A Wish to Grab Happiness

"For those of us who can't expect reinforcements, time is not on our side. Even if it's enough time to blink, that's all we'll be burdened with."

The voice of the Virgin Mattia echoes in the Great Tent. The generals of both the crest and Gaza forces were listening to every word of it. Their eyes look like they're trying to guess Mattia somewhere. In particular, the elves in Gaza had a noticeable view of the situation.

What, that would be natural, too.

Even though Mattia says she has led the crests so far, that doesn't necessarily indicate her talent as a combat commander. Besides, this time it's not the same size as a soldier Mattia would have led up to now.

I can tell you that Mattia has led us here to a number so far that many and precisely close to a thousand. But now the numbers are literally different.

The figure of 10,000 troops cannot be said to be excessively good as an urban state's force, but it is nevertheless by no means small. Enough numbers to name one force. I guess they don't have the experience of leading so many people to mow each other's lives, so to speak of a boulder Mattia. More than usual, Mattia's voice sounded low with all the sushi.

Everyone and he keep an eye on Mattia's behavior. I am about to determine if I deserve to lead this many soldiers, or if I am not as foolish as drawing Misumi himself into the Dead Swamp.

Mattia, the Virgin, is the only one with that gaze. I mean, the same thing.

Unknowingly, there will also be the influence of being seated in the upper seats, close to Mattia and Eldis. My cheeks and limbs are poured out with the same gaze that sewed my skin from earlier.

To be honest, it's terrible and uncomfortable. I didn't want to know that there was pressure in people's eyes up to this point.

But it's also inevitable. Whatever I received at that ceremony, the title of an overly heavy hero and the name of the crest. Once a human is festived, many things are required of others for that matter, and enemies are also prone to be born.

Some of the gaze directed at me was such as to infer a human being named me, while others included something close to enemy sentiment. Doesn't mean I did anything.

Unexpectedly weigh in on those gazes and narrow your eyes while placing your body on the hiccups.

"- Plus, what we need is not just a victory. You need a blow without skin to end this battle and crush the dragon's jaw."

That is the most difficult and, above all, troublesome matter in this battle. It's like a joke to hear from the end. He seemed to hear a stiff look around him.

The enemy has nearly twice the power of this side, and has a lot of morale to reclaim Galuamaria.

By contrast, morale won't be inferior to this one, but some of them will be heartened by the difference in troop numbers. And the quality of the soldiers can't be flattered enough. If you do it badly, yesterday the people who were holding farm tools and netting are holding spears today.

Even Mattia, of course, knows that. I understand it all, but I have to win it all, he says. Wherever the general thinks, he understands sincerity. Especially since there was no such thing as pinching my mouth.

Anyway, no one thinks that if the Garrist kingdom is now engaged from the front with the Catholic Church, the crest can triumph, etc.

Historically, the difference in the number of soldiers, and the quality of soldiers and equipment, are so variable that they can be compared. If you think of it as a force, it's a state and city meal, it can't even be a conversation.

That's why we need to put everything into this first fight. It must be taught that in this first battle, the Catholic advance party was forced to bite down, and that the force of crest was not a force that could easily be trampled without harm. If only that were possible, it would work for the non-warring aristocratic lords and, first of all, there would be the possibility that only this cold period could be ridden. Besides, it's more unusual to try to play a battle in the cold.

The point is, it's a very unwinnable battle, so let's buy some time. No, totally fine, everything is great with a backward strategy.

"If the advance party is 20,000, the Patriot Officer is still out. I'm guessing it's a place where there are a few generals. What, it's not enough?"

Leaks words as Karia pointy her silver eyes beside her. He tells me so effortlessly, but I guess it's true. At least I don't remember taking part in a fight like a few generals, even in mercenary time.

Mattia continues the conversation with a often resounding voice, but with both hands spreads the big map over the military table. And as I often say to my surroundings, I said.

"The most important land exists in this battle. City for a few days running horses from here - Philos. This is the city that will determine victory and defeat in this battle."

◇ ◆ ◇ ◆

There are numerous words pointing to the city of Philos, but the most common of them is the Windy Chicken.

The city of Philos is one of a group of cities just situated in the narrow confines of power, and the surrounding plains are prone to be the main battlefield of the battle.

Therefore the city was always in a position to be questioned by its surroundings. Sometimes from the kingdom of Garrist, sometimes from the group of independent urban states. Now, which side are you on?

In conclusion, as the two names of the Windy Chicken indicate, Philos was on the side of the mighty at that time, a city that has managed to establish its status. Being a worthy ally is forgiven for managing to be an autonomous city.

Therefore, the citizens of Philos are far more aware that they belong to a city called Philos than to a country where they belong.

I guess it is only because of such a breeze among the citizens that they are given the dishonorable name of wind chickens, yet still seek to function as an autonomous city.

And again this day, Philos was asked to see the wind flow. As if that's the fate of a city called Philos.

"… both the Catholic Church and the Seal Church have received written requests for cooperation. What can I do for you, Master Philos?"

In the city Philos, its rulers inherit, from generation to generation, Philos, the name of the city. To the extent that we don't know how long it's been a tradition, it's been around for a long time.

Philos, a contemporary ruler, keeps his body in the chair so that he falls into it. And he zeroed a big, deep sigh like crawling up from the bottom of his lungs. It's like how is this happening, leaking your voice in a color that mourns everything in the world.

"So, what's the Civil Society saying?"

Philos narrows his eyes as he tilts his little neck. That throwing attitude is like you already know what the clerk is going to say.

Would you shy away from what Philos looks like? The clerk slowly exhales as he holds his voice with his lips for a moment.

"Yes, in Philos, an autonomous city, he said it was not necessary to give either"

"I really like that word. The Civil Society..."

Elbowed as he shrugged, Philos shrugged as he supported his jaw with his palm.

"There's no way a small, weak regional city like Philos can grasp autonomy on its own. I've won autonomy because I've been kneeling at the feet of the mighty at all times."

Yes, a regional city called Philos has always turned to the strong. That's how the wind sees chickens, read through the wind flow. And in return for deference to the strong, he has been granted autonomy. Therefore, the idea of an autonomous city rather than an independent city is closer.

The clerk, bewildered by the word of his Lord, threw his voice, as he rejoiced in his mood.

"So does Master Philos intend to cooperate with the Catholic Church?"

Given the path this city has followed so far, that makes sense. It sucks at the big one and threatens the small one. So far, the city has come to life.

Philos dropped his shoulder to contemplate and stroked his own lips with his fingers.

"I don't know. Fighting dragons and lizards is like deciding which way to go."

Phyllos' eyes narrow as he lays down his breath for a beat.

"But it's not beautiful to be crushed at the feet of a dragon."

The eyes of Philos, the contemporary ruler, shine in distortion. The word itself could not be said to be very strong, but its eyes were strange, full of confidence.