There are still a lot of desert bandits in this desert, but after several concentrated encirclements and suppressions by the Salander Kingdom, the scale of this gang of robbers has become much smaller, and most of them are scattered and occasionally rob the villagers to eat a few mouthfuls of food. Pen | fun | pavilion www. ｂｉｑｕｇｅ。 Info Even bandit gangs of more than 20 people are now considered large, and the chiefs have no intention of caring about these things anymore, after all, the border dispute with the Karad Empire has proliferated recently, and war seems to be on the verge of breaking out, and this war may be a matter of life and death for them. Besture wandered aimlessly in the desert, knowing that even if he didn't look for the robbers, the cunning robbers would come for a lone "traveler" like himself. There was no one around, only the repetition of the scene and his own figure. Such a scene would always remind him of that bitterly cold night many years ago, when the night sky was deep and oppressive as if it were about to fall, and the stars were shining, as if the stars were approaching his eyes at some illusory speed. He never felt that oppression again for decades to come. At that time, he had just avenged his brother, squatting by the river to wash away the blood of the enemy on his body, and the pleasure of revenge gradually turned blank in his mind, and he faintly felt that some kind of fear was about to take advantage of it. He tried not to let himself think, but caused the horse to rush forward in desperation. He escaped from Darth Befa overnight, and ran all the way through the grasslands of Kugit to Harma's tavern when he let himself breathe a long breath. After that, he went through countless difficult nights, until the difficulty evolved into a habit that he had become accustomed to, and he began to find some work to do. He will help deliver wine to the tavern, and he will also help the mayor ransom the kidnapped girls in the town. He is a man of few words, cold and introverted. This habit stayed with him until now, decades later. Even when he later met Leon, he was never willing to make any changes to himself. He is in his nature with the stubbornness and roughness of the Kujits, as well as the superstition of natural fate. He was reluctant to work under the Karad or Swadiya (he was too lazy to do the distinction that the centerlanders were keen to do), but he could no longer return to the Kugit steppe, though he still thought of his family, his old father, who was herding on the steppes, and his aunt, who was a merchant in the city of Halma. Years later, when Reon asked him if he would like to inquire about the Kyugit Khanate, for the first time he failed to restrain his feelings, deliberately falling into the trap of reminiscence, muttering about his aunt in Halma and his family on the steppe in the same rambling way that he most hated, without noticing the complicated look in Reon's eyes as he listened carefully to his conversation. When he was awake, he did not want to face the fact that he was helping a Karadian to expel the Kugit from their long-lived steppe, and when he numbed himself with alcohol, or indulged in dreams in his sleep, he still believed that the Kugit would be able to drive the so-called traditional Central people out and bring back herds of cattle and sheep, fine cloth and fine wine, as he had done when he was a recognized Kujit.

He and Leon were often the last to sleep in the group. Their tents were scattered across the field, looking like dark purple specks from a distance, and the light of two of them was never extinguished. Besture was not so easy to fall asleep because of the vigil he had developed in the steppe as a child, and he sometimes wondered what Rayon was doing, so sometimes he would come to Rayon's camp, and Rayon always had a pen in his hand and wrote something on a thick pale yellow book with his name written on the cover. Rayon knew he was coming, but he didn't speak, but waved his hand and motioned for him to sit casually. Besture sat down in a corner, and watched him write quietly, but did not remember what he had written, and this tacit understanding seemed innate, as it had been when Leon had found him in the tavern, sitting quietly and watching him drink, while he stared at the jar indifferently and without saying a word, repeating the action of lifting the jar and putting it down, until that time there were few people in the tavern, and the lights were shining alone in the corner, and they began to speak, and there was no match, as they had been in the tent when they had been silently facing each other in the tent, until the dawn appeared on the horizon, corresponding to the pace of the dawn which they had silently meditated in their heartsand they finally began to speak.

Besture was often amazed, as if Rayon Hiro always found the best way to talk to others. He treated Ellenn, Fatis, Porcha differently than he did to himself, he didn't know if anyone else had noticed it, but it seemed that those people had never thought of it, they had too much reverence for Leon, and Reon had become almost a god-like being for them, filling the void in their hearts of Glendir, who had lost his credibility because of the war. However, this was not the case with Besture himself, and he could feel it that night, and that the twenty years that followed were the same as the one he had met that day at the tavern, immersed in solitude and afraid of loneliness and longing for some kind of relief, cold and resolute, never doubting his own judgment. Thinking of this, Bestur shook his head, he couldn't judge whether what Leon was doing was right or wrong, he just clearly felt that Leon couldn't free himself in the end, he fell into the order he had created, and all that awaited him was broken dreams and cold realities. Thinking of this, Besture burst out laughing, to cover up the numb sorrow in his heart, which had already been repeated. It's not the same, he muttered to himself.

His laughter echoed in the desert wind, and in the distance a few black dots appeared, which, as if alarmed by the desolate sound, quickly approached Bestur, and gradually turned into a black shadow. Besture concentrated, shielding his hand from the overly harsh sunlight, carefully looked at the dark shadow in the distance, took out the arrow from the quiver, and slowly drew the bowstring.

Fairyans opened the book and looked at it carefully. The paper was very old and yellowed. The date is marked in the upper left corner of each page. There is only one paragraph of text on each page, which seems to be the author's strange fault, so some pages only have a few lines of very large words, while others are densely packed with small characters, and the handwriting is very beautiful. Curiously, it appears to be a mutilated diary, with obvious signs of tearing on the back. After reading a few paragraphs, Feuyers was pretty sure it was a diary, but who knows if this was the real diary of Rayon? Escape always prevailed, and Ferjans wanted to return the book to Macko with another disapproving expression, but when he hastily flipped to the last side, the beautiful signature suddenly pushed the cold reality before his eyes, Jamila's spelling appeared clearly on the last side, and his mother's handwriting would not be wrong even in a hundred years.

And above his mother's signature was a beautiful line of handwriting that he had just seen countless times: Dedicated to my beautiful butler, Miss Jamila.

And below that signature is another person's signature, which looks out of place with the handwriting on it, and looks very heroic: Ellene. The name seemed strange and familiar to him.

Feljans took a deep breath, he only felt a little dazed, the flames sizzling in the fireplace, and he couldn't hear anything else. He flipped back to the first page and looked at it again.

September 28, 1257

The weather is nice today, so I'm in a good mood. Actually, it's not just because of the weather, I'll be earning about 8,000 dinars a week from next week. Maybe I'm not as eager to pursue that so-called goal as I thought, but there's no way, maybe it's not a pursuit, it's just that whenever I think of Dita, I can't calm myself down, and I should have been overflowed with something beyond my control. But in any case, the current order must be changed.

...

October 1, 1257

Maliga is a piece of scum. Haikou is also a scumbag. It's just a matter of precedence.

...

November 20, 1257

Harengoth suffered another defeat. Something to be expected.

...

December 1, 1257

Sunoh and Uxhall have both fallen, but this is also temporary. Elindaha was sacked by the Nords, so was Vader, and the tombs of his parents and Tita may have been trampled and destroyed, and it will take some more patience.

January 28, 1258

Harungus was banished, and he was the most despised lord his father had ever mentioned. Grayward was also banished, one of the few close friends his father had mentioned. What the hell does Harauth want to do, but as long as Reys is here, Swadia won't be dead. The last time I saw him in Agoronburg, he almost recognized me, and he probably remembers the day he came to see me when I was 10 years old. Tita was only 5 years old at the time, and if she had lived to this day, she would have been a slim girl by now.

...

February 3, 1258

Like, like it. Tita also has blonde hair and blue eyes. Maybe Glenndell really exists.