Fly the Flag of Fire!

Even by the time the wind scatters the leaves, there will also be sharpness in Russia on the faces of people walking downtown. The cold is like a grinding wheel. I feel like I'm brushing my hand without a fire or a hammer.

"It's just a bunch of knives and a bunch of crap."

Oiva Otala watched the flow of people more and more as she filled her glass from midday in a liquor store facing the street. He is a big man. He sits shallow and clever in a row of two, seeing as he just can't support his weight in one chair. Dressed as a black headscarf in a yellow dressing is the preferred combination of wind drifters, but it is large in any case, so I have the impression that it is a powerful or a monstrous artist.

What's wrong with the knife, sir?

The customer also came out of the sparse back of the store and added a liquor bottle to Oiva's table.

"No, my husband, I didn't urge you."

"It's so good that he's sharpened it."

The old man laughs when he shows his sweeping knife. Oiva also laughed and gently pressed the cup. Now is the time to stray, but once served as a forge. One or two of the knives were cheap. Born as the Four Men of the House of the Castle Resident Knight, he has a history of being made to apprentice from the poverty of his parents to the blacksmith.

"But with all this skill, what are you doing in your spare time?

"Well, I hate my free time too..."

It is Oiva who cleverly shrinks the giant and points his mouth.

"I don't have a nice place to work."

So I leaked and sipped the liquor in a strangely pathetic way. I can't even feel drunk wanting to bury it. Still sipping and drinking, make sure you look aside at the play you can't get mixed up with, and keep watching the rounds. The owner of the tavern set aside one sigh and went back to the kitchen to cook for this big, childlike hobbyist.

"Ahhh... it's been a nasty world."

It is also a city in the northeastern part of the Kingdom of Aslia, close to the territorial capital of the Earl of Hellevi. The land, which was to allow Eberian bouncing during the war, has also regained its liveliness since the "Holy Flame Festival”. It is the munitions that support its reconstruction.

The northwestern part of the kingdom is a land pattern with a military focus on the territory of the Earls of Salmant and Peterius. If we go further west, it will be the Plains of Wreck, because the territory of the Eberian Empire is spread beyond it. Count Hellevi territory is such a land immediately on the front line and has an important role to play in supporting the barracks.

Especially horses. If you go too far east, the "Dead Gray Desert” is spreading, where the temper that leaks from the Great Ice Plains of the North will not allow you to make a living. But it works the other way around. A slightly mixed temper in the wind rejects it and trains the horse, making it tough. It is also blessed with pasture.

As a result, there was a high demand for hoof-making as a blacksmith, and several blacksmiths operated in the city. On the other hand, less sword work, but that didn't matter to Oiva. If you simply want to train your sword, you just have to head west on your wandering body. Plus, one of the blacksmiths is a hoof iron.

I don't like the atmosphere that is spreading widely into the Kingdom of Asuria. The heat of reconstruction is like a furnace fire. Okay. Looks like a spark where people can play the buzz, too. Okay. But both of them seem to have an unpleasant color all over them like rust.

A carriage with two heads in front of it goes. The painting pattern adorned that side made Oiva frown again. A diagram of a brave man awakened by an angel. This is it. It's unpleasant for the public to see something like this in fashion.

(He's a brave man. I'll tell him what it is, but the point is, he's just lost.)

Drink up with Gui. It doesn't taste good. I mourn the brave man's unemployed death and connect it to the vitality of reconstruction... even alcohol seems to taste bad in the spread of such “nausea”. And there is a curse against Salomon the devil, so I do not feel comfortable. I don't even want to work anymore.

(Shouldn't you be appreciated for winning and losing? It was the brave ones who lost and let many of their allies die. It would be General Salomon who won the win and saved the country)

Oiva is not funny. That is also because he ran the war according to the army led by the brave. And he wandered the dead place under its command, and was one of those saved by the army led by Salomon.

Oiva still remembers how it was then, saying it was a terrible loss. Either way, the enemy's flag blew hundreds, and he kept killing his allies to chew them hard. Completely rejected from exit, the noble generals only wolf and disturb their command. The life of Oiva, a serving blacksmith with no horses or armor, although a privileged body, was truly a wind front lamp.

(Well, it wasn't something you could do with one martial arts)

The armies of the brave stood out too much for lack of cooperation with their allies. I don't know what the circumstances are, but it is certain that the military's location was extremely awkward, and Oiva believes that the blame lies with the brave man who is the leader. It has nothing to do with family names, personal martial arts, looks or titles.

(You don't look far to the soldiers. The general needs to take a good look at it and let me fight it well)

If you ask me, the brave man showed his courage and took on many enemy soldiers. That may indeed be brilliant, but isn't it just brilliant as a “soldier”? Where you have successfully killed some of the enemies in front of you, the sins that led to the whole army under your command being killed disappear.

Eventually the enemies were to be beaten without skin by the allies who came, but it was Salomon who was leading that group of allies, including the brave army. That day, the victor who ruled the battlefield was definitely Salomon. It was that overwhelming victory that withdrew the threat of the Eberian Empire.

(How about that? The general is a cool way to get killed, and the brave are legends. I'd like to hear which one of you brought today's peace. You always know this guy... Oh, I don't know. I don't know)

Still drunk, Oiva walked toward the back alley. One of the many long houses built in the early days of reconstruction is the bedding, especially in the vicinity of poor sunshine. It's all between the little dirt and the kitchen, and the boards that will be filled if he sleeps alone. Sleep. Infidelity sleep.

I spent time sleeping in the hours when healthy people sweated on my forehead to work, and when the sun was going down, I got up swooning. Drink a glass of water in the pattern and head out again. The footprint is light. On the way out of several alleys was a building that also looked like an old assembly hall.

"Yay, guys, come on in"

Earlier I greeted him casually, there was an appearance of men already sweating. Uniquely lightweight, he has a wooden sword or “bamboo bundle sword” in his hand. It seemed to stand in circles, waving them together several times.

"It's late, Oiva. We'll start working together soon, but you'll have to finish gymnastics and a thousand swings before you join us."

"Accept, accept"

It is Oiva, who slowly began flexible gymnastics on the shoulders and hips, with a particularly thick and long wooden sword from the corner shelf for his hands. While I was carefully accustomed to my ankles, the mood of the men's rips and the sound of the blows began to sound. This is a wild dojo where city martial arts lovers gather and drill. It's the only place to have fun right now for Oiva.

"Hey, let's get you mixed up"

Subtly delude the number of bareback gestures and participate in working with the wolves. In army troopers, we meet with a weapon that crushes the blade on top of wearing protective gear, but there's no way there's any money here to get that stuff ready. It is the bamboo bundle sword that is used. Substitute fixed with four bundles of bamboo pieces, the central cavity buffers the impact, thus striking hard without protective equipment does not damage the bone. It doesn't weigh as a weapon, and it doesn't weigh as much as a protective weapon, so it's not enough for people with military experience.

(It's good to learn the art of martial arts, and it doesn't mean you're honored to just kill people for nothing)

Oiva was enjoying herself as she struck her sword like a wind. Structuring with a bamboo bundle sword was not a place for him to show his main line, blessed with his physique and muscle strength, and more than half of it was in the sphere of play, but still attractive enough to obsess him.

It was Oiva who brought the bamboo bundle sword into this dojo in the first place. I had the opportunity to borrow what was being used at the Forged Soldiers' field during my military service, and I learned about the structure.

(It's a great tool to train them)

The structural secret of having small pieces of iron bite at the roots is that it was Salomon who invented it, lying or true. The Bamboo Bundle Sword was fascinating for Oiva, who was not expected to be "inert" by the regular army, but preferred martial arts itself where he separated it from killing each other.

(Besides, the sword that crushed the blade is disgusting and untouched. Don't touch me.)

He is Oiva, who took a few shots in the shoulders and elbows, but did it with a blow to Bisili and the brain, and finished several combinations. It was the flux of this dojo to stop the match and replace each other in anticipation of the time.

But it's a bad time and I don't have the next person. There is a battle everywhere. It is such a fold that I went down to the edge to wipe the sweat with my hands. I noticed one child standing on the doorstep of the dojo. It is not a place that has otherwise been banned from visiting, but it is time for darkening. And there's no security around here either.

Trying to call me man...... Oiva groaned.

(What a sharp... this guy isn't a regular interrogator)

Tailored and elegant outfit, sarcastic dark hair, and a tasteful face. Five or six years old...... but they are all far from the essence. Eyes. Glamorous, brilliant, and demonic. It's like a demon sword that sipped many souls... the war that led to danger ahead.

(Ten or ten thousand... no, more than that... anyway, an eye on the palm of a hell of a number of human deaths. Oh, my God, oh, my God)

Is that a person, or is this what you call a demon? Oiva wasn't as stunned as she was shot. I can't move. If you were stood on a blade that could easily amputate yourself, would this still happen? Gokuri, and the sound of spitting rang loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I was giving you a tour on your own,"

When a bell-like voice arrived, Oiva regained her sanity with Hatha. I have a strangely grown-up facial expression child in front of me, showing a polite attitude here. Did you even daydream? No. Oiva confirmed the sweat gripped in its hand with her fingertips.

"Ooh. You can watch as much as you want. But if you want to join me, I want a piece of bronze in that box."

Point to the crate by the front door. Bribe them with the money to keep renting this assembly hall. That can also be attributed to the cost of purchasing materials such as bamboo bundle swords, which are consumables. By the way, Oiva, the maker of the Bamboo Bundle Sword, is exempt from that participation fee.

"No, not at all. I heard a nostalgic noise… I was just attracted to it."

That said, I narrowed my eyes and looked at the structured landscape. There is no sight to be fought ahead. I don't think it was a mistake. Perhaps he has a sheath of mind that delivers a blade called himself, Oiva convinced. And it teaches that this person is not a person who lives in violence, but in force. It has some kind of disciplined power... which means that there are military personnel.

Military. It is a strange story because of its age, but it is Oiva who is proud of his eyesight to see the person's mind and mind. Because it is a talent polished by the blacksmith's flames and iron. Even if you don't know who lives in the daily routine, you can't be wrong early on about people living in iron fires. This boy is a masterpiece. Whatever the good and the bad, I'm sure of that.

Just a nostalgic sound, what do you mean? To the best of Oiva's knowledge, the noise that rings here in the dojo is unheard in the normal practice yard. It is unique to the bamboo bundle sword, because it is a lightweight, continuous beating sound.

"Is training with bamboo bundle swords widespread?

"Huh?"

"As far as I can tell, it was only used to refine the brave army."

"Oh, yeah, I guess so...... yeah, I don't think I used it anywhere else"

I was questioned the other way around and cluttered up. Apparently, this horrible boy has somewhere to know about the brave army. Was the parent in service? Even before the “Holy Flame Festival," I heard that the brave army was disbanded, so it could be that its personnel were returning to their homeland and waving a bamboo bundle sword.

The boy tipped his little neck. I can peek at the thinness of my neck.

"Is there anyone, even a former prostitute?

"It's..."

I almost answered, screaming like I ripped silk outside. If that were to be an unnatural interruption, I only have a bad feeling about Oiva. Kidnapping is not uncommon. If the heat of reconstruction is to be regarded as a public table, there is a violent nature behind it that cannot be wiped away from wartime.

"Excuse me."

"Oh, hey!?

It was only during some stops that the boy returned his heels and rushed to a glance. There was something bitter about the expression I saw slightly. Do you have any idea? Oiva wonders what's wrong. I'm not blue enough to cling my neck to this hand rub. It's also troublesome to be able to keep an eye on the people who set up the inmates. Well, I don't like exchanging words and overlooking people of interest. If that is an unusual masterpiece, it would be even more unfortunate.

Seeing the men who beat them together. I'm so obsessed. It's like I'm unaware of what happened at the front door. You wouldn't even recognize that there was a boy. It would have been the same if I had been in a meeting myself. Later, he said there was a crowd grabbing in the neighborhood. I would have ended up just putting him on the edge of the topic.

"You're on the edge of this one, too, yeah. If you're on edge, shah. Don't."

Took one of the polar swords to say even the wooden sword, thought of it and took another one that was small and thin, Oiva ran out to chase after the boy.