Thanks to the griffon's speed, the reconnaissance was completed quickly. The chosen village, once wealthy, showed clear signs of enemy occupation but seed poorly defended.
The operation began swiftly. Mounted on the war beasts, Michael marveled at their agility and speed. For the first ti, he experienced their convenience and vowed to soday acquire one for himself.
The reclamation force dealt with the scattered fanatics swiftly. Though the village's defenders fought fiercely, they lacked the numbers or organization to resist the coordinated attack.
As the fighting subsided, Michael couldn't help but feel a sense of triumph.
"Jackpot," he muttered under his breath.
The fanatics who weren't in the presence of their commanders were like lifeless puppets, mindlessly charging forward with vacant stares. Dispatching them was a quick and easy task for the invading force.
Inside the grain guild's storage, sacks of wheat, oats, and barley were piled high. Unlike typical rebels, who would have either stolen or destroyed such resources, these fanatics seed to have left everything untouched—likely due to their unnatural allegiance to the Blood Quill.
This worked out perfectly for the invaders, as there was plenty to "reclaim." The nobles and soldiers eagerly raced toward the village's mansions.
Michael chose a nearby manor, deciding not to waste ti searching for a larger or more extravagant one. Efficiency trumped greed.
Upon entering, he began stuffing silver candelabras, gilded picture fras, and other valuables into a sack.
Before he realized it, Miaomiao—his deceptively innocent-looking sphinx companion—had brought him a string of large pearls in its mouth.
Monts later, it returned with a sapphire ring and even a small gold ingot.
Michael bead, petting the feline.
"Well done, Miaomiao! You seem to like shiny things, huh? Good kitty."
The sphinx, Neferteri, nearly choked on indignation. How could soone be this dense? She had to stifle the urge to reveal her true identity. If Michael didn't even suspect her, what would be the point? To admit it now would be beneath her dignity.
Sighing, Neferteri trotted off to fetch more treasures.
'Still, I do like shiny things,' she admitted to herself, her tail flicking in amusent.
In no ti, their haul had filled the sack: 12 silver candelabras, three gilded fras, a pearl necklace, a sapphire ring, five gold ingots the size of a finger, and 300 gold in coins.
Michael secured the sack onto the wagon outside. "A knight's honor," he thought, assured that no ally would dare to pilfer from another's haul.
With Neferteri leading the way, they moved to a second house. This ti, the feline chose a modest two-story residence.
Inside, Michael noticed sothing unusual—a lit candle in the parlor.
Given the abandoned state of the village, with dust covering every surface, the presence of a burning candle was a clear anomaly.
Picking it up, Michael's eyes widened in delight.
"A magical candle! Miaomiao, you've done it again!"
These enchanted candles, found only in the finest noble hos, emitted a bright, steady light akin to electric bulbs and produced no soot. Nearly perpetual in their use, they were both practical and prestigious.
Satisfied, Michael began ticulously searching the house. If they had magical candles, what other treasures might be hidden here?
In the dining room, he discovered a tray with fresh food—a steaming bowl of soup, an apple, and perfectly cooked bacon. Intrigued, he bit into the apple, which was crisp and bursting with flavor.
"A magical serving tray?" he muttered, astonished. While not particularly practical for everyday use, such trays were a favorite of nobles during lavish banquets. This was a pri find, perfect for selling when he traveled to the capital.
It was now evident—the house's owner wasn't just wealthy; they were a magic artisan capable of creating enchanted items. Michael's excitent reached a fever pitch.
Scooping up Neferteri in his arms, he pressed his cheek to her fur.
"You're my lucky charm, Miaomiao!"
The sphinx squird, owing in protest, but Michael held tight, basking in the soft swats of her paw against his face. Even her faint huff of indignation couldn't dampen his spirits.
In the bedroom, Michael struck gold—literally and figuratively.
He found a leather pouch that, upon opening, revealed a dark, endless void. A spatial pouch.
"Jackpot!" he exclaid.
With trembling hands, he explored its contents: 450 mana stones, a unicorn horn, leaves from the Tree of Life, basilisk venom, and countless other rare and valuable ingredients.
Even a small vial of dragon's blood was tucked inside. Though he wasn't sure of its exact use, Michael knew it was invaluable.
Holding the pouch close, Michael vowed to keep it on him at all tis. This was not sothing to leave on a wagon.
As he prepared to leave the bedroom, Neferteri began scratching furiously at a section of the bookshelf.
"What's this?" he murmured, pulling on the book she had marked.
With a creak, the bookshelf rotated, revealing a hidden staircase.
Michael stared at the dark passage, excitent coursing through him. But just as he took a step forward, Neferteri blocked his path, hissing and headbutting him away.
"Alright, alright, I get it. It's almost ti to regroup," Michael said, misinterpreting her warnings. "You're so clever, Miaomiao."
Neferteri let out an exasperated sigh. She had already disabled the self-destruct enchantnt, but she knew this was no place for Michael. The magic in this hidden chamber was far beyond his capabilities.
With a mix of reluctance and determination, Michael left the house, marking its location in his mory. He'd return when better prepared.
As he rejoined the group, he couldn't help but grin.
This raid had been far more rewarding than he had imagined.
After raiding three more houses, Michael couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointnt. The last few yielded only gold and silver treasures, lacking the rare magical artifacts he'd previously discovered.
Still, with his pockets heavier, he felt unusually content. It's true what they say: wealth brings peace of mind.
Exhausted from the relentless scavenging, Miaomiao clung to Michael's shoulder, letting out soft, pitiful ows.
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