire, one after the other.

Betty was hugging a piece of hard, dry bread, gnawing on it like a squirrel, her cheeks puffed out.

When she saw Pandora and Elsa return, she blinked, her gaze shifting back and forth between them. Miss Pandora’s face was a little pale, but Lady Elsa was radiant, her lips… wait, were they a little moist?

A million questions buzzed in Betty’s head. It was like someone had had a secret snack, and suddenly, the bread in her hands tasted like cardboard.

But she was a good girl. A very, very good girl.

She didn’t ask a thing.

She just swallowed the bread in her mouth with a sip of broth, then gave a sweet smile and held up a freshly toasted slice: “My Lady! Lady Elsa! You’re back! Want some more?”

Looking at Betty’s face, an expression that screamed, I know I shouldn't ask but I'm dying to know, Pandora couldn’t help but smile. “No need, Betty. You eat up.”

She sat back down, her gaze sweeping over everyone gathered around the campfire—

the loyal Alchemical handmaiden, the tough knight recovering from a grievous wound, two anxious young squires, and the kind-hearted little kitchen maid.

Very good.

This was her current “team.”

Not many, but enough for what she needed.

“Listen,” Pandora’s voice was calm, but her status dictated that when she spoke, everyone’s attention was naturally drawn. “We’re not resting tonight.”

“We’re making a move. Our goal isn’t the manor, and it's not to kill Arthur. That would be stupid, and way too complicated. What we are going to do is head to town and make a few… minor problems for our ‘King of the New Era.’”

“I want to keep him busy, to throw him into chaos, to leave him with neither the time nor the ability to worry about us.”

A calm, sharp light glinted in Pandora’s eyes.

The once-gentle noble maiden was now tainted with the scent of blood.

“We must show him—”

“that being a ‘king’ is not as easy as he thinks.”

The campfire flickered dimly, the embers giving off their last bit of warmth, but Pandora’s heart was colder than the night wind.

She was perfectly clear-headed.

During the meal, while it seemed like a casual chat with Ham and Lucien, she had already figured out seven or eight out of ten things about Arthur’s true situation.

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Arthur was capable.

When the disaster struck, he’d been the first to steady his nerves, organize resistance, gather equipment, secure a location…

That wasn’t luck. That was talent.

He had even managed to save a few warhorses in the chaos! Although now, nearly half of them had fallen into Pandora’s hands.

But there was no denying that he had many “knights” under his command, all fully equipped, and he had even constructed simple defensive works around the town hall.

“A head-on fight would be suicide.”

Pandora stared at the leaping flames, fully aware of her own limitations. “Even with Elsa, facing several fully armored knights defending from behind fortifications would be sending her to her death.”

Elsa, sitting beside her, simply gave a slight nod.

She didn't question it or try to boast. She had a clear understanding of her own strength.

One-on-one, she was nearly invincible. But against multiple fully armored knights coordinating an encirclement, even she would be powerless.

However, they never needed to fight Arthur head-on in the first place.

Arthur’s biggest change wasn’t in his strength or the followers he’d gathered, but in his “method of rule.”

Aurora’s “betrayal” was like a thorn, plunged deep into Arthur’s swollen heart of kingly pride. From that moment on, he trusted no one.

He confiscated the armor and weapons of all the knight-squires except his most trusted followers, calling it “centralized management for fair distribution,” but in reality, he was completely stripping them of their ability to resist.

He had even taken control of survival necessities like food and water, using those resources to tightly bind the surviving children to him.

“Very clever.”

A cold sneer touched Pandora’s lips.

“He’s built his ‘kingship’ on a foundation of fear and scarcity. As long as he controls the weapons and the food, no one will dare to defy him. Everyone will have to look to him for their daily bread. From now on, no one will dare to challenge him.”

“But, My Lady… isn’t that… isn’t that just like a bandit king?” Betty muttered quietly. She didn’t understand politics, but she understood bandits taking things and not giving people food.

“More or less,” Pandora nodded. “But he’s craftier than a bandit king. A bandit robs you once. Arthur wants to turn everyone into his permanent slaves… for a group of less than a hundred people, these methods are more than enough. Perhaps even excessive.”

And yet, this seemingly impregnable “kingship,” in Pandora’s eyes, had a fatal flaw.

There were too few people.

In a small town, how many underage children could have possibly survived that “screening”?

No matter how much of a “godsend” Arthur was, he couldn’t conjure people out of thin air.

He had confiscated all the supplies, but he didn’t have enough manpower to guard them.

He thought he could control everything with fear, but he forgot that when fear accumulated to a certain point, or when the “scarcity” was broken by an external force, his seemingly solid rule would collapse in an instant, like a sandcastle.

“Tonight,” Pandora said, standing up and brushing the ashes from her hands, “we’re going to teach this ‘new king’ a lesson. The saying goes, ‘The same knife that cuts the bread can kill the man’”

It was a saying from her homeland, but when she rephrased it in simpler terms, even Betty could understand, nodding repeatedly.

Her gaze swept over everyone, a plan already forming in her mind, finally landing on the still-unconscious Aurora.

“Aurora’s wound is not yet healed. She should rest and needs someone to look after her.” Pandora looked at Betty. “Betty, you're staying. You guard Aurora, and you guard our retreat. If the situation turns bad, take Aurora and leave immediately. Follow the route I told you earlier and wait for us at the mill.”

“Yes, My Lady!”

Betty nodded vigorously, her small face full of seriousness. The task was simple, but it still represented the My Lady’s trust in her! She clenched her fist, secretly determined to do it well.

“As for us…”

“Four people, three horses. That’s enough.”

“Elsa and I will ride.”

As she spoke, Pandora walked toward the sturdiest black horse.

Elsa didn’t hesitate, nimbly swinging herself into the saddle. Her movements were agile, and the wound on her shoulder no longer hindered her.

Then, she leaned down and extended a hand to Pandora.

“My Lady, if you please.”

Pandora took the warm hand, using it to vault up, and landed steadily in front of Elsa.

Elsa’s arm naturally wrapped around Pandora’s slender, fourteen-year-old waist, her solid limb like the most reliable shield, gently holding her close.