The King of Heroes' wit shines supreme!
Hear me! These are the words of a king!!
Jest
"A bit further ahead, I'm picking up signals that seem like local soldiers," Romani's voice crackled. "Want to make contact?"
"Hmm, what say you, Master?" Gilgamesh asked. "Speaking with the locals is the essence of travel. I'd recommend it."
"Alright, let's do it," the Master replied.
Romani cleared his throat. "Ahem—please slow down! I'm begging you! They can't even talk at this speed!"
"You'll kill them!" he added, practically in tears.
Gilgamesh grumbled. "Tch, just when things were getting good… Fine. Kicking up pebbles leaves a bad taste anyway."
He eased off the throttle, deployed the parachute, and slowed the bike. Eventually, it came to a stop, and the group dismounted.
The Master's heart still raced. Was a motorcycle always this thrilling? The Gilgil-Machine was something to cherish.
"Did you enjoy that?" Gilgamesh said, smirking. "That's what I call a king's march. Feel honored."
"Y-Yes!" Mash gasped. "It was incredible! The wind hit me so hard it almost hurt… but it felt amazing!"
"My butt's in pieces…" Rikka groaned.
"Don't worry, Rikka, it was always like that," Olga Marie teased.
"That's not what I meant!" Rikka snapped.
"Fuhahaha!" Gilgamesh laughed. "We'll travel like this from now on. I am a merry king! Now, let's meet these locals."
"Will we be okay?" the Master asked, nervous. They probably hadn't studied French—or any language, for that matter. The Master's own origins were hazy, so they'd be no help here.
"Sorry, you'll have to study when we get back," Olga Marie said.
"No way!" the Master whined.
"Fear not," Gilgamesh said. "The language barrier is part of the journey's charm. They're not aliens—communication is possible. Use expressions, gestures, your very soul to convey your intent. That's what connection is."
Your soul…
Gilgamesh's words carried unshakable conviction. The travelers weren't just Mash and the Master—he was part of this journey too.
"Know this: smooth socializing requires charisma," he continued. "I'll let you in on something—I only have one friend. Why? I never bend. To make friends, you must yield a little. Hahaha!"
"I bet that friend had it rough," Romani muttered.
"I understand, Senpai," Mash said, stepping forward. "Leave this to me."
"Mash?" the Master blinked.
"Mash Kyrielight!" she declared. "I nominate myself as Chaldea's ambassador of goodwill!"
"That's the spirit!" Romani cheered. "Words have power, but they're also fragile little leaves, easily trampled. Shogyo mujo. Cats are sad."
"Talk too much, and you're an easy target," Olga Marie added. "But go for it!"
"Yes!" Mash nodded.
"Go, ambassador," Gilgamesh said. "And don't pull a Marie from a few years back, whining 'It's not my fault!'"
"Gil!" Olga Marie snapped.
"Hahaha! Brush it off with a smile—classy humor," Gilgamesh grinned.
The group was already at ease, their banter light and warm.
"Here I go!" Mash said, squaring her shoulders and approaching the soldiers. Let's see what you've got, Mash. Go for it.
"Will she be okay…?" the Master murmured.
Silence.
"Hey!" Mash called out.
"!?"
"Excusez-moi! We're not suspicious! Let's talk. From the edge of the observatory, we—"
"Strange people!" a soldier shouted.
To put it bluntly, they were surrounded in no time.
"I'm so sorry! I failed!" Mash cried.
"Mash, you idiot!" Rikka wailed.
"Start with 'Hello' or 'Nice to meet you,' you novice…" Gilgamesh sighed.
"This is France! FRANCE!" Romani yelled.
The soldiers, though wary, looked exhausted, as if they'd just fought something. They braced for a fight.
"Doctor!" Mash called. "Any way to defuse this? Teach us the art of communication!"
"How should I know!?" Romani shot back. "I'm a loner! Try a witty joke! Like, 'This hat's Deutsch!' or something!"
"Romani, shut up," Olga Marie said.
"Sorry, Director!"
"Well, they're bristling with hostility," Gilgamesh said. "Shall I reduce them to dust?"
Killing non-Servant locals would be easy, but…
The Master hesitated. I don't want to kill if I can help it. It wasn't just a lack of resolve—there was something precious about life, a radiance that felt wrong to snuff out so casually.
"This Singularity is a severed world," Olga Marie said. "Killing won't cause a paradox, but…"
"Mash, Rikka, prioritize incapacitation," she continued. "You're carrying the fate of humanity. Don't burden yourselves with unnecessary weight."
"Director…" Mash whispered.
"If fighting's unavoidable, use the flat of your blade," Olga Marie said. "It's a tall order, but it'll keep your hands clean."
"You hear that, King of Heroes?" Romani added. "No killing!"
"I understand," Gilgamesh said. "A fine choice."
Something about that decision felt defining, as if it colored the journey ahead. It felt… noble.
"Then I'll handle this," Gilgamesh declared.
"Gil?" the Master asked.
A bad feeling crept in. Something absurd was coming.
Gilgamesh stepped forward. "To raise a blade against me is an offense, but I'll forgive it. I am a passing King of Heroes—most slights I'll let slide."
He addressed the soldiers. "Words may not connect, but impact does. Listen well to the voice of a king!"
The soldiers swallowed hard.
"Senpai, get behind me," Mash whispered.
The King will speak.
"There was an assassin from some land who became a hero," Gilgamesh began. "The head of a dreary sect called the Old Man of the Mountain, the pinnacle of Assassins."
"His name was Hassan. A cunning rat, always skulking with petty murders, but somewhat clever. He made a name with his tricks, but there was one thing his kind could never master."
The Assassins' weakness…? No way, there's something like that? the Master thought.
"Their weakness…?" Romani echoed.
Gilgamesh nodded. "Fiscal management. No matter how much they reaped, their finances were a disaster. Their shoddy handling led to ruin—the Old Man of the Mountain's coffers went bankrupt."
He surveyed the crowd with a dramatic, intense stare.
"Hassan, hasan—get it? Bankrupt!"
Silence.
Utter silence.
This is mortifying.
The Master's face burned. Don't look at me. Stop looking at me like that!
Those pitying eyes—please, don't stare!
"Hahahahaha!" Gilgamesh roared. "Hassan, hasan! Bankrupt! Do you get it? A supreme pun! Hassan's the unluckiest Servant title—turning him into a laughingstock is the least I can do! Hahahaha!"
"…Let's go home," a soldier muttered.
"Fighting's pointless…" another sighed.
The soldiers sheathed their weapons and shuffled away.
"…Incapacitation successful," Mash said weakly.
"Should we follow them?" Rikka asked. "Might learn something…"
"Please do," Olga Marie said.
"God is cruel…" Romani mumbled.
Everyone's mood had plummeted. The soldiers were gone.
"Fuh, even in jest, I am invincible!" Gilgamesh crowed. "My flawlessness is terrifying! Hassan, hasan—bankrupt! Fuhahahaha!"
The Master made a silent vow: If he starts another joke, I'll stop him, even if it kills me.
"The Old Man of the Mountain, the unluckiest? Well said."
"Stick out your neck."
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