1829 Lord Camelot

Carefully running his massive ring, Camelot turned to face his men with a cold glint in his eyes, "This Rebel Phantom… her grudge isn't ordinary. If we want to find the person behind her, we must first find her identity." 

"Any clues?" 

His man gave each other tactful stares, and then one person stood forward, "Master, although we aren't sure yet, from the whore's actions, she might be an escaped slave who might have been under our care at some point." 

"Yes, master. Perhaps she's a daft one, thinking we owe her some idiotic blood debt." 

Everyone sneered. 

What was the use of a woman if not to open and close her legs when being told to.

Why get angry at them for providing enough men to sample her goodies? 

For the life of them, they just couldn't understand women like this. 

Listening to his men, Camelot also felt it must be so. 

The whore must be thinking she is someone special to make them owe a blood debt to her.