Sweet Reincarnation

"... you'll do it"

From Uncle Ratesh, Pais and the others who were ready to pick him up after the rash. Uncle Ratesh was greeted after taking all possible measures without any concealment, but he hit the tip of his welcome nose as if he had taken the lead. The soldiers let in the army in the form of control over the Mortairn family's destinations, only to say that they would expend divine speed. More than three thousand of them. Enough to ravage Mortarn territory.

Of course, since it is a high-ranking nobleman's move, there can be no round hips about the move, so a few escorts assumed.

But Pais was also unexpected to move so many armies that he was likely to be able to control Mortarn territory.

"Whoa, you're killing me. Are you going to attack us?

"It won't be. If you are willing to do so, we will not stop you in the Eastern region. Threaten."

There is also such a thing as diplomacy, where nobility bargaining makes you beat up and listen to what you say. It is common for people not to hear the complaints of powerless things. That's why weak nobles struggle with factional asylum, alliances, marital diplomacy, and so much more.

But for once, fellows serving the same king. It is common sense to refrain from bringing up troops as much as possible.

Ignored this common sense and moved the army. Where is this intention? Shall we control the Mortarn territories by force and put them under control, depriving them of technology, knowledge and property as they are?

If they seem to do that, the Mortairns choose no means to retaliate. I have no intention of letting him sleep properly at night, and it is a presence that thoroughly interferes with the activities of the Ratesh family at the upper level of the guerrilla. With Uncle Ratesh, you know there will be terrible retribution if you put your hands on the Mortairn family.

I mean, we'll attack, the threat. It's a threat, Pais says.

"Did you threaten to move the army from 3,000?

"So that's all we're worth the threat. For once, residents were ordered to go out at night and vigilantes were ordered to patrol, so the rest would depend on the way out."

Residents noised at the sudden arrival of the army at one time, but calmed down by a circular prohibiting them from walking at night at the behest of Pais and by starting patrolling the vigilante. The folks are regaining their routine by going around explaining their position that only friendly friends are coming.

Walking at night is to get drunk and have an unintentional and accidental clash with a military member of the Ratesh Army, or to prevent the military member over there from multiplying the darkness of the night and doing unclean things to the inhabitants. The purpose is to keep an eye on your friends while they're bright and to get them to grow up when it gets dark.

If this is the case, we see the risk of armed clashes at once without a declaration of war. If you can, your neighbor was just coming to see you a little bit, so I want to end it.

"What if they attack us?

"You can [travel instantly] anywhere in our garden. Uncle Ratesh, if you came here immediately, would you like to aim directly... and bring reinforcements from elsewhere after only letting our blind people escape? Either way, if you're willing to fuck over there, this one will always be behind you. We just have to reopen it."

I brought in a large army without prior notice. If you look here alone, the nonsense is obviously over there. Perhaps you have an excuse for what it is, but I'm not willing to do it for free. Come whenever you want.

Pace's courage is already a grand reminder of the war.

"Boy, you can count on that kind of courage. Parenthesis."

"Is it the mother who gave it up?"

The Admiral will cry.

You must have inherited from your parents the goodness of your brains that won't even shake. Shiitz felt that way. Anyway, the father of this prodigy is also an essential hero in the anecdote of fucking courage. I have several stories about being single and getting into enemy formation, and I've had fights with foreign dignitaries face to face. He had also made all the places involved with his parents and brothers enemies in order to marry his lover (Anise). Shiites looks dabbled with casserole when he was younger and Pais now.

Most importantly, Pace's mother is also a mother and a gutsy woman. To a do-poor territory with nothing, I had been married and flat on my own. After having a child, raise the child as a liver mother while supporting her busy flying husband. The daughters were well educated as ladies, even in poverty, and then raised to be bright children as stretches.

Either way, the thickness of the liver balls is definitely a concession. Shiits is nodding convincingly on his own, yeah.

"You're here."

Eventually, there was movement towards the military. There is a figure of a woman coming with a small escort. It's definitely Uncle Ratesh.

From here on out, it's a fun time to have a conversation.

"Welcome to Mortairn territory, Uncle Ratesh. I am honored that you came all the way here. It's a country with no big deal, but I'd like to welcome you all."

"Long time no see, Sir Pastry-Mortellen. I suddenly pushed it, and I wonder if it bothered you."

"It doesn't bother you or anything. If you are His Excellency, our house is always welcome. We will take you to our mansion as this is not a good place to stand."

Pais directs several Ratesh family missions to the Mansion, under blatantly aggressive pressure from thousands of military groups he feels from behind. In the meantime, the conversations that are exchanged are close to zero. Mounting silent pressure would mean one of the cards of negotiation. Uncle Ratesh is well aware that silence can sometimes be more stressful.

If you let the Count through the mansion and welcome him to the reception room, it's time for discussion from here on out. It is also the moment when the presumption that the army would be a threat is confirmed. Firstly, with the Mortairn family, which is reassuring.

"Again, well done, Sir Briosh-Ratesh. I am truly surprised by the Countess herself."

It was Pais who cut the fire after dampening his mouth lightly with tea.

"I had an important conversation with Sir Mortairn. I'm sorry I pushed you so hard."

"No, nothing like that. But when it comes to being moved by so many people, let's also be pushed by evil. Why do you have so many troops?

"It will be particularly noisy these days. I'm not saying where, but there are some parts of the territory that are not even policing. I'm also a weak woman, so my husband insisted I keep my escort steady."

"Lord Seljan?

"Yeah. Hi. Looks like our guy has some overprotections."

Let's start with Uncle Ratesh. The Mortairn family also had the suspicion that there might be a territory here recently where policing has not been done well. Such stories are heard from time to time, especially between Ratesh-Mortairn. We have doubts that the two smaller other territories in each other's neighborhood may be the source of the security disturbance, but we cannot make restoration of security a priority until we break into other territories.

That is why, as a Mortairn family, we are trying to increase the streets and spread the risks, but when used for excuses, it is also difficult to cope. The Count tells me without a shame that it is only a measure of the Count himself, but of the late, and that it comes from the depth of his master's affection, because of the deterioration of security.

There is no way that a human being, who would also be Uncle Ratesh, could dictate a serious decision to move the army in a conjugal affair. I don't care what you think, it's pre-construction.

"That's a family thought."

Pais, however, after a while of thinking about it, accepts its pre-construction. I can argue with you here, but if there is no real harm, I reopened it. In fact, if there's an iron skin that doesn't terrorize an armed group from 3,000, there's nothing about it, it's just a group traveler.

It's quick if you think a bunch of yakuza came on a trip. He's a good customer who's not more scared than he needs to be, who takes the obvious for granted and drops a lot of money if he can't even attach a obsession.

If you're a bad boy with hair on your heart, the Mortairns will be fine. The Mortairns keep their minds normal.

"I wonder if you're right about family thoughts. My daughter was drowning, and I told my wife I wouldn't do it. If you don't find someone early, I'm telling you it's pathetic."

Uncle Ratesh talks about his daughter on a family topic.

It's the word of a female fox who used to plot to take in Pace. This is where you have to be careful. It is the common opinion of the Mortairn men that daughter-in-law is enough by herself.

"I am the daughter of His Excellency and Lord Sergian. You'll definitely be beautiful, so I don't think you'll have a problem finding someone."

"I'm shaken by my first aspirations, so it's hard to find someone else?

Who is the primary aspiration? Everyone in this room knows that. He is a territorial nobleman of the same southern valves, a non-foreign valet, brilliant, young enough to be called a minor, well-faced, with first-rate martial arts skills, a man with excellent territorial management skills and a sense of plot to put up for Uncle Ratesh.

There is only one such thing.

Everyone's eyes pour on Pais, but the person in question pisses on the frog's face.

"The edge is something we don't know where it is. There won't be any rush."

Advice, flush like a light breeze.

No-one else, Uncle Ratesh himself, has been through his first marriage and childbirth since over thirty. In the kingdom of God where it is common sense to marry in a teenager, late marriage is also late marriage. It was the son-in-law of the Count's second son who was laughed at as a backhouse without being late for his dowry. It was the Mortairn family that moved behind it, and Pais is one of the few people to know all about how his couple met and got married.

I don't know where the edge is. Only the two houses will be able to have a common perception of this word.

"It would be nice... if there were any good people out there. Yeah, like a good researcher, for example."

Forever, the Countess changes the subject. A good force addition or subtraction would be a boulder, as if it was a ghoulish force push that was way off the side. If it's lined up, it looks like it might accidentally be worn out here, but Pais is so frightened with a strange face.

"If you're a good researcher, why not visit the Royal Institute?

"That's what I thought, so I went during this time. They showed me all kinds of labs, but I knew I didn't have anything to pin."

"Your Lordship's ideals seem to be high inside."

A research position is not suitable as a son-in-law of a territorial nobleman. There are a lot of mostly poor people, and they tend to pull off, and they don't have any political benefits.

Being intelligent and having a stable income, people around the daughters of lower court aristocrats may target them, but they are basically not as good as Uncle Ratesh's. That's the only thing I'd talk about if I'd made a big discovery.

I mean, I'm smelling it.

Interacting with each other, Uncle Ratesh is slowly attacking. From here comes the real deal and the power of the body without knowing the face of the Mortairn family.

"There was only one lab I cared about."

"Ho."

"You know that the Generic Magic Lab..."

Pais and the others still had this feeling.

I've been thinking about various other possibilities, but apparently the "magic candy” has been found out.

What things are like. Do you know that you are close to completion? If you've been coming to check the area, you have to watch out for "proven techniques" such as camouflaging and inference determination.

"Of course I know. I've had a face for a time."

Therefore, Pace talks with care to avoid any unnatural appearance in his face or attitude.

You shouldn't lie. I'll find out soon enough. So I admit about the fact that I had a face in the lab. Perhaps, to this extent, based on predictions that we have also gained certainty as the Ratesh family. Assuming this is a camouflage, Payce's loss, but if you speak with certainty of the facts, lying and giving him an offensive will also be Payce's loss. Where is the certainty and where is the inference from? Identification is required.

Jiri Jiri and I have finally presented the appearance of sheathing.

"I heard the researchers there are nice people. If I wanted to see you, thank you. I was recently told I quit and went elsewhere."

"Oh, really?"

"... you're here, right?"

Uncle Ratesh cuts in. By listening all the time, I am trying to observe Pace's reaction without missing dimensions.

"Well, I recently hired a former researcher, but whether their previous position was general purpose research..."

I don't know how it went, I don't remember. Pais acts really brilliantly with such an atmosphere.

Of course I know it's really from generic research. Because he's the one who pulled it out. To keep a secret, I'm only going to cut Shira.

"Didn't you have a face?

"I don't like to remember people's faces. You had a goddaughter and admired me. I hired him in because he said he was coming to us like that, and it's how he came to us that he was a former researcher because of that. You don't know exactly which lab it was originally in until you find out. Maybe, as I said, it was general purpose research, but I didn't really care about it, so I remember."

Pace, I assure you. I feel like I was, and if I didn't, I just fall in love. Lazy. He pushes his arm against the warm curtain, nails against the bran, and leaves it on the pudding.

Even as Uncle Ratesh, I know that one of the fellows apparently employed by the Mortairn family was Pais' godson. Even if I tried to penetrate here, I cut it out that it would be difficult to break up the pre-construction because I was a godchild. So, change the way you attack.

"What are you going to hire a researcher to research?

If you are an ordinary territorial aristocrat, it is rare to hire researchers directly. It's better to pull it out of the center. Regardless, not that it doesn't, but putting money into research that you don't know if you're going to win is like a sprint, something a monetary loose nobleman would do that can be exhaustively researched, that is, buy up the lottery. Even if I know it's a hit, I need room to keep doing it until I hit it.

Then it would be a surer investment to buy away the results from the lab. Research facilities are already in place, there is aid from the royal family, and investments are attracted from other nobles. It is common to buy knowledge by offering money to the laboratories of the Royal Institute rather than letting yourself do all of the research independently.

In fact, many of them, such as agricultural technology, are spread in that way.

The aim is that the reason why research institutes were originally created in the Royal Family is to conduct research efficiently by concentrating human resources and effort, so that the Royal Family manages knowledge and technology and disseminates it for the purpose of increasing the national power of the whole nation.

Bring your brains together, gather resources and budgets to research and develop efficiently. The results are managed by the Royal Family and properly disseminated. It is much more efficient to try to be a nation than to duplicate similar studies by several nobles individually.

There is no idea of hiring researchers, making them research, and monopolizing results before them, and there are examples of actual challenges in the past. It is true that there is an advantage to technology monopolies. Success, however, has been extremely partial. For the most part, it has become a feather and a failure to dump research spending on the dob.

I mean, it's suspicious at a time when we're hiring researchers to do research, says Uncle Ratesh.

"This is a confidential matter for us."

"You think you can't even tell me?

"There are things I can't tell you, my lords. I know you take care of me on a daily basis, but I'd like to ask you to keep it confidential."

R&D does not tell other houses whatever the content is. It's natural to keep it a secret. Uncle Ratesh steps further into Pais's common sense theory.

"Generalization of magic... no, not its practical application?

"It's great to be able to do that, but our current challenge is something else"

"No?"

Uncle Ratesh intended to slash him into a critical steeple with the intent of a special attack, but Pace, of course, expected the scratch on this hand. Worst of all, I was expecting you to ask me about magic generalization, so I'll explain the pre-construction I hired a researcher in no hurry. Well, let's have a sense of it, let's tell a secret. When it comes to pretending to be a special attitude, from a boy who is also famous for his evil children, he is a muscle player who has been here for years.

"It's a confidential matter for us, but I get it. There is nothing else to hide from His Excellency. I'd like to hope, without further ado, that I'm actually going to investigate mineral resources. That's why I was looking for someone who might be able to identify mineral resources."

"You think that's the researcher you hired? It's too much of a coincidence."

"There were people who knew my goddaughter from time to time. I heard you were a researcher, but you're second in line."

"... that's how it comes."

Uncle Ratesh has also looked into the fact that generic research had been conducted for a long time to verify the magic accumulation effect of minerals. I didn't expect you to have a grand excuse there, and the Count lacked an attacker. Originally, there was no evidence that the Mortairns had succeeded in making magic universal. Thoroughly fallen in love so far, and besides being prepared for excuses, I can't find my next hand inside, even as Countess.

"I wonder if we could meet the researchers."

When this happens, we just have to change who we attack. Uncle Ratesh asks to meet someone who is likely to be a clue if he can't drop the main circle, at least what he wants to take.

"I'm really sorry, but now they're investigating that mountain. You'll be back a month away."

"Not for a moment if you carry me with [instant travel]?

"I don't think it would be convenient for my father to come home, and even if I hurried to contact him, I would still have to see a month from here."

The magic of Pais is [transcribed], and painting magic is the official announcement. It's confidential that he's copying his father's [instant move] and he's free to use it.

Most importantly, I am aware that the House of Ratesh has found out so much that it will also find out as the House of Mortairn. But the official position does not collapse only. It's not something that can break down.

"Can't you do something with your magic?"

Dark, it is the shaking of Uncle Ratesh, who smells the secret of Pais. I guess he's also trying to find out how far Pace's magic can go and the authenticity of the information his father allegedly “lends” his magic.

"My magic is painting magic. Do you want to write a message on a big cloth and fly a flag? If you're lucky, you might notice people in the other mountains."

"That's not what I meant...... Phew"

"You look tired."

"The carpenter who's nailing the bran must feel like me right now. I'm tired of being asexual."

Uncle Ratesh trying to uncover the truth. Bringing in soldiers and threatening them has no effect. I don't even ride a camouflage. I can fall in love if I try to find information. I don't know how true what I'm talking about is in the first place. It's so thorough, I'm sure there's something there. Uncle Ratesh's certainty is only deepening.

But I can't grasp the key "what are you hiding”.

Even an agile negociator lady begins to show tiredness in negotiations that take a full spin on her head but lengthen.

"Really...... oh, it's a corner, let me show you what I keep. This is something that only a few of us know yet."

"I'd expect that."

Come here, new information from the Mortairn side.

Seems like a disturbance in anticipation of the tiredness. Humans, when fatigue builds up, it becomes difficult to make normal decisions. Of course, it's not Uncle Ratesh who gets the wrong decision to the extent that we negotiated for half a day, but it's troublesome even if we know what techniques are meant to confuse us this way.

The smarter people use their heads when new information is input. Because I care about the relevance and integrity of existing information. This is also why smart people get tired of discussions and conversations where their arguments and arguments are corny.

Are you aiming to deflect the argument with something irrelevant? Or are you trying to disrupt the thinking of your negotiators with something that might have something to do with it? Is there another hidden far-fetched farewell? Undistracted, Uncle Ratesh waits for Pace's next hand.

"Go ahead."

What Pace put out as his next hand was tea and sweets for the supply.

What a clap, but as Uncle Ratesh, that's why I keep my mind tight again. Because I know the boy in front of me is like a beast biting from there if he doesn't mind at all. In fact, some aristocrats have spared little effort in the past, but have therefore lost 10,000 units of gold and become feathers of impoverishment.

"What's this?

Uncle Ratesh sees what's been served. At first glance, it just seems like bread. A fragrant and delicious fragrance, like the one when the wheat bread was baked, tickled my nose, and the slightly ridden sesame seeds have stimulated my appetite with unique flavors.

This is a pretty good use of bread alone. Probably wheat from Mortern, but if so, what are you after?

"It is an ampoule, made from a paste of beans called filling. It's very sweet and delicious bread."

Oh, really, it's delicious.

Just one bite, the sweetness that spreads when you mouth it. The beauty when the pasty one, which also seems seemingly violent but then dissolves in saliva, goes hand in hand with the saltiness of the bread. As if this were the truth since the opening of the world, it complements each other without a shortage.

Most importantly, it tastes very comfortable on a tired head. Like when you drip water into a dry towel on a caracalla, the sweetness stained with a terrible brain in a strained tension gives you an indescribable sense of well-being.

A bite, another bite, and a delicious way to keep eating. This was amazing, and Uncle Ratesh surprised me unexpectedly.

"It would be.... omit the detailed procedure, but beans and sugar are the ingredients. Bread is silent."

"Oh, I wonder if any beans would be good"

"Right, the flavor varies depending on the bean difference, but basically it can be most of the beans"

Obviously, it's off topic. I've come to take the word for the results of general purpose magic, but if I notice it, I think I'm talking about a new sweetness.

I know, but a charm that I just can't resist exists in fillings.

"I don't know about those beans, then."

Second, Uncle Ratesh had something to flash.

Never before, a new product called bean paste sweetness. If the Mortairns are going to spread this in the future, I would definitely like to take it into my place.

Perhaps Pais, convinced that he could fall in love with the negotiations as well, was the “souvenir" he had dared to prepare to put Uncle Ratesh on his face. It even makes me think so.

Then I'll bump into information that Pais wouldn't know, even in the sense of a return of interest here. That's why Pace might show us some new reaction (action).

"That bean?

"In the meantime, I have some beans I bought from a merchant ship that came a little far to trade. It's a very bitter bean, like a fruit seed, but you said it has a unique flavor."

"Bitter beans......"

"I have a lot of stuff about fruit, so my house will be the only one I have right now. It's a rare bean, so maybe you'd be interested in bringing it."

For once, the negotiating material I thought I might use.

Because the fruit treatment that Pace spread as a treatment for nautical disease (sepsis) was on his mind. An unlikely measure to release free of charge a cure for a disease that I wanted fruit but was a major problem. We had secured our own fruit, but based on that, we thought that if it was new, maybe we could use it for trading, and we brought it.

A bean “like” thing that was handed to me by my men and removed softly.

When Pais saw it, and the moment he sensed a unique fragrance with a keen sense of smell. Pais, who has ever worn a calm and cunning mask, throws the mask away.

"... My lord, would you like to talk again about this bean? I'll tell you what you want to know."

Above Pais' head, there was the letter cocoa.