Dungeon+Harem+Master

Anyway, something called a leading fool exists in the organization. It is impossible for the rulers of a group to develop their tissues in a healthy way without first thoroughly penetrating their authority before the battle to eliminate the dandelions that sometimes inhabit the back of these skins. But the duke of Elquille, who was crumbly transferred authority, was not equipped with them, nor was it originally a vessel, which came to this steep field and was exposed.

The Royal Blossom itself is made of quality stone, but not just an institution that can be held up by soldiers on all sides from the outset.

Then, as a soldier, it was only natural to think of a response after one, that Silver Villago Castle Defense Force Squadron Leader Gibago Rosso came up with the idea that interpreting it as something instinctive was also a way of looking at things that leaned a little too much on sentiment.

"How far does the public fear the rebels of the gathering? There are nobles indoors and people who are thick enough to serve them quickly. Follow me, everyone."

He is a ground grower, born and raised in Silver Villago. About forty years after Zibago was brought to life in this world. Last year's event, called the Step Elf War, continues to occur once every hundred years. He was unfortunate that in the war at the end of last year he had gained deceptive experience.

If it was something that saw hundreds of thousands of soldiers bump into each other in the field, this time the acts of the smaller terrorists would appear terribly small. Originally, however, city warfare in places where large numbers of soldiers cannot be deployed will require different experiences, training, etc.

Gibago's command, who had a habit of twisting the fine machine as an error with force push, was often said to be brave and courageous, to say the least, unthinkable.

The few officers in Zibago's possession were aristocrats, albeit junior. They have a physique that hates small work more than they used to. The glamour of borrowing a horse, scolding a walking samurai and waving a spear was like a prayer that was close to the ray, but blinded by the divine light of honor, it could not be seen, did not show, and offered with his eyes folded and knees broken. Zibago first gathered his troops at the southern entrance, which seemed the thinnest of the hotel entrances, and dared the Duke of Erkür to storm without permission. That number, thirty.

The south entrance took up a spacious space as a dining room, and what the knights who ran in saw was a wave of steep basement walls, tailored with desks and chairs unfinished.

There are no more precious horseback rides than the former. Zibago hit the base wall with about twenty infantry as a starting point.

The Liberation Alliance soldiers, who were cheering all the way up and defending their bases at just about ten, happened to be at a disadvantage and were depressed.

Here, Elquille, who found out about Zibago's loophole, sent about seventy soldiers as a hindsight. For his part, first and foremost, the life of Sir Warren, the king's great uncle, was a top priority, and at this time it was also his concern to safely retreat the Zibagos.

Kudosa is the hardest to retreat. In every war, it is a well-known fact that retreats have far more casualties than when fighting across the street.

But only at this time did the judgment of the Duke of Erkühr appear on the back. Allied warriors called for immediate reinforcements from inside the hotel when they found out they were enemies. After some time of skirmishes, a large whale wave rose from the ranks of the liberation allies. Breaking a crowd of men, a small shadow descended in the middle of the battlefield.

The man was a spider. The serpentine warrior, Giampiero, waved sassy the strawberry wand he had in his hand to laugh invincibly. On a rugged marble floor, a crest formation rises. When Giampiero finished the words of the curse, a giant sasori was appearing so as to cover the formation.

Armor sasori.

The total length is approximately three meters. He was a monster, whose body surface was covered with a rusty vermilion exoskeleton.

The giant scissors make sharp noises, choking and intimidating.

The poisonous needle, which glows violently at the tip of the tail, drapes a liquid resembling a blackish heavy oil.

Yes, Giampiero was an excellent summoner.

A summoner is one of the few special positions to sign and serve with spirits, demons, monsters, etc.

A summoner skilled in surgery is supposed to be able to serve almost twelve monsters.

In that regard, Giampiero was the most dependable and skilled master of the Alliance for the Liberation of Slaves.

Kill them all.

Armor sasori was mainly submissive. I was too submissive. So I killed him. I killed him all over. Without a clue.

The scissors used the scissors' moving nails, known as the palms, and were fortunate enough to strike down.

The soldiers wear bronze armor, but they are no different than paper in front of giant scissors.

Sharp scissors easily cleave across the human torso.

The lucky escapees also fed on poison needles in the tail and continued to be slaughtered from one end.

The defense forces collapsed. In an instant, the soldiers who had been chased through the canteen hall sent out nearly forty war wounded and followed the south exit to roll. At this time, there are only about ten dead on the Liberation Alliance's side. Among them were, ironically, the young men who had married slave women only a few moments earlier.

Except for the timid and extraordinarily lucky Merclio.

"Apparently, it's been a long time."

"Right."

I went, twirling the long jaw that Shylock blocked.

The collector bites off the raw yawn while wearing an agua in the spacious hall.

Earlier, just after the men took Pordina, every thing was done.

Balmunk left the room early enough when he talked to the orderly soldiers.

I guess the soldiers that surrounded the hotel showed movement. Well, it's a couple's deal. I don't know what the long story is.

(No, one shot, no, two shots are stiff before I could die)

If the young people are the kind of people who attach primary importance to women, like their collectors, the chastity of the Pordinas is at stake, but for about fifteen minutes, it will be difficult to do so.

Inside the hall, about twenty soldiers on the lookout for the hostages are guarding the stronghold in an upright immovable position, which seems difficult to break through with bare hands. Heard a noise, and the door opened, and Balmunk and Earthpane drew the slaves into the soldiers. Balmunk's eyes were black and cloudy with anger.

"Did you say Klund or something? You, slave, escaped."

I've suddenly spoken to him trying to avoid a heavy town with a large number of Balmunks.

Slave.

Pordina escaped. Oh, and what else? Instead, I'm horrified you're running away. As the collector showed off, he laughed invincibly as he poked his fist up in front of his face and gasped pose.

"Oh, you mean Pordina. You'll get away with it."

"Where did you go..."

"I don't know. Even if I knew, I shouldn't have said it. Are you a flower garden?"

"That woman. He murdered Marcus, my pawn owner, and he's on the run. How far can you escape through this small hotel? From words and deeds, thoughts and thoughts, you're completely unfaithful."

"I don't think so."

"When I'm a kid like you, you think I can't kill you?"

"If you don't like Pordina getting away, kill me. That way, he won't even live. Oops. You think I can smuggle you clean? He'll take a hundred or two hundred soldiers here with bare hands. If so, try. You're done. I can't stand a door in a person's mouth.

Rumors will spread soon. So, what do I do? At least you have to seal everyone's mouth here. If you try that. You become just a bastard who came all the way out to grab a slave and slap him to death in the face of liberation. Who resonates with the swinging ideals of such a thing? You wouldn't be that stupid either. Balmunk. If you're the big idiot going diagonally on my predictions, I'll have to make up my mind and Pordina's mind, but you won't. I can't do that. Because your righteousness will have been a lie from the beginning. In conclusion, you cannot kill Pordina. Because everything collapses from the ground up. What do you say? "

"That's a lot of long tongues. Now I don't know which one of you is a prisoner."

"Oh no, I have a favor to ask of Mr. Balmunk"

"What..."

"Please return my Mr. Pordina. I think that's the best way."

- In the end, Balmunk swallowed the demands of the collector.

Pordina appeared immediately in response to a call for surrender made by the collector himself. She leaked her sweet squeaky, cum-cum-cum-cum-cum-cum squeaking her tail all the way down.

The collector would be in a good mood if Pordina returned. If Pordina can stay by the Lord, she'll be in a good mood. It is a win-win relationship. With cheeks on his white-slagged face, I thought.

"Speaking of which, it's like you're forgetting something"

I tried to twist my neck and think, but for now, I focused on fluffing the dog ears at hand as well.

The Duke of Erkühr was breathing a deep sigh as he accommodated the defeated. What a stupid loose end. Besides not being able to break through the enemy formation, he drained the precious few forces. This sin is not light. When he called to reprimand the commander of the squadron who acted in a self-righteous manner, Gibago Rosso himself became a nasty wreck and ascended before his eyes.

"Enough is enough. mourn the brave."

I could not humiliate any more of my men who fought bravely and bravely to death. I can see that the will of my own soldiers is falling so low that I don't need to be sure at all.

"It's Gottliep. Has the money been collected?"

"No, not yet. I'm distressed, but something about this time of war. The thieves are rambling around with our faces and it is difficult to just contact each fund manager. We're splitting up the soldiers and running around the city, but I thought the result would be early in the evening. Ah!"

The deputy Gottliep, who was nagging and reporting, shouted in a delightful voice. Across the boulevard. I could see a big white flag shining in a rising gray smoke neatly lined up.

"I've been waiting..."

At the beginning, the knight in shining silver armor and the flickering blue, fringed crest of the white cross were beautifully prestigious. From a group, the middle-aged monks on the marooned chestnut hair loosen this yet another retrospectively decorated monk uniform as they hella a grin unsuitable for the occasion.

"No, no, no, thank you for waiting. Duke of Erkühr, it's been a lot of noise all over the city and it's been hard to get here."

"This is Bishop Marco! If you come, there will be no more worries."

"No, don't exaggerate like that. The Awkward Monks just stuck around after the White Cross Knights."

"Such modesty."

Marco Bernard, archbishop of only five of the Romles, whose place in the ecclesiastical forces suppressed others in Silver Villago, arguably at least this secluded area.

It is said that if he could have one, the surrounding monasteries would be able to gather 100,000 or 200,000 monks by the way, and among the "Alliance for the Liberation of Slaves” there are many Romany followers. He himself was one of the big trump cards for the castle side.

"Duke of Erkühl. Sorry I'm late. Now that we have holy relics in the church, and we don't have that much fighting power here, I came myself."

It was Antoine Bodwan, head of the Knights of the White Cross (Sanctus Knights), the great knight who also had a beautiful surcoat stained with a white cross in his deficit. He rushed me through two hundred precious knights with only five hundred.

But I don't think it's two hundred. Each of them, said to be equivalent to one hundred infantry troops, was a great force for the Duke of Erkühl, who had only a small army.

Briefly explaining the current situation to Marco and the others, the Duke of Erkühr informed them that among the hostages was Sir Warren, the great uncle of King Romles.

"Hmm. Ransom gathering isn't very good either. Naturally in this situation, I guess. Hey. Hehe hehe."

"Bishop, let's wait for some more troops to gather for a night raid"

"Well, that's not a good idea, Knights. Earlier, my troops drove ahead and stormed the south exit, but were taken lightly. According to the returning soldiers, apparently the rebels have some pretty good summoners. Attacking Darkless Arrow Cod will only stimulate enemies"

"Duke, isn't there anything going on with that liberation alliance?

Marco looked stubborn as he rubbed his fingertips for a long time.

"Yes. That's extra creepy. What can we do in case anything happens below, sir Warren?

Marco had a suspicious grin peculiar to this man when he pounded the shoulder of the wolfing Duke of Elquille. He said, "I don't care how you look at it, rogue Zura," but he seemed different to him again, a devout Romless follower. The Duke shook his cheeks violently as he happened to be in Marco's hands.

"In the meantime, let's make allowance for wounded soldiers. And Antoine. Throughout this period, all the wild horses are gathered. Please make sure you return to prevent information from being divulged. Raffaello, you must command the Sisters to set up an ambulance."

"Understood -!"

"I understand, Bishop."

Marco quickly fenced around the hotel when he gave the instructions early in arrow succession, blocking one of the cat's children from passing, cutting off contact with the Liberation Alliance. Then, when he set up the hasty medical clinic, he encouraged recovery while accommodating wounded soldiers on the front line and the knights who were running around the city to stamp out mob crackdowns. This man, it wasn't just his name, it was something he was moderately familiar with when it came to organization management.

"But in the end, it depends on the money."

"The question is, how much do we get together in this situation?"

"Mm-hmm! Er..."

When Marco turned around, there was one woman standing there. Large, dark blue eyes staring without blinking. The paleness of the skin was noticeable. The luminous prickly lips glow and shine. Such a beautiful woman, you can't even forget to look at it once.

(Uh. Yes, this one, indeed, used to go to the church with Lord Klund)

"This is this! Isn't that Lord Rudge! Hey, I didn't expect to see you here. It looks magnificent, more importantly. haha."

"Yes, sir"

Marco pretended to be surprised at the exaggeration and gave him a hug. I just scratched my thin, sweet shoulder here. Fluffy, irresistibly sweet scent of fragrance oil from her hair makes her eyes hot.

Exactly.

"Glad to be alive"

And it was a moment to feel it.

I could see Rudge stiffening his body in his chest. Fine, fine. Do you mind? No, this is the time. In an attempt to legally enjoy the sensation of a young and delicate body, he snorted his nose rough and tried to snuggle his body even more, and was gently taken away from his body naturally. Marco's in the mood for something like "chi." Deep pity was born.

"Shh, shh, shh. Why not? How could Lord Rudge be in such a place?"

Marco listened to the monks beside him. How far is he alert? This mess repaired the aura. She is a family of the prestigious Blackwell family. Perhaps there are acquaintances among the nobles imprisoned in the hotel.

"Um, that. May I, Bishop?"

"Yeah, yeah, hey."

(And, if so, it's not a story. Here's a hundred and twenty par of awkward monks' social power, nice! It is not impossible to hold the bishop, let him be fertilized, and let him be his concubine. Guhihi)

"Bishop. She wants to tell you something."

Colin, a monk soldier, went with a face of heartfelt contempt. He used to go in and out of church, and when he bought a whore, he used to make offerings, so he knew everything in his hand.

(Shit. The delusion of challenging "sailing tea mound” against Lord Rudge in front of me... You shouldn't. If you go ahead, you don't have to take a bee. Marco.)

"Excuse me. I was just going through some thoughts about the outlook ahead. Go ahead."

"Yes. Actually, that hotel is captivating Klund as well."

"Mmm. Hmm? What! Hey, Ma, hey, hey. Let's just calm down."

"No. First the bishop calms down"

"Shh, shh, shh. Is that for real?

"Yes, because he was cordial with the slave trader Shylock. Where I was invited to the banquet table. To the full extent. We can't afford to pay the ransom we were asked to pay at home."

"… to. Home?"

"Yes. Klund and I remarried last year. He's my husband."

"Nhhhhh!?

"I beg you. Only the Bishop and the Cathedral are honored. Please, don't let this poor woman be widowed again."

(Yeah, eh. It's Lord Klund's special hole. Whoa.... mah, okay. It's not a bad idea to take this opportunity to be Lord Klund and the Hole Brothers. Viva, all mankind's brothers. That's love and sex!

"Bishop, you're thinking crap again"

"Shut up, Colin. We're breaking the door."

"Dirt. Hey."

"No, you misunderstand about the Awkward Monk. Rest assured, Lord Rudge. Let this awkward monk bring up the full power of the Church to rescue Lord Klund. What? Awkward monks and he have known each other longer than you in the first place. We're on the same side of the dead line. Friendship across all hedges is an inseparable and robust bond between terrorists. I'll take care of it. Sa..."

"Huh."

Marco opened his hands with a merciful face and made an appeal, "Jump in and cry with my breasts".

Rudge obviously looks disgusted, but Marco dares not make it slight without noticing. Colin gives a go sign towards Rudge with a bitter face.

She, uh, stuck her lips out and wrinkled between her brows, but if she didn't jump into this man's chest, she realized the fact that this farce would never end and hit her head off her thinly ribbed chest, screaming "Shigeru" with a bar reading.

Colin was seriously worried, one by one, whether her husband would be safely rescued.

Experience suggests you probably can't. I looked like that.

Merclio, a warrior of the Alliance for the Liberation of Slaves, was trapped in a deep sense of self-reproach. It was an arrow-tipped case of reuniting with long-seeking lover Sarah, officially married by Allied Commander-in-Chief Balmunk, and sliding out a smooth, sailing life as a husband and wife with no shame on anyone.

He was a very ordinary young man who, if righteous, was the merchant general and who, when his luck was about to lean, had no other coma than the past of selling off his youngest daughter, Sarah. Indeed, in the last few years, it was the first act to get people on the battlefield, although they were meant to be wearing the martial arts of one street, with bloody fierce training.

The moment I saw up close the face of the soldier attacking me per the instructed placement. Still. I couldn't. I have never tried the achievements of a sword that has crushed and shaken so many beans that I have been unable to move.

My immediate commander treated this sort of thing of recruiting as a habit, just seeing it as chillary, and not the rest. Likewise, his friends, wives of the women who were slaves, made no cold, shining cuts, but bravely made the assault faster than anyone else to be the one not to return.

Just less than a hundred troops. They are bourgeois, they adorn themselves with gold and silver sucked up from their slaves, and they are humble pigs who cannot even fight Locke. That's what they taught me, but it wasn't.

Most of the infantrymen rushing first were soldiers of civilians gathered from the locality, but showed no fear, facing monsters summoned by Allied summoners. Neither the commander on board retreated a single step back on the spot, and fought and scattered so splendidly that it was nothing short of brilliant until the total collapse.

Compared to that, how about me! Thus, in a living and returning quote, a merciful and muddy bed, a woman, who was a slave, weeps slightly, chews pillows and endures.

"Young master. How are you feeling?"

"You can't go! Shit!"

"Shah."

Merclio remained a wild emotion, bouncing Sarah's body from basin to basin carrying tea utensils to the side of the bed. She has fallen back into the kitchen and re-brewed her substitute as she stood silently again as she screamed in the water and collapsed on the spot but nothing.

It doesn't make me uncomfortable. Sarah just looked down sadly, without showing otherwise joy when she was tied to herself. Each time Merclio gets sad. I wonder how Sarah wouldn't be happy. Can't you even imagine how hard I worked and was looking for you as my lover? No, she may also suffer undiminished about this change of situation.

"I'm sorry, Sarah. I feel a little sick. I said terrible things. I apologize."

"No, because I am used to this"

Sarah nags with a face like she gave up everything. My chest hurts.

"Um, was the pig bastard hitting you so tight"

"No! Your husband is a kind man. It's just that your wife sometimes."

"Hey, come on. Covering a pig bastard like Yoran. Bug spit runs."

"I'm sorry. I'll be careful later."

"So is that."

"Huh."

"Please don't do that. We're a couple now! It's a reciprocal position. You are no longer anyone's slave. [M] You can go anywhere, you can say whatever you want, and you can do it without feeling comfortable with anyone. I'll always feel bad about that ugly slave gut."

"I'm sorry, too -"

"So that's it! Are you kidding me?

Don't be angry. I tried to discipline myself to restrain myself, but as I saw her demeaning attitude, I could see black evil springing up that was difficult to describe as murky.

I just regretted yelling a little too hard. But Sarah, in contradiction to the plan, looked straight back at Merclio and let go with a powerful voice.

"Okay, young husband. So I'm allowed to do whatever I say and whatever I do."

"Oh, you finally figured it out. Sarah, you're free. Say what you want to do, what you want to do. I'll make it all happen."

"Then just one thing"

"Fine. Go ahead."

"Do me to your husband. He needs me."

Oh, I already had my hands on it when I thought. It's easy to shake the violence you hated so much when it came to Sarah in front of you. Merclio fought on a chunk of faint magma-like heat gushing from the bottom of his belly, and cramped his whole body with just as intense pleasure, blurring.

Sarah struck her head against the wall, still standing still, snapping with a mosquito squeaking voice.

"Look, it's still"

"Again, what?"

"I'm a slave after all."

The heat in the Merclio bounced.

I hit it. I hit it. I didn't know, the beast inside me was exploding. It seemed so fierce and wild that I wondered if there was ever so much ferocity left in me.

Pushing Sarah down to bed, she continued to slap her cheek with her flat hands.

Once, twice, three degrees. I stopped counting. Because I don't need it anymore.

Another calm self looking down from around the ceiling waving a nauseating violence.

I told you not to do this. What you're doing sucks, he said. Whenever someone did or preached with their face somewhere in their head, extra force was put into their arms. I'll do it. I'll make Sarah mine. [M]

Re-tune. A true master carves someone into every corner of his soul on this slave woman.

Sarah. Pretty Sarah. Just me, Sarah.

Her vision burned bright red as a muscle of blood flowed from her shaped nose beam.

It is no longer entirely possible to contain the impulse on your own volition.

I tore her jacket apart every apron with both hands.

Plumpy white peachy breasts loom in front of me.

The pale cherry blossom colored nipples are slightly submerged.

With her thumb implanted and twisted, she wrinkled between her brows with a painful look.

Did that man do what he thinks of this! You swept my Sarah to the bone marrow!

The whole body of blood flows backwards. At the same time, I could see nature and my lips getting swollen.

"I'll punish you."

I told him with majesty, inviting as much fear as possible.

But I didn't get the reaction I imagined.

Poor contemptuous Sarah eyes. It was as clear as cold lake water.

That fuelled Merclio's further desire.

"Okay. I'll tell you who I really am now."

When the man became one beast, he toyed with the body of a girl who wouldn't move like a broken doll.