Chapter 122
"What on earth is going on here!?" Illya shouted a reasonable enough question. Just a short while ago, she was calmly planning her actions for this war—her top priority being a visit to her so-called brother—and suddenly, two Servants were eliminated from the war at the same time, something that, as the vessel of the Lesser Grail, was hard for her to withstand. And then, to make things stranger, Gilgamesh showed up and demanded the family castle for a banquet. Right now, more than ever, she realized how lucky she was: at that moment, still weakened from absorbing two souls into the Lesser Grail at once, she had tried not to escalate the situation and agreed to give the King of Heroes what he wanted. Still, even in her wildest dreams, she hadn't imagined that two more Heroic Spirits, strange humans, and her half-brother would show up at this so-called "banquet." It was all too sudden and confusing. This was a war! What the hell kind of feast among enemies was this supposed to be? Weren't they afraid of poison?
"Sorry, kiddo, that's my fault," said a sudden voice, accompanied by a gentle pat on Illya's head from a blonde-haired woman with odd heterochromatic eyes—one red, one golden. Illya's first instinct was to brush the hand away—she was eighteen, after all, and being treated like a child annoyed her—but there was something weirdly calming about the gesture, and she even noticed the burden of the Lesser Grail felt a little lighter. "Two Servants almost killed me today, and I got a bit overheated, but I can promise you that this time, you'll survive the war."
"This time? What does that mean?" Illya immediately caught onto the odd phrasing.
"That's a secret~" the girl winked playfully at her, then turned to Illya's half-brother. "Shirou, take care of your little sister, and clear up any misunderstandings about Kiritsugu while you're at it."
"What do you mean, 'misunderstandings'?" Illya grumbled, shooting Shirou a glare sharp enough to kill—although, thanks to her appearance, it was more cute than threatening.
"He'll tell you," the girl said, "but as for me, I finally want to try what I came for." She turned to Illya's two maids: "Lead us, ladies."
Liz and Sella exchanged a silent glance with the still-fuming Illya. After a moment, Illya reluctantly nodded, then decisively grabbed Shirou's hand, apparently planning to wring the truth out of him.
Meanwhile, Yae Sakura glared fiercely at Oz—who could only give a sheepish smile, knowing full well trouble awaited him after the feast. Even Kevin and Mei had given him cold looks that promised nothing good.
When we arrived, Gilgamesh was already seated on a golden throne at the head of the table, resting his head on his fist and watching us in bored silence. His seat stood out sharply among the other—clearly expensive, but otherwise identical—chairs.
"You didn't hurry," Gilgamesh said with a bored tone. I even thought it helped him hold back his ever-present arrogance.
"Have you somewhere urgent to be?" I arched an eyebrow, stepped up to the chair directly across from him, laid my hand on its back, then altered it—materializing another throne, but in contrast to Gilgamesh's gold, mine was a mix of dark violet and silver. I sat gracefully. To my left were Yae Rin and Mordred, to my right Mei, followed by Kevin and Oz, with Shiki.
And so it happened that, among the rulers, the only king without a distinctive throne was Saber. Nonetheless, with a neutral expression, she completely ignored this diminishment of status—after all, she wanted to rewrite history so she wouldn't be a king. Next to and across from her sat Tohsaka, Shirou, Illya, and even the monstrous Heracles—who, frankly, looked a bit odd on a chair that seemed miniature compared to his frame.
"In my domain, there was no place for idlers; everyone strove for a better future. In these times, there are few worthy people," Gilgamesh said, his tone edged with disdain. He lifted his goblet—like all the others, filled with wine. "However, tonight at least, those gathered here are a cut above the worthless dregs. For tonight I allow you, for the first and last time, to enjoy the king's generosity. Drink with me and show yourselves worthy."
Hearing this, Tohsaka, who was quite eager to try wine crafted by the goddess of winemaking, hesitated. Was it truly safe for magi in this era to drink divine wine?
The wine, poured into elegant goblets, seemed to exude a captivating aroma—so deep and complex that everyone found themselves thinking: this was a truly divine creation. Hesitantly at first, following Gilgamesh's lead, the banquet guests brought their glasses to their lips.
One sip—and a delightful warmth spread through their bodies; consciousness grew slightly fuzzy, and their tongues tasted a rich, incomparable flavor of dark grape and spicy undertone. Many, even lifelong connoisseurs of fine wine, could not suppress a gasp of delight. Cheeks flushed, voices grew livelier, and laughter became brighter. Even Illya, though she took just a little, felt her heart beating faster.
I drained my own glass with apparent indifference, feeling the ancient magic of the wine try to cloud my mind. However, my body's resistance to such things wasn't a joke; only a gentle tingling in my cheeks and a faint smile betrayed that the wine had any effect at all—which was just as well, since I'd wanted this specific wine precisely for that reason; ordinary alcohol would have done nothing.
Kevin, Mei, Yae Rin, and Mordred handled it as expected: just a few subtle hints betrayed the wine's effect—their voices a little louder, gestures a little grander. Heracles, as if noticing nothing at all, gave a quiet nod of appreciation, and Saber maintained icy composure—only her gaze was a bit more unfocused.
Meanwhile, Oz sniffed the wine out of courtesy but decided not to drink, remarking coolly,
"The legends do not lie. The King of Heroes is generous with strange gifts."
As expected, he was tending to Shiki, whose reaction to the wine was much stronger—she was clearly tipsy after a few sips, her eyes glowing, highlighting the vivid Mystic Eyes of Death Perception.
While the wine filled the hall with a festive mood, everyone's attention shifted to the dishes on the table. There were celestial quails braised in ambrosia, pies stuffed with magical mushrooms from the king's ancient domain, a giant fish from a subterranean lake gleaming with silver scales, and confections arranged so artfully they looked like jewels.
Tohsaka immersed herself in sampling unknown dishes, exclaiming over every new flavor; Illya tried to keep up, awkwardly attempting to maintain her dignity. Mei and Yae Rin traded half-mocking glances. Shirou poured Illya juice instead of wine, earning an annoyed glare.
Gilgamesh looked over everyone with a majestic air, as if evaluating both their reactions and their worth—though he kept refilling his own, my, and Arturia's glasses, as if inviting some unspoken contest.
"Can it be your knights are so easily seduced by such magnificence?" he finally asked, with a clear shadow of mockery.
I answered by spearing a piece of meat melting in a mysterious sauce and meeting his gaze.
"Delicacies and drinks are but fleeting joys, meant to reward those who defeat the darkness. But don't think you can break the Will of Condemnation with feasts, O Shepherd-King of ancient days," I said in my usual lofty tone, then added more normally,
"And besides, knowing Mei, I think she could reproduce even wine brewed by the goddess herself."
"That isn't really my specialty," Mei replied calmly, glancing at me.
"Oh, come on, Mei, if it's you, anything is possible!" Yae Rin declared. Kevin immediately backed her up—who better than those two to know what a genius Mei was? Both of them were sure, if they'd had more time in their world, she could have solved all its problems.
"Well, if I have a sample, I could give it a try," Mei said with slight embarrassment—and...
The guests laughed: the mood grew lighter, freer; for a moment, everyone almost forgot about the war. What was most surprising was the effect the wine had on Heracles: usually, as a berserker, he was nearly incapable of expressing himself in words, but now the wine seemed to quiet the madness within, and he was calmly discussing with Oz which Heroic Spirit might make the best chef.
Meanwhile, even the most stoic started to feel, after another glass, that their tongues were loosening, and their spirits opening. For one night, war and enmity faded into the background; heroes, spirits, and their companions feasted together, just as happens only before the hardest battles.
After a while, everyone without truly sturdy bodies had already fallen asleep from the divine wine. The others, except for the remaining competitors, refrained from further drinking so as to preserve their fighting edge. Only the three of us continued to drink.
"Even in drink, King of Heroes, do you hope to remain undefeated?" I asked acidly. "Maybe your treasury should be called a royal buffet with endless supplies?"
Gilgamesh let out a dry laugh, lips twisting in a lazy smirk.
"Princess, you stand in the halls of the true lord of wealth. But those who drink to forget their defeats are merely those who failed to meet greatness."
"Oh? You think you can defeat me in a direct contest?" I asked, draining my cup, my tone carrying a veiled threat.
"I did not fear gods, and I surely will not fear a young princess such as yourself," Gilgamesh sneered, emptying his glass.
"You two talk too much. If you're so eager to test my blade, I'll be happy to oblige," Saber said irritably—she had recently regained her sheathe from Shirou and was now one of the strongest in the hall.
By this point, the three of us were already quite drunk, but none wanted to back down or admit defeat; but it was just as clear that, if we kept going, we'd soon fall asleep right at the table.
"Haha! Saber, you really think you can handle me?" Gilgamesh laughed. "Very well, then here's my proposal, for I am generous: both of you face me. If I win—you become my treasures; if I lose—I'll give you what you desire most: my death."
"Hah! You're a bold one, golden boy—got your eyes on this princess's body? I think you need a lesson," I growled, standing up and summoning my bow. White light began to shine from within me, cleansing my body of alcohol's effects.
"I've wanted to wipe that smug look off your face for a long time," Saber said as she rose too, armor and sword materializing—and yet, in contrast to me, she swayed slightly from the alcohol.
"In that case, it's time to dance!" Gilgamesh called, his golden armor manifesting, golden portals opening behind him.