We hate humbleness, but we really need it.
I am obsessed with the luxurious and cumbersome, noble costumes, and haughty expressions. After the prosperity of England and France in the Middle Ages, there are bloody, rotting corpses, dirty and stench.
I love armor, the crisp sound of clank iron clothes, the neighing of war horses, the collision of metal and metal, the shouting, fighting, and the smell of blood all make it surging. War is the passion in distress.
Faith is the only olive branch in poverty and death. However, the seemingly rich and rapidly flourishing material lacks faith and the inner, empty, powerful devouring self.
Struggling, falsehood, crying in the dark.
Forgive, we pray for forgiveness, but only when we encounter misfortune, we only beg for forgiveness and favor. The gods don’t need this crossing incense and belief, I am guilty.
Love and awe should come from the soul, eternal life, indelible or disappearing. The unified dedication of body and spirit is called to set off at any time, and our lord is supreme.
Even if you are judged, call your name and be with me.
Faith, the powerful force it brings, is willing to deliver, and perseveres.
The power of religion is powerful and sacred, and it is deeply implanted in the soul. Infuse it with a humble look or a passion for fighting, and the messenger of purity is therefore used by power.
The gods finally achieved a new life through death, and the sins and sufferings of the world were borne by her.
This is still willing and honorable.
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