Sanzen no Souru Supina

"Ugly."

Trao doesn't think, he crushes.

One line arriving at Lucatius' private residence was first advised to bathe, then to change clothes.

Because they were all already cold rains and waves, wet mice.

In addition, Illis is a weight.

The body could not have been cooled.

Nowhere, such as why I refuse the Lord's offer of the Mansion.

Now, nevertheless,

You may have to keep talking about the men, but bathing and dressing the women is still something that takes time.

That's why Burton, Trao, and three Menaces waited for the women to finish the ordination on a couch set up in the hallway.

The tea the servant poured me is aromatic and hot.

A bright white shoreline, an emerald green sea, and a lush picture of a lemon tree.

A woman wearing a bright blue piece goes through the grass of herbs in the wind.

That's the kind of painting.

If you are a royal aristocrat in the western world, self-portraits to show the character and tradition of family crests, motifs such as legends from which descent originated, and paintings of naked women of mistresses if you are a private residence, can be worn.

Some may be frightened, but it's not easy to feel like you've been shoved a chunk of butter all over your mouth.

If it's a naked woman painting, well, I'll leave it to you to see how it feels.

However, while only the sculpture is firmly hand applied, this painting, which is rested on the forehead of a calm atmosphere, was drawn from the landscape and probably near Heliatium.

Along with the sea breeze, the smell of lemon leaves and herbs seems to incense, and also only the sober impression conveys to the elegant hindsight of the woman depicted there.

I see, a painting represents the spirit of the owner.

That was the same thing I could say to the costumes I had prepared tonight.

Attached to Burton was deep red, and by the way, a beige shirt glanced through the cut gap, all of which were monogarments with hand embroidered stitches.

A taste where vibrancy and luxury (shabby) enhance the allure of a dying man.

Conversely, Menace's has a frockcoat-style crisp design.

Mountain blown color matching the purple lining, which is almost black without gloss, enhances the look of wild flavored menaces.

Aristocratic style that brackets total hair behind both.

At the end of the day, a jacket with a lot of silver shine matches a peacock green scarf with a salmon pink and beige striped shirt, and the legs again look slightly uncomfortable with the appearance that only the youthful trao, a pair of empty and beige striped tights, can be worn in costumes.

"Are you sure?"

"Because."

Trao inadvertently argues with Burton's drinking.

It's a little too flashy, this, and.

Hearing that, Menace said with a bitter smile.

"I'm familiar with women. We need to put it together properly, costumes."

Slowly loosen the cigarette as I say.

It's a seasoned xelle.

The men of the sea are often cigarette-addicted, but Menace is no exception.

"The captain is right, Trao. That's how they lay it on your costume ass."

"Well, he can't wait to get better (...), too, I hear."

Menace says, lending Burton the pipe out as well.

Burton also responds in a familiar manner.

It was when the two sides were pinched by life's predecessors and Trao was sweating.

From across the aisle, the women who finished their outfits walked with the servants.

Trao stood up when he saw it.

Because it was so beautiful.

"Ugly."

The voice of my heart stayed put, and I rolled out to sound.

Serra was there.

A blue grassy dress appeared on the well-burned wheat skin.

Trao fell in love with his honey-colored hair tied up to his head and make-up.

I'm in love with this girl.

I knew it.

But I never saw her like this.

The silver jewellery he wore was not decorated with precious stones, but attracted by the brilliance of the craftsmanship.

That also suited her well, having just taken off the girl and grown up.

Next to it, too, in contrast, was something that emitted luscious beauty.

Like the deep collar, he wore a dreadfully tight dress with a bold cut off back, without fear of one thing.

Burning red hair gives a vivid look to the contrast between the forged brown skin and the pure white costume.

A pair of necklaces and bracelets with a large number of sapphires tighten its beauty.

Same color as the long cut eyes.

Trao, pierced by those eyes, felt that kind of sensuality running, like he had encountered a beautiful jaguar on his back.

Menace's companion: It was the gloss of Violeta.

And while surrounded by those beauties, there was still an overwhelming presence that emitted light.

A bright deep red dress covered the skin with no pure white stain.

Her hair was still too long to hide her ears, but to that extent, it could not cause her beauty to diminish.

The golden eyes that look at everything look at the trao.

I can see tense, rich breasts slowly rippling into a very uneven flesh that I don't think is a pregnant woman.

Trao's cheeks, which had been pressed against its valley until just after, were as hot as the fire had arrived, recalling the body odor that reminded him of the faint peaches and milk of Illis.

Big ruby necklace, put on that breast.

The jewellery, that was enough.

When the women came to the front of the men, they lifted and interpreted the hem of the dress.

"Don't look at me, beautiful. You're so full of shit, man."

Hugh, and Menace whistled, and Burton agreed that at all.

"Hey, Trao's young husband, this is too much envy for you"

Violeta grabbed the Menace scarf, trying to take Violeta's hand as she walked over, unannounced, forcing her flesh into its deep collar.

"No, it's full of Omae's, too. It's beautiful. Same thing. So I was wondering if you could take that hand."

For such interaction, Burton was not lost, but walked over to Serra.

"Oh, you're as beautiful as a flower blossomed"

In the setting, Serra is Iris' sister, so it's only natural that Burton escorts her.

"No. I can light it up. I've never been this cool before, so I'm... totally weird."

"Say what. How adorable and adorable. Don't let the men go."

"That's what you're gonna say, Bert... it's just my dad"

A needle released by Serra wore Trao's chest, which was still red on his cheeks.

"Na"

- I thought it was beautiful! And he disputed, and Trao had to swallow the words in the hand offered in front of him.

Right hand covered in silk long handbag.

It belonged to Illis.

If I looked up as a hag, my drooping eyes were staring at Trao.

Dodgy, that's all it takes to jump your heart rate.

Yes, I'm her husband now.

Can you escort me, Trao was neither blunt nor rude enough to capture the meaning of you, and the hand offered.

Courtesy as a quasi-knight is thoroughly dismissed by young children.

At the age of twelve in the Knights of Catel Hospital, the boys and girls who become squire were learned to strive to serve knights and aristocrats for supper.

That's how politeness gets educated.

Courtesy starts with the site of the service.

If you learn from the service provider, you will naturally understand how to behave when you are in the position to accept the invitation.

I see, it would be self-evident reason.

It is an educational policy in which the temperament of the Knights of Catel Hospital, which respects the practice of everything, is fulfilled.

Trao silently pushes his hand to take it.

"Looking good, aren't you?

I guess I was mistaken for a tense face.

Iris asked anxiously.

"Damn. No. Beautiful..."

Respect is not good for wives in places with the ears and eyes of those who do not know the circumstances.

Trao hastily reworded.

"Glad"

Trao is fascinated and overwhelmed by the presence of an iris that creates a light back (hallow) behind it smiling without giving in.

I think of a knight named Ashledau who accompanies this holy being.

I'm only four different things from myself.

Yet a real genius who knighted at seventeen, and who, at eighteen, had already been named the Holy Knight of the EXTRAM Pope's Office.

The world says that if knights are appointed by the middle of the twentieth, it will be enough and it will pass with delicacies.

And he threw that position at all costs for the woman he loved, and fought with his life at stake.

Norman, who joined the battle lines, does not speak much, but if there is a lie or falsehood in Ashledau's background, there is no way that the leading knight, who occupies the strongest corner of the island of Catel and takes the artifact and the "Focus": "Arman" as his two arms, can embark on that search.

On the contrary, the Virgin Mary is better suited to that unsafe task.

Holy service without deception.

I wonder how much they love me.

How admired and envisioned.

Strongly desire to be myself.

I want to be the kind of man that seems so strong to a woman like Illis, I think.

It was the last man to rendezvous that broke the strong vision and Amaya sentiment that resembled scorching fever.

cha, cha, and the pure white outfit rang.

It was a snail very similar to Menace's frockcoat.

The colour is pitch black to match its appearance and hair.

The lining is low saturation red.

But when Norman, with his nearly dimeter long body and a forged flesh like a rock shelf, wears it, he releases an overwhelming presence.

The faint expression on the face of the makeup of the sardines.

More importantly, the pure white heavy armor that covers both arms clearly drew them against each other.

"Hey, isn't that too easy, Hertman's husband"

Menace said as if he was frightened.

Because it is unprecedented, such as a man who comes to a meeting with the emperor with his armor on.

Norman's arms: "Arman."

"That's it, that's it. The clothes were cut off beforehand. Either way, it's a prosthetic arm, so take it off."

"Ah, a prosthetic hand? Oh, yeah. That's a bad question, me."

"There's nothing to worry about. I don't like being cared for."

"Heh, that would be nice. But it's a mess that I made it, that. And exquisite. Can I touch it?

"To your heart."

I was hired as an escort... I see, Spindle Capable, you.

Menace was all alone.

Norman doesn't make it faint.

Heck of an excuse doesn't make sense.

It's more prestigious than not suspicious.

That's a Norman creed I'm not very good at ventriloquism.

I'm just using a pseudonym because it's just too famous.

Hertman Elkaitos.

If you call it by its nickname, it would be a helt.

Fake names that are too far from real names can remain unrecognizable and worn out by the person.

Similar, but completely different, that's the consideration that counts.

In fact, Norman tried to quit this meeting.

However, the saluted living room was already equipped with a set of costumes sewn without pre-connecting the arms.

Horribly, it was the right size.

Norman immediately understood that this was some kind of message.

This invitation, this visit, it's all pre-orchestrated.

I felt like everything had fallen to my heart.

If so, I reiterated that it makes no sense to worry about it.

This is the kind of place that a guy named Norman is.

Then if I'm not on that scene, I'm not talking about it.

The opponent is inviting this one by flirting with his card first.

This is either a provocation, or, if not, a revelation of the will to bring only important stories to the Normans, albeit blindfolded.

Only Barton, who jumped into Norman's thoughts, at least similarly by conjecture of intent, seemed to understand instantly.

I used a pipe of sea bubble stone and my eyes were narrowed to loosen my cigarettes.

The rooms put through were too primitive for the Emperor's private residence.

Nowhere, such as the gorgeous decorations.

Just a large fireplace that hits a flame that burns red.

A couple of sofas that seem comfortable to sit on.

And the presence of a large, single-board table polished until smoked with coal smoke and candied gave a glimpse of the character of the literary emperor: Lucatius.

I see. Dine at this table, move in front of the fireplace and sprinkle the liquor slowly into reading —— this would be the best pleasure.

For this purpose, gorgeous decorations and paintings are only futile.

That kind of philosophy was all over the edge.

Pure white tablecloth on tabletop.

It is the court's understanding that this is a silent sign that you will fully enjoy the good food and wine.

Silver dishes used and polished.

Wine and glasses poured into pots of ceramic with long necks are already available.

On that seat sat a man already wearing a purple costume.

He had accumulated a mustache the same color as his greyed hair.

The skin was engraved with deep wrinkles, but that reminds me more of the aura released by the great trees who endured wind and snow for a long time than fading.

His eyes shined in intellectual curiosity, reflecting the illuminating return of the fireplace's light.

I couldn't go wrong and the man looked like an emperor.

After a grand age, it was worse than old age, but the matter had given more depth to a man's intelligence.

More importantly, the purple costumes were ancient: the emperor colors of the Agantilis dynasty.

Wearing it, being relative as an emperor was tantamount to making it clear that he himself was taking over the culture and traditions of Agantilis and the bloodmuscle, a unified dynasty that had left behind the book of history long before thousands of years ago.

Lucatius says he is here carrying all the weight of his history.

The line, led indoors by the guide's boy, was first prompted to sit in the order of Barton, the chief guest (Shijuhin), and his companion, Serra, as well as Trao and Iris, Menace and Violeta, and the last seat being Norman, on its opposite shore.

Everyone is familiar with the way they behave around them.

Trao and Serra were upset to sit inside, Norman in the last seat, but this is also a division of roles in acting.

I saw Norman move on and head to the last seat, and he seemed relieved.

I just don't see Pedro in that seat.

The servants pulled a chair, and when they all sat down, the glass was poured with an amber wine that would be an aperitif, and Lucatius opened his mouth.

"You have responded to my sudden invitation, and this Lucatius, I cannot thank you enough. Welcome, I've got more guests than far away. Please let this old bone work your way through tonight. And I want you to tell me your stories."

That being said, Lucatius raised his cup and took the head of the toast.

No matter, everyone obeys.

Lucatius is still the vessel of the Emperor, who first puts his mouth on the cup and shows that there is no poison at the same time as evidence of disrespect.

Thus began dinner with the Emperor.