Arriving at the round table, Arthur sat down without a word.
Artoria could no longer contain her excitement and promptly found a seat—away from Arthur.
At that moment, aside from Arthur and Artoria, the only other person with his eyes on the food was Iskandar, already seated and towering over the table like a mountain.
As for the Masters—
Unfortunately, tonight's banquet belonged to the Servants.
Even Irisviel, who had just arrived, was unceremoniously pried off Arthur's arm by Waver and Tōsaka Tokiomi. She now looked at Arthur with a wronged expression while murmuring to the old bug. Judging by their faces, whatever they were discussing had not gone well.
The moment Arthur sat down, Lucius—who had previously refused to take a seat—slid in at lightning speed, claiming the spot to Arthur's right. Inch by inch, he scooted his bench closer.
"If you move even one centimeter closer, I'll cut you down."
"...Cold as ever, Red Dragon. You were far more passionate with me at noon."
"Shut up. You're the only one who's enthusiastic. Stop mistaking your fantasies for reality." Arthur's brow twitched.
Then another dangerous presence appeared.
Golden motes gathered, and Gilgamesh materialized—blond hair, crimson eyes, and ostentatious golden armor gleaming under the lights. His arrival brought a brief, uneasy silence to the table.
Because—
Iskandar was wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the words Grand Strategy. Lucius sported a casual windbreaker. Artoria had on a sharp black men's suit. Even Arthur was in a hoodie.
Against this backdrop, Gilgamesh looked almost absurdly out of place.
"Tsk. A rabble of mongrels."
"Oh? It seems the famed Hero King still hasn't adapted to modern life. This era is marvelous—full of novelty and wonder. Since you've come, why not enjoy it to the fullest? Otherwise, it's a waste," Iskandar said with a broad, foolish grin.
That big oaf's remark, strangely enough, gave Gilgamesh a way to step down gracefully.
Of course, there are always those who refuse to play along.
"Hahahaha! Oh, Artorius, did you see him? He actually shows up to a place like this in full armor! Is he here for a duel? No, no—maybe he's terrified of the outside world and needs armor to feel safe. What a masterpiece! This guy's a walking comedy!"
Lucius slammed the table with one hand, pointing at Gilgamesh with the other, laughing loud enough to rattle the silverware.
Pure, unfiltered mockery.
"Mad dog, you must be eager for reincarnation. I'll be merciful and send you off myself," Gilgamesh said with a dangerous smile, the golden ripples of his treasury blooming across the hotel lobby.
"Country King, you've already tried to lay hands on my Red Dragon, and now you bare your fangs at me. Very well. Today I'll let you witness the glory of Rome—and carve its image into your soul," Lucius shot back without flinching.
That's the problem with tonight's guest list—none of them are easy to deal with.
"Gilgamesh, as Hero King and host of tonight's banquet, could you not show a little more generosity? What just happened was a joke," Arthur said, then turned on Lucius. "And you—since you're here freeloading, try to behave. You didn't even bring your Master, which is already disrespectful. Stop stirring trouble and ruining the feast."
"Tch. Nosy mongrel. I don't need you telling me how to act."
"Wow~ As expected of my Red Dragon—so adorable, unlike certain uneducated brutes."
The two locked eyes, snorted in unison, and turned away.
Honestly, Arthur wanted to plant a firecracker in each of their seats. But with other goals for the evening, he forced down the impulse.
"Please sit, Hero King. As host, you're late, and we can't start without you." Arthur sighed. "It's a rare thing—five kings from across the ages gathered together. Let's not spoil it."
"Hmph. This king has yet to acknowledge that a pack of mongrels like you are worthy of the title 'king.'"
Gilgamesh said the words, but his actions betrayed him—he walked straight to Artoria, who stood to Arthur's left, and declared, "Move. This is my seat. Find somewhere else. Or leave. I doubt you'll impress me tonight."
"Gilgamesh—"
Artoria's glare sharpened.
This was about the dignity of a king—there was no yielding.
"I won't quarrel with you here, but remember: next time, I'll show you the strength of the Knight King."
…You're just unwilling to leave the food, aren't you?
Not that Arthur was in any position to judge.
Soon, a heated discussion flared up between Gilgamesh and Iskandar—starting with the ownership of the Holy Grail and spilling into a full-blown debate on kingship. Gilgamesh even produced what he claimed was the finest wine.
Arthur ignored it. He hated drinking—and drunk people even more. The distaste ran deep, tied to a certain thunderstorm night when the dynasty had held a victory banquet… and Miss Orca, who shouldn't have been able to get drunk, had appeared in his bedroom.
In short, alcohol dulled reason and will—two things Arthur despised. For the record, mashed potatoes and liquor shared first place on his personal list of hated substances.
Which might explain why the banquet's atmosphere turned… peculiar.
"Mmmmmm—"
"Crack, crack, crack—"
The mountain of food on the table was shrinking at a visible rate. Masters, sweating buckets, rushed to ferry dishes from the surrounding square tables to the round one, but still couldn't keep pace with consumption.
Gilgamesh's brows twitched at the sight. Even Iskandar, rough as he was, spared a curious glance at the two culprits.
"Hey, Hero King," he said, jerking his thumb toward them. "Those two—male and female—they're both King Arthur, aren't they?"
"...What makes you say that?"
"Look at the way they eat."
Artoria and Arthur mirrored each other perfectly—utterly ignoring the ongoing debate, untouched by the wine before them, minds fixed solely on the food. Even the taste seemed secondary. Gilgamesh and Iskandar both fell silent after noticing the untouched potato dishes shoved to the side.
Really now—was this a banquet of kings, or a competitive eating match?
-End Chapter-
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