A Wish to Grab Happiness

A thirsty breeze strikes Philose-Trait's cheek. The dust rose and the courtesy clothes that made him wrap around his body swayed.

Apparently, there's a lot of wind today. It's like, enough to make you wonder if the fairies are playing. With the clerk and escort behind him, Philos-Trait walks, as he steps on a crest position.

Is it because of your own white eyes, or because of your Catholic outfit? No, so much so that the gaze of curiosity pierces me, Philos-Treit found out. It is unpleasant, but you can refuse it. Anyway, it's the same here that they are rare. In any case, it is extremely rare for the Archdeacon to see a crest man walking in earnest, and to the extent that he hears it in his elves, in his inheritance. Everything from decorations and ornaments to decorations is different from Philose-Trait values, or Catholic values.

Is this a heterogeneous, intercultural thing? Phyllos-Treit brings out those white eyes and one-eyed glasses, even with some kind of honest admiration. Until now, she has not even seen a different culture, of course heterogeneous, counting the opportunities to leave the city of Philos. That gaze slips away unexpectedly.

But that curiosity is also probably meant to distract the tension lurking at the bottom of your gut. My throat swallowed a few spits, but I can't get enough of my thirst.

"This is the better place to negotiate. Dear Philose-Trait,"

A guided soldier opens the way with a salute that places his arms around his chest. There was a great tent in front of me. Maybe they're here. Something like paralysis strikes Philose-Trait's toe. The undisputed anxiety and tension plunder around the stomach.

Breathe so you don't get noticed, one. That's how he went into the great tent, lightly laboring the guided soldiers.

—— there, undoubtedly they were. A crest witch, so great evil, and a man so called.

As negotiated in advance, the other three as well as this one. Sitting in the center is probably the witch Mattia.

The brilliance that covers the big eyes is the madness of faith without deception. Sometimes a human being called a saint has it. Besides, the behavior and refinement often attract people's gaze.

The Crest was consecrated with the Virgin, and the Catholic was well aware of the witch and the abomination of it.

I wonder if the little woman who refrains next to that left is the secretary of the witch or in such a role. Even the slightest words of greeting hide an unhidden intelligence. Besides, being allowed to take such a negotiating position proved herself to be capable.

And at the end of the day, Philose-Trait glanced right next to the witch, and did. Exchange words without even trying to hide the roughness while making eyes worse, he.

Great evil, Lord of evil, traitor, Rugis. Those eyes are sharp as a pointed blade, piercing this way. I don't have many words to put in my mouth, but I don't know what I'm putting through that skull, it was that look.

Unexpectedly, Philose-Trait's shoulder is about to snap. That vicious behavior I saw on the battlefield, cutting off soldiers from every helmet. Slap people's skulls with horse hooves, the way they look. Thus, while he gave his life, he threw it away and humiliated it all unnecessarily, he. It is drawn behind her lid, even if it is not.

Phyllos-Treit desperately suppressed that the hot exhalation was about to leak out of his lips. The scorned, insulted indignation was still going to climb out of my throat. Even so, the person acted as if it had been the first time with him, and looked at him uncommonly. Well, apparently it was also disconnected that it was not worth remembering. It's what they made fun of.

I hear that the Rugis man was left to great evil by a brave man recognized by the Cathedral, and thus given the name of the Lord of evil more than under the Pope.

Once given its title and name, only the great demon Vrilligant, the only evil dragon whose heart was crushed by God Altius in the age of mythology. There is also talk that Altius reigned as the only god by beheading the evil dragon. What kind of person are you to be likened to that evil dragon?

There was a slight curiosity in Philose-Trait's chest, and so great vigilance and indignation. Concern that he might make something of himself even in this negotiating setting.

But I'd be more afraid not to call him in on this negotiating venue. Rumors had also been gathered in Philos-Treit's ears that it was this man who was taking over the real power of the crest religion and shaping the army. I just made a deal with a witch, and it doesn't make sense for Evil Dragon to crush everything later. If we are going to take the hand of the crest religion anyway, we should make it a sure contract. Whatever happens here, we have to bring home a clear contract and a record. For example, even if that negotiator is a witch and an evil dragon.

But the negotiating ground proceeded so smoothly as never before, as if it had dared to remove such Philose-Trait concerns.

What the witch Mattia and Largud-Ann girl presented to Philos-Trait is a proposed alliance. What the city Philos does not kneel as a subordinate of the crest, but only asks to stand as a collaborator. From the contents of the parchment sent earlier, it can be said that it has softened considerably.

What is required is to supply supplies, secure accommodation, and so on. Perhaps the provision of supplies also means receiving weapons and protective equipment on this side and removing the threat.

There are parts that are somewhat unswallowable, but never unacceptable. Phyllos-Treit also distorted his white eyes that it was something that would present an unpleasant line. If it's too strong a demand, we can also stop negotiating once and encourage the other party to make concessions, but this is unlikely to be the case either.

Philose-Treit had in mind that the position of the autonomous city of Philos would, if it were to be crested, be one that he wanted to incorporate into the forces, even if it was not.

From here on out, the crest will not march toward the capital of King Garrist, and you will not miss the city of Philos, which is at its foot. If you're going to continue marching, you could be bitten behind it, or if you make a retreat without any hand at all, after a long cold period leaves, this city will become a front base for the Catholic Church.

Therefore, there is no hand in crest teaching that you will miss the city Philos, etc. If you drink the terms, you will be welcome as an ally, and if you cannot drink, you will be harmed, but you will surely perish.

Philose-Trait keeps his eyes narrowed, exchanging words with the clerk while he circles his thoughts in his skull.

To be honest, it wasn't a bad request. The contents of the alliance are, of course, not the city Philosophy, but the Philosophy-Trait individual, especially. If this is the case, it is the individual ruler who formed an alliance with the crest religion, and even if later the crest religion was swallowed up by the Catholic Church, it remains possible that the city of Philos itself will be able to defend its autonomy if it is punished personally. Of course, it's definitely a thin possibility, but it's completely unlikely.

I don't know if it's a witch Mattia, or a painting drawn by someone else, but they seem to be much more intelligent than what they hear in the wind.

Words fly across the great tent a few times, between the crest religion and Philose-Trait, and negotiations are staged. In the meantime, Philose-Trait cares about Rugis, who is almost speechless, and turns his gaze to you. The negotiations themselves were going smoothly, but the thought had been worked out all over his chest that he would no longer put in any cross spears.

But Rugis never opened his lips, staring at Philose-Trait's face like he just wouldn't stare. Whatever it is. Sure, my monocular glasses and white eyes will appear unusual and odd, but it's something I don't even want to get so tired of seeing. Though many things rather divert attention from fear and aversion.

Unexpectedly with that sharp gaze, Philose-Trait's face turned toward Rugis. Mattia and Ann also turned their gaze to Rugis as if they had been caught up in it.

Slight, blank. Rugis opened his lips, as if he had been driven to that intermission where no one uttered a word at all.

"I hope you're not offended, but those right eyes were born, aren't they? If you don't want to answer, you don't have to."

Really, Rugis, as if it were nothing, says. Philose-Trait found his brow bouncing loudly.