Dungeon+Harem+Master

Crystal Lake.

It is a giant lake that exists east of Silver Villago, the city of adventurers.

The transparency of the lake surface is roughly clear, and the brilliance of melting the blue of the sky is as beautiful as a gem.

Also known as Ethereal Gems.

The size of this lake, which boasts the first area of the Romeless, is such that even if you soak up the total area of Japan at about 400,000 square kilometers, you will get a change.

On the southeast side of the lake rises Mount Dragon Royal, which boasts an altitude of 8,000 meters, and on the northwest side is covered by a woodland of dark elves, uninterrupted.

In other words, to get to Silver Villago on the opposite shore, there were only two alternatives: going through interracial barbarians or trampling alpines.

The Forest Without Entry is literally a barbarian land that is said to never return if it enters, and Mount Dragon King is a dangerous zone where powerful monsters are rampant.

There was no human being who liked to choose these two paths.

Naturally, people were forced to cling to water and survive.

It is many times more advantageous than in ancient times to travel by waterway than by land.

In the lake, too, at the beginning, the shipwreckers began to do business, accompanied by people of all strata: sailors, lodgers, caterers, gamblers, prostitutes, cleaners, cabin shops, etc., which made up the city as a single collective.

Inevitably a small and large port town was born around the lake, of which the largest port city was this central rivet.

Central Rivet's Central Avenue was dotted with many lodgings.

There were countless taverns around the inn for travellers gathered from all over the kingdom to squash their time for a pompous free night while waiting for a boat to Silver Villago to leave in the early morning.

"Customer, why don't you just leave it at that? I guess I'll get up early on the boat tomorrow morning. What do you do when you can't wake up?"

In the corner of a pub at one end of the place, one man was drunk.

Around twenty when I was old, I had long, all-you-can-stretch hair on my shoulders.

He wraps his whole body neatly in a black coat. It was, on a long journey, dusty and faded in colour.

The man's face was shallow black and his eyebrows surprisingly thick. Overall, he had a long, inert beard covering his entire face like a wood dust. The cheeks are shaved. The nose is a disappointingly masculine category, but the sleepy eyes created a somewhat pungent atmosphere. The clothes made of hemp on the top and bottom were dirty, but only the sheath of a long sword falling into the waist was as white and heterogeneous as fresh snow.

"Uuch, it's your turn. Bring it on, you bargain saleswoman."

"Do you want to go? Uh, yes, yes. It's time for a sign, we are. Please go back to the inn."

I used words that men were unfamiliar with hearing, but the intrigue is drunken.

The liquor store's daughter did not even show herself as though she had willingly done so, and leaned back as she approached him to lower the scattered dishes from the man's table.

"Nah, nah."

A tall scream comes from my daughter's mouth. When the remaining drunkards looked back in the direction of their voices, the dirty dishes were making noises and making noises on the floor and scattering.

As her daughter approached her, a man's hand stroked the woman's ass.

"You have bad butt tension. You better work out a little bit."

The collector opens his big mouth when he turns the liquor bottle upside down and stretches his tongue to drink it up to the last drop. The eyes were completely surrounded by alcohol, stained red like rabbits.

"Ohhhhhh."

Her daughter cried and ran into the cooking area holding the basin.

A few minutes later, my husband, mistakenly mistaken for having his daughter scratched from the cooking area, jumped out with five inflexible men.

They kicked and lowered their drinks, fully beating the drunk turning and barely moving keeper, then threw them out to the surface like garbage scum.

Though the night had deepened, there were many shops in Port Town's Inn Boulevard that were open without setting fire. The people across the street were laughing and grumbling over whether they were going to hassle another house or roll out to Colored Town.

"Hey, look at that carriage. That's a lot of money."

"Oops. That's definitely a carriage from the Luxury Shylock Chamber of Commerce. Look, you little nobleman."

"Don't be silly. You can't afford a poor nobleman like this. The eight-headed carriage is uninterrupted. According to what I've heard, one of these is ridden by the meeting's own Ridley Shylock. Anything, they're going to Silver Villago on a special ship tonight."

"If that's the meeting of the Sherlock Chamber of Commerce, it's a different way to stick around."

"Unlike poor people like us, they won't be stuffed with cucumbers at the bottom of the boat. Damn, I'm so proud of you."

"You know, the uneven soldiers are mercenaries of the Chamber of Commerce?"

"Ainya. According to what I've heard, the Shylock Chamber of Commerce, unlike the stores there, feeds its children's private soldiers from 5,000 to all the time, even if they don't use mercenaries for the most part. It's a dimension that if bad bandits and nobles get their hands on each other, they'll kill them all."

"Hey, go on. There's a pretty glossy carriage going on, isn't there? What, what?

"Well, I hear the luxury slaves gathered by the Chamber of Commerce all over the place are stuck with wacko. There's going to be a pretty big slave city in Silver Villago soon. None of these are beautiful princesses around here."

"Heh, how much can I buy one for? I'm just tired of our kakaya. I thought it might be a B to buy one souvenir and go home."

"Damn you, you've known me since I was a kid, but you're still a tease in my head. No matter how cheap luxury slaves are, I'm talking about not crappy at least a million p (pounds). We can handle the silo. Bye."

"Hiya eh. That's it, you can buy as many luxury girls as you want by the time they die. Three hundred P (pounds) and you can play with a slice at the shop. What the hell kind of big deal goes into that kind of road?"

"Ma, is it the girl at the end of the day you can buy it for Mr. Omei, or is it about a used slave with a cheap used value? Nice toko. You're nearly thirty years older. The slaves of the Chamber of Commerce are beyond our reach. If only you could show me one of your faces in the story. Oh, come on."

With the rumors of the travellers on their asses, the carriages of the Sherlock Chamber of Commerce continue towards dozens of dozens of dozens of dozens of docks of docks of boat yards along the path built of boulevard cobblestones. Romless policy usually does not allow crossing the lake at night, but it was not before the power of the Chamber of Commerce.

Each of the carriages pulled by an eight-headed giant horse has a luxurious sculpture, with silver and gemstones scattered throughout the pattern. If you were a common man, there was a cohesion of wealth that seemed like you could eat until you died even if you just sold pieces. Each and every carriage is neatly guarded by soldiers armed with steel armor with large spears and shields. They lined up neatly. They were glaring and revealing tension.

Unexpectedly, the leading carriage interrupted walking. Apparently, he found a drunk man in the middle of the road.

The man is asleep with his hands wide open in the middle of the road. The people of the city watched as they shrugged themselves into the outrage of the man, yet only their gaze sparked curiosity to see what was going on.

"What's the matter, suddenly stopping in the middle of the road, etc."

"I'm sorry. Apparently, the drunk is blocking the way. Eliminate immediately."

"No, no, you mustn't be abusive. I don't know what kind of person is going to be a customer of our Chamber of Commerce."

"Yes, I understand."

At one of the millionaires of the Romles, Ridley Shylock, the majestic merchant who created the Chamber of Commerce from scratch, gave the Eagle Deep a slack tone.

Oh, boy.

At any rate, when their younger generation gets out in front of Ridley, they are hard pressed to go ahead and show off their accomplishments at any time. Even if I didn't know Ridley's first name, there was no one romantically unaware of Shylock, the surname person. Therefore, after this, I will label him Shylock.

This year, at fifty-five, he sighed, shifting his gaze to a few women quieting in the carriage. They are all grainy beauties, naturally products of Shylock, a slave trader. They bothered to put them on the same carriage as themselves, among which was the buyer's determined special.

Except for one.

The law does not allow trafficked slaves to be boarded in an eight-headed carriage that can only be boarded by the royal nobility. Therefore, they were supposed to be in the form of servants of the Shylock family, all dressed in clothing and posing as maid winds.

"Something bothers you, Pordina"

Among them, the appearance of the subhuman girl known as Pordina was particularly remarkable.

It was almost identical to the human race except for the dog ears characteristic of the Wolves of War (Wearwolf) and the blocked tails growing on their asses.

The elegant chestnut hair was cut all over the shoulder.

His face was generally good and tidy, and he had an awesome aesthetic slightly too cold.

Big eyes shine like black pearls and are so beautiful that they are likely to be inhaled. He had white cheeks like snow, showing healthy red lips. The breasts sticking out are likely to be slightly cramped with large white apron dresses. A thin, neat brow appeared to reveal the strength of the will.

How Pordina was sold still involved wars by ethnic groups.

Even when it comes to being a slave, first-rate goods are still applied differently. They are literal one-offs that are thoroughly tapped from first-rate courtesy to chores, socialism, reading and writing letters to evening service as Shylock rides the carriage. It would be impossible for a woman trafficked as a slave to tell the buyer to behave lovingly, but she was thorough compared to other daughters who opened their hearts over time.

Shylock, in the Chamber of Commerce, had the same power as the king, but he could not make her open to the end at last.

As for him, who is responsible for the goods to the end, it can be said that it is an unexpected result. As it is, even if you put her in a slave city, if you don't allow the buyer to have a heart at all, it's a real fall.

Most women thought about how they would get along with their husbands if they got to where they came from, but Pordina was different.

Shylock thinks. Perhaps she will not serve with all her loyalty from her soul unless she is someone she has acknowledged from the bottom of her heart. In other words, Shylock must find someone she can acknowledge with pride as her slave trader.

It needed to combine, i.e., both the integrity and financial strength she had enough to serve. It can be said that most of the sales we are going to do are off the road.

But it was unacceptable to sell off hand-salted delicacies halfway through their existence.

Pordina finished mastering all the beauty and high intelligence she taught us, not to mention her strong will. Even if it was all passive. It's not an unwilling doll. But it was also true that she was less interested in the outside world.

The girlfriend is showing a bare gesture that has attracted some strong interest for the first time.

Shylock wanted to throw one pebble at this girl and spread the ripples. Open the carriage door from your hand and nod.

"If you care, why don't you check it out with your own eyes. Outreach, you might find it easy. What you're looking for."

The meeting is making some mistakes.

Pordina got off the carriage talap as she moved her little nose.

A wind blows across carrying cold air on the lake. Try to get closer to the smell as you hold down the white headdress over your head with your hands.

There, the man, who had become as if he were a boring rag, was drunk and low.

This is it, what I've been wondering for a while now.

The sense of smell of the Werewolves (Werewolves) reached a million times greater than that of the human race and was particularly sensitive to acid odors found in mammalian sweats, body fluids, etc.

Pordina is not stupid. I totally understood what my head expects from me.

But I can't. One thing, the place doesn't work. I was drawn to many nobles to buy myself, but none of them were pinned. From courtesy to service at night I have received lectures all the way, but if asked if I could do it with all my heart, I could only answer no.

The tribe of Pordina was swallowed by the loss of battle with the King's Army and the harsh conditions of compensation. A large number of women, including Pordina, were slapped and sold as slaves and turned into money. The anger and anxiety about humans themselves is extremely great, but it was a shame that they were sold off to the Shylock Chamber of Commerce.

I was able to get a much better education than when I was in the village, to mouth gastronomy that I probably wouldn't have gotten into my mouth in my whole life, and to put on expensive clothes like the one worn by a princess of a country.

Even though I know that my own style of falling into slavery was so much more than an effort to add value to a product called myself and sell it for a better value.

You just have to live without the will of a slave and entrust everything to your husband who was sold away.

When it comes to selfishness, like wanting to choose the Lord for yourself, a bee hits.

Pordina, as she saw a man like a floater rolling in front of her, was not surprised that a feeling of pity could not be helped. Self dressed in silk, tongue drumming on gastronomy, and yet trying to select even my husband at the minute of slavery. Perhaps the man in front of you who holds nothing but is therefore free.

I wonder if this is the interesting thing the meeting head said. Mostly a changer, and he dreams too much of the world.

Pordina wasn't interested in this guy anything and turned her attention outside.

I just reacted reflexively to a hell of a smell.

But the merchant with that boy's heart wants to dream with any little thing meaningful.

(In the meantime, let's act as if we feel comfortable seeing each other)

Pordina asked how she was doing with a subtle sense of distance as she walked over to the vagrant. Behind me stands a soldier from the escort with his face up. Though at night, the city lights provided enough visibility.

"Mm-hmm, mm-hmm."

The man is whining about sleeping while intoxicated. Is there too much strength, or the crotch on your back is stiff and standing.

He looked like a really fun sleeper.

"Hih!"

Pordina nearly screamed, holding her mouth down with both hands aggressively.

When the man hit his back, he hugged him to Pordina's right leg.

"Hey, come on, you're kidding me. Ah! You rotten hobo! Don't touch my mon cheerfully!!

A young escort soldier with a bright red face swings up his arm to strike with a spear stone poke.

"Wait"

Pordina staged the soldier's movement with an aggressive voice.

The soldier turned to his face wondering how to stop him, but his cheeks became so red that he could tell at night when Pordina and his gaze met.

"I can't believe you're beautiful and you're feeling good, damn it. Crime."

It captures Pordina's excellent hearing of the soldier's little twinkle.

Honestly, I didn't care.

Pordina was tired of traveling long distances in the morning, and was in the mood to get back to the carriage soon. Ask the soldier to prepare a water drain, and Kakon pulls the man's hand off his leg. Even myself, I don't understand why I'm being polite to such drunkards.

No, I don't know about my father in my hometown, and he probably remembered.

Pordina's father was an extreme liquor lover, sorry he had to drink until he was crushed by his weakness. It brings back memories of working with my mother to often bring my drunk father to bed.

Did you naturally feel pity as you watched different men of all races and ages? I was wondering myself. To be honest, it was the first time I had ever been interested in a man since he was sold.

"Mm-hmm."

"Drink. A little more often."

When I wake up the man's head and raise it, I let him drink it by leaning his hand over his mouth. The young man's face was dirty but somewhat loving.

"That's about it, let's make it good. Look, my husband's waiting."

The soldier's face is jealous and ugly and distorted.

As Pordina tried to stand up with the water drained, a man who should have been asleep until earlier woke up on his upper body like a springy doll.

Pordina couldn't even think about what she was going to do.

"Huh!?

As the man approached his face as usual, he creaked at Pordina.

"Mmm! Mm-hmm."

Pordina tries to escape by twisting herself, but the man's rough arms are fixed with disappointment around her back. The smell of alcohol, confusion and shame struck me in one piece.

The power of Pordina, a werewolf, is as tough as a normal human man and so on. But all this time I was strangely powerless and fuzzy as my body swayed.

"Whoa, whoa!! What? Finally. Oh, this dick!!

The restraint was lifted in an instant. When the angry soldiers arrived at the man, they began to beat him with fierce momentum.

"Die. Yeah, eh!

"The poor, the poor, the lowest, the dobby rats!

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa."

Stronger, better men are mettering drunkards as they wield spears and shields. As Pordina runs out holding her mouth, she runs up the carriage talap and sits down in her original seat. Right next to him, Shylock at the meeting was banging on his knees, even laughing strangely.

"No, I laughed, I laughed. It's really weird. How many years has it been since I've laughed so far? No, I showed you something good tonight at the end."

"Meetups, it's not funny. Pordina is like my daughter, so to speak, who we grew up with hand salt. Make it such a drunk."

He was in the same carriage, leaking discontent as Anton the head sticks out his crease.

Anton is one of the most beautiful men in the Chamber of Commerce and is known as Shylock's Scarf. He was old enough to survive the oil that will be thirty-five this year.

"I can't stop having fun like today in Silver Villago. You can't just scratch the store."

"I hope Aye is just as tough as ever. Anton, you don't have a little bit of fun yet. Well, then you can't be alone yet."

"Meetings, that's reasoning again. It's the most fun when you're doing business. In the first place, it's hard to get your high-priced daughters on the pom-pom table because they're in a mood swing."

"Dude, even though it's for sale, they get crazy sometimes if they have to get some outside air. Hey, you guys."

The Lord of the Chamber of Commerce immediately asks, and the women around them smile bitterly. Pussy looked at them, reflecting the pale light of night, with a brilliant luxurious collar made of Shylock properly fitted to indicate that they were slaves to their necks, although it only looked like a beautiful side service.

"Oh, did you get angry? Pordina. Ha, but maybe the man just now will be your husband."

"Meet!!

"Oh, I'm scared"

Anton's anger echoes in the carriage without getting his hair in between. Now I was in a state where I didn't know which was the predominant and which was the hired one.

Anton let the carriage out early when he picked up the younger hand.

Pordina remained faceless, even with her fingertips creaking, and saw the view flowing out the window. Did the lakeside approach or did the water smell darker?

"Hey, Pol. Handkerchief and water, I'm here."

My daughter, sitting directly next to Pordina, sounded sorry for her. but my eyes are laughing. They were slave women as they were, but each of them had decided to entrust themselves to the great nobility of the Romles.

The only person who hasn't decided where to buy it is Pordina.

Slaves brag about their respective collars in slavery. Even if they were sold under each circumstance, I can't stand being valued low as a woman. They were proud that they were beautiful.

Beautiful looks, beautiful tricks. To top notch etiquette, the art of evening service.

For those who wanted to make a difference anyway, Pordina was a loser and it was also the winner's margin that cared and showed.

Pordina, when she shook her neck to the side and declined, gently touched the crease again with her fingertips, engraving the face of the man who had taken her first time hard into her brain.

"Boo-yeah, eh."

"Come on, it's not behind us, you drunkards."

The collector threw out all the contents of his stomach, with one hand on the stone wall, ignoring the middle-aged man, who was about to smash the vessels of his temples and yell.

"You're going to be here and it says, you bastard"

A middle-aged man barks pointing his finger at a sticky piece of paper on the wall. The collector stared at the tension paper as he rubbed his bright red eyes, but eventually laughed with his hands overhead.

"Wah, Wally. I can't read."

"I thought so. Well, at least I'm going to finish my own puke."

"Uh, yeah. I will."

When the collector received the mop and bucket handed to the middle-aged man, he hung up at the end of his own revulsion.

"Even so, I'm sorry about the bumps in my body. Were you even drunk in that store by some weird mon? Damn, what if my eyes suddenly snap? It's annoying, in the fantasy world."

The collector had forgotten all his earlier interactions with his slave daughter.

It is called drunkenness.

But the ability of the brave extended to the liver of the treasurer. In other words, acetaldehyde of alcohol is broken down rapidly. I could be a hero at a drinking party, but it was a good duck for a drinker as long as the money lasted.

"Sa, when I threw up, I was refreshed. It's time for you downstairs to pull one shot out of the scones."

The collector moves his arms excitedly to a place that looks like a colored town.

"Okay, there's plenty of room for money. We'll have to leave the fare."

When I squirted the copper coin and the silver coin into a bag, I just started looking around.

"Oh, this is my manly brother. Haven't you enjoyed it? The tongue of an athlete is a romantic."

"Hey, I can't just stay here. I'll serve you. Stop by."

"Oh, that's cool, you. I'm the type of guy who's more like your brother! Yes, yes, if you're a man, I've made up my mind. Iris of Moulin Rouge will take you to heaven!

The zodiac keeps his face loose and chills the store with flirtatious and thousand feet while the road hooker takes his hands off him. The women do not choose the means to take guests alone. Some of them are proud to be in the middle of the road, beginning with a crocodile shabu-shabu. For the collector, this was the separate heavens and earth we were looking for.

"Duh. Ugh. Here it is, lady's labyrinth. I'll be king of the labyrinth."

When the true route of this story was about to be liberated, a great deal of noise began in front of me.

"Whoa. That's not true, kid. Play around, don't you have enough money? You're licking me, you're licking me!

"Bebe, Bebe, nothing. Awkward monks are not going to ride for free from the start, etc., but I just can't play too much fun than I thought - I'm missing it, like. [incomprehensible]

"Oh, shit. Eh!

"Ahhh!?

The skinhead punched a kick in the customer's belly. When the customer softly flies with Pawn like a bow, he crashes into the wall and collapses.

In front of the girls' shop, a caution stick and a guest-like man were arguing.

A big, skinheaded man is beating up about forty middle-aged men wrapped in monk clothes. The collector felt a fierce deja vu.

The monk is skinny and has a medium back length, a dark blue robe, and the hips are simply tied together with a string. He wore a white hat on his head.

"Something, nasty feeling. I'm here."

"Hiya, that's right. This friend of mine will pay for it. I'll pay for it."

When the monk reached the lower back of the collector, he let go so well for the caution stick of the chasing girls' shop.

"Hey, you're kidding.

As the collector tried to swing his hips magnificently and kick off the monk, he took his body fluids out of every hole in his face and petitioned.

That was the first encounter with Marco Bernard, bishop of the Diocese of Silver Villago, the Romeless Episcopal Church.