A Wish to Grab Happiness

"Is that prudent, after all? In your arbitrary behavior on the big warcraft thing?

"Uhm. No matter how we achieve results, we respond with punishment more than we have broken discipline. They can't show you anything else if you don't. Don't you think that's a completely lamentable evil habit, sir?"

Karia Birdnick points her lips as irritated as she whines, though she should honestly respond with honor to the merit.

When that happens, it's because people like you just become impotent, and my self-control that I didn't give back was a big deal.

But surely there is no doubt that her deeds are great. When it came to crusading a single, warcraft, which was also a great thing, the fact would no longer have been welcomed with more amazement than respect.

I don't understand how the mood around here is as talented as Kalia Birdnick. Blink your eyelids and slightly lower your gaze.

Ordinary human beings are fearful creatures at the same time as they show respect to geniuses. Fear, avoid, and sometimes persecute. Likewise, I understand how the Knights looked when I received the report from her. Is there such a stupid story about crusading a large warcraft on one horse, etc.? If, in case, it was really true.

Then it's like being different from us, different from humans, like a monster. You must have blued your face.

Finish eating one red fruit, leaving the core. Red fruit juice spread in my mouth.

"But why are you so impotent again? There would have been other ways to test your arm."

Is the enemy the bigger the better type, and when I slapped him lightly, the fool, a shuddered voice returned.

"We needed fame. You know the name of the Birdnicks, too. To snow it, ordinary people do it, but you can't follow the path. Everything is for your father... no, for your family name. That's what a knight aristocrat is. Well, a common man like you wouldn't know."

Nothing, I don't even want to know. Flatter your shoulders and respond to disgusting words.

I honestly don't get the feeling that I grew up as an orphan before I know it. Being a parent at home seems like a terrible, distant thing. If you dare, will Mr. Nines or Arueno fall for it? That makes it seem like something that's not too bad.

"I'm sure it's because of the house and your father."

Letting his eyebrows jump, he circles his eyes and stares at Karia Birdnick's silver hair. For a moment now, zero words from her. For the father. He seems like such a human being, but what? It was a little surprising that thoughts, thoughts, like normal human beings were there for her.

Of course, this woman was also betta in love with the Savior man, but she still has a stronger impression that she is some secular person, who doesn't feel anything like emotion otherwise.

"No, no, I see. Isn't that good? You know, you want someone to look good, like a human being."

"... hey you, what do you know such a windy mouth. I thought you didn't have enough respect for me. You, the common man, and me, the chivalrous class. Kids know which one's up there, right?

With a smile that included slight anger, Kalia Birdnick stood up. I thought I'd go on in the tavern right now, but that's the look on my face. I don't think I remember seeing this woman's decent smile.

Sure, my attitude toward the chivalry would not be as if mine were. But when the opponent becomes her, Kalia Birdnick, it becomes uncomfortable to behave in a reclining manner because of what happened on the journey of salvation.

"Customers. Please, don't break out. If you move poorly, the wheel will go crazy!

"... I understand"

You felt the swordswallowing atmosphere, and your father speaks as you turn this one around. Karia Birdnick gave herself up to be controlled by that voice, the moment,

- Huh.

The sound of the wind slashing, it rang.

A moment behind the wind cut noise, the next thing I heard was, uh, the sound of things being able to play. That doesn't sound like a broken front or a carriage wheel. Something clogged with blood, the sound of bouncing and splashing.

Reflectively, look in the direction where the sound came from, forward. It sucks. The target is the one who steers the horse. The head of the man who was supposed to be exchanging words until earlier is brilliantly shot through and burst into a single bow and arrow. Blood gushes, and they dye the air red as the wind sways and splashes. The smell of iron starts drifting around at once.

Your body collapsed without strength as a puppet, and slipped straight off the carriage.

"Get down, you!

Lie down on the carriage floor so you can tune in to Karia Birdnick's voice. The horse who lost your man rocked and moved his luggage like it was wild, and the floorboard jumped and went crazy like it had gained power.

- Huh - Huh - Huh!

On the ear, the same sound sounds again and again. That's just the sound of blurring your face and shivering your knees.

Bow and arrow. A merciless weapon that unilaterally kills from a far distance beyond our reach. Long swords are still good. Let's even tolerate spears. But this, only bows and arrows can't hit hands. Once the numbers are gathered, that's all we can do to kill our enemies. It can't be very preventable under the guise of a carriage like this.

I manage to shrink my body small and keep laying low to hide myself in my luggage.

Later, just pray. Just endure.

Other than that, there is no other option you can take against the bow and arrow. No matter how much Kalia Birdnick is with us, we can't do anything against an enemy who can't see us and can't reach us. However, does the target's arrow run out? Will this life be taken? The competition.

Keep your eyes closed, let your voice lurk, just bear it.

- Huh. Huh.

The arrow, which cut the wind and became a killer with elasticity, ruthlessly breaks through the front and destroys the floorboard. Cut the load, the carriage, the horse, unbroken, and destroy it.

Five horses were slowly approaching the carriage, which was shot through its entirety by a bow and arrow and finally stopped moving. The five heads, without exception, have armed men on their backs.

- Is there a survivor?

"I guess not. And maybe it was too much."

A far-sighted look into the torn and decaying front revealed that it was painted with a clear pearl color. Though it is a shadow of a front. The red color is clearly visible.

The horse who was carrying the luggage is finally doing his best not even to get busted and exposed to the remains. It's not a pleasant sight to look at. But the men had also determined that this was a necessary sacrifice before righteousness.

Each of the five horsemen who attacked the carriage set up a weapon to be vigilant. Things that miniaturize spears and prioritize smaller turns. If this is the case, we can also respond adequately to enemies that have suddenly appeared.

Says the man in the helmet. Perhaps he is the captain.

"The three guard their surroundings. Put one more on me. Explore inside. We should have the operating documents, or something equivalent."

Let the three guard the perimeter, and the captain and one of his men step into a completely decaying carriage.

The moment I stepped inside. Ugh, I don't think I'll roar.

What spreads there are red, red, and red. Even those familiar with the tragic battlefield accidentally looked up, such a sight was spreading. Inside, men and women. One body at a time. In the shadow of the front, you may be fortunate to not be able to confirm clearly the other way around.

"But... this may still be just a tad. It's too defenseless to let you carry operational documents. There was no resistance."

Step on the floorboard while your men tell you so.

Indeed, the word falls to my heart. Instead, I did it before it hit me, and that formula was much bigger.

But that's not why you can't miss it. If that's possible, we have to put up a net. The value of the operational documents that are supposed to be carried this time is so high. Of course, if the information is correct.

"Is this it? I fell near a man."

"Hmm... a wax seal. Sounds like it. I don't know the truth."

The priest will have to judge the veracity of things. With that groaning, the man with the helmet put up a red painted letter, lightly watermarked in the light of the day.

That's an odd color. Uh, I think so. A much thinner red even for blood. I may have happened to have weak blood, but there is no blackness in the blood anyway. In the crumbling carriage there was a shadow and it was hard to understand, but illuminating it in the day like some kind of juice or dye -.

When I came to that thought - I was already in time there.

A hand turned from behind blocks his mouth so that the snake is entangled. My eyes are stunned and my breathing is disturbed. Enemy. Where? Who? We have to knock him out. I can't make it. Help me.

All momentary thoughts end in vain, I don't even have time to try to speak up, my throat is slit by a knife. An unpleasant sound of forced breaking of meat echoes inside the body. Not a voice, a voice. In sight as well, the figure of a subordinate who brought a silver sword out of his throat. Attacking is a woman who should have been a corpse and bloody. The blood, the brighter it is, is surprisingly thin. It's not blood. That's dye, or some kind of juice.

The last sight I saw was a burst of blood blowing out of my throat. It was a dark, red, familiar color of blood.