It's all one flower.

As soon as I opened the front door, I smelled the fragrant smell of bread baking. Horrified by the coolness inside about what magic hangs. Roark took off his hat.

"Dr. Septentorio, are you there?

"It's the library."

"Brother, are you hurt?

Captain Solniak answers briefly, and Juvenile Soldier Morph asks. The young man laughed and waved.

"No, I'm fine. I need to talk to the curse doctor."

"Me, too, Farkill, I need you, so can I come with you?

"I don't have the authority to order, and you need me, right?

When Roark nodded, Captain Solgnac kept a bag of worms for me. White and light-brown worms roam inside. We're going to be drained of water by surgery and processed into hot and cold medicine.

I'll see you later.

Alongside the youth, he went through the hallway and Roark also entered the library.

Farkill shows the spelldoctor Septentorio the information he's been collecting, and the spelldoctor notes the main points in the margins of the newspaper clippings.

Roark didn't really know what that meant, but he didn't say anything.

"Yo, curse doctor, long time no see. It's been a long time since I've seen it."

"Long time no see. They're not guerrillas."

"I just heard. What do you call a war refugee who has flown through the streets?

The young man heard as he lowered his hips across from the curse doctor.

Roark also sits across the street from Farkill, next to the youth. The soft couch was comfortable to sit on, but not cozy. I wonder if I can explain the details to this person and see Farkill.

Farkill looked up from his tablet device in confusion.

"That? Aren't you Nemoralis refugees? Why do you have a device?

"I'm a Lacrimaris who went to a place I knew and got caught up in the war. I was there with my family, but only one person helped me... I am a powerless people..."

"Oh, you've had it since you were a little girl so you can work online relationships"

The young man seemed convinced, but had no way of showing sympathy for the furkill he described with his dark face. Did you notice the locks' vigilance, introduce yourself with a light nori?

"Me, Razornik. I'm not a militant guerrilla, I'm just a liaison officer, so won't you be so scared?

"Liaison personnel?

When Roark heard, Razornik and the spelldoctor Septentorio nodded as well.

"We're not in the army. There's no such neat organization. On the contrary, there are no mentors. Policies are falling apart."

"What?"

"Think about it. Half a century of civil unrest survives, a lot of guys who know how to fight, right? A powerful people, even on an individual basis, can terrorize the mainland of Artel with bad nature."

Razornik turned to the two boys of the powerless people to explain.

For example, if [birdshot] and [leap] can be done, the carcasses of pigeons and ravens are left in the shadows to gush the mischievous demons and receive the summoned demons.

Artel is a civilized scientific country with Kirkulus as its national religion. There's no [junction] or anything. Just generate warcraft in the city, scattering death and fear.

"There are just a lot of big organizations with bases, and the smaller ones don't grasp the Nemoralis government."

"Is there that much?

When Farkil heard in surprise, Razornik nodded, saying it was natural.

"There's a lot going on, Regular Army can't go slapping Artel directly. So we're all upset."

"Is there such a large number of ordinary people who are at war voluntarily, not ordained?

"Without being a volunteer...?

"Ah. Not a single rock at all, though. The military can't even grasp the individuals who think it's quicker to do it themselves"

When Roark and Farkill heard, Razornik said sadly, distorting his lips.

... funeral parlor, the guerrilla based here said he was plugging into the soldier, right?

Roark remembered a story he heard from the funeral parlor Agoni the night he had a barbecue with pork. I can't successfully imagine what a militant guerrilla who is now away is trying to accomplish in what position.

According to the old man of the people of the lake, the Nemoralis Regular Army, stationed in the city of North Zakart, has received their plug-in. Some junior soldiers said they would welcome militant guerrilla activity in the artel.

The Nemoralis Army, at least, has grasped the existence of this group. I don't support guerrillas, but I give them ink in a way by leaving them alone.

"I'm here because I lost everything and people are working for revenge. I want the war over, Pasili."

"I am persuading the militant guerrillas to stop fighting..."

A spelldoctor, Septentorio, lays his eyes down in sadness. Roark overheard.

"War, how can it end?

"If I could figure that out, I wouldn't have a hard time. I don't know what Artel's purpose is..."

"If it was for Artel's sake, I'd have figured it out."

To the voice of the curse doctor of the people of the lake, Razornik turned his eyes to see the incredible.

The spelldoctor Septentorio shows the file and tablet terminal spread over the low table with his palm.

"Yo (more) feels like organizing multiple pieces of information and looking at it personally."

The purpose of Artel, who said no so, was a terrible one.

Roark, in light of what he's been through, is convinced, but he doesn't want to believe it. If Artel isn't going to stop the war until he eradicates the Nemoralists, no persuasion will work.

Roark saw Farkill. The Lacrimaris boy was also listening to the two stories with a faded face.