Mobile Fortress Saratoga ~Silvery Sword Princess Became My Servant.

What a special court wrapped in a subtle air that is difficult to say.

There is nothing more stiff than to say that there are people who are supposed to be dead, but enough to lose their words, but on top of that, they are allowed to butch a statement that is not sure if it is a joke or not.

Just past the human head in this room is equally the same question.

- Is that a little bit, a gag?

Wondering if we should utter that word, the lords are watching each other.

Sparn!

It was a creepy thrust that broke the stalling situation.

There were the culprits who created this excessively unpleasant air, the owners of the total (fuzz) and hair, who beat their heads with something like a giant white plate from behind.

"Ouch, drill!

An old man, who had refrained behind the Strasbourg Uncle Fanassard, completely ignoring that too tongue-in-cheek protest voice, opens his mouth to the indoor figures.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I am truly sorry. The young lady was hit hard in the head while she was missing and suffered from a serious disorder (rash) in her speech center. Don't worry too much."

The old man's name is Clift. He is a deacon who has long served Uncle Strasbourg and has face-to-face knowledge of the majority of the people here.

By the way, the white plank-shaped object in Clift's hand is a thick piece of paper folded fan-shaped when viewed well. When the sword princess turned into a fanathard and went to court, it was something Nanashi and Hayza made and gave this old man.

That's Harrison, a scratch tool that's long passed down to the desert people.

It was, in a way, a magical tool that forcibly allowed me to establish it as a joke.

"Fault in the language center?

It was Uncle Pericles who questioned him that baffled.

"It is. By the time we found the young lady wandering in the oasis, the end of the story had already become a" drill "from time to time..."

"No way..."

There is no way. Though I thought so, to the serious look on the old man's face, when I was so convinced that the one person on the spot, maybe that's what happened.

"None. That can't be right."

Waving in front of his face, the person of the moment, Strasbourg Uncle Fanasard, denied it.

Sparn!

Light harrison sound resounding again.

Poking his face with blood vessels floating around his temples into the fanasade, he whispered (sayingly) with a voice that the old man squeezed out.

"I'm following you around the corner, and... So, are you trying to ruin it?

"S, Suimasen"

Fanasard backwards, looking away.

This is scary on boulders. And his face is too close.

When Clift turns back to the Lords, he coughs and opens his mouth once more.

"The lady herself doesn't seem to notice, but she's in that state anyway."

There was even more subtle air, and Merclius burkuru let his gaze swim, as a result, he had an unexpected eye with his natural enemy, Asmodimos bursanettone, and spit on the floor uncomfortably. As soon as I did, I said, "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa!," said Rhoda Uncle Volftrot, who was in the deepest seat, suddenly roaring.

Uncle Rhoda suddenly knelt on the spot and took her hand as she pressed the chair against her ass and came to the front of Fanassard, surprised.

"God. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for saving my beloved!

And in tears, he tries to mouth it on the back of his hand, so Fanasard says, "Hey! Hey!" he hurriedly waved away forcefully as he raised his voice.

"Come, my beloved, there is no lighting. My love for you will not fade even if the language center is a little strange."

Fanassards slightly, pale and lagging behind.

"So, who? This old man."

As soon as I accidentally said it,

Sparn!

Once again, the roaring noise echoed into the room.

"Ouch! Wouldn't it be a little too casual to pound?

"I guess it's because you say things like you get beaten up! This is Uncle Rhoda, who has been proposing to your daughter for a long time."

"Are you a lover?

"No. I explained it to you before you came here. The lady has always been refused a proposal. So please try to be as unobstructed as possible."

"Okay. That's an unusual response."

"Are you all right?

"I'll take care of it"

Fanasard lowered his head and said this as he turned back to Uncle Rhoda.

"I refuse"

Sparn!

How many times has this happened? The sound of a thrust.

"Yes, but that's what I'm trying to say, but don't flush it lightly there, look, it's something you didn't even propose to me now, but you turned me down, Uncle Rhoda, so you're kind of in tears."

"No, no tears, nothing, he was crying from the beginning, wasn't he?"

"Shut up!

Though speaking in a whisper so as not to hear, most of the humans on this scene were so shaped that they were worried that Clifton's blood vessels would not tear easily.

"But even if you ask me to marry you, I am the Lord."

"So I'm not asking you to marry me!

"I just figured, if it was' balled ', it'd be funny, wouldn't it?"

"Uhhhhhhh!!

Overload Fanasard, who has been buzzing about stories that are too irrelevant, with Clift's Endurance at its limits as well. The lords round their eyes letting the screams of the old man, who rose abruptly, jump bikle and body.

But being relatively calm at times like this is something that for some reason is always the first person to cut a bee.

"Hey, laughing chief, I'm sorry about the conversation, Zo. Come on."

Merklius Birkull pinched his mouth.

Here. Fortunately, when he turns back to Krull, Fanasard smiles elegantly at the lady.

"Oh, I'm sorry, buckwheat. Our butler has excused us."

"Lady!?"

The boulder is Princess Sword, which is why she has not been exposed to stormy bokeh in Saratoga. I blamed Shille and all the clifts.

"So, I'd like you to explain what you mean."

Stare at Fanasard and Clift as Uncle Asmo Dymos intimidates.

Uncle Asmo Dymos is hearing about the upside of killing Uncle Strasbourg from the Golem of Bosmus. I hear Fanasard, who has no special abilities and no need to take that memory strategically, simply killed it.

That's why I'm deciding in my heart that the Fanasard that showed up here is a fake.

"It's Uncle Asmodymos."

Clift whispers in his ear and Fanasard nods small.

"What do you mean?

"Isn't it settled, I hear your lord died involved in Saratoga's shelling. That's why he lived and wandered in an oasis away from Strasbourg."

This question is probably hung by some sort of camouflage. Fanasard, who so decides, searches carefully for answers.

"I don't know if Saratoga was the one who shelled it, but when Strasbourg was shelled, I was walking outside, so I was safe."

"I hear it was a sandstorm outside?

"Ah."

Unfortunately, Fanassard caught on lightly.

Unexpectedly, the clift holds on to his forehead and is drooled.

But Fanasard opened his mouth again without changing his complexion.

"Excuse me, you didn't have a word. We were just taking an extreme walk."

"What?

"Strasbourg Specialty: Extreme (Extreme) Walk. It's a new sport competing for how flat you can walk in extreme situations."

"Deacon, are you?

"Yep... Yep, well"

Though I did answer that, the back of the clift is surprising with sweat. It is too forceful an answer to deceive.

"If it's the arrival of a sandstorm, many competitors called 'Tits' are going to jump out of the Strasbourg with their lunches in their hands, as if they were going to run through the Spring Meadows."

Imagine, unintentionally, making a subtle face together at a sight that can only be said to be crazy.

"But whatever it is, it's an extreme competition, Extreme Sports, so the wounded will continue."

"No... well, I guess that would be"

"Some of them are like flying in a sandstorm..."

"Shouldn't that competition be banned to boulders?

"So as a result of being flown into a sandstorm, I lost some of my memory and wandered in an oasis,"

"You were flying!?

Unexpectedly twitchy kurl.

At the moment when everyone on the spot accidentally dropped their shoulders, the door of the entrance opened.

◇ ◇ ◇ ◇

"Whoa, looks like someone's here."

Mixed with the dripping sound of droplets that Mio keeps ringing when he says so, the tricks and footsteps echo from the other side of the prison where Miriam is. Footsteps are for two.

And it stopped its feet in front of the cell where Mio was, and the sound of the door of the cell called Gi opening echoed into the dark prison.

"Former Uncle Saratoga, Mio-Lefo-Jahan. Time for a trial. Get out."

"I've been waiting a long time for you to do it."

"She's a mouthless lady. Shouldn't we be thankful that our lives have lasted a little longer?

"Cover your asshole. There is no reason why a whore should be sentenced to death. Rather, many people dye their complexion pale at dawn, when they have been acquitted. Anyway, I didn't work disrespectfully for the lord."

I can't see it from Miriam's position, but the next moment I thought I heard a blunt noise called Dosssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss

"Don't get on with it. Fucking kid."

"Well, wait, we're about to go to trial, but it's not as good for boulders as it sounds for mouth. Leave it at that."

After that, I can't hear Mio.

The sound of just pulling something away from the cheats went away.