The King's revelry has woven a thread of fate.
Splendor
"King of Heroes! It's morning! Time to set out—let's do this!"
A lively voice roused Gilgamesh, his eyelids parting to the soft dawn light filtering through the trees.
"What time is it, Jeanne?" he asked.
"Six-thirty!" Jeanne replied brightly. "Everyone's up and bustling with work!"
Her cheerful tone confirmed it was indeed Jeanne. To think she'd actually serve as his alarm clock.
"…I see," Gilgamesh said. "Mortals must toil from such an early hour to get by. Diligent, aren't they?"
He rose from his hammock, stowing it in a ripple of golden light and retrieving a toothbrush set to freshen up.
"…You're seriously planning to wake me every day?" he asked, incredulous.
"That's the plan!" Jeanne said. "Romani begged me, saying, 'It's a lifesaver! Handling your delicate morning mood is terrifying—I'd rather not get executed, so please take care of it!'"
"That sweet-toothed doctor," Gilgamesh muttered. "Pawning off the hassle on a Ruler."
He understood the sentiment. Even he wouldn't want to risk waking a grumpy king and facing execution. Disturbing a king's sleep with external factors was unthinkable—yet he could imagine how the true King of Heroes might react, and it was a chilling thought.
"Hmph… Well, such is the burden of communal life," he said. "Like being dragged awake by hyper classmates on a school trip—an inescapable cliché."
"Ruler?" Jeanne asked. "Won't you call me by my True Name?"
"Huh?"
He paused, recalling how he'd slipped and called her Jeanne the night before.
"It's fine, you know," she said. "'Country girl' is a mouthful—Jeanne's easier in a pinch, right?"
"Are you daft?" Gilgamesh retorted. "What's the point of using your True Name? And what's this 'pinch' you speak of?"
"'Country girl' is eight syllables, Jeanne is four!" she explained. "Half the effort! It'll be quicker to call me when you need me—like when I'm waving my flag!"
"Your Master is Rikka, not me," he said. "And I don't do casual familiarity—"
"Don't like it?"
He faltered. Her bluntness, cutting through his ornate words, was disarming.
Silenced, he shifted tactics. "…Fine. Calling you 'country girl' risks confusing you with that side. Spouting comedy routines in battle could be a fatal flaw—though I'd crush any such weakness. For now, I'll call the other one Ruler and you, the dutiful one, Jeanne. As a Heroic Spirit summoned to Chaldea, proclaim your True Name proudly."
It was easier to say Jeanne anyway. "Country girl" was a tongue-twister at speed.
And as thanks for listening, if she wasn't offended, it was fine.
"Yes, King of Heroes!" Jeanne said. "Let's do this!"
The connection cut with a snap.
"…Waking me up and then vanishing," Gilgamesh muttered. "Farm girls are always so busy. Not that I care."
"Gil, morning!" Rikka called.
"Hm. Sleep well?" he asked. "No lingering fatigue, I trust?"
The two smiled, meeting his gaze.
"Yup!" Rikka said. "Slept like a rock in that portable capsule bed!"
"It feels strange," Mash added. "I expected to sleep on the ground."
"Sprawling on the dirt is no rest," Gilgamesh said. "With me here, I won't allow such shabby conditions."
Both looked refreshed, no signs of exhaustion. Good.
"That's the White King for you," a voice purred. "A model king who cares for his subjects. Golden yet white—how's that? Here, have some French toast."
A plate of fragrant, freshly made toast was thrust before him by a certain cat-like figure.
"…You made this?" Gilgamesh asked.
"Indeed!" the figure replied. "Don Juan by night, Cat by morning. From dawn to dusk, I capture your stomach—that's my motto. Eat up, gorgeous!"
"…Gorgeous?"
The word sparked a reaction in Gilgamesh.
"Splendidly luxurious, a rare class for the dazzling king who carries Chaldea!" the cat continued. "Like it? Or perhaps 'bourgeois' suits better?"
"…Gorgeous, eh?" Gilgamesh laughed. "Fuhaha! A fine ring to it! Very well, I'll deign to taste your bread!"
Clearly delighted, he seemed to have taken a shine to "gorgeous."
"It's delicious!" Rikka exclaimed.
"Quite the surprise, Cat-san!" Mash said.
"Cat-san, could I have seconds…?" the Master asked.
The trio showered praise on the meal.
This cat… has some serious feminine charm, Gilgamesh thought.
"Hmph, don't get cocky, beast," he said. "Pleasing the rabble doesn't mean you'll satisfy a king—"
He took a bite.
"…"
"Well?" the cat asked. "Tasty? Or really tasty?"
"…Not bad, beast," Gilgamesh conceded.
"Nyahaha! Don't flatter me, I'll blush," the cat said. "Red Mantle was sulking after you skipped his cooking yesterday, so this is a joint effort."
"A forgery, yet well done," Gilgamesh said. "You pass. I thought to summon Servants to handle such tasks, but looks can deceive."
Servants didn't need food, but he wasn't used to skipping meals yet. He'd partake gratefully.
"Very well, beast," he said. "I'll teach you Uruk's seasonings. Commit them to that feeble brain of yours."
"Got it!" the cat replied. "Cat's a scholar. I'll cram it into my one-day memory!"
"…That's the Berserker in you," Gilgamesh muttered.
The trio discussed their plan and settled on gathering intelligence first.
"Storming Orléans blind is unwise," Olga Marie said. "We don't know their forces or who holds the Holy Grail. Ruler's True Name identification and detection aren't working either."
She continued, "Since Jeanne was executed recently, our Jeanne seems to lack full Servant awareness—like a rookie."
"I see," Gilgamesh said. "That explains her unseemly panic."
Apparently, to fix a bug where the Holy Grail was claimed without a Holy Grail War deciding a victor, several Servants were summoned as counters.
"Sorry, King of Heroes," Mash said. "Please forgive us for taking a roundabout strategy despite your strength."
"Prudent planning is fine," Gilgamesh replied. "Choosing what suits you isn't shameful. 'Haste makes waste,' as they say."
They decided to focus on intelligence, heading to the nearby town of La Charité.
"Fortunately, I haven't lost my sense of the land," Jeanne said. "With that iron steed, we can move swiftly. King of Heroes, will you lend us your radiance once more?"
Her plea carried a refined grace, despite her novice Servant status.
"Environment shapes the person…" Gilgamesh muttered.
"Hm?" Jeanne asked.
"Never mind," he said. "Master, Mash, agreed?"
"Yup!" Rikka said.
"Of course," Mash added. "Our motto is 'no easy escapes.' We'll build things up steadily."
"No objections here," Olga Marie said.
"With the Gilgil-Machine, it's a twenty-minute trip," Romani added. "Let's move!"
"Then we depart!" Gilgamesh declared. "I'll rouse your sleepy heads with the finest ride this gorgeous king can deliver!"
He's really taken to "gorgeous," the Master thought.
"Fuhaha! My beloved steed is in top form today!" Gilgamesh crowed. "As expected of me—maintenance is first-class!"
"Lord, please protect our journey," Jeanne prayed, hands clasped. "Watch over our roaring ride. Keep us safe from accidents and guide us to our goal."
"Fou!" (Already adapted? As expected of a Ruler—soft as she looks!)
"Fou-kun, are you thinking something improper?" Mash asked.
"Fou! Kyururu!" (Her chest stood out—soft as can be. Rivaling Mash's marshmallow-like softness, Jeanne's got the firmness of mochi. Rikka's all lithe elegance, so she's out. Everyone's thinking it, right? A body that alluring makes being a Ruler tough—)
"What are you saying, Fou-san!?" Mash cried.
"Fuhahahaha!" Gilgamesh laughed. "There's the town! Small, but gather your intel to your heart's content! I won't help—I'll wait in gorgeous style!"
Definitely hooked on "gorgeous," the Master thought.
And yet, hypothetically speaking…
Had they been just a bit slower, La Charité would not have survived.
Had their march lagged, La Charité would have burned.
Unwittingly, the King's advance had preserved a town's existence.
"I've got opinions on chests! Call me the breast sommelier! (Fou! Fou! Kyu!)"
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