A Wish to Grab Happiness

Archet, the king's capital of Garrist, gives birth to noise in Russia.

They began to gradually intensify like rain legs, and it only began to rain heavily at times. Rumors call for anxiety, anxiety becomes fear, and fear creates new rumors again.

Before the decree ran to Keeper Valerie-Brightness, there was one rumor in the Wang capital.

- Warcraft has become a herd, a tsunami, a disaster, and it is pointing toward the Garrist Kingdom.

Inside the royal city, the political college. Within a brilliantly decorated courtyard, the heavy towns of the Garrist kingdom, and thus the senior nobles, form a flock.

None of those who sat in the queue wore golden or silver thread braided outfits, decorating their hearts with undisputed prosperity and honor.

This is the hall of nobility. The gathering of those who thus substantially divide the politics of the Garrist kingdom. At least that's what they understand deep down in their minds.

Such a forum, which is supposed to only hear blurry voices, is all going differently today.

Sometimes what you hear is a rough voice, a strong slap on the round table. As the servants ran in haste, they could see holding wine and record leather paper.

A senior nobleman with several medals on his chest says as he stiffens his lips.

"In addition to the National Army, marches of all aristocratic private soldiers and others are off track. Dead snow now. How much state money and personnel will be spent on it? There is also suppression of the Elizaldo in the South and the Volvato Morning in the East. I don't know what you think, Patron!

They were the words of the Gilreage family lord, with numerous private soldiers and castles. The eagle's fierce gaze stared at only one man in this vast political institution.

If you are also a senior aristocrat, behave as if everything has been done, from the quality of its voice to gestures and gestures. Especially since he knew exactly how to behave here and make more allies.

But the fierce gaze and his behavior as a nobleman remain unmindful. said the skinny man given a gaze. A white face was wrapped in black clothes with gold on the edge.

"For the good of the nation, Sir Gilreage. Without the state, Sir's territory and privileges would be lost and disappeared. In order not to do so, the only thing that matters is the concentration of power. It's not something you don't understand."

To that word, for a moment the head of the Gilreage family snorts. The man's words were quiet everywhere and seemed strangely ringing in his throat. Only for a moment will the Council of Political Opportunities be surrounded by silence.

Patriot Jace-Brackenbury. Those who hold the full powers of the National Army and boast significant influence in the political arena.

Nevertheless, it is unusual for him to appear in a political setting. Because it is his ideal that military and politics should be far away.

The fact that Blackenberry was appearing in the political chamber at the heart of politics was already unusual in itself.

There's only one factor.

A group of warcraft gushing out of the northwest. Blackenberry determined that it was an indisputable threat to spread the damage day by day.

That's how he says. That is not something that the National Army alone can contain. He said it was a threat that noble private soldiers should also be put in.

Regardless, inherently aristocratic private soldiers are naturally also soldiers of the state. For the king gives the nobility territory and privilege, and the nobility has soldiers after serving the king.

Therefore, all nobles are obliged to assemble soldiers there, if there is a king's decree.

But if they say it's the National Army, technically it's not. The National Army that Brackenberry has authority over, that is, private soldiers under the King's direct authority. Refers to professional military personnel who are nurturing at state expense. He cannot have authority over aristocratic private soldiers.

So now Brackenberry was here. A flock of nobles. vanity and hatred, thus stepping himself into the crucible of desire, and if he keeps them, he does so.

"I cease that the Northwest Warcraft is not as easy as Sir and others think. The extreme of foolishness, such as the gradual dropping of soldiers. I propose the immediate mobilization of all forces, except the defensive soldiers. I'm the Patron Officer in charge of all command and responsibility."

In response to Blackenberry's assertion, it's ridiculous. That's what the majority of the aristocrats say when you are a warcraft.

Kagi Warcraft. This can be said to be a common perception for something with some degree of position. Warcraft is a threat, but it's no different from night theft, so to speak. If you respond appropriately, there is no fear. They think that the armies of other countries are so much more vicious than that.

Therefore, there were a handful of things to agree with the words of Blackenberry. Especially if it is also a senior aristocrat, the trend becomes remarkable.

One of them, an international big man, waved his hands to the floor.

"I agree with the Brackenbury Patriot. An army is something that should be thrown where you need it, when you need it. Just holding it can be a useless long object."

The Lord of the Voice is the senior aristocrat Roimets-Fomor. To his words, the floor stirred a little and made a noise.

The words of Roimetz, a senior aristocrat and with a great deal of ground in the political field, are far heavier than those of other aristocrats.

The spindle of the opposition, the Gilreage family, also peeled his eyes at the words of the Roymets. Because otherwise, the Gilreage family is not antithetical to the Roymets. Rather, on a daily basis, we may even share our interests with each other.

That's because we understand each other, who we can talk to. Because I trust you not to be a ridiculous person.

"... Sir Fomor. I'm going to insist on the right way. What will the Lord need all his armies to deploy?"

Twisting the words out of his lips, the Gilreage family principal said so. It's hard to imagine a man like Roimetz just being put on board by the word of the Patriot.

There's got to be some kind of thought and an intention there. Human beings, no. Nobility, even if it leads to a national crisis, does not try to stop something called intent and plot. Rather, it was that time that he might have tried to bully his hands and feet.

"While the Northwest Earth is the land of our Garrist kingdom, half of it becomes the direct jurisdiction of the cathedral, and half is trampled at the foot of the Warcraft. There is no land for us to be free. Besides, if it's death and snow, isn't the state spending just going to keep bleeding in front of the raging warcraft?"

Roimetz talks to the entire floor, wielding a large body originally. The verses of the word lit with heat and entered the surrounding ears naturally.

This man often looks like this in a political setting. Instead of fanning, he was good at making friends with others' empathy.

"Therefore now is the time to beat both warcraft without hating the bleeding. It is only if it is death and snow that no other country will be shown any major moves. In the meantime - we recover part of the loss. I believe this is an opportunity for that, Sir Gilreage."

Landlessness recovery. The word is well stained in the hearts of the Garrists, especially the nobles. Since I was a child, I have been engraved in my heart. From my parents, from teachers, from everything around me.

Once the kingdom of Garrist was a great empire. Swallow numerous kingdoms, drink in the name of prosperity, and all the glory was there. territory from the West to the East.

The name of the Empire - Altia. Altia Unified Empire. times when mankind was the greatest.

But honor is anything that breaks apart at all times.

After the loss of the first emperor, who was great, the state was divided, the territory was lost, and the Garrist, then the capital of the King of Altia, also went from empire to mere state.

The nobles of the Garrison will never forget that.

Even if it is a far past, we are the descendants of the great one. The thought of being descendants of a supreme empire is stained with their souls.

Restore the loss of land, all of which will restore their former glory. That is one philosophy shared in the thorax of the Garrist aristocrats. Anyway, everyone understands it's close to a dream story.

But that is why the words of Roymets caressed the breasts of the nobles not less. It does cost money. If it were death and snow, it would be a huge expense.

But if there's anything in return ahead. If honor is to be given. Isn't that good, too?

Yes, when the balance was slightly tilted. There were those who suppressed the dishes on the other side.

"- Please wait. I think the argument is past acute. If it's serious, you should explore your feet more carefully."

It was a woman's voice. There is no place like trembling, but rather a voice that squeaks at the floor itself. She says with a grand bare gesture, while still young.

"Besides, it's all up to His Majesty the King to decide. You shouldn't have our past arguments that are subordinate."

The woman's name is Olivia-Belch. A son of the Berci family who was a senior nobleman but showed the Cathedral a conciliatory attitude, leading to the acquisition of commercial rights in the cathedral's direct jurisdiction.

There are two main reasons why she is still young enough to enter and leave this political college and behave in a dignified manner.

One of them was that she was the only one with the original master, her father, who was in the hospital bed long enough to have the talent to set up surrogacy. In that respect, exactly she was excellent.

But no matter how good they were, the council of government is not as coarse a place as those with only a fragile foundation gain a say. Besides, the elders hate the words of the young.

The clogging factor was on the other.

- That Olivia is cordial with Arueno, the Virgin.

The presence of the Virgin increases her influence in the Garrist kingdom. I don't even try to touch on that point, even the ones that mark my hatred of the Archdiocese.

That is why Olivia had a voice that she should not have had on this occasion. A bell-ringing voice echoes across the floor.

- Your Majesty, what can I do for you?

Everyone raises that face to Olivia's voice. And there was his king in a place a step above the men of the floor.

The culmination of the kingdom of Garrist. King Amerites-Garrist. Several deep engraved wrinkles are visible in the long, dripping gray hair.

King Amerites was honored as the reigning king, and in a generation he redeveloped the law and judicial system and water cure within the Garrist kingdom. That's exactly what they called you.

It's all in the past now, though.

Old or something else. Your wisdom eye changed darkly, and at last you don't even know if you're seeing what's in front of you. In that figure, I don't even see the shards of what I was when I was called the reigning king.

Everyone on the floor will be silent in front of the old king. That's how I waited for my slowly plundering voice to be zeroed. The old king's wrinkles are deep and carved.

"... Blackenberry"

Called by that name, Patron Officer Brackenberry bows his head respectfully. As it was, the old king went on as he thought for a few seconds.

"You will not walk away from the King's capital. You think carefully about your position, shield of the state. The Northwest Warcraft shall have half of the armies, and half shall be the guardians of the king's capital. If necessary, ask for the help of your lords."

That was all the words. The old king runs out like slashing and throwing away everything in the argument, weighing in on the hiccups. That means there are no more words to speak.

Thus, in this House of Government Opportunities, we are not allowed to have another debate on the things that the King has ruled on.

Aristocrats. Everything that leads to Brackenberry, droops its head. I swore to obey the word. Numerous thoughts and logic are scattered here and now.

Only Olivia-Belch drew loose lines on its cheeks.