A Wish to Grab Happiness

- Give everlasting rest to Rugis, the Lord of evil.

Staring at the parchment spread over the round table, Richard unknowingly narrowed his gaze. Deepens the shadow with wrinkles and scratches engraved on his face distorted. And he said, leaking his year-to-year squeamish voice.

"You've become great, that skinny hungry ghost"

White jawbeard ripples as if impressed. The cheeks had collapsed, shaping a definite grin on his face.

I got great. The word is an indisputable and heartfelt praise. I don't refuse to use words that make people look small, which are used every time something happens to a lowly person. It was such an honest leaked voice that it seemed unusual for an old Richard.

Really, I'm impressed. That little guy who was nothing is spreading his name to the world like this now. I'm engraving myself into history. Some spare time, but nothing better.

A man sitting opposite Richard moved his lips as he responded to the voice. Pretty good, big gesture.

"Well, you know this kid. Your face is as wide as ever, Richard!

The man was a giant man.

The chair I'm sitting on is too big for a grown man to sit on, rather enough to be extra wide, but when this man sits on it, he looks small.

You're dragged by that big body, the way you talk, the way you save money, all of that noise and fuss. At all, Richard shrugged in the back of his throat that he seemed very unlikely to be an upper-class human being if he only looked what he was now. I don't mind if I speak up, but I have nothing to fix anyway, so either way, the results are the same.

The name of the giant is Roimets-Fomor. Current head of the Garrist Kingdom High Aristocrat Fomol family. And the master that Richard serves.

The talent is good at territorial management and politics and remains unshakeable in the political realm of the Garrist kingdom, where the thoughts of high nobility and the cathedral are intertwined in multiple ways.

Politics requires a sense of smell that is sensitive to people's emotions and a delicacy that does not disrupt the course of time. Without either of them, we cannot survive the world of politics, even if the rush is good or the knowledge is prominent.

Even though Roymetts-Fomor has a position as the King's cousin, there is no doubt that he will have the necessary qualities for those politics. But Richard flaunted his shoulder when he saw him behaving coarsely now, though he seemed very unlikely to be such a person.

Grabbing the wine offered on the tabletop, Richard pours it down his throat with a breath. It is often tangled in the tongue and has a deep aroma. It was the first wine I've had in a long time. As soon as the empty container is placed, the servant beside him pours in a new wine.

"So what kind of person is this, Richard?"

One question that the Roymets leaked rocks Richard's ear. Richard narrowed his eyes as he poured the smell of the new wine into his nostrils. Wrinkles carved in the face create a deeper and darker shadow. Richard understood that Roymets' gaze was observing himself without a gap.

Stuck in words. I wonder what the answer is, and the brain marrow tells me the problem.

Whether it's worth using or not, it's not bad to say that there are no more great people.

But Richard opened his mouth and rang his throat wondering if this must be the answer his Lord was seeking.

"He's a delightful guy. It's interesting to the extent that I never get tired of watching it. But if you want to roll, whenever you want."

That's all I said, again Richard wets his lips with wine.

Richard is convinced that what he has just put into words is an indisputable fact. My former godson, Rugis, probably spread the vessel considerably. In itself, great. Well, I'd like to praise you for choosing a path that's not serious.

But still, Richard didn't want to lick the ground against Rugis. Deepen your wrinkles as you stroke your jawbeard with your fingers.

"Your Excellency called for someone like me because of the circumstances."

As if, that's the only reason Richard moves his mouth.

That's a natural guess in a way. Apparently Richard is just an adventurer. That alone is unusual to be invited to the noble mansion, but when it comes to Richard's reputation, it's all very unwelcome.

The spiteful, the serpent who eats evil and lives. The word used when it speaks of Richard. Nothing, I don't think I'm wrong. Rather, Richard thinks it's a legitimate assessment of himself.

That's how Roymettes invited himself to the hall, aware of the danger. If a political opponent should know that he has invited adventurers like himself, he might be stuck on his feet.

That is why I am convinced that the purpose for which I called myself is not to serve alcohol or anything else. Richard stared straight into the eyes of the Roymets as he even smiled.

It is not as if it were a minister. Very, I don't think it's an attitude towards the Lord. But the way it was, it was common between the two of them. The Royal Mets had pardoned Richard's attitude, which could be described as transgressive, and Richard didn't do anything to constrict in front of the Royal Mets to make the words smaller. All we did was tell each other that the distance was just right.

Roymettes brings his arm to his elbow and opens his mouth.

"- The cathedral raw is no longer in control. There is no damage in their minds. Crap, we have to have too much crap war, Richard."

It was like he was barking, his voice. It's not a voice that makes you feel exaggerated somewhere. Rather, the voice is low, and quiet. Even so, Roymets' voice included signs that made him think he was some kind of roar.

The air gets heavy as if you drank lead.

Richard lightened his voice for a long time and said:

"It's good, the era of peace that's going to drive me crazy will mean it's over. No, great. Long live the cathedral! But shall I scream?"

Richard rattles his throat and squirts something as he crooks his teeth. But those eyes are never smiling or anything. I was just increasing my gaze sharply so that I could look away at something.

The strained air lasted for a while. Neither Richard, nor Roymettes speak of anything, nor leak a voice.

Only the servant kept pouring wine into the empty containers of both, shaking his fingertips. A few glasses, both Richard and Roymettes, drank out the wine.

So much for drunkenness, Richard shrugged in his heart that there were times when he couldn't turn around.

"Richard."

Low Roimetz, hard words as stone touched the air, touched.

"For once now, will you lead the soldiers? Will you bring back the neck of the hero of the Great Reverse"

Slight, while. A slight tremor shook the air, like pushing and killing words that were supposed to leak out. Richard put both fists on the round table silently and drooped his head.

"- If my lord desires it."