victory

Fortunately, the townspeople were more considerate than he thought about livelihood matters.

The townspeople helped him figure out a way out the day the smell of rum faded.

"You are so terribly disabled and have a weird personality. It is not suitable for you to live in the town anymore. Why don't you move to the mountains, where we will give you an acre of land and give you some cattle and sheep, which is our best. gone."

He nodded, and spoke in a rare way, startling the townspeople, "It's just... that armor, can you return it to me?"

The man was not very happy when he heard that, "What are you talking about, that armor is not yours in the first place, it was re-polished by us, as for your previous piece of rotten iron, it has long been thrown away."

His misty eyes became very dim, and without saying a word, he began to pack up his trivial items, and was driven out of the small home his parents left him that day.

Then, he moved to the mountains and lived a difficult life in this place, and ten years passed in a flash.

His body, which has always been strong, became weak when he was in his 30s because of the hidden wounds left by the war and the hard work of life.

Looking back on this decade, he is not without sadness, but he was a fighter.

The people in the small town were the ones he had vowed to protect since he was sensible, so whether they were harsh or slanderous, he silently swallowed them all, but there was only one thing he couldn't bear.

He cannot lie.

He has the belief of a warrior, and he swears to be brave and loyal forever, so he cannot unconscionably attribute to himself the peace brought by the blood shed by thousands of warriors.

In fact, he is not a hero, he is just a poor, abandoned soldier, so he will rebel against the dishonest title.

only…

It was a pity that he would never be able to drink a glass of rum again.

However, he planted a patch of lavender and cared for it carefully every year, giving the cold and lonely life a romantic taste.

From this point of view, even at this point, he is still a person who can enjoy life.

He came out of the lavender field, and the sackcloth on his body was soaked with the fragrance of flowers.

This time he was not going to enjoy a rare leisure time in the lavender field, but he lost a sheep.

In the past ten years, because of his health, he will take good care of his precious possessions, in case they run away and he has to spend a lot of energy looking for them, but every secret must be lost, even though he is ten years late, his sheep are still missing up.

He dragged his inconvenient feet, and for the first time in so many years, he set foot in the depths of this mountain.

He smelled of lavender, and carried a dagger and some carrots in his pocket.

He actually knew that his equipment was a little too crude, but he was not even afraid of going to the battlefield, so how could he lack courage.

So he straightened his weak back and shuttled through the mountain road with tenacious perseverance.

His sheep are so precious that they can provide him with the necessary milk for nourishment, so he can't give it up easily under any circumstances.

"Sheep!" he cried, "Sheep!" he cried again.

Naturally, there was no response.

He was not reconciled, "Baa!" He changed his name, and walked forward slowly, "Baa!" He was still imitating the cry of a sheep.

Miraculously, he heard a faint "baa" in response, which seemed to come from a cave not far away.

The cave was very large, so he was a little vigilant, wondering if it might be the lair of some giant carnivore, and his sheep might have been brought in by those predators.

Thinking of this, he couldn't help hesitant, his sheep was very important, but would it be worth risking his life to get it back?

He put his hand in his pocket, and grabbed the crude but sharp dagger. The carrot that was placed next to the dagger was the favorite food of sheep.

He shook his head, thinking helplessly, if he didn't come out with the determination to risk the danger, why would he carry a dagger? He can't really find it and retreat, he has never been a cowardly person.

So he limped, but cautiously stepped into the deep cave.

The inner palace of the cave is very large and deep, and when his crutches hit the stone surface, an echo was aroused.

"Da da da…"

He resisted the numbness of his scalp and moved forward firmly.

His eyesight is not very good, but he also knows that not far in front of him should be his sheep, a white mass, bleating pitifully.

The farther he went, the closer the sound of the sheep came.