Mobile Fortress Saratoga ~Silvery Sword Princess Became My Servant.

The door opens, making noises like gibberish.

Lords who were indoors as soon as possible knelt (kneel first), and without following the sudden events, only a faunaçade with a decent expression stood up on the spot. Clift grabbed her arm in a hurry, then pulled her down to the stone floor, and she knelt (on her knees) late, even as she protested, "It hurts".

"Looks like we're getting together."

The royal king steps into a special court so that the old man's peculiar servant voice is thrown indoors from the hallway and followed after his voice.

Appearing without a single offering, the king, dressed in a thick luxurious robe, glanced around the room and nodded heavily, proceeded slowly in his footsteps, lowering his hips to the front of the part where there was a slice of the table, the seat of a huge table in the shape of the letter C, which emitted an unusual presence in the center of this courtroom.

"Take it easy, everyone."

In response to the King's words, the Lords lift their heads simultaneously and reach a seat close to each of them. Next to the King's right is Uncle Carlon, followed by Uncle Vergilius, Uncle Asmodimos and Uncle Rhoda. Next to the left was Uncle Pericles, Uncle Merclius Krull and Uncle Strasbourg Fanasard, and behind the Fanasard stood Clift leaning against him.

"Uncle Carlon, I'm sorry, but I was wondering if you could tell me about everyone from his place."

"Ha!"

It is the first time in nineteen years that the King has appeared in public.

Although Uncle Carlon and I face each day to the "Spirit Stone Plate (Monitor)" basket, we met in our lifetime, similarly for the first time in nineteen years, let alone if we were to be lords less than nineteen years old, such as Krull and Fanasard, there could be no direct knowledge, and even the King knows it to the extent of a hard name.

"Who, that oops." I won't let you tell me!

As always, fanathards trying to throw dangerous balls. Clift hastily blocked that mouth with a desperate shape. When the king turns his attention to the noise of the last seat, Fanasard, with whom he meets, smiles nicely, and Clift drips his head (like this) in haste.

"What's that?

I watched Fanassard abominably, and Uncle Carlon sweated cold.

"Actually... that was Uncle Strasbourg"

"Did you hear he died in the shelling?

"It came out of nowhere today that he was actually alive."

"... Left"

Uncle Carlon strokes his chest down wondering about the thinness of the King's reaction but not being heard any deeper. He couldn't measure how well he handled Fanassard's existence.

Continuing, after a thorough introduction to the Lords, Uncle Carlon asked the King for his expression, whispering (sayingly), "Let me begin," and the King nodded silently.

"Defendant, bring the former Saratoga Bohmio-Refore-Jahan to this!

and raised his voice.

In response to those words, when the iron door (Epi) behind the Special Court opens heavily, Mio, held on both sides by royal soldiers, is towed out to the center of the table with the letter C.

Thin dirty prisoner clothes, shackled wrists, and a ragged look. The trademark dough head was unraveled and disturbed by one side, and even more so, it made the former lord of this little body look blurry.

It is a solemn court. There's no way you can raise your voice like a girl, only the footsteps of soldiers pulling Mio indoors. Everyone is staring at her. Thoughts caged in his gaze varied, but Fanasard tied his mouth tightly, and the clift gently rubbed his tiny, trembling shoulder.

When the soldiers let go when they came to the center of the table, Mio stood on the spot, although he did not mind for a moment. And with a vain eye like a drunken eye, looking around at the lords in line, Mio, who found Fanassard's figure, opened his eyes and breathed, groaning small "Ah," then gave him a stunning (...) hopeful (...) look. That's not because I realize that the identity of the Fanassard here is the sword princess. Because I could see how Miriam's plan would go insane by the appearance of Fanassards here.

"I shall now begin the deliberation of Mio-Lefo Jahan on the charge of the murder of His Royal Highness Princess Fatima."

There is no reason to know Mio's inner rush, and Uncle Carlon declares so in good faith.

Then I read a glimpse of Mio's guilt, the circumstances at the time of his murder.

"Mio-Lefo-Jahan, you're right"

and asked Mio.

Mio shrugs his neck small.

It poisons me without speaking out in the back of my chest. Will a whore be attached to such a farce? Think of it that way and I'll be ungrateful.

Whatever you say here, it's utterly futile, and the color of the ballot cards each lord holds in his or her heart remains the same.

Her loyal men and companions have repeatedly increased the number of pieces with blue plaques that were originally almost anointed with bright red.

If we continue to talk carefully about moving to a vote without saying a word, one moment and two, and let the child hear it from what happened to the end, the result will not change.

As scripted, as muscled, fairytale princes and princesses always end up united, one thing remains the same.

But just because that's why I say yes here, it's also pissing me off to swallow it all up as they say.

Mio chuckled in his chest, looking at Uncle Asmodimos for a moment and trying to harass him a little.

"You can even open your mouth in front of His Majesty the King, but now there is a great error in Uncle Carlon's recited guilt."

"Well, tell me."

"So before that, Uncle Asmodimos, was your lord's motorized castle fort not here when Saratoga shelled Strasbourg?

I guess Mio was stepping on it when he scratched his feet here. Uncle Asmodymos smiles softly like he despises the way he panics.

"Well, I don't understand the intent of the question, but it would be reasonably good. My Asmo Dymos was cruising the eastern end of the Escalis Meermill, what is it?

"Is that sincere?

"Uncle Saratoga, no, before (...) Uncle Saratoga. I have no idea what your lord is trying to say, but it will be proven by my hatred."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that, but I've been monitoring this guy's trends."

Just in front of the king, Mio, and Asmodimos bursanetone's tone was a polite one that didn't resemble the usual, but that's why the discomfort with each other seems clear. And Krull's various things in that, as usual, were true in return.

Mio turns to Krull and asks.

"Uncle Merklius, do you remember Elastenes, the manoeuvre castle fort?

"Naturally."

Krull frowns uncomfortably.

Elastenes' name is inscribed on her chest, along with the two letters' regret '.

"So..."

Mio spins (tweets) his words to Krull, glancing at Uncle Asmodimos.

"Wasn't it around Erastenes that Asmodimos moored?

"Hmm? Oh, right. If you ask me, I will."

Mio shrugged thinly when he saw Asmodimos bursa netone's mouth distorted uncomfortably.

It was a restraint.

I showed Uncle Asmodimos that I knew the situation much deeper than you imagined.

The motorized castle fort Asmo Dymos came upon Saratoga disguised as being in the far eastern Escalis Meermill.

It's an unscrupulous trick that replaces the entire mortally annoying, salvaged Elasteness demonic crystal furnace and the original demonic crystal furnace to disguise its position.

Normally, I don't think of it first. I don't execute when I think of it. Neither did Uncle Asmo Dymos see Mio getting to that point about such an unscrupulous trick, even though he thought he was on the lookout.

But Saratoga had a human being who read it very carefully.

This, if you fail to convict Mio here, will hasten to the place where it would be hidden to discover the original demonic crystal furnace of Asmodimos and hold your root. It was also such an expression of intent.

In other words, this is how Mio incited Uncle Asmodimos.

"You're the one who dies," he said.