A Wish to Grab Happiness

At some point you were losing your nose, Saint Mattia breathed lightly. I can't feel the damp scent of death and snow or the smell of grass and trees. The air goes through the nostrils, but it's strange that it doesn't smell.

But that was natural, too. One strong smell and everything else is on my knees.

That is, the smell of iron. Richly drifting iron and blood are causing the fragrance to lose from the battlefield. Mattia lowered her eyes as she exhaled a rough breath.

Her eyes see everything on the battlefield.

The demon soldiers, who had barely kept the front until now, were beginning to collapse. One escapes, and then someone escapes again after that. Forget about aligning footprints in that way, etc.

In this way, it was no longer possible to get in shape as an army. An army is like one flesh. If your hands and feet move in bulk, it no longer works.

A bunch of beastly warcraft have now been mutilated by the time they are mutilated in front of the crest and garrison soldiers. Stuck, this is.

"... you won, you won? The enemy will pull back. It was so strong."

Phyllos-Trait said with his eyes wide open, as he lined up his eyes beside Mattia. I put it in words and still have the look of being incredible.

Blood was sticking on its cheeks. Someone's blood must have spilled it, but Philos even forgot to wipe it.

The tension is relieved and the fingers of the hands and feet cramp. Philos thought his whole body seemed lost, whether it was really a good thing to mock the victory.

I was prepared to die countless times. There were many times when sharp blade-like claws ran in front of us, and the troops were about to collapse.

So Philos is still incredible. I feel so wondering if this isn't my mistake or something. Mattia stared at Philos' swinging monoculars.

"Yeah - we, it's a human victory. The Beasts will no longer be able to recover."

Mattia blinked slowly and said in a chewy tone. Let the tired lips pour and order the generals to pursue them as they are. Spears were raised and voices roughed up against the banner of the crest religion.

But even in the midst of that victory, Mattia was floating bitter on the edge of her cheek. Unwiped agitation and irritation too.

This is an indisputable human victory. There is no mistake in that. The Warcraft will no longer only be able to show their backs and escape.

- But it's not a crest victory.

When the enemy began to crumble, it was Garrist's general who poked at its unravelling the earliest. They are no longer impending to the front of the castle gate with momentum.

It will take some time, but the strong castle gates will all definitely open its big mouth. Then the glorious work on the battlefield will be for Garrist to grasp everything.

For the crest religion to rule the King's capital effectively, it had to go in before anyone else did. That is no longer enemies.

What to do, what to do. Mattia was too tired to even notice that her throat rang loudly.

That abrupt way of collapsing the Warcraft. Obviously not naturally occurring. Something happened. Something due to external factors. Something the Warcraft have to collapse.

That must be the disappearance of the demon.

If there was anyone who made it up, there was only one person Mattia could think of. He is his own matrimonial servant, and thus his own sword. Only Rugis.

I don't know how much misery there was. I can't imagine what process I followed. Mattia refuses to let him be the only one who has given himself the victory.

And yet I'm willing to ruin it? Mattia naturally grips the ring attached to her finger. His heart was darkened as he heard the General's lively voice.

You have to think of something. Worst case scenario, even if it were to be relative to a garrison soldier. It was when Mattia crooked her lips as she poured a large grain of sweat down her forehead.

Philos moves his cheeks and says, creasing Mattia's expression.

"... the point is, in order to feed into the effective control of the King's capital, we have to show the citizens who the actors are."

Mattia opened her lid unexpectedly to the words. Without waiting for a response, Philos drops the wearing leather armor onto the spot and runs the surrounding guards as a few envoys.

Mattia looked at Philos, wondering what it was like. But Philos said he was spared for a moment, and even threw down the dagger he offered on his hips.

"Me too, I learned a little. I used to think correctness was everything. I thought if I tried to be fair and just, and if I did, you'd follow me in the end."

But no, Philos opens his lips. As she gently unloaded the body from the horse, she carefully removed each piece of equipment. Only a few skins wore them together anymore.

The way those who are inherently aristocrats are not supposed to be exposed. Still, without dyeing one cheek, Phyllos took the load out of the horse fixture and spread clothes mixed with black. As a nobleman, it's her costume.

"Of the Roseaux, is it one thing? There was also an overlap of misfortune. Philose-Trait"

Mattia says to calm Philos' heart, even though she understands only a little what he's trying to do. Either way, Philos' eyes ran blood, and strong emotions were playing.

No, maybe that's something I can't help.

It accumulates in the bottom of my mind no matter how I raise it, such as thoughts betrayed and beaten by the citizens I once sheltered. That's how it erupts when it's here.

Philos' monocular glasses tilted to shake.

"Right. But the truth I believed in was wrong, and people didn't even like what I thought was right. That's no mistake."

It was emotional but still really pale language. Mattia herself had gotten off the horse and felt something disturbing go past her chest as she helped Philos change into a new outfit.

It's not a very good emotion. Mattia was beginning to have feelings for Philos that were close to a kind of suspicion. Maybe she's in a lot of danger right now.

Knowing or not Mattia's thoughts like that, Philos continued his voice as he sang.

"Plus he taught me. Both the truth of openness and justice and how dirt-free correctness sometimes give way to a drop of ambition. You must be, Virgin."

The moment I heard that word. The suspicion in Mattia turned into certainty.

her. Phyllos-Treit let him clearly shake off the guiding principles now in his heart. From fairness to injustice, from robust justice to chaotic conspiracies.

I don't know whose influence that is, I don't have to ask. He dragged out the idea that Philose-Trait was putting him to sleep deep in his chest.

"- People can smile and be villains. I'm not choosing any more means for my correctness. Even if everything in your mouth is poisonous in the future."

I guess the messengers Philos sent out called around. I can see the aristocratic soldiers who have no longer served in the great battle are on their way here. The next generation of those in power to take charge of Philosophy are the ones who fall prey to it.

But so are they. Mattia now understands that even herself everything was miscalculated. A man named Philose-Trait was not just a girl crying out for justice and fairness.

If necessary, a poisonous woman who even drinks up enough evil to melt her bones. That's her.

Wearing a black based courtesy, Phyllos says as he stretches out the blood on his cheek.

"The king fled to leave the people, and the princess helped the people until she bathed herself in blood. Take the garrison and the crest soldiers, right? Though not true - you'll like that, folks."

The last day Philose-Trait names its provisional first name. With a dark voice she had never shown before, she said.