The courtyard garden.
The moonlight was clear as a wash, and the evening breeze blew gently.
Although it was a temporary venue, under Morgan’s [Item Creation] ability, the place was as luxurious as the back garden of an imperial palace.
Crystal-carved wine glasses, long tables draped in silk, and glowing orbs of light floating in the air.
“Rumble—” Accompanied by thunder, the Gordius Wheel crudely crushed the lawn.
The King of Conquerors Iskandar, carrying a wooden cask of cheap red wine, jumped down with a great laugh.
“Haha!
What a unique place!
Brother Saber, is this your castle?” Immediately after, golden light particles condensed in the void.
The King of Heroes, Gilgamesh, manifested with his arms crossed and an arrogant expression.
He scanned the surroundings and let out a light snort from his nose: “Hmph, though it’s filled with a nauseating fae scent, as the garden of a parvenu, it’s barely acceptable.” Arthur sat in the main seat, with Artoria sitting upright on his left, and Morgan on his right, responsible for pouring wine (only for Arthur).
“Since everyone has arrived, please take your seats.” Arthur pointed to the opposite seats.
“Tonight, there are no enemies, only drinkers.” Iskandar sat down unceremoniously, placing the wooden cask directly on the exquisite long table with a dull thud.
“Come, come!
First, taste what I bought from the supermarket…
er, my spoils of war!” Gilgamesh glanced at the wooden cask, making no effort to hide the contempt in his eyes: “Is this the wine you intend to use for the ‘Holy Grail Dialogue’?
Mongrel, are you trying to make me die of laughter?” “Whether wine is expensive or cheap, as long as we can gather and drink, it’s good wine!” Iskandar tried to save face.
“Since this is a banquet of kings, put away that dishwater.” Arthur spoke calmly, then lightly snapped his fingers.
Morgan, standing beside him, understood immediately.
She picked up a crystal bottle emitting a dreamlike halo and pulled out the cork.
Pop.
In the very instant it was opened.
A rich aroma of wine, containing the scents of the forest, starlight, aurora, and winter, instantly swept through the entire garden.
Even for the kings who were Heroic Spirits, when they smelled this fragrance, the magical energy within their bodies couldn’t help but cheer in joy.
“This is…” Gilgamesh’s red pupils contracted slightly.
With his vision, he naturally recognized the quality.
“A spiritual wine of the Age of Gods?
No, is this a product of an alternate world?” “You have some modicum of taste, Goldie.” While elegantly pouring wine for Arthur, Morgan mocked coldly: “This is the [aurora dew], a secret treasure personally brewed by the Queen who rules the Fae Kingdom.
Even in the Age of Gods, it is a blessing that only chief gods are qualified to taste.
Compared to that aged vinegar that’s been sitting in your treasury for thousands of years, how is it?” “What did you call me?!
You madwoman!” Veins popped on Gilgamesh’s forehead.
“Enough, let’s drink.” Arthur picked up his glass and swirled it gently, the amber liquid shimmering under the moonlight.
“Since we are to compare our capacities, let us start with the wine.
Please.” The kings raised their glasses.
As the liquid went down his throat, Gilgamesh fell silent.
Though he was very displeased, this wine…
was indeed top-tier.
It was an entire dimension higher than those in his treasury.
Iskandar’s eyes widened even further.
After finishing it in one gulp, he let out a hearty laugh: “Refreshing!
So refreshing!
This is the wine a king should drink!
Brother Saber, this wife of yours was worth marrying!” Hearing the word “wife,” the corners of Morgan’s mouth curled up slightly, and the King of Conquerors didn’t seem quite as annoying anymore (originally she had loathed him).
After three rounds of drinks, the topic finally moved to the main point.
“Now then, everyone.” Iskandar put down his glass and looked at everyone with burning eyes: “What is your wish for the Holy Grail?” He was the first to pat his chest: “I want a physical body!
And then to begin my conquest once more in this world!
This is the Hegemony of the King of Conquerors!” Then, he looked toward Artoria.
“King of Knights, what about you?” Artoria put down her glass.
Her eyes were clear and firm, but deep within that firmness lay a heart-wrenching, tragic wish: “I want to save my homeland.” “I want to use the omnipotent wish-granting machine to change the fate of Britain’s destruction.” The air suddenly went still.
Then.
“Hahahahahaha!” Gilgamesh let out a piercing, wild laugh.
“You’re saying…
you want to negate the history you created yourself?” Iskandar’s expression also became serious, even disappointed.
“Little girl, you are insulting the subjects who followed you and died in battle!” “I am not insulting them!” Artoria argued urgently.
“It’s precisely because I don’t want to see such a tragic end, precisely because I failed to lead them to happiness, that I must…” “That’s why you’re just a little girl.” Iskandar interrupted her ruthlessly.
“A king is greedy, a king is furious, a king is the incarnation of the people’s aspirations!
A king can shoulder everything, but a king must never regret!
One who negates their own past is not qualified to be a king!” These words were like a heavy hammer, smashing hard against Artoria’s heart.
Her face turned pale, and her knuckles turned white as she gripped her glass.
The conviction that had supported her all this time seemed so fragile in front of these boisterous conquerors.
“Is that really so?” A calm and magnetic voice rang out, interrupting Iskandar’s lecture.
Everyone’s gaze turned toward Arthur.
This “other King Arthur,” who had remained silent during the debate until now, was currently playing with the wine glass in his hand nonchalantly.
“Rider, your hegemony is certainly boisterous.” Arthur raised his head, and in those emerald vertical pupils burned the majesty belonging to the Red Dragon: “But your claim that ‘a king is the incarnation of greed’ is nothing more than the logic of a bandit leader.” “What did you say?!” Iskandar’s eyes widened.
“A king must certainly shoulder the desires of the people, that is correct.” Arthur stood up, his cape billowing without wind as a Charisma (A+) even purer and nobler than anyone present spread out: “But a king is not just a guide for desires; a king is a guardian of order, a lighthouse in the midst of despair.” He walked behind the pale Artoria and placed his hands gently on her shoulders, giving her support.
“This’sister’ of mine may be naive and clumsy, but her resolve to sacrifice everything for her country is far nobler than your conquest simply to satisfy private desires.” “Hmph, noble?
Didn’t it still end in destruction?” Gilgamesh sneered.
“What if it did?” Arthur looked at Gilgamesh, his tone proud: “Flowers that bloom must eventually fall, and nations that rise must eventually perish.
This is a truth of the world.” “But the Britain ruled by me, Arthur Pendragon, was an eternal Avalon from the moment it existed.” Arthur’s voice was powerful and resonant, echoing in the night sky: “I have no need to change the past.” “Because I am certain that even if the end was destruction, I achieved perfection in the process.” “My subjects found peace under my sword, and my country found glory in my radiance.” “To feel regret for that would be a desecration of that life.” Having finished, Arthur looked down at Artoria, whose eyes had reignited with light, and said gently: “Saber, you are not wrong.
What is wrong is not your wish, but the inferiority complex that makes you believe ‘you didn’t do well enough’.” “Hold your head high.
You protected that country until the very last moment.
You…
are a flawless king.” Artoria felt the warmth coming from her shoulders, and her eyes instantly reddened.
That was the first time in two lifetimes she had heard someone so thoroughly affirm her ‘King’s Way’.
Not as a tool, but as a king who had fulfilled her duties to the utmost.
“Arthur…” she whispered softly.
“Hahahahaha!” Iskandar was stunned for a moment, then laughed again, but this time there was a hint of respect in his laughter: “Good!
Well said!
Although I don’t entirely agree with your way of protection, this confidence of ‘no regrets’ is indeed the demeanor of a king!” “It seems you, this Saber, are much more mature than that little girl!” “Boring sophistry.” Although Gilgamesh was dismissive, he didn’t speak any further mockery.
Because the aura of a perfect king on Arthur, one who would ‘go forward even against ten thousand,’ was something even he, the Oldest King, couldn’t find much fault with.
Just as the atmosphere of the banquet reached its climax due to Arthur’s speech— Swoosh!
Swoosh!
Swoosh!
Countless dark shadows suddenly appeared on the walls of the garden.
It was a group of assassins wearing white skull masks.
Assassin (Hassan-i-Sabbah), mobilized in full force.
“Mongrels, it seems some uninvited guests want to spoil the fun.” Gilgamesh put down his wine glass, his eyes filled with killing intent.
“The number…
at least eighty?” Iskandar frowned.
“Is that fellow Kotomine Kirei behind this?” However, facing this encirclement.
Arthur, as the host, didn’t even spare them a glance.
He simply turned his head, smiled slightly at Morgan beside him, and held up his empty glass: “My dear, the wine is finished.” “Could I trouble you…
to make these flies disturbing our mood be quiet for a moment?” Morgan stood up elegantly, her black skirts blooming like a night flower.
She tapped her magic spear lightly on the ground, her lips curling into a cruel yet beautiful cold smile: “Since it is my husband’s request…” “Then let them become fertilizer for this garden.” [Reality Marble: Fae Britain · Night of Britain] In the next second.
The entire garden turned into a frigid hell that devoured everything.