53 52 words 'Useful at this point'




"I have a message from Saint Matthias ...... that on the night of the full moon, that is, today, the First Beacon will be born.

 As Largud-En's words led, the first beacon was born that night. It shone brightly, as if foreseeing its own spread.

 It began in a farming village in the south of the Kingdom of Garleist.

 A group of heraldic advocates and peasants attacked the lord's mansion, demanding the liberation of heraldry from the land that could be described as peaceful. It was a sudden peasant uprising, but with a strangely planned policy and action.

 In the face of what could be called a surprise attack, the lord's army was defeated without even being able to make preparations. Instead of gathering his own private army to fight, he abandoned his people and fled like a rabbit to the territory of his relatives. He was defeated to an impressive degree. Up to this point, their rebellion was undoubtedly a success.

 However, it was only a peasant rebellion.

 The surprise attack was successful, but if they were to face a full-fledged army, they would collapse before they could even wield their weapons. Everyone thought so. Yes, at first it was seen as a small rebellion. An insignificant and underestimated rebellion.

 This was the beginning of a series of battles and history that would later be known as the Great Revolt of the heraldry and the Gospel Wars.   

 The beacon has now been lit.

 The beacon was now lit.

 A night passed, and early in the morning, the document was sent to Largd-Anne.

 On the second floor of a defunct tavern. In a private room, he and Fialaert and Anne looked at the document. However, the document seems to be encrypted, so it's more correct to say that I'm listening to Anne's words.

 If I were to pick out the main points, I would say only one thing. The rebellion has succeeded. The beacon has been raised. The report says so.

 As the sun opens its eyes and shines on the land, it raises its eyebrows and mutters.

This is the beacon of the beginning. If we make too much of a show of it, the national army will go soft.

 Anne had said that it was possible that the messenger had gotten ahead of himself by reporting so quickly, but there was no doubt that the rebellion had succeeded. At least, it had been in the past.

 Of course, success in this matter is welcome, but too much success is its own problem. With the liberation of the heraldic religion as its title, it would not be surprising if the Garlist Kingdom, whose state religion is the Great Satanic Religion, would send out its national army as soon as possible.

 He lightly chewed the tobacco in his teeth, letting the pleasant smell pass through his nose.

"That's not a problem. It's just that some snakes don't like the giant lion that is the Great Satanic Church.

 Anne said in a soothing voice. You could say that there was a certain amount of reserve in her voice. The horse called the battlefield has already started running, but her appearance is very unsuitable. It's even more so when you consider her girlish appearance.

 But I see. A person who doesn't like the Daishonin. Narrowing her eyes, she strokes her mouth with her tongue.

 It is true that the Daishonin continues to have a certain amount of influence not only in the Garlist Kingdom, but also in the surrounding countries. Nowadays, its beak has become so large that it sometimes meddles in the politics of various countries.

 But of course, not everyone is a devout member of the Daishonin. In fact, many of them are probably just doing it for decoration.

 Especially in the upper classes, there are many people who cherish the faith handed down from generation to generation.

 Therefore, it is not surprising that there are those who are involved in politics who would like to see the power of the Great Satanism weakened to some extent.

 In other words, the Evangelical War did not spread only by the heraldic power of the heralds, but also as a result of those who have interests with the Great Saints spreading oil at will.

 It's a deep karma, or should I say, the stakes are high.

So, is the saint telling me that everything is fine and to rest my body?

 Leaning back in her chair, she smiled bitterly as she shielded her side, which was still sore from the night.

 I don't think so," Anne said with a knowing smile.

Saint Mattia wants me to confess my love to Mary. Until then, there will be no activity around here.

 They want to make it look like last night's rebellion was the result of the Garlist Kingdom's tyranny causing the heraldists to explode. I'm not sure what to make of it, but it's a good idea.

 I saw Fialaat at my side shake his shoulders. You can see the slight scowl on his face, and it's hard to read his emotions. He was probably more than a little confused and upset.

 It's only natural. Even though she is an exchange student, Galuamaria is where she spent her time. Not many people would be so enthusiastic as to start talking about a plan to bring it down right in front of them.

"That's all well and good, but it's not what you do, it's how you do it. It's about the means. In all of history, Galuamaria has never fallen. That's what makes this place a sanctuary in a way. You're not going to hit me head on, are you?

 The way he was talking, he might be reasonably keen on the idea. Let's leave aside the consideration of his expression.

 At any rate, the words are certain. As of now, Galuamaria has not lost a single battle. It's a source of pride and comfort to the citizens here.

 For Fialaat, the idea that a group of heraldic heralds, who are not even regular soldiers but more like a mob, could bring down the historic city of Garou Amalia must be a joke worse than a pipe dream.

Yes, of course. As for the means, the seeds have been sown and are just waiting to germinate. That's why I've come to ask you for a favor. I've come to ask you to do one thing for me, and I ask that you consider this to be the equivalent of Saint Mattia's wish.

 So said Ann, nodding deeply.

 From that point on, I had a very bad feeling in my heart, as if mud was being slowly poured into my ears.



 I'd rather have a cat write poetry.

"I'd still rather have a cat write poetry for me.

 She said with dry lips and a voice that sounded like it had been scooped up from the bottom of her chest.

 As if to impress upon Anne's consciousness that it was that difficult.

 --I want a riot or a mass rebellion of the denizens of the poorhouse.

 That was Saint Mattia's wish. I had expected this, but... But when I actually hear it, I feel like I've got black weights stuffed inside my brain.

"A few days is fine. I'll use the structure of this city. With the loss of the labor force of the favela dwellers, many city functions will be paralyzed. This will have a particularly pronounced impact on distribution.

 That is an indisputable fact.

 In Garouamalia, where the main labor force is the residents of the favelas, if they fail to function, it will lead to the failure of the city. If they start a riot, the city will not be able to function as a trading city. Even if it is only for a few days, chaos in the city is inevitable.

 This would undoubtedly lead to a decline in the resistance of the Guards and the city as a whole.
 However, if it were easy to do so, no one would have any trouble. First of all, the city would not have reached such a structure.

 The inhabitants of the ghettos have made their apathy their friend, and their hearts are filled with resignation. No matter what they see, no matter what they feel, they can't help it. There's nothing I can do about it. They have thrown hope out of their hands.

 But who can blame them? And who am I to speak ill of them?

The ...... problem is so deep-rooted. No matter how much you try to get rid of the surface, if the roots are deep inside, there is nothing you can do. It's no different than a puppet being manipulated by the citizens of a city.

 Biting the edge of his lip, he couldn't help but let the words slip out. My teeth clicked together involuntarily. I could understand their feelings better than anything.

 Yes, the man I once was is them. They are who I used to be.

 They're just like me back then, when I was on my journey to salvation. A mind that spends its days wallowing in inertia and lethargy, unable to question or rage.

 It's a sentiment that I understand too little about, and it weighs me down strangely. It was as if my organs themselves had turned into solid stone.

 In fact, even in the past, the heralds had failed to gain the cooperation of the poorest of the poor.

 After the fall of Garouamalia, the heraldists failed to bring the inhabitants of the favelas under their control and were defeated by the allied forces of the other city-states without being able to restore the functions of the city.

 This was a fatal defeat for the heraldists, and it also led to a decline in the momentum of their activities.

 Largd-Anne stares at me, almost unblinking, as I chew my cigarette in silence.

 Her eyes gleam with silent anticipation, laced with a pleading color. What do you expect from me? How can I, an ordinary man, do what you once could not?

 Only a hero can change history.

"......, give me a few days. The saint will be coming here anyway. Then you should have some time to spare.

 Largd-Anne's eyes widened, and her words were immediately returned with vivacity.

 I can't do it, that's what I should say. I should have told him not to expect anything from me.

 What I want to do is to use the heraldists to get them off the ground and make a name for myself. There is no need to cooperate fully. In fact, I didn't even want to cooperate this much.

 But things are different now. A hero who could change history has joined the other side.

 Herd stanley. The one who's a hero.

 And now Garou Amalia has him. It's not an exaggeration to say this is the worst thing that could happen. It's only one man, everyone will say. Some would scoff at the fear in my heart.

 But no. It's not. He's not quiet enough to fit into an average person's imagination. A man who can change the board alone. A man who alone can be the guardian of hell and the hero of salvation, Held Stanley.

 In light of Heldt's presence, it's too risky to just let the heralds run the course of history. If we play our cards right, they could suffer a crushing defeat and he could only gain fame.

 That's no good. If possible, the forces should be close. To the point where I can touch them.

 That's why I can't just not accept this offer.

 Besides... I'm not the only ordinary person here. There's a genius.

"Fear Alert. I could use some help. What? It's easy. You'd have a harder time eating a loaf of bread.

 Fialaat, suddenly approached, blinked slightly and said with a light pout on her lips. His black hair swayed.



"If that's what you think, then you'll provide me with softer bread for my reward, won't you? Yes, and butter as well.

 I've never even had butter in my mouth. I glanced at Anne, and she was smiling too. Rather, her cheeks were flushed. It is apparently difficult to obtain such a luxury item as butter, even through Ann's distribution channels.

 She stroked the bridge of her nose with her finger, leaving behind the confused Anne and Fialaert, who said they wanted sugar at least.

 I may have been too reckless in this case. I don't know if I'm capable of doing something that was never done in history, even with the help of the genius of Fialaat. There is no end to my anxiety.

 But there's something that will overcome it. I felt something sprouting inside of me, something that would cover my anxiety and paint it a different color.

 I slowly stroke the chewing tobacco with my teeth.

 My goal is to make a name for myself, to be good enough to come for Alueno. That's for sure. That's one goal, no doubt about it.

 But now I feel something deep inside me, something that's been suppressed even deeper, starting to breathe.

 It had been held back for so long. It has been bent down, as if to succumb to the pressure of falling from the sky, and has been waiting for the time to sprout.

 A little sweat dripped down his forehead. His eyes widened, and the sound of a loud throat hit his ears.

 In order to gain a suitable status, he would make a name for himself. Was it really necessary to become a gambler like he was now in order to do just that?

 Wasn't there a more solid way to gain fame? Such inexplicable questions were now running through my mind.

 Then, suddenly, I thought, "Oh, really? The words rushed up from my heart to my brain as if they had made sense.

 --I mean, I want the glory, I want the glory. I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory, I want glory.

 How ugly. How petty. What a joke. It's like a lump of vanity, this.

 Yeah, all I've ever done is watch. I've only watched them from afar, basking in their glory. How many times have I been burned by their brilliance? How many times had my heart been burned by their glory?

 How many times did I bite my teeth in longing, humiliation, and resignation, knowing that I would never get it?

 Before I knew it, a mocking sigh escaped from the corner of my mouth.