The white eyes bounce up from the corner of the eye and pierce the hollow. The first thing you need to do is to look at your eyes.

　I'm not sure if it's because I'm not a big fan of the idea, or because I'm not a big fan of the idea. But whatever the emotion, Roseau thought, it was more than just fear.

　Citizens wielding spears with their fierce masks lavishly plastered on their faces. Even with the tip of her spear in their sights, she didn't frighten them with her fingertips. Rather, her lips opened proudly, and her voice rang out as if it were natural.

"Roseau. The People's Assembly has no authority to restrain the ruler. Now point your spears down and get back to the work you need to do, citizens.

　His voice was clear. Philos-Treit's voice is as colorless as her white eyes.

　Her voice is as colorless as her white eyes, righteous in every way, unbending in every way. It's just a point that pierces straight through. That is who she is, Philos-Treit. She does what is right and does not doubt it. Perhaps she is incapable of self-doubt.

　Roseau thinks. Yes, she is the opposite of me. She's the complete opposite of me. Look at how straight she is. She can't even be compared to the twisted, corrupt you. Yeah, that's why.

　The clarity of her voice caused the citizens around her to momentarily cloud their eyes in agitation and blunt their spears. Anxiety and frustration rose in their guts as smoke.

　A small, exhaling Roseau ate his words.

"Indeed. The People's Assembly does not have the authority to bind the ruler. However, the power to restrain transgressors belongs to every citizen of the Great Church. Isn't that right, Philos-Treit the Impostor?

　Once again, Roseau repeats, emphasizing the word "treacherous. Do not let the citizens think, let them paint their thoughts with their own words.

　Betrayers, those who have abandoned the faith.

　The names are different, but the meaning is the same. In short, one who has turned his back on Artius, the God of the Great Saints, a traitor who bears the most unforgivable sin in the world.

　The word "traitor" is the greatest insult to the Great Saints, and is even forbidden. It is a word that every child is taught not to speak, even in jest, by their parents when they are still young.

　To turn one's back on God is to throw away all the salvation, all the protection one has received. In other words, you become a heathen like the heralds, a savage who knows no dignity or decency, a beast. The word "immoral" has such a meaning.

　That's why it's the right time to say it, Roseau thought, leaping to his lips. His voice trembles as he sears his words into the marrow of the citizens' brains. He attaches his thoughts to theirs.

　It's so, so easy, Roseau knows. So easy that it sinks into your bones. Because they have never thought for themselves what is right. They have always believed in the righteousness given to them and hated the evil given to them.

　I've been naive and stupid. And they are hateful. The brand of immorality resonated well in their brains.

"You've made an alliance with the heraldists. That's a fact.

　Word for word. One word at a time, Roseau spoke slowly, as if he wanted the citizens to chew on it. With an exaggerated wave of his arms, his throat and voice trembling, he makes the citizens listen. That's what we've been doing all along. This is how we've been living our lives, just talking.

　That's how we've been walking the wrong path.

What does it matter? "What does it matter?" Determining which way the wind is blowing is Philos' specialty. It is the duty of the rulers to ensure the continued autonomy of Philos, even at the cost of their own shame, that is all.

　The whites of Philos-Treit's eyes are still shaking. Looking up at Roseau standing in front of him, he simply tells the truth. The truth, however, is not something that sits unshakable. Rather, it resides in the minds of those who are too easily distracted.

　Roseau's eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. The way his lips curved up in a smile, he seemed to be enjoying himself.

"There is a soldier who tipped me off about your condition. He said that he was happy to talk to the heraldists and that he had taken the hand of the heraldists, not as the ruler of Philos, but as Philos-Treit himself.

　So what? Philos-Treit's eyes widened and his body stiffened. You'll be able to find a lot more information on this subject in this article. Roseau's lips quirked up in admiration.

　An individual ruler forming an alliance with a hostile force. This would never have been possible. Even if you turn over the history books, there are probably only a few instances of this.

　The only reason it happened this time was because she was afraid that the city of Philos itself would be branded as immoral. It was obvious to Roseau that she was right. Because she was always right, and she was a strong person with no selfish intentions.

　But that's why she doesn't understand the weakness of the human heart. He does not understand that the essence of the act of suspicion is fear. And so we have a rare example in history. They don't know what kind of a person a monarch is who makes an alliance with a hostile force all by himself.



"-Philos-Treitor. You are a despicable traitor who sold out the city of Philos to save his own skin. In exchange for your safety, you signed a contract to deliver the city's goods to the heraldry. You should be ashamed.

　It was at this point that Philos-Treit opened his eyes for the first time. The color that floated there was just astonishment. He seemed to be saying, "What the hell are you talking about? In his mind, he was probably thinking, "How can you come up with something so stupid?

　But at the same time, Roseau's cheeks twisted as he realized another thing.

　He knew that the gullible and easily led citizens of the city would not believe such a rumor. In any case, a monarch who makes an alliance or contract with a rival power alone has always been a cowardly traitor.

"I'm tired of your ...... ravings, Roseau.

　In the event that you have any questions regarding where and how to use the site, you can call us at the web site. Every single one of them is staring at her and refusing to let go. Instead, their lips open one after the other in a tirade.

　Traitors, cowards, cowardly worms, murderous scoundrels -- oh, die, treacherous one.

　Everyone spewed out wild words as if distracted, polluting the hollow.

"You sold us out, you filthy whore!

　Then, of course, a stone was thrown and struck Philos-Treit hard on the cheek.

　She must have handled the sharp stone on purpose. Her cheekbones were sliced open, and bright blood licked her cheeks. Her foot stomped on the tatara, as if it had struck her cheekbone.

　As if to mimic this, everyone held something to be thrown in their hands, and those with spears at the ready looked as if they might devour Philos-Treit's flesh at any moment.

　Just when it looked like they were about to devour Phyllos-Treit's flesh, Roseau spoke up, as if he had been waiting for the right moment. In his usual, clear voice.

"Silence, gentlemen. The treacherous Philos-Treit will be judged not by us, but by the High Priestess. Put her in jail!

　And with that, Roseau twisted his lips in a crooked sneer.