A Wish to Grab Happiness

Upper part of the main gate of the walled city of Gallu Amalia.

The hour is night, and its big mouth is no longer firmly closed, and it will not be opened against anyone until morning bells are made. Robust and flawed, no one can force you to open it. It has always been so. Perhaps tomorrow as well. Keep it up, keep it up. Everyone thinks so.

I'm also concerned about the guard corps's watch. Something that won't be time for a quick change, or no boring job like this. It's like being told to report a rogue after a fish if he comes to steal it, in a raw jar where the fish won't swim.

This job, which has been morphed no longer. Watchdogs, etc., and doesn't that mean anything? Just a waste of time and strength. The days of staring at the sky and staring at the stars continue.

In the breasts of the watch, the unrepeatable depression piles up in the city of Iraki and Night. Today, the slums are so noisier. Anyway, again, I guess I'm making a scene by not going down. Anyway, you said you couldn't do anything. That's right, this depression will clear up tomorrow over there. The watch held his cheeks up slightly nasty.

As time went by, there was a group of people living together near the Gallu Amalia Gate to dissolve in the dark.

One girl rocking her long hair rolls her voice to leak her exhale.

"- Over there, everything seems to have worked out. I see the brave man was as good as expected."

Mattia, the Virgin, who took the roaring audio from the slums into her ears and laid down her silver hands and knees, nodded her jaw small.

To be honest, I had no great expectations. I just gambled gold on what I'd make and just a little bit of hope if it worked. If it works, of course it's good. If you hit it badly, you can have it as a crematorium bone, no matter what the slums are. Whatever it is, it doesn't matter if it turns out badly.

"Yeah, of course. If Rugis is going to make a mistake, it means the premise of the world is no longer correct."

My dark-haired daughter beside me said that to spin even a poem.

Slightly narrow your eyes and point your gaze at Largud-Ann. For some reason, that man, Anne and I were sent here by Rugis to confess, my daughter, Fialert.

It's about that man who often turns his tongue and head in vain. Mattia bites slightly at the edge of her lips, not to mention the pattern of sending hostages to special victories.

I told him to send Ann back here, but it was out of my mind to the boulders to follow him any longer.

A girl named Mattia hates it terribly when things get out of her own thoughts. It is no exaggeration to say that I abhor it.

That's because I'm convinced my calculations are correct. I trust the knowledge and wisdom accumulated in me everywhere. As a result, let's give up on not being able to reach our ideals. But it's hard to accept that my calculations go crazy from the beginning.

"Rest assured, Virgin Mattia. She has nothing to do with getting in our way. Especially Lord Hero... uh, you won't do anything against Master Rugis."

You must have seen Mattia's concerns, and Anne shrugged like that so you could forgive her. The words also included the hindsight caused by the fact that I had brought a fialert.

He raises that eyebrow for a moment that it's something he still knows how to use his mind, and Mattia controls Ann with her hands so she can tell him there's no problem. Besides, I place undisputed credibility on Anne. If that's what she brought in with that decision and decided there was no problem, then that should be no mistake.

Besides, I can understand the meaning of the word.

Look, the brilliance in my daughter's eyes that I named Fialert. Every time you whine about the name Rugis, make your chest squeal. Earlier words and as if to utter a poem of love.

Instead, though, Mattia shakes that pitiful brain wondering if that's the source of the anxiety. I can't even guess where Fialert's emotions are going. But admiring emotions can sometimes be faith and lead to blindness.

Mattia had a good understanding of blindness by faith, its convenience and dangers, both aspects. Therefore, I would not accept fia alerts at all.

Whatever, because it is not an exaggeration to say that you hold that faith yourself, but use it.

In front of Mattia, the warriors of faith await her words now or now. Though, it will be the experience that has crossed many battlefields and training fields that is showing calm.

Now, I don't have time for anything anymore.

Wet her pale lips, as if to proclaim a eulogy, but on the other hand cursing them, Mattia works out her words with her tongue.

"- Once our God told us to be ignorant. I'm just someone who carries everything. Be wise, O man. Suffer yourselves and make your own decisions. That is the divine will."

It was a voice that crossed into the darkness and emitted light. harsh and its tone sounds quietly in the ear.

The eyes of a neatly lined and speared Knights of the Seal, thoughts, are entangled in the words.

"Our Lord carries. The bearer of all our destinies. Listen if you have ears, and look closely if your eyes open. The protection is in our hands, and the decision is in our will."

A line of those words that are told well. But there was some beauty spinning the song somewhere. There is something sweet and exalting in the back of your chest that makes your heart gush.

Instead of forcing your hands into your chest and squeezing them up. The flow of emotions bubbles itself more than the thoracic floor, that's what comes to mind.

Fialert had also blinked those black eyes and, in a sense, had listened to the word with interest. I see. I wonder if this is the word of the Virgin. I wondered what charisma is like to attract people and be lifted by people.

Think of it, Hert Stanley had a similar part. People can't help but offer that hand themselves. Something that makes you think you have to get down on your knees. This is what people call charisma, courage, and so on.

Yeah, but. Fialert enjoys its pleasant tone, yet breaks his cheek. Again, for myself, that's good. That tone is the best. A voice that once called itself.

Mattia's voice increases in magnitude so that she gives it that position one by one.

"-But look at that disloyal city! They believe that the Catholic Church tramples on our faith and holy places and, even with its blind faith, entrusts everything to God. And the LORD said unto him, When he was going to row the ship out into the sea, let him not rely on God: and he said, Let everything be decided with our will!

The eyes of the Virgin and the girl so called, waver in faith.

The doctrine of the Catholic Church is to entrust everything that man possesses and them to God. Mainly all management, man, who is evil by birth, has no will, only to hang his head on God. That's true happiness, and that's how all humans get bliss, they say.

I can't accept it. Mattia couldn't take that thought at all. An unacceptable thought for her to think that her knowledge and thought are the best. Words run through the darkness, feverish.

The word isn't just for crests. Overlay your will on the word, so that Mattia can sink herself into intoxication. Thoughts into faith, faith into fanaticism, fanaticism into outrage. Braid your spirit and repaint the world.

Anne superimposes her fingers in front of the Virgin's words and in front of her breasts. To ascertain one's faith, to recognize that the strife to be fought is in one's hands.

"Give me an anchor! The ship's been rowed out! What is going to happen is not jihad. Dye this hand with our will and by our deeds into the blood of the cult! That is the divine will!

- Huh!

In response to and following the voice of the Virgin, a mass of voices is emitted into darkness under definite pressure.

I can no longer only see my dear Maria in those eyes. There is an unbreakable curse until you bend that knee and step on your head. The dark brilliance of my eyes was telling the story of it.

Take it and Mattia's spear will be raised to heaven. That it may rebel against heaven, as it prays to heaven. straightened and indicated.

Flashing more than the tip of the spear.

It is a sign of wolf smoke and determination to each other lurking within the city and, as such, a turning point in history.

In the dark, a glimmer of light running through the sky was telling. A series of revolts by the crests is called the Gospel War and the cut-off. In other words, the walled city of Gallu, the Amalia offensive, begins.