Inside the canvas tent, a huge map of the grasslands was spread across the wooden table in the center. The legion's movements and the locations of the surviving orcs, marked in red, stood out clearly.
Paul raised a hand to press down on the sword at his waist, his voice wrapped in restrained fury. "Auffina! Irene! What are you doing here? Our battle with the orcs isn't over yet, and we could be ambushed at any moment. Don't you realize how dangerous it is here?"
Auffina wasn't cowed by his imposing air. Instead, she straightened her back, gave a solemn military salute, then took a neatly folded letter from her breast and held it out to Paul. "Lord Greiman, please look at this first."
Paul frowned as he took it. When he unfolded the letter, he saw the handwritten signature of Ron, the head of the Logistics Department, along with a clearly written order: "Logistics Department official Auffina Greiman is ordered to escort ether and other medical supplies to the front lines and assist with medical work." The seal at the bottom was unmistakably clear.
"I'm a member of the Logistics Department," Auffina said calmly but firmly. "I didn't come here on my own. I was ordered to escort the medicine. As the commander, you should know how much suffering this ether can spare severely wounded soldiers during surgery, and that it might even save their lives."
Paul's gaze lingered on the order for a moment, and the reprimand that had been on the tip of his tongue suddenly caught in his throat.
He opened and closed his mouth, then could only let out a heavy sigh. With nowhere to vent his anger, he gathered it all in his eyes and turned toward Irene.
Irene had been wearing an amused