Mobile Fortress Saratoga ~Silvery Sword Princess Became My Servant.

The story goes back a little bit of time.

When Gondola, who mimicked the swan, was being pulled up onto the ceiling with the marinade, that is, about a minute before the award ceremony began.

"Because of you, can't we make it to the awards ceremony already!

"... sorry"

The mouth of a night when the lights of spiritual stones that leak from the houses drop shade on the path of cobblestones.

A set of principals were walking through a painting where the mansions of the wealthy gathered.

The Lord is an upper-class man who wears silk clothes embroidered with gold and silver threads. The squire who followed it was a swordfighter slave (Ishara) who was soiled in full-body brown and looked as if he had crawled out of the swamp.

The stain of blood wrapped around the whole body of the gladiator slave (Ishara) was a testament to the fact that he had played a death fight until a few moments before, but now it is dry in Paris and cracked, some of it has already become white powdered and begun to peel off.

Whatever background it had, all I could say was that it looked awesome.

The squire's name is Gordon. The man of good width is his Lord, Sir Mehmet.

Gordon was transported to a different treatment room from Nanashi's after the War of Exhaustion (Igust) final, but the treatment of a broken nose bone with a Nanashi flying knee kick was unexpectedly prolonged and, as a result, the accompanying Sir Mehmet became the feather to be scattered.

Sir Mehmet was in a very bad mood on this return journey to the Mansion.

From Gordon's point of view, I don't have to worry about myself being a slave or anything, but I'd appreciate it if you didn't, but I can see that Lord Mehmet is quite a good person.

In the end, Gordon's broken nose managed to go straight back earlier.

Even if we went back to the mansion to get back in touch with ourselves and rushed to the awards ceremony venue, we were just wondering if we could make it to the closing address.

There's nothing wrong with Gordon, but he missed the victory, and Lord Mehmet's wind to Gordon is very strong.

"Lose to such a child, you Miracle fool!

"That's just about as good as Miracle..."

"Shut up, you Marvelous fool!

"No, no, your husband. That's what makes swords and mackerel surprisingly similar. It's not just colors and shapes, it's the sense of speech."

"Where is it!

"Saba and saber. I mean, here's the thing. Saab, Saab, Saab, Saab, Saab! Banzai!"

"Odd! Subtle similarities make me angry again!

At this rate, the two had arrived at the mansion at some point while Sir Mehmet repeatedly called and scattered in Gordon's mess.

However, if you arrive, the condition of the mansion that you should have seen is a little different than usual.

As usual, my youngest daughter waits in front of the gate, illuminating my feet and leading me to the front door, but only today, no one is there, and the mansion itself is dark and quiet again.

Unexpectedly Sir Mehmet frowned.

"What do servants do when the lights are not lit and they are not greeted?"

But you can't just stand outside forever.

Moving to the front door of the mansion, Gordon opens the front door on guard, followed by Sir Mehmet slowly stepping into the mansion.

Inside the mansion is quiet and there are no signs of people.

Only the moonlight leaking out of the windows of the brightness, provided for the blowout of the entrance hall, lit the pale mansion with thin (groans) and others.

If you look around, when you leave the mansion this morning, a pile of crates that both your servants ordered you to carry to the warehouse and set aside remain piled up in the entrance hall.

The contents of the box are seafood that merchants from the South came to sell in the early morning.

Sir Mehmet, who has no eye for fish dishes, bought it all at a price.

"Then fool around, the slaves! I always get the hang of it!

Sir Mehmet, who turns his face bright red and furious.

"Everybody, I'm gonna sell you out, so get ready! I don't know if you regret it! As generous as you are, the Lord is not!

But Sir Mehmet's yelling voice also just disappears sucked into the silence in the mansion, and nothing returns from inside the mansion.

Didn't we all get away with this? I can't think of anything like that in Lord Mehmet's head.

Fugitive slaves are slaughtered without question. That is the iron rule that underlies slavery.

Not everyone is particularly adorable enough to spare, but slaves are also a pretty big loss if they are to lose slaves from ten, just part of their wealth.

"Somebody! Somebody out there!

"Huh."

In Lord Mehmet's call, when desperation appeared slightly seeping, there was a misplaced reply between them.

"Where? Who?"

The voice seemed to me to have been heard unexpectedly from nearby, but there was no one to show.

As he looked around, the moment Sir Mehmet hung his hand on the crate, he made a sound of bakick and the crate lid (lid) jumped.

Suddenly, uh-huh! and raised his voice like something packed in his throat, Sir Mehmet buttocks, and Gordon pulls out his sword as he sharply narrows his eyes.

"Mr. Kisaragi, gorgeous appearance, bye bye!

A bright voice echoed in the entrance hall out of place, and a girl rose from the crate where the lid (lid) jumped, holding her hands up.

Unhaired, Gordon sticks his sword to the girl's neck. But the girl doesn't look frightened and smiles at Nico.

Who is it? That's how Lord Mehmet realized that the girl looked familiar.

"Aren't you the daughter of a fish dealer this morning?"

"Oh, you remember me? But you're not very interested in your uncle."

With that said, the girl looks away from Sir Mehmet and smiles at Gordon, who is poking a sword at her.

"Hey, brother. I was watching a game with Anne. That's funny, your brother."

"Anne?

"I've never seen anyone who could see through Anne's jigen before. You looked great."

"I looked good," Gordon said in one of those words, slacking his cheeks.

"What are you, a fan of mine?

"Fan? Yeah, you are. I think it's very good, what a great eye to see through everything."

"Whoa, you, you know damn well, don't you? But hey, if you're a fan, think about it for a second. If I'm pushed to this point, I'm the one who's going to fuck your husband."

Gordon lowers his sword as he dozes, turning his back on the girl and bowing his head to the Lord.

"Excuse me, sir. Looks like our fans got here."

But Sir Mehmet had lost just enough room to unravel Gordon's words.

Sir Mehmet, with a frightened look, falls behind.

The gaze was nailed to the nails of a girl who was transforming into a vicious shape behind Gordon.

In response to Sir Mehmet's reaction, the girl moved her face softly over Gordon's shoulder and whispered in her ear as Gordon tilted her neck in wonder.

"That's why."

That's a sweet voice that paralyzes the cerebromedulla.

As soon as that short word got into my ear, my eyelids (eyelids) suddenly became heavy and my consciousness became distant.

Gordon watched the girl's nails stretch long and the Lord pierce her as if it were an event in an unrealistic dream in the midst of an anti- (oh) difficult drowsiness.

"Give me those eyes."

And Gordon's consciousness was permanently interrupted by the girl's whisper.