victory

When he was not speaking, he always hunched his back, like a rotten bug without bones.The places where his gaze swept, often had a rotten and gloomy taste.

When he was young, because of a war, he limped one foot and his eyesight was very poor. Later, he moved away from the crowd and lived in a small wooden house on the mountain that was left behind by others for ten years.

But the lavender-scented wind still brings harsh rumors to the hills.

He has not bought his favorite rum in the town for many years, but the name of the terrible Joseph has remained, and has become a symbol of terror that is kept secret in the hearts of children.

However, ten years before these fresh, childish lives were born, he would not have been like this.

It was the age of the brave when dragons and monsters still existed.

After successfully completing the mission of the Legion, he can't wait to take off the blood-stained iron armor. After the catastrophe, his face is still young and vigorous, and he walks excitedly and proudly in the small town that is singing the victory song. .

At that time, when drinking rum with the brothers who were born and died in the streets of the town, there would be a little girl with a blushing face, staggering and falling on him, and then the residents of the town would look aside with teasing kindness. laugh.

He would gently lift the girl up, laugh with people, and dream of eternal peace with his brothers under the pink afterglow.

Then it was late at night, and with his deep love and sincerity for this land, he went home and got a good night's sleep, and continued to fight for the belief in his heart the next day.

He originally thought that his future destination would be a battlefield full of mud and blood.

The flying arrows, the iron sword with cold light, and the sharp claws of monsters, one of these three will take his life away.

But he was too lucky.

The day the giant dragon was pierced into the neck by a long sword and became extinct from this world also announced the unexpected end of the era of the brave.

For this time, almost all the soldiers gave their lives for this time, except him.

The monster took away his left leg and severely injured his back. The sand and poisonous gas rolled up by the giant dragon greatly impaired his vision, but he survived.

After being rescued, the townspeople learned that the era full of blood and slaughter had passed, that the dragons and monsters disappeared forever, and that he was the only survivor of that cruel battle. When they were once full of hope, The moment he saw the unbearable and pitiful eyes in his respectful eyes, he felt a little timid for some reason.

No matter what, the final battle was won. On this day, when all the past was recorded in the annals of history, he became the hero who was left behind in the era when courage and faith were paramount.

The hymns about him began to be played.

The bard's harp uttered a gentle voice, telling stories of his deeds in and out of battle.

The people in the town looked at him sympathetically and fanatically, stroking his armor full of war marks with exaggerated expressions.

He just sat quietly on the bed without saying a word.

"Honorable Mr. Joseph, please let me draw a picture for you." Someone suggested.

He opened his mouth, and wanted to refuse, but felt that it was unnecessary.

The next day, a poster with his portrait was put up in the square, facing the tavern where he used to drink rum.

He was lying not far from the tavern, changing the bandages on his broken left leg, which was festered in the hot weather despite treatment, and the voices of people's discussions drifted into his mind.

"This... is Master Joseph in the hymn?"

"He defeated the dragon?"

"impossible…"

"Joseph is obviously a hearty man!"

"How did you draw the honorable Mr. Brave like this?"

"Your drawing skills are too bad!" someone started,

The echoing voices increased.

"You draw so badly!"

"You still say you are a painter?!"

"This..." the painter said stiffly, "I obviously followed..." I drew it after Joseph, and it was exactly the same... He wanted to say this, but under the undisguised anger in the eyes of the townspeople, he Said resentfully, "Yes... I didn't draw well, give me another chance..."

Joseph had already tidied up his wounds, leaned against the head of the bed, bowed his proud head, wondering what he was thinking.

The painter came again soon, but this time there was some nameless anger in his tone, he complained in a strange tone, "Master Brave, I'm very sorry, I didn't expect your portrait to be as easy as I imagined , I have to create a second one for you."

He didn't speak, and his lowered head never looked up again.

When the square was replaced with new paintings, he was gently stroking his armor that had been cleaned, polished, and even silver-plated. All the traces of the swords and swords had disappeared.

It is like a brand new symbol, heralding the end of one era and the coming of another.

The people who came to see him today are all a little weird, but it is a pity that they are walking on his left leg and slack back, and the enthusiasm in their eyes is attacked by a trace of disdain.

After begging him to describe how thrilling the battle was in detail as usual, he put down the food for him, and said "Take care of yourself" sympathetically, and then left.

He barely supported his young but broken body, and said a word.

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