MTL - The Amber Sword-Chapter 18 Another trail in history

Another trace of the eighteenth episode of history ()

The vast earth slept in the darkness, silent, and silence seemed to mourn the soul that had passed away on this land. The starry sky dangled, and the meteor crossed the fuchsia half of the sky, ephemeral, as if symbolizing the names that shone in the long river of history.

Bryson stood silently in the cold night wind, order after order was issued through his mouth, the guards galloped among the ruins of the green village, and wiped out the remaining enemies. All the undead must be purified.

The young security captain felt that only by doing so would make him feel better.

He watched the time, he still had half an hour.

Zeto watched the scene from a distance. He shook the glass jug in his hand and touched the young man beside him: "You, is it Essen?"

Essen froze slightly.

"My name is Zeto. Would you like to come?" He held up the flat jug. "Pure Chehuwo, I and Lanes found in a wine cellar. Unfortunately, I do n’t know if I can still do it after this war. Can't drink it ... "

He paused for a while.

"You know, I used to have an ideal, and I wanted to be the best scout."

"But I regret it now."

Essen thought this man was weird, but he was a little interested in why he regretted it. A person will never regret it for no reason?

"Why?" He asked.

"My biggest goal in the past was to find the enemy, because finding the enemy is my value. But what I want to do now is hide the villagers. Hiding, at least they won't be killed, but you know what, I There is nothing I can do-- "

"this is not your fault."

"I'm a soldier." Zeto took a sip of wine. "When I saw the girl crying, I wished I had died on the battlefield like Covento. But I can't escape if I'm alive. "

The young man was silent, and somehow he thought of Brando subconsciously. He had the illusion that the young man who led them out of trouble again and again could lead them out of the vulva.

Perhaps the hunch is true, and all difficulties will be resolved-

Hopefully.

he thinks.

...

Brando and Freya sit together.

To be honest, Brando felt that he was not good at comforting people. He thought it might be better to change someone else here, but that **** Breson left with a stinky face, and Essen was too reluctant to come over—Hey, this is yours Isn't the captain?

Fortunately, Freya quickly adjusted her emotions, but she kept staring in a certain direction, and her bright eyes were filled with loneliness at this moment.

Brando recognized the loneliness, and he had seen the same glance on the body known as the Valkyrie-the quiet sorrow flowing, as if it could never be resolved.

But suddenly he felt a little pity. Compared to him, he liked Freya who was simple, soft-hearted and persistent, and Freya who could be angry for small things.

But how can he speak? He hesitated for a long time, but his lips seemed pale and weak. He prepared several lines, but none of them were suitable.

While he was having a headache, the girl spoke first:

"Mr. Brando," she called.

"Yep?"

"You said, why are there wars?"

Ah, he didn't really think about it. In the game, the grand guilds fought because of the distribution of interests, fame, and even just face, and between nations, they vie for interests, sovereignty, and territory, and the war will spread on the earth at any time.

In the past, he might answer, because human beings are always dominated by desire, yearning for conquest and plunder, so they always conquer each other.

But everything that has gone through today, especially Freya's weak cry, is forever imprinted in his heart, indelible. He suddenly found this answer to be ridiculous, because no one can surpass his own ethnic group, human beings-both weak and strong.

"War always happens, and we have to choose to accept it."

"We were born in a bad time, we can't choose our time. But we can try to change it," Brando replied, saying suddenly that his heart was widened because of his words: "Maybe nothing can be changed. , But at least we have worked with many people to achieve it-such memories are already precious. "

He remembered the days when he fought for Eru in the game. Many friends, many like-minded partners, and many vows, although the end of the song ended, but at least he countless memories-but never regretted losing .

It was a memory belonging to Eruin.

Dreaming of his soul, he could not forget it for a long time.

The girl was silent on one side.

"Freya."

"Yep?"

"You must love them very much."

"Well," the young girl replied, "Since my father passed away, Sylvia has taken care of me, and they are proud of me."

"But why not? I love them better than everything."

"It's just strange to me, why did God choose you?" Brando said.

"Yep?"

"Freya, if one day you become the patron saint of this land, have you thought about it?"

"How is it possible, Mr. Brando, are you laughing at me secretly?" The girl was a little angry, but her voice was low again. "I want to be the captain, but I have only so much power, only so much One point. I just want to do my part. Too far, I can't do it. "

No, you not only did it, you did it well. Freya, you will be the last hero of Eruin, and one of the most missed people.

Modest, serious, strong, and kind-hearted, God has given you ordinary talents, but has given you the best quality and unique experience.

Brando turned the ebony statue in his hand over and over. He stared into the distance and sighed: "Freya, I don't know where you will go in the future, but I want you to remember a word."

"Yep?"

"Do you know the word companion? No matter how far you go, many people will accompany you. You will never be alone."

Fryia froze, and suddenly her eyes were filled with grief. She thought of Roman, thought of Phoenix, thought of Essen and Markmy, and thought of all the third men of the militia.

Of course, there is also Silly.

She wiped the corners of her eyes and looked up at the sky-the night was divided into two by a fiery curtain, the green village was burning, and the flames in the darkness seemed to herald a greater catastrophe.

"Thank you," she replied softly. "Shameless Brando."

Our protagonist shuddered.

But looking back, Freya's eyes were bright, like the stars in the night sky. At that moment, Brando suddenly felt that his existence was valuable, at least the history was different, wasn't it?

...

Bryson quickly got what he wanted-food, medicine. Although the surface of Qingcun has been almost completely destroyed, it is not difficult to find these things-the undead need no food or medicine, and these things are just piled there randomly.

Besides, they still have Brando.

Although the three towns of Butch, Weibin and Qingcun are all within the jurisdiction of the Butch Guard, it can be said that young people who are familiar with these guards are not as good as Brando.

Using past memories, Brando easily found the secret cellars of the two squire manor houses. In addition to food and medicine, there were supplies, pig iron, copper and even gold and silver. However, they couldn't take the extra stuff, so they could only seal the cellar intact, maybe they could use it in the future.

Of course, it's not Brando's habit to go home empty-handed, especially as a player. The owners of these manors died in this war, and they had no descendants. Brando knew that these manors were later torched by the dead souls of Madara-those hidden cellars later became the players' most passionate, Find one and make a fortune.

That's why he is so familiar with the location of these cellars-the player is always a creature that doesn't get up early.

But he couldn't take big things, but magic equipment must not be let go. In the eyes of everyone's surprise, he popped out a few dark grids-most of them were gold and silver jewelry, but our hero was dismissive of those things. These are fortunes in the game, but they are worthless on the battlefield except they become cumbersome.

The young deputy captain of the security guard with a black face looked at him suspiciously: When did this guy learn the burglar, but wouldn't his character degenerate?

Brando then rushed out of a set of female busses. This is a retro set of armor, with a bright surface with complex brass plating, and the pattern of black and gold shows that it is a work of art in the style of glorious return.

But people hadn't looked away from the beautiful armor, and Brando shouted again and pulled an armed suit from there. Then he beckoned to Freya: "Freya, come here."

"Well?" Our future lady Valkyrie stunned slightly.

"Try this armor."

"Wait," Bryson taunted subconsciously. "Brando, wouldn't you want Freya to put on that ornament? Not all armors are used in actual combat, you know ?"

Brando didn't bother to care about him at all, and he was going to put Freya on while he was armed. But the girl blushed and wore a pony tail to take over the armed service and said, "I, come on my own."

He hesitated. He didn't pay too much attention to the game before. He and the female knight and warrior companions also helped each other, but forgot it was a reality.

"What do you think?" Bryson couldn't help asking when he saw Freya running to the wood pile alone.

"what?"

"That's a work of art. It's too heavy, wouldn't you want Freya to wear it to fight? Besides, have your militiamen learned how to fight with armor?"

"Too heavy?" For the first time, Brando had heard this statement. He couldn't help looking back at the young deputy captain of the guard, wondering if his brain was flooded.

He didn't explain too much either, beckoning Freya to come and help her put on this half-body armor. Then he asked, "How do you feel?"

"A bit heavy and not very flexible."

The young people behind Bryson gave a snicker, an obvious decoration-could it not be heavy? Of course, most of these laughs are well-intentioned, but there is no lack of malicious irony.

Brando ignored them and said to the armor, "s’taz."

The word is ancient and means wind.

The half-armor was enveloped by a layer of cyan light for a moment, rising from Freya's body, protecting her body tightly. The girl stunned slightly and yelled in surprise: "This--?"

Brando turned his head back: "Someone who described the rear half-armor of the wind as the wind element was too heavy. Presumably the elven craftsman who designed this armor wouldn't be surprised?

Bryson sank, and the young knights behind him were silent.