Chapter 85: Moira Keeps Her Appointment

Late in December, ten thousand emaciated serfs were escorted to the Lake of Star Prayers.

The officer in charge of the escort was someone Verin knew well—Moira, the quartermaster of the Sixteenth Knight Regiment—accompanied by a rather portly middle-aged man.

“Verin, I’ve come as promised.”

At the sight of Moira, Verin felt no surprise. This ardent admirer of his father had never forgotten the wooden toy he had suggested, though he hadn’t expected her to arrive so soon.

“Sister Moira, welcome. May I ask who this is?” Verin greeted her warmly with a smile.

“Lord Verin, I am Hook from the Southern Kur Chamber of Commerce, Province of Kurze. Two months ago, Miss Moira invited me here, saying you possess a certain magical potion. Forgive my intrusion; I hope you do not mind.” The portly man bowed slightly, paying his respects to Verin.

“You’re most welcome, Hook. But the potion is still in… well, the experimental phase. I’ll need you to stay at Lake of Star Prayers for a few days,” Verin replied calmly.

“Lake of Star Prayers—just the name conjures images of beauty and abundance. I’m sure I’ll find it hard to leave,” Hook answered with a pleasant smile, easing the awkwardness of the moment.

Afterward, Verin instructed Beld to process the newly arrived serfs and arrange accommodations for Hook from the Southern Kur Chamber of Commerce, then led Moira toward his castle.

In the castle’s reception room, Verin personally served Moira tea.

“Sister Moira, is this Southern Kur Chamber of Commerce trustworthy?”

Moira sipped her tea slowly and replied, “The Southern Kur Chamber is highly reputable, with nearly two centuries of history. They have long-standing ties to the kingdom’s army and many noble families. One of its founders was the first Count of Andus. You can rest assured.”

“I see.”

Even after her reassurance, Verin did not entirely let his guard down.

“Where is your potion now? If possible, we could begin testing immediately,” Moira said, setting down her teacup and looking at Verin.

“No rush, Sister Moira. The potion plantation lies some distance from here,” Verin said as he rose and entered the adjoining study. He brought out an old wooden box and set it before Moira. “This is what my father gave me when I was a child.”

Moira opened the box. Inside lay an awkwardly carved wooden knight, Angus’s name etched into it. Far from showing disdain, she picked it up with delight, examining it carefully.

Verin sat quietly by her side, not interrupting.

After a long while, Moira returned the wooden knight to the box and hugged it to her chest, her voice full of gratitude. “Thank you, Verin.”

“Sister Moira, this is your reward. There’s no need to thank me,” Verin replied, shaking his head.

“My lord, the banquet is ready.”

Kyle’s voice came from outside the door. Verin stood up and extended a warm invitation. “Please.”

Moira nodded in assent.

…

The next morning, Verin, Moira, Kyle, and several other guardian knights assembled at the training grounds.

Today, Moira wore the robes of a priestess. Raising her staff, she spoke in a solemn tone, “Under the witness of the Goddess of Life, the oath shall begin.”

Kyle drew his longsword, and Verin likewise unsheathed his shortsword, both holding their blades vertically before their chests, their gazes solemn.

“I, Kyle, swear upon my honor, under the witness of the Goddess of Life, to do all in my power to fight for this person before me, to fulfill my duty, to uphold the spirit of knighthood. Where my sword points, there shall I go.”

“I, Verin, as the one to whom you pledge your oath, accept your loyalty without reservation. May the Goddess of Life bear witness.”

A radiant light enveloped them both, an invisible bond intertwining their fates.

“The oath is complete. May the Goddess bless you,” Moira solemnly proclaimed, marking the end of the guardian knight’s oath.

The two sheathed their blades, and the mood on the training ground turned festive.

Beld and the others enthusiastically welcomed Kyle, celebrating his formal induction as the fifteenth guardian knight to join their ranks.

“Kyle, you’re even stronger than us,” Beld said, clapping Kyle on the shoulder with genuine emotion.

A year and a half ago, this young man had been a serf, and now he stood among them.

“It is only by my lord’s grace that I have come this far,” Kyle replied humbly, his heart unchanged by pride.

In the afternoon, Verin took Moira and several knightly attendants to the first potion plantation, located at the border between the Lake of Star Prayers and the Frigid Zone.

This was the largest of the six potion plantations, boasting thirty acres of arable land. Each acre could support two hundred magical plants, for a total of six thousand.

The entire estate covered a hundred acres, its perimeter reinforced with massive stones—its walls built even sturdier than those of Verin’s own castle.

Fifty serfs tended the thirty acres of magical plants.

Additionally, thirty intermediate-level apprentice warriors were stationed at Plantation One, led by the territory’s sole junior bronze-ranked warrior, Eden, to defend this vital site.

“My lord.” Eden bowed respectfully as Verin approached.

Kyle quickly dismounted, taking the reins of the crimson phosphor horse and standing by Verin’s side.

“Sister Moira, please, come in.”

Moira was keenly curious about the many changes in the area—especially the stark divide between the snowy wastes in the distance and the surrounding land.

Nevertheless, she suppressed her curiosity. Everyone has their secrets, she knew, and Verin’s willingness to bring her here was already a great gesture of trust. To press him further would be ungracious.

Following Verin into the plantation, Moira beheld a scene like something from a fairy tale.

In the potion fields, pale blue magical plants swayed gently in the breeze, harmonizing with the drifting snowflakes around them, creating a sense of profound tranquility and comfort.

“Sister Moira, these magical plants are mutated forms of blue lora grass, which have a rapid haemostatic effect—effective for both external and internal wounds,” Verin explained as he gestured toward the pale blue herbs.

“I’ll need to conduct some experiments, which may take a while. Only then can I begin drawing the magical arrays and preparing the potion,” Moira said, nodding as she plucked a plant from the field.

“Is there anything else you’ll need for the full process?” Verin inquired.

“Yes, here’s the list,” Moira replied, pulling a slip of parchment from her pocket and handing it to Verin. “It will probably cost around twenty thousand gold coins, perhaps even more. If you’re short on funds, I can—”

“Sister Moira, you underestimate me. Money is not a problem. I’ll just need some time to gather these items.”

“No rush. This gives me time to experiment with the potion’s precise properties.”