Fly the Flag of Fire!

The man was leaning on his dreams.

As illusions come quietly and unstoppable, it is like a great river aiming for the sea forever, inviting silence. Taste the way you come again Aromatic alcohol moves your mind anew every time you repeat it, as if you were taught and taught what kind of person you were, without words. Would it be like a wave to return the recap... the man just took it without the skill of doing it?

Suddenly a big scene came along.

The anger and screams of the warriors are roaring in heaven and earth stained with the colour of blood. Army shoes and horseshoes that swerve the earth are all imminent. The man was on horseback in his armor, feeling despair and fear as a twist.

That's when. As one of my allies approached me, I grabbed the man's coat and peeled it off. I behaved unquestionably. Furthermore, he calls out to more than a dozen rides and rushes out into the midst of a wave of defeat. The man said wait.

"Please stop. I do so as one brother. He's a brother who pushed his brother to take more responsibility, plundered more money from his brother, praised his brother but failed to show any respect for his authority, but now he wishes him happiness more than anyone else. I will take this coat as a last resort. It's a nice feather weave, this is"

The knight rushes away, hiding his radiant smile with an iron face covering. He turned after striking the enemy, but it seemed to attract many enemies, and the impending wave towards the man clearly diminished momentum. The surroundings prompted the man, who turned his horse's head and ran. I left my brother in the dead zone and ran. Turning a twilight red on his back to night... he fled the plain of defeat.

That was just the beginning of the night. Everything was lost from there.

Enemy onslaught smashes allies here and there. The village was burned, the town was taken, and the field was crushed with the flag of pride. Many and many were killed. The villagers, the townspeople, the soldiers, the knights, the nobles... were slaughtered by the sword and the spear tyranny, including the man's wife. Still, the man survived. I wasn't allowed to die.

"No more, because it's a great momentum. Where you hit a soldier on a dark cloud, it's counterproductive... you think you need a little odd. Otherwise, I won't be able to buy you time."

Lost, exhausted, fled. Someone told the man that in the dirty tent. One of the great nobles, the enemy army was seen as the next to attack his territory.

"I'm going to try to surrender. Look, that's the one I showed you at the sword game. Drop your weapon, hug it, and let it go down. I think it's time we had a base over there, and you're already welcome... Huh? Haha, it's okay, it's not the most important thing about honor or pride."

Laughing ticklishly, the great nobleman headed out to the enemy country to drool. It's like crawling in the sludge of humiliation and sipping it with a foul odor. The enemy humiliated him, and his allies cursed him with blood eyes. It was just the stomach of a man and a man to know the sincerity.

"We used precious time to build up our strength. I won't win because it's a gathering, but I'm going to deploy a broad delaying tactic to East and West. Buy more time."

The stomach said decisively about the time a man finally tried to escape south. We have learned and fought together in a subordinate relationship since we were young. With the loss of much of each other's family, only two daughters remained in the man and only one wife and daughter in the stomach. I was in a similar mood. I was in a position not to speak of it even though I wanted to protect my family.

"Please organize a counter-attack army in the south. Of course the reorganization of the national army is good, but you should gather all the aristocratic private soldiers and recruit prostitutes from the people as well. Also, there is a diagnosis of cooperation coming from within the Church, but that seems to be a lot about miracle luminosity. Perhaps there is the manifestation of a brave man bewitched by legend. Even such a legend is valuable if it extends into this period."

The man had no choice. I acted as I was told. He painstakingly restructured the national army in the south, prepared himself to the nobles, and engaged without shaking the courage in the people. I understood how much devotion and sacrifice one morning and evening had gained. I was prepared to say what my presence was due to my duties and responsibilities.

And a miracle happened.

"I want to save this country. I want to take out any enemy and get everyone's smile back."

When I met the young man, the man was convinced of something that had to be interrogated there. If he laughs, his surroundings laugh, and if he grieves, his surroundings grieve again. It was roughly beyond a person's usual interrogation to influence just one person as if he were the largest majority on the spot.

"I don't think war is a good thing. I think it's sad. But if we can't defend ourselves if we don't fight, and if we don't resist, we're trampled... we have to fight now. I lead the Holy Grail Knights first. But I'm sure I can't win it alone. Help us all. We would have won."

Everyone was distracted by him. I aroused because he said he would fight, and braved because he promised victory. The Special War Army became the carriage to be formed, and the nobles mentioned it and expressed their participation in it. Watching that happen, the man was thinking north by himself. There were all the things that I lost in my illness. There were those who had already fought. Miracles seemed to occur in misery.

"The brave are strong. But youth is also dangerous. I'll make it up to you."

The ancient Kingsguard knight told the man so and worked as he said. In fact, the activity of the brave was adventurous and like a picture story. We won the battle that we wouldn't win, we fought more often that we wouldn't, and we fell into a crisis that didn't even think of or help us unexpectedly. The man associated himself with the divine sword that the legend asks. It is said to leave the owner's hand and follow the enemy automatically. Though the battle of the brave was tremendous in its effects, it was something that forced hard work on the drunk.

The drunk were finally ecstatic and brave enough to challenge their enemies. The fierceness of it made a man look out for himself. The war intensified. The front moved from retreat to antagonism, from antagonism to forward, and the momentum of the counter-attack only increased due to the emotion of reclaiming the land taken. At the heart of that fierce momentum was a brave man.

So the man was late to realize. There was an army that did a thorough job trying to hide behind glory and leaps. Its army, centered around the brave army, seemed to have rallied the chaos of war as it was, and, to put it better, a bunch of successful men, and, to put it worse, a sweep of the rash.

But strong. And stable. It doesn't fail to be put into any phase. In the battlefield, we will show solid work at the stronghold of the offensive, whether it is advantageous or disadvantaged, and in the rear, we will contribute to the various operations of transport and replenishment, ensuring that all the tasks are carried out. They are not afraid of danger, they are not bound by the effects, they minimize damage to their own armies and reduce damage to their allies. That army had well compensated for the weaknesses of the army headed by the brave.

That ironically brings up the elusive parts of the brave.

The man thinks. The brave man was a simple, emotional figure, for better or worse. The fact that so many powerful and powerful people were mixed with those surrounding him must have strongly influenced the actions of the brave. All in all, it was belligerent. In distress, that worked in the right direction, but the wind changes direction when it reaches the stage where the front is pushed back. There were frequent battles that lacked cooperation with the whole, and there were also numerous occasions when local victories led to overall losses.

Because there was room for glorious victory and glorious results. The man finds his childhood there. War is not a race to eat the fruit of a name called honor. The dead do not bless those who run on their own corpses. Both enemies and allies live with their thoughts individually and are neither actors nor anything reserved for the honor of the winner.

The brave man began to empty... and defeated for the first time. Nestled during enemy surgery, many nobles and holy knights lost their lives. Some of them included the man's trusted Kingsguard knight, and the first battle he had sacrificed himself to escape the brave was later to be regarded as one of the "brave men and three knights".

The man wanted to praise the brave. But I couldn't. Where I chose and decorated some words, it was reprimand for the brave. It was the growth, arrogance and disbelief of those who were about to perish. The brave man wanted it when he came to his will. Recklessness became the norm, and impotence was mistaken for a must-win means or something.

And that man rises. The presence of shadows leaps onto the surface stage.

Salomon. Whoever volunteered from a merchant to a prostitute became a general named Hahat's family name in the battle. Few have condemned that. Because he and his army had become essential.

That power of control took full control of the armies of the crooks and was sharp. Emphasis on cavalry and collapse enemy forces at an alarming rate if fought. The less glorious the armies of the brave lacked, the lower the ratings, the more valiantly the armies of Salomon stacked their battles. The man finds awesomeness there. Coincidences were being expelled. Luck had not been counted on. Rationality was pierced by saving all the waste.

The man thinks as Salomon had embraced both the success and failure of the brave. Or maybe he was identifying. But the brave ones, it is as if, on the contrary, they have lost sight of Salomon and of themselves. It became blocked, and the distance also arose between the Knights of the Holy Grail, which should be united by the bond of faith. All the loud nobles of the voice were to remain around a lot.

The man wanted to talk to the brave man, but he was rejected. One or Salomon was not interested in meeting a man. The difference tells the story. Despite the fact that he was winning, the man was feeling more anxious.

I get a hunch.

An unprecedented great victory involved the death of a brave man in battle. The brave men, who were supposed to be in charge of one wing of the massive operation, also separated from the Knights of the Holy Grail and only led and protruded the Special War Army. That was always more and more abusive behavior. And the friends who were in a position to help it did not make it, and the enemies were wiped out, and none of the brave men's lives were saved.

It was Salomon's army. It is an army that has produced the best results under no circumstances. It was the first failure of the great battle to wipe out the enemy's main force that killed the brave. The man thought he heard history distorting there. I remember it was like a scream of a beast.

Salomon's death in prison was necessary to end the war.

His accomplishments were forgotten, and his sins and punishments cried out. Voices of rebellion were also received from nobles, churches and, at the end of the day, real daughters. The man was puzzled. Everyone seemed like he was drunk and crazy. The odd heat was swirling and I couldn't breathe. The man was afraid. But maybe that was the same for everyone. Everyone was afraid of someone. No one could return to a truly peaceful routine. A wind of violence that blew too strongly...... perhaps the most feared at its centre was Salomon.

The flames rose.

The man saw it from the high of the royal castle. It showed up in something extraordinary. The madness of burning one hero to death with ecstasy. Miserable patience and brutality that gather together in the name of God the brutality that creeps into each person's hands and sings and dances as a festival. The man feared from the bottom of his heart. I was ashamed of the sins of the world. I trembled at the savagery of my country. Above all, I wept at the devastation of the people. I hallucinated the dry wilderness by the landscape of the night of the burning. It was a terrible world. It was a totally terrible world.

"If you will, before the dawn of the night of fire, there will be no beautiful landscape."

The man swore to forget that word, which Salomon supposedly groaned at the end, engraved into his own soul. It was the wish of a hero wrapped in chains and in fireworks. It was the desire of those who offered everything their lives, their honor and their sweetness to be stripped of all of it and trampled upon. If you mean that you were burned in an ugly, nasty landscape, tormented, and still uttered hope without resentment...... wasn't that the one who was truly courageous and a human miracle? The man was in awe. I leaked a whimper at the chill of the morning landscape.

At that time, the man had three daughters.

The two men above are children who survived the war, and the one below is a child born after the war. Men had to create abundance for them as well. It was a long and steep journey. Without being able to afford to choose and prefer cloudiness, compromise gave rise to further compromise and patience gave rise to more patience. Fostering people in the wilderness was not an easy battle. Still, the man did not escape his duty. I couldn't rest until I got a beautiful view one day.

"You're right, you can't rest or relax"

The woman who became my last wife said so with perseverance. A woman who is the mother of her last child and the daughter of a great nobleman who surrendered to an enemy country. I watched the world with a more awakened eye than anyone else.

"Your battle will last a long time. It's about being fully fought through without any peace or hesitation. I'll see to it. On behalf of my father, on behalf of my mother, and even on behalf of that demon, let us continue to watch the fate of you and your country. Find out what happened to the job entrusted to you…"

The man thinks. I wondered how it was. I wonder how it was seen and evaluated. Because his battle is just about over now. The meaning of the recurring wave-like fantasy is that.

My life is about to run out.

A man already has no sense of limbs, no sense of body consciousness. Consciousness just relaxes dreams and doesn't know the passage of time. It's just hard to avoid. It's hard to get back. It's just to detect signs that you're trying to spend your life. Still, there are things I care about, and that keeps the man from spreading his consciousness.

Was the flag of the colour of fire raised?

There is a reality that the man's belly taught me. Even though people's lives return to the wilderness, there is an unprecedented mix of colors there that creates distortion and, as the dawn landscape of a night of fire, it produces an intolerably rotten odor. No time has been left for men to make it right, and also new wars have pushed ahead of the west before making it right. The man's work was about to end miserably.

But the man knows. A miracle is something that comes at such a time.

The fire reappeared. A man who must be more angry with the current landscape than anyone else has said he has returned. That man, who should have ended up black in the flames, changed his appearance over time... and said he was working as if he were a miracle to come back to the head of the army and welcome a new morning. Wonderful. That story is not false for comfort. The belly-hearted words also warmed a man who had a definite fever and could not move. Tears melted and spilled. I hadn't flushed it in a long time.

Oh...... I want to see his people fight again. I want to see where that flag goes.

While the man was pleading, he also said that he was not qualified to do so. He is destined to leave with insufficient work and no longer gains from happiness in seeing beautiful landscapes. I knew no one would appreciate it. The man was weak. The verdict was handed down the day he led the great army and lost to the plains. In the days that followed, all I could do was eat up my teeth so that I wouldn't be crushed by it while it became my responsibility. The man knew more than anyone else what was beyond him, and he was ashamed of it, and he lived without escaping from it.

Still, a man can't be the last one not to wish.

Victory over his people. Be beautiful, a new morning. Please. Please.

I felt the heat. The man could perceive it as a tear, so he could hold a glimmer of joy in his sadness. There was also a new fire chip in my body that was cold and dry... because I could be so sure.

A beautiful spring day with yellow scattered flowers blooming in the wild, and finally the time comes.

King Wilhelm of the Kingdom of Asuria, defeated.

It was a quiet quiet end. But it is inscribed in history as a milestone that has made times go by and radicalized civil strife. The morning was far away, and the heat of fire had not yet reached the time of rest.