【Foreword】

Before I made the decision to write a diary, I was reminded of a long time ago, when I was waist-high and jumped up and down in that wagon with a big ugly face, and found in the cabinet some yellowed papers, which you wrote while fighting under Medici.

Through these already vague words, I know how you survive on the battlefield, how you deal with the aftermath of your dead comrades, how you make deep use of old secrets, how you complain in your heart - these are all things that you rarely talk about in front of me, I read them with relish, and after reading them, I came to ask you why there was no follow-up.

I remember your face being delicate, but you chose to answer my question before admonishing me to respect the privacy of others.

"Whether or not you can see tomorrow's sun is never a certainty when you are in war, and every day you survive is invaluable, so you always want to seize the time to remember something—maybe this diary will become a last word?"

"But if I don't fight, I can still live a long time. If you keep writing, the diary will one day accumulate to your level - it would be a waste of paper. ”

While I've always thought you're trying to be lazy, I've also realized that journaling is only done when people feel that time is limited—precious because it's limited.

My life is too long, so I simply write about it as the Mona Lisa, in my story, she is a student traveler from the imperial capital, who temporarily stays because she admires the scenery of the snow-capped mountains—yes, temporarily.

In my vision, the Mona Lisa would only exist for the time I was in the North, and when I chose to leave, she would cease to exist.

In this way, "infinite" becomes "finite".

It was on this premise that I made the decision to write a journal.

You can interpret me as having an alternative ritual, and my father said that a sense of ritual is an important part of human nature.

But I still think that his humanity is enough to give up a certain sense of ritual - starting with wearing clothes when he is playing.

【Day 1】

After showing the white deer emblem you gave me, the people of the school provided me with a place to stay, and in the room hung the painting of you appearing as a white deer in the desert, and there was a shrine next to the painting, and in it sat a wooden carving of you, with a blurred face, but it was better to express the spirit in a posture.

Speaking of which, I finally understand why I haven't seen your church much along the way, because the ancestors of your current school members, the Gaibians, a group of nomads known as the "Children of the Wind", who have no fixed dwelling, have made this kind of box-like "chapel" with ropes fixed to it, which can be carried by people or animals, in order to worship you regularly without changing your original way of life.

Later they settled down in the area north of the sea, but the habit of offering remained unchanged, except that the ropes were removed, and the place was changed from the backs of men and cattle to a flat table, and incense was burned in front of the statues of the gods, and holy oil was laid in front of them, but to my surprise there were shrines on both sides of the road, between the tailors and the dry goods shops, which, although convenient for the inhabitants to pray, were too inconspicuous - I did not notice them the first time I passed by.

Previously I just thought you were informal, but now I'm even a little worried that you won't be able to assert your authority.

You know, the gods always like to make churches as majestic and solemn as possible, so as to arouse the awe of mortals.

【Day 3】

When the bell struck the eighth time, I heard the laughter and shouts of the children, and when I looked out of the window, they were wrapped like wine barrels.

The place where I lived was like a basket - the one with one side missing, houses on three sides, and the remaining side was surrounded by an iron gate facing the street, and at eight o'clock the janitor unlocked the gate, and the children who had been waiting for a long time rushed into the middle of the snow-stained field.

Your school is contracted to educate the region, and children under the age of twelve can learn nine subjects for the cost of five copper coins, as well as lunch and dinner.

While I was having breakfast, I also heard a few of your devotees planning to build a special classroom for herbal medicine classes, and to buy a batch of seeds and bulbs for teaching, as well as words such as "Those daily necessities and accessories are selling well in the imperial capital, don't worry about funds".

I finally understood why you had gone to great lengths to turn a pile of cocoons into white, fragrant silk soap, and asked Medici to put on that feather brooch and wander around, and though you always said "you don't understand the joy of savings" or "I like to compete with the craftsmen of the Stiano", I know that you would rather spend your money on some far-reaching cause than count gold coins like a miser.

Is it because you never forgot that you were once a teacher? Or was it a common thing to sit in a classroom in your day?

In my father's memory, the scenes of watching teachers talk on the podium and write hard accounted for a large part, and the classmates around him were always changing, from children of seven or eight years old to teenagers of thirteen or fourteen, and occasionally adults.

By the way, I've also heard that they've hired a new herb teacher, a Bloodline who has converted to Mother Earth (and she's not said to be alone), and it seems that the Earth Church also has a soft policy towards those who are extraordinary in their neighborhood.

It's just that I have the impression that vampires are a group of people with strong self-esteem, and it must have taken a lot of effort to convert them.

———————————————

"I'm just a mediocre king of angels, how can I evaluate such a great kingdom?"

Thoth only realized how mocking it was when he said this, and the corners of Ornia's graceful mouth twitched slightly when she heard this, as if it took a lot of effort to keep them from collapsing - a kind of expression that many people also show when talking to Medici, wanting to explode but having to maintain a decent expression.

Sorry, I almost forgot that you were just a normal Sequence 1. Thoth silently added in his heart that he was not yet emotionally intelligent enough to say this, because it sounded a bit like adding fuel to the fire.

Seeing that the sun was shining brighter and brighter, he used this as an excuse to send Ornia back to her lodgings, and he himself was happy to return to the happy nest.

"Didn't you bite my hand just now? Why don't you move now? ”

After biting Him, the Time Worm hovers around His finger the entire time, pretending it doesn't exist. Its body is already transparent, and with the refractive index that can cheat light, it's hard to spot anomalies without looking closely—if it weren't for the soft touch on his fingers, Thoth would have almost forgotten about the little guy.

"Well, even though your bite hurts, I'm not angry." Seeing that the Worm of Time hadn't reacted yet, Thoth added, "You can also ignore the fact that the Ontology put you on me." ”

The Ring came to life in an instant, happily flipping over Thoth's outstretched palm, revealing its soft belly, and rubbing it especially actively as Thoth touched its head with his thumb - Medici would have been tempted to poke herself in the eye when she saw this, and shook Thoth's shoulders vigorously and shouted—

"You're not really going to eat this, are you?! Big-eyed, sober up! This is a fraudster! ”

It's a pity that Medici is not there, and Thoth eats this set.

"Not next time." His voice was so soft that it didn't touch the word "reprimand," "It's rude, and you're not going to like me putting a voyeuristic eye on you, are you?" ”

The Worm of Time pitifully gathered himself up.

"I know you're worried about me, about the dark side that has taken shape."

Thoth sighed softly, "I originally thought that as the condition of the hanged man improved, the pollution on my body would be reduced a little, but unfortunately, the impact that has been caused is irreversible. ”

The Worm of Time stood up and listened quietly to Him.

"'He' represents my dissatisfaction with the dark side of this country." Thoth curled the corners of his mouth as if deprecating, "And resentment at his own inaction." ”

"Actually, I have been very conflicted for a long time, because I know that some ills can only be eliminated by change, and this change will inevitably offend the interests of most nobles, so I often think, 'I just need to take care of the affairs of my own territory, and others will like it.'" ”

"But," said Thoth, taking a deep breath, "the regions that believe in me are already part of the behemoth of the 'Empire of Solomon,' like one organ of one body, and the territories of other nobles are other organs, and the ills of other organs will inevitably affect the health of the whole body, and the decay of the body will inevitably feed back to all organs...... At that point, will I really be able to stand alone? ”

"I want to make a difference...... The empire must also make changes. ”

"Because while we are proud of our achievements, those who have succumbed to the remote places must be thinking about how to grow and develop."

As if encouraging, the Worm of Time stood upright and jumped twice.

"Alas, I don't know why, some words are always unspeakable to others, but they are easy to say to you."

Thoth flexed his knuckles, touched the soft belly of the Insect of Time, and muttered, "Could it be that you are actually a caring little padded jacket?" Don't look like it, how can you be so noisy and ...... in a little padded jacket Oh! ”

The Worm of Time bit Him unequivocally.

[Day 7]

I met today the defector craftsman, the wife of André Stiano, who should now be said to be a widow, and understand why you made a point of emphasizing the pension that day, because she was the only daughter of a member of a school that had long since died.

From the point of view of conspiracy theories, I would prefer that Andre married the woman in order to let you down your guard and go deeper into the school, but at the same time I was a little puzzled, because I glimpsed from the woman's memories the harmony between her and Andrei's love and life.

Although she is not very obedient to Andre, she definitely respects each other, and in terms of the general aesthetics of human beings, her appearance and figure are also superior.

And she has already given birth to Andrei a lively and healthy child, a natural craftsman.

I assume that this man is hard-hearted, and that family and love bring him more comfort than nothing, but he should always be tempted by power and status, right? He became a demigod before he was thirty, and he had a good reputation within the school before the accident, and he would definitely become a powerful character in another five or ten years, and maybe an angel - but he gave up everything and fled.

Is it so important to be loyal to your family?

My father is right, the essence of human nature is indeed self-torture.

By the way, I noticed that a retired fellow from War Red was interested in the widow, often leaving prey and a small bouquet of flowers on her doorstep.

[Day 11]

I've noticed that your denomination has a high percentage of women, nearly half.

They meet every Wednesday in two large rooms for a "girls' party" to promote their hobbies, but compared to the striking-like salon where aristocratic ladies sit like sculptures, it's a jungle of wild chatter—and a great deal of enthusiasm for newcomers.

When I came here at the invitation of a young lady craftsman, several ladies who were very interested in fashion swarmed me, one began to wrap a tape measure around my waist, one compared all kinds of fabrics to me, one recommended me all kinds of needles, and one played with my hair—although I chose to be a woman just for the sake of freshness, I really regretted it for a while.

I'm only going to tell you about it, and I'm not allowed to laugh, and I'm not allowed to tell my father and the Medici, especially the Medici!

The craftsman's lady, Eliza Stiano, said she had been treated like this, and although she wanted to pretend that nothing had happened, I had a gut feeling that she was gloating.

If this group of ladies knew that the object of their hands was an angel king, they would probably be able to blow it for the rest of their lives.

By the way, there was also a little girl who tried to divinate me, and although she certainly couldn't do anything at my level, I still admired for a while how anxious she was when she read two contradictory results.

The wonderful thing is that watching them do their own things and be happy with each other, I always think of you.

In the hall, a Gabian girl with long black hair and paupon-brown skin was in the mood to kick off her high heels and dance barefoot on the carpet, her skirt blooming like a flower, while an older lady poured different portions of tea into seven cups and accompanied her with a silver fork.

I remembered you in the glorious days, traveling and preaching as a bard, wandering dancers as your usual partners, swinging their soft limbs in front of you, moving their light steps, attracting everyone's attention, while you played the strings intently and quietly in the back, you did not like to sing in front of strangers, but only hummed softly to the melody, and then I realized how lucky I was to hear your singing.

In a room with a large bed, girls in pajamas sat or lay on their backs, each holding a book in their hands, some talking softly, some annotating with a pen, some falling asleep with the book on their faces, and some comparing several books to the court, like a historian serving in the court.

I think of you in your dressing gown, with your feet crossed and a pile of manuscript paper by your side – a robe with every button and strap tied suggests that you are working with the utmost rigour, and conversely, a casual outfit helps you to think outside the box and activate your inspiration when translating.

"Leave something behind" seems to be an instinct engraved in your bones, because you spend time refining words and shaping beauty, you always write very slowly, and if your inspiration runs out, you slam yourself on the bed and cover your face with paper. These girls must not have imagined that the god they believe in will also lie like a salted fish.

In a room with the smell wafting out, the girls in aprons were busy chopping vegetables and fruits, frying meat until it was smoking, and stirring it in a pot with a long spoon, and they poured a cup of my sweet milk tea—for the people of the North, it is always better to eat and drink with a little sweetness, because sugar will make their bodies feel safe in the constant struggle with the cold. This kind of eating habit is very similar to my father's homeland.

I think of you who haven't remembered the past and are at ease as the "Master of Prophecy", when you still had the leisure to cook and cook.

At the wedding of the Adjutant Medici, I resisted the urge to steal the bride's flower crown, and you baked a plate of small biscuits as a reward; In the process of removing the extraordinary traces left behind after the war, I stole a fire in the center of the earth that kept drying out the water, making it impossible to cultivate crops, and you made me mushroom rice with a rich sauce.

But more often than not, even if I don't do anything, you will meet my request, I said I don't like the fishy smell of milk, so you boil a pot of milk tea, and use the fragrance of tea to neutralize the fishy smell of the lotion, but compared to the smooth taste of the drink, the focused eyebrows and eyes when you stir the long spoon satisfy me more.

Although I know that your love is largely due to your father's entrustment, I also know how pure your love is, so pure that it is not intended to be reciprocated, so pure that it is difficult to derive other possibilities.

But I still can't help but think of you.

Just like at this moment.