A Wish to Grab Happiness

Bruder's quiet voice crawls down the street. Make sure you sew between the facing Berfein private soldiers and the mercenaries.

"Terrible. So, you're not, brother Torga. No. I can't believe I paid you in front of my sister. Yeah?

It was a low, overly heavy voice, like crawling out of a rift in the earth. Bruder's eyes narrow and his eyebrow roots follow. But its cheeks, strangely pleasant, were crumbling, as if they were clear.

It was the two of them who reacted loudly to that voice. One is a vestaline that blinks eyelashes beside a blueder. So, the other is Torga, a private captain overlooking Bruder on horseback.

Even when it comes to big reactions, Vestalinu is just shaking his eyes like what the hell is he talking about? But Torga, no. After a moment of patrolling, Torga's seriousness is dyed pale and begins to distort, as if even the demons living underground had seen it. He looked as if he'd heard an incredible word, as if he'd seen a dead man walking out of a graveyard.

"Impossible. Is it possible… even if the heavens and the earth are upside down, this is the case!

On horseback, Torga's attitude collapses for a moment. Words that finally come out of your throat are not accepting the status quo, but denying everything. It was a rejection that turned down what was happening in front of me as unlikely.

But reality doesn't disappear because you denied it.

"I often say that it is the raw pleasure that can be impossible. Long time no see, dude... but since that day when you chased me and my mother up like sinners, knowing they were innocent?

The voice seemed threatening, but it was also frightening and trembling. The words that are spoken undoubtedly reflect on that day. Bruder's eyes swayed and his spine hit the waves violently. I remember. I remember. That the man in front of him was the first servant of a man who had once scattered his family into his feet. Bruder remembers well that he was once a laughing person with his family, just like his chief.

Thus I also deeply and deeply remember the bitter taste given to him.

"... I see. Has he wounded you, Master Vesterine, all the culprits?"

After the upset, Torga leaked a cold exhale, as if he had guessed everything, he said. The hand holding the reins is stiff. My eyes staring at Vestalinu are shaking as if they were so rare, even if I want them to deny my words.

But I guess the majority of hope exists to be denied and trampled.

Vestalinu echoed the often passing voice into the street as if to cut off the gaze poured on him.

"--Yeah, Torga. Looks like our path is no longer the same. Now for once, let's say it. Get out of there. I would never walk any further back."

That was everything.

Vestalinu's eyes are also trembling, as if they were suppressing some kind of emotion, as is Bruder. But Vestalinu understands that that ugly emotion should not be exposed here. It is good to slap it like a blaze and spit it out with a curse, only one person deserves it. Yes, just one.

Again, a void was created in this street. To the words of Vestalinu, Torga cannot return the words as if they had stuck his throat. I'm not worried, I'm just not getting that thought to function well. The thought of a man named Torga solidifies without being able to look directly at one single trace of the harsh sins of the past that suddenly approached the reality in front of him.

A human being named Torga has an honest nature. That is, we can also say that we can only take what happened as it is. That's how we keep that personality together, until now we've just been submissive, serving the Lord. I've lived a dozen years, filled with that thought. That path, engraved in the brain, is no longer the natural course of thought to be taken. Yeah, just, straight away.

Torga's brain, which now kept all his thoughts, entrusted his whereabouts to its path. It's just that you have to think straight.

Vestalinu no longer hides his hostility to the lord. If we go through here, the Lord's life will be in danger. And then it leads to the collapse of one's position, and property. I have a loving wife, an adorable child, an important family. You can't let that go. That's why I came alive.

Yeah, no matter how unusual it is and how distracted thoughts are from my actions, that's all Torga has left. Encouraged by that thought of his own, Torga tells.

"--Master Vestalinu has been distracted! Foolishly, he has made the mercenary's falsehood his own will, and he has turned his spear against Lord Mordo! Take it down!"

Torga's words were unleashed so as to pierce the void that was born on the spot.

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

It is not uncommon for swords, swords, spears and shields to be exchanged in Belfein. Mercenary city at any rate. Many of the mercenaries are rough people, provocateurs, and those who do not resist waging violence. Even if it was accompanied by the authority of Vestalinu, which controlled its security, many of its inhabitants would leak somewhere in mercenaries. Of course, while the sun brings its glory to the horizon, even if the moon turns night, Berfein is a land where music by the name of the sword trident never stops.

But even in the mercenary city of Belfein, this music won't sound that familiar.

Of the sword trident, I can hear you. I can see the iron drawing the line and giving it a spark. The ambition of the soldiers strikes the sky with a strange voice. Battlefield music filled the streets of the mercenary city of Belfein.

If you look at him, it's a lord, a private soldier, and a flock of mercenary fangs. Originally, such a battle would not be possible. Because the mercenary side is immediately scattered and the battlefield collapses away. Private soldiers are organizations, mercenaries are just flocks. Plus, for the mercenaries, it's unintentional, like fighting on Belfein Street. A battle that could be gold, a battle that I don't know could be meritorious. Only so many people like to step into such a battle and wave their weapons.

So why they can still stay on the battlefield and wield that weapon. That must be because of the appearance of the steel princess Vestalinu. Vestalinu said, If you follow yourself as a princess of steel, leave. If you're following yourself, tell him to do what he wants.

As such, the mercenaries who like them remain here now. I see. After all, the only thing left on this battlefield is the likes.

Many of them have not been struck by the content, although they had listened to Bruder. Whatever, they're mercenaries. The mercenary's job is to take it away, and what he hears in the tavern is just one end of it. Something with power took everything away, trying to take it away. That's all I think. Yeah, that would make sense.

But whether or not it's natural, whether you like it or not, it's a different story. It sounds stupid. It's contradictory everywhere. While affirming to take it away myself, while keeping it as a job, I don't like stories of people being deprived of something important, etc.

But still, I don't care. The story of the princess of steel that we admire, the princess of the mercenary, being robbed of something, etc.

If so, it's not a bad idea to give thanks to Princess Iron and Steel for saving us all a little. If it were tomorrow, I might forget about it. That's what they call freedom of belief. With that wind of freedom still in place, they step on the battlefield with their lives.

Battlefield music blasts, in the middle. At the end of one mercenary's eye, it stopped.

A silver figure rocking through the air. Its vibrant shades that seem to reflect sunlight intact. It was brilliant on the battlefield, catching some prey, but it seemed as if it was walking away, but for a moment it appeared in the mercenary's eyes.