Fly the Flag of Fire!

Lay low in the dark.

There is no moon or star in the dark, gray sky. The air is warm and caressing, and it just sprays sweat because it caresses my neck muscles. The breath of the horses and men who chewed on the mouth tree is also mafried and damp. Six hundred rides of exhalation. If it accumulated in the hills, it could be as much as a cup of water.

(It's a nasty night...)

The man, wrapped in a gold ring around his neck, spit on the ground. The masculine face is flattered with discomfort, and the glitzy eyes stare at the tip of the hill unwavering. Only he hasn't eaten a tree in his mouth, but he has pulled a knot in his mouth to it, emitting more signs of sword swallowing than anyone else.

The man's name is Kuster. It is the head of a horse thief.

In a unified group in a black coat, his only thing is the vermilion of the lining burning. The root of the ear of the spear is also tied with ornaments of the same colour. Where it means is blood, fire or passion? Either way, I'll deserve it this evening. Because they're about to launch a raid right now.

Tonight, a large transport unit of the leadership will multiply the shade into the front line. All that small-scale transportation in the last few days has been only positive. The same goes for medium-sized transport tomorrow morning. Troops that go beyond darkness this night are the destiny.

That is not information obtained by chance. We spent more than six months trying to make it that way. Picking a convoy to raid, deciding where to let them witness their appearance, devising a retreat direction… tonight as an achievement that continued to be noisily intertwined. The more sensible the Leader's transport plan will be, the more convergent it will be to the options available. And the harvest day came.

(They pass across this hill... we've also confirmed that the squad is advancing. Everything is going well. They say it's working... what is this chest mess?)

Kuster scratched his head 27615; and pulled out his hair with a ghoul. Count the number of copies missing and throw them away. Then he pulled his coat in and grabbed the lining. I can see it in the wrinkles just after it opened, but I threw it away and looked up at the sky. The cloudy weather is thick and empty, so let's move without sound.

Leaving his hand to the occult board hanging from his back sac, Kuster stopped taking it. Because I realized that several eyes were looking at me. When I returned the load unconstructively, I re-gripped my favorite spear at hand.

We can no longer withdraw.

They six hundred rides are not all of the horse thieves, and more than two hundred other rides run all over the place as a positive move. I'm trying to get them to move in a way that guides them. Even two days ago, that separate unit should have crossed a spear with the leadership, which has been divided into three parts after the retreat to continue to catch the attention of the leadership. If the six hundred horsemen of the main unit were to break and retreat now, the separate teams would even lose their way inside.

Kuster has never insulted the leadership here these days. Just chasing the dark clouds. Besides, the leaderships that gave up fast are from the past. When I hit it, I didn't feel the smell increase, but I was in a place where I didn't want you to be, and I didn't want to be chased many times. I predict that would be odd in organization and placement.

But if so, there was also the aspect that the measure would pass. If you admit reason to your opponent's movements, you can bend the other end of the line. That's how I guided him, and this hill is the end of what I've been accumulating that kind of guidance... Kuster doesn't fall for anything.

It's as if the owner is falling over.

Am I not the only one who intends to fit in a trap, and in fact, in a trap? There's a big hole across that hill, and we're all about to jump into it. All that anxiety swirls around my chest when I say everything is going exactly as I thought it would.

(Damn it... it won't even help you, halfway through...!

Kuster cursed inside. Your own blood.

There is a past that no one knows about. It's a history of the blood of a man named Kuster. You cannot falsify the history of the blood that flows through you where you abandon your last name. Because my body is proof of nothing else.

A miracle, there is a phenomenon.

It's a wonder of the world that the Church runs miracle investigators to exalt. If something special happened and it was certified as a miracle, it would be long merciful by the generous protection of the Church. But the Church, on the other hand, has the mission of expelling demons and witches, so depending on the matter, there will be merciless and unforgiving acquittals. The miracle investigation is a frightening coin gamble.

Sole, which Kuster's mother was to attempt, showed a brilliant, loving front side. The revelation of God's power was recognized as a miracle. Immediately granted privilege as the Virgin, I guess she still lives in the Temple of the “Holy Grail Island”.

But Kuster knows. That my mother's power is never a miracle or anything. Instead, it was a different kind of substitute, which led to rumours in the town and a miracle investigator stepping into the house.

She was able to create worms out of animal carcasses. It's not a normal bug. A pale green light that flies around without even an entity... of a summer bug that flies with its butt lit, a monstrous bug as if it had cut out only its phosphorescence. It's not to any avail. I just do that to comfort you and laugh at you couscous. It seems to Kuster that being a reputable beauty was applauding the creeps. She hated me. It was clean when I was gone.

Still, blood can't be contested. Kuster has Kuster wonders, and that can't be known to anyone, but it won't even come true to erase them.

I have a sharp hunch... no, I'm strong.

The day the miracle investigator came to the house, he hid in the storeroom in the morning. The pressure to do something is getting worse and worse, and it's the action I took after I couldn't stand it. He is a tyrant from a young age. I was not physically afraid of the physical threat, but I couldn't resist the impending hitachi from the inside of my mind.

Regardless of good or bad, do you predict that something will happen... there were times when I was thinking about it that way, but I was caught slipping and dying the day after I spent it flat. Conversely, there were a number of things that didn't happen as a result of spending two days sleepless. There were times when I didn't like to be flirted with and punched into martial arts, but that didn't make my hunch go away, and I could only follow my child as a billed outlaw.

The man I met at that time is Salomon.

The man, who at the time was only a troop leader who could still follow only a hundred men, beat Kuster with a hunch he had not yet had. I was weak until I exchanged words across the street with my face, but once strengthened, it was enough that I no longer had any other hunches. The silver-haired woman who tried to kill me first but was next door knocked me over.

And I noticed. He said he could no longer resist the feeling that Salomon was the cause. He said it would be easier to spread to be paralyzed and accept it already. Raw people who are exposed to a constant hunch are also raw people who are never frightened by a hunch that they may never come. He bowed his head for the first time in his life. And Salomon was sent down.

I remember the first day I slaughtered an Eberian Imperial soldier. It was easy. I remember the first day I crossed a military horse. It was high and fast and brave. I remember the first day I had a subordinate. There was pride there.

But... oh... Salomon's hunch crumbled on that “Holy Flame Festival” day. It's over. Kuster trembled at his unspoken nothingness. I feel like I have a big hole in my chest, and for a while it's become my habit to rub my chest.

Kuster can remember the day Salomon left for the king's capital, as he did yesterday.

With Salomon as its commander, there were more than thirteen thousand men of the mixture that had been formed between the gathering of the king's army and the prostitute army… the so-called Salomon army. It was about three weeks after the destruction of the Eberian Imperial Army that King's Army headquarters ordered its dismantling. Thirty thousand, who were temporarily under command for operational convenience, had already left for their respective commands, except that only the Salomon army remained in the land to continue post-match processing and perimeter vigilance.

After the demolition, the generals had decided to promote their houses, and their transferees had been promised all the prosperity. It was also predetermined that the prostitutes who rose to the crisis in the diaspora would be relieved of their military service, whatever their objections to the judgment of the time period. Everyone got a bounty. An army stationed instead was coming with the order, but that was rather too late, and it also seemed to be the late enough to have had enough effect to terrorize them without distinction between enemy allies.

There was nothing mysterious about it. Many were pleased. But there were also many who expressed doubts. Kuster had also created suspicion with a growing hunch.

Because I didn't know what it meant to dismantle the Salomon army. Why do you lose the strongest army that has achieved the greatest battle? In front of me, the crash plain stretches out to the horizon, and nothing prevents me from moving forward.

The royal life that you have followed has added to your suspicions.

It is a summons to the king's capital in Salomon alone.

The name was a glorious one. A hero of his salvation was worthy of an award at the Royal Castle, and for the reason that he would sit in the funeral of a brave man. And there was a problem with returning the family name.

The Salomon Army had incorporated units of the King's Army that had been leaked into regular formation, but some of them were mixed with nobles, albeit lower ranks, so they were temporarily the head of the Hahat family in the sense of getting in shape. It has been cut off for a long time, so it is a substitute for being alone with Salomon, such as the Hahat family, but it must nevertheless be a noble monument. If we were to dismantle the army, we would have no other means than to return it to the King's capital.

Everything was too neat and tidy. A gloriously decorated path is laid... the path of triumph to the king's capital. It also seemed as if a struggler who was in the shadow of a brave man and did not see the day would finally bathe in glory.

If so, why should Salomon go alone?

The person who spoke the strongest opposition was his deputy, Zikilrosa. A woman of minority origin, she once half-killed Kuster, who was attacked by Salomon. He is a fierce man who ran the front line dressed as a man, even in the forbidden Royal Asurian Army. The alias for Gikil the Devil's Eye is famous, but few know it is a woman.

Jikilrosa originally did not believe in the kingdom. Many battlefields have put their lives on the line simply for Salomon's sake, and there is no loyalty to the kingdom. That point was similar to Kuster's, so I've only spoken of it to the edge and had half my life's worries.

Then it was Kuster who was against it. But this was a far cry from rational opposition. Because I was half frenzied because I couldn't control my hunch of strengthening. There was also a reason that I saw something I didn't want to see.

In the land of the Imperial Army's destruction… or three weeks in the land of the Brave Dead, Kuster saw a number of people he believed to be miracle investigators. The signs specific to them are not forgotten as heartbreaks in childhood. At first I thought it was to investigate the death of a brave man, but in doing so the scope of the investigation was too wide. And I was watching Salomon.

It's not Kuster's exclusive patent apart from hunches. That's when a lot of people had a bad feeling. I think I smelled something rotten... something creeping up in the back of my nose and feeling chilli and restless in the back of my chest.

Salomon did not speak much. I think it was his claim that orders are orders. He had a slightly troubled face on Jikilrosa's hot valve and had white eyes on Kuster, who curled and stood to blow bubbles. I feel that way Kuster. While the confusion is terrible, the memories are vague.

But still, only the last word Salomon grumbled about is in his ear.

Kuster, who became obsessed with divination after Salomon's death, but whenever he was frustrated that he couldn't even guess what the hunch was about, he remembered the words. I can say that I have lived with anxiety, anxiety, and emptiness in the words. Throw your words into the unseen darkness ahead. Draw the Salomon of the day in your brain.

"On this I don't see what I want to see, more than I think......!

I put it in my mouth to bite.

In this hill of darkness, which imposes silence on soldiers and horses alike, Kuster still put it into words.

I can see that the horseshoe and the sound of the luggage car starting to sound far away are approaching gradually. The sky remains disastrous as the wind is a nuisance. But Kuster raises his hand. To flash the blade of six hundred horsemen.

And... the hand was waved down.