A Wish to Grab Happiness

"- My name is Fialert-la-Borgograd"

Belfein Lordship Hall. During the intercourse there, the dark hair of the fialert, which gave Kalia a name after her, rocks. Because the hairstyle was not wrapped around the back as usual, when I lowered my head, it spread out so that its black flowed.

Wait a minute, so the servant leaves the reception room and stands for a while. I don't have a choice. Nobility, that is how a lord does not meet a sudden guest, and many people badly dislike having a light encounter with it and being seen as light-hearted.

Sometimes there was even a culture that it was manners to keep customers waiting for a while. I am extremely busy, but I have sewn up a few moments in it to see you.

Unexpectedly, Karia sighed in her heart. It must be in vain at all. But nobility, no upper class pleasure, lies in loving such futility. Karia thought she still didn't have the nature to hate footsteps.

Tentative, blank. Kalia was unknowingly shaking her lips and questioning the fialert beside her. Is it good? Fialert says to the word, blinking his black eyes wonderfully.

"I don't think you've done anything you regret.

The mouthfeel I tell you so is natural everywhere and soft. It's never the kind of word you're hiding something from or letting your mind get stuck. Kalia and Fialert haven't been dating that long, but that much, Kalia could understand. Unexpectedly, that white throat rings.

"Don't blur. That's what I'm saying now we can go back. I don't mind, I am. You are going back to your home country now. It doesn't change what you do."

Karia whispers, seemingly strange somewhere.

Until now, Kalia, and Fialert, the two names are not commensurate with their activism, and have never been promulgated to a large extent as a crest taker. A swordsman or a sorceress. Such presence, when present, was shown only. At least on the side of the Catholic Church, its existence has not even been touched at all.

That's all the flashy moves around. Those who notice will notice. Those who know will know.

There are probably two reasons why the name hasn't come up so far. Yeah, of course, by total coincidence, some lines say you don't know who you are, but that's hard to think of in boulders.

One is that nobility, the presence of the upper class of knights, doesn't want to spread the reputation of savagely dropping themselves like a crest, they do. This means the thought of the Cathedral and the upper echelons of the Garrist kingdom where it is based. The silver hair in the second room rocked so that it could be followed by Kalia's sarcastic grin.

The Gospel War, the Virgin Revolution, the Gate of Judgment. The crests want to refer to a series of battles and call them this, but naturally, not as cathedrals. The Cathedral, and the surrounding countries, refer to a series of battles, the Great Rebellion of the Crests, and so call it.

I mean, from the Catholics, this isn't a noble war or anything, it's just a rebellion. So what participates in it is only a foolish, obscure, ignorant, common people, so that's what they are. There can't be anything in the nobility or the knight that endorses this senseless battle. This battle is never noble or anything else, it's just a barbaric act, just a stupid human being shouting his last cry. That's what I'm saying, they are.

Because of that policy, there must be a large number of nobles who do not understand the magnitude of the matter without a garrison kingdom and surrounding countries. Karia's cheeks were crumbling into unknowingly bitter and laughing shapes. What a waste of glory.

Again, I don't like waste. A culture that loves waste keeps the nobles alive, and now, on the contrary, spreads their wounds.

As such, another reason why the name of Kalia and Fialert has not yet been spread is that it is extremely simple.

I guess I'm turning my hands around, I think so. My own father, Barberidge-Birdnick. I don't know what my dear lord of Fialert is up to, but my father must be doing so.

My father told me over and over again not to paint mud on my family name, not to imitate anything. At the end of the word, Karia shakes her eyes, saying that it is not strange that her daughter is under the crest, no matter when she dies of anger.

The Birdnicks can never be said to be in a superior position. Instead, the position will just get worse by the day. But it's about my father, who's good at politics, or rooting for places. He'll be running with his eyes running blood and stopping the roots of his sleep. That's how you must wish.

My real daughter, that is, that I will die soon. He said not to do anything more conspicuous.

Perhaps the reason why the name doesn't spread is around. Of course, it is possible that there are completely different factors, but I can't think of much now. Whatever it is, it is true that the two names are not yet on top of the world. If so, Kalia anyway, Fialert can return to his home country. That's how you can stop living on the battlefield and go back to your days of peace.

Even if we don't give it a name here, we need to assume that. Whatever. Now we have revealed our names as nobles, as knights. Above the name of the family, it forms an action.

So, if there is. In case you behave as usual here and pull the hand of the crest religion. It's too late to do anything. In an effort to keep it down, overflowing voices don't fit in. Kalia, and the name of Fialert, will crawl out to the surrounding countries with their family names. At least I know it's not in the name of honor.

Well, either way, I don't think Karia can go home anymore. If you go back and think about my father's mood, I don't think this time you'll just have to go under house arrest. Somewhere you'll be assassinated, or you'll spend the rest of your life trapped in a Catholic church.

Oh, and, and to that.

Karia felt her eyes distorted and her spine had fever. I can see the depths of the brain burning.

- You can go back now. I just can't see him, I don't know, my eyes follow his shadow, my ears are searching for his footsteps.

When such thoughts did not come up in his chest, Karia felt her own cheeks softly stained with Zhu. The emotions that are manifested there are indisputable thoughts of shyness.

What, what the hell are you thinking about not looking good on me? It's not very unusual, but you can't tell him. In my case, it's just as good as letting him look for himself.

Hearing the words, how about going back to Karia's native land, Fialert rounded her eyes a little, unexpectedly. In the next moment, let the lips be pointed and clearly, let the words go.

"I don't want to, 'cause when you get back to the country, there's no Rugis."

Oh, I see.

Karia saw and understood the fialert telling her so as to be nothing. I mean, nothing. The same goes for myself and for this sorcerer.

Neither of them can go back, they're just here. Now I couldn't care less about the name.

Well, as I clapped my shoulders as I leaked the words, the door between the responses finally made a noise.

I waited a long time. After all, when a being called a lord is good at keeping people waiting, his silver eyes narrow. The lord, Mordow-Gone, who would have attached the luxury to his limbs and body, let go of his words, shaking his thick lips in full.

"No, well done. You're here, you're welcome. My name is Mordoe-Gorn and I will keep Belfein. Get to know me."

Mordeaux, who said so and showed up in the reception room, was not alone. I even show some bragging attitude and bring one woman out the back of the door. There was a golden glow of hair, shaking.

"And make sure to say hello to both of you, I thought. This is the Cathedral Virgin and famous..."

Mordor's low, roaring voice echoes between responses. Following it, a soft, deafening voice scattered across the universe.

"- Nice to meet you. We take care of Mordeau as a guest. Arueno and don't call me that."

With golden hair and eyes brilliant, she said, yes. Virgin, with Arueno.

Silver eyes swayed in distortion during the reception.