Chapter 69: Father's Passionate Fan

"Veylin, come with me," Moira said gently after giving her friend's nephew a thorough once-over.

"Yes," he replied.

Veylin followed behind Moira, all the while pondering what role he would play in the upcoming operation.

About ten minutes later, the two arrived at the right wing of the knight order's encampment. All around them, countless knight squires and laborers were busy transporting supplies.

Along the way, people repeatedly paused their work to bow and pay their respects to Moira. From the look in their eyes, it was clear that for everyone present, respect was the only sentiment they held for this mid-ranked Silver Priestess—Veylin could feel that quite directly.

"It seems this priestess commands great esteem within the order," Veylin thought, trailing Moira into a tent.

Inside, the furnishings were simple. A miniature statue of the Goddess of Life occupied the central place. To the left was a resting area, while the right side held various vials of holy water, medicines, and herbs.

"Come, sit. Let’s talk for a while." The warmth and tenderness in her voice, along with her friendly face, put Veylin at ease. He sat properly on a small stool across from her.

"You're from the branch of the Eckes family," Moira said as she poured him a cup of tea.

Veylin took a small sip, then replied slowly, "I am the fifth son of the current Count Hawk of the Eckes family."

"The current Count Hawk, if I recall, is Lord Angus—the one revered as the War God of the Kingdom, the Destroyer of the Mountain Dwarf Bola Legion, Honorary Bishop of the Church of Life, and Commander of the Third Holy Dawn Kingdom’s auxiliary legion," Moira exclaimed, covering her mouth in surprise.

"Ah, yes, that's… that's right." Veylin hadn't realized his father had so many titles, but he could do nothing except nod awkwardly. Since his birth, his father Angus had always seemed stern, but Veylin had never heard his mother or any of the elders mention these honors.

"Do you have a portrait of Lord Angus?" Moira suddenly stood, gripping Veylin’s hand with excitement.

Witnessing the reserved priestess suddenly turn into a fervent admirer, Veylin nearly choked on his tea.

Realizing her loss of composure, Moira laughed awkwardly, released his hand, and sat back down with the grace of a lady.

"Um, Lady Moira…"

"Just call me sister," Moira interrupted, her gentle tone carrying an unmistakable firmness.

"Sister Moira, I don’t have a portrait of my father."

"Oh." Moira looked a bit crestfallen, but she quickly resumed her normal composure. "Then, do you have any token of Lord Angus? I mean, something he’s given you that's not too important—could you spare something for me to keep as a memento?"

The longing in Moira’s eyes made it hard for Veylin to refuse. He gave a vague reply, "Let me think about it."

"No rush, Veylin. Take your time," Moira said softly, suppressing her inner desire.

After some minutes of deliberation, Veylin finally spoke, "Sister Moira, I have a wooden toy my father gave me, but it’s back at my estate."

Upon hearing this, Moira pumped her fists with excitement.

"Veylin, after the military operation, could I visit your estate with you?"

Meeting her eager gaze, Veylin nodded, "Of course."

Suddenly recalling something, Moira quickly added, "Right, is there anything you need my help with? Building planning, potion-making techniques, carving magic formations, installing a goddess statue—I’m skilled in all of these."

Her breadth of knowledge shocked Veylin, given her youth.

"Sister Moira, there’s a type of magical herb being cultivated on my estate. I was hoping you could—"

"Leave it to me! When the time comes, I’ll handle everything—herb cultivation plans, preparation techniques, even sales channels," Moira interrupted, rising and waving her hand, taking everything upon herself and leaving Veylin momentarily stunned.

"Ahem, let’s discuss your role in the upcoming military operation," she continued.

"Alright," Veylin replied softly.

Moira walked over to her cot, retrieved an official document from beneath her pillow, and handed it to him.

"This is your appointment letter. Read it over, and I’ll explain."

Veylin took the letter and read it carefully.

A few minutes later, seeing that he’d finished, Moira began to explain, "In the coming operation, you and your unit will be assigned to the logistics corps under my command. Your main duties will be to protect the accompanying priests, transport the wounded, and collect and prepare the bodies of the fallen."

"This is a relatively safe assignment. Unless something unusual happens, you won’t be sent into battle."

"After the military campaign, your contributions will be converted into a commendation," Moira added as she concluded. "If the situation escalates, the number of commendations will increase."

"In any case, since Flora entrusted you to me, I won’t let anything happen to you."

Veylin was silent for a moment, then stood up and bowed to Moira. "Thank you."

For the rest of the day, Veylin integrated his men into the logistics system of the Sixteenth Knight Order, coming under Moira’s supervision and familiarizing himself with his duties.

On August sixteenth, the day after the scheduled assembly, the restructuring began.

The main force of the Sixteenth Knight Order, numbering eleven thousand, formed the central army under the command of the Order’s leader, Maedmonk Colombo.

Three houses of viscounts and six baronial families, totaling over thirteen thousand, became the left wing, commanded by Moncas Lowick, scion of a viscount family with a four-hundred-year lineage.

Three thousand provincial troops from Cadro Province, joined by eight barons and totaling nine thousand, formed the right wing. Their commander was Deputy Governor Cadmonk, responsible for logistical support and security for both the central and left wings.

Standing among the logistics troops, Veylin watched as the banners of three noble houses moved to join the left wing, then glanced at Flora in the distance. He thought to himself that he now owed a great debt to his uncles and cousin.

At this point, he no longer knew how he could ever repay Flora for her help.

"Move out!"

Dozens of heralds shouted the order.

With the command given, the central army began its march.

At the rear of the column, Veylin sat atop a logistics wagon, gazing at the endless line of troops stretching as far as the eye could see.

"Don’t fall behind at the rear!"

"Wagons fifteen through twenty need more hands—Lyan, take ten men over there."

"Up front, don’t lag—keep pace with the combat units!"

Moira rode back and forth among the logistics troops, adjusting the personnel, reinforcing defenses, handling overall coordination—a model of a capable woman, with none of her earlier starstruck demeanor in evidence.