Saber walked toward the hall and noticed three racing cars parked inside the castle—parts of the fortress still unrepaired from the battles fought earlier. From the cars, Saber could see Rider, Caster, and Archer, all dressed in casual clothes rather than battle attire.
"Hey, Saber! How have you been? I hear you've got a castle now—but why does it look like this?" Iskandar called out as he stepped out, hauling a barrel of wine from the back seat.
"What are you doing here?" Saber asked, her voice sharp.
But Caster seemed not to hear her, rambling on about something else. Before Saber could press the issue, Allen entered the castle astride his Pegasus, Kiritsugu slung unconscious across his back. He had caught him lurking around the castle grounds—though troublesome, the ambush was swift and effective.
Velvet flinched, fear flashing across his face at how easily Allen had captured Saber's Master.
"Hey, Caster," Allen said casually, "are you finished explaining why you came here?"
"Ah, yes, I was just about to," Caster answered quickly.
Saber hesitated, unsure whether to attack. Her Master was in enemy hands, and the situation felt volatile.
"What exactly are you planning? Do you mean to eliminate me by killing my Master?" Saber demanded.
Caster faltered, caught off guard by the tension. The sight of Kiritsugu unconscious only made things worse. Allen simply shrugged, unconcerned.
From inside the car, Velvet muttered weakly, "I just want to go home…"
"Oke, Saber," Caster said at last. "Don't misunderstand. We're not here to fight—we came to invite you to a banquet, a drinking feast for kings and heroes across all eras. Oh, and Saber… do you have somewhere more suitable? This place looks a bit dirty."
Saber exhaled, realizing they weren't here to fight. For a moment, she remembered the last time she had shared a banquet—with the Knights of the Round Table. Nostalgia stung her heart.
"Very well. Follow me," she said, before turning to Allen. "Can you treat my Master with more care?"
Allen scratched the back of his head. "I didn't have a choice. He tried to attack me from behind. Don't worry—he'll wake up soon. I only gave him a sedative." With that, Allen tossed Kiritsugu lightly toward Saber, who caught him at once. After checking to ensure he was unharmed, she nodded and led them to the castle gardens.
Meanwhile, Archer stored his vehicle inside his treasury portal. Allen couldn't help but feel a stab of envy.
"What are you staring at, mongrel?" Archer sneered with disgust.
"I just envy how easily you can store things in your vault," Allen admitted plainly.
"Hah! What a clown you are," Archer laughed, smug satisfaction in his voice. As King of Kings, it only seemed natural to him that lesser beings would envy his power.
Once they reached the garden, Archer immediately voiced his disdain.
"To think you'd choose such a shabby place for a banquet for kings and heroes—mongrels truly have no sense of refinement."
"Archer, please, show some patience. Accept what we have," Caster replied calmly, his charisma as the son of a god shining through in the way he carried himself with dignity, even in such a modest setting.
"Tch." Archer clicked his tongue, then turned his sharp gaze on Allen.
"Magus—are you going to keep hiding behind that false face? This is a banquet for kings and heroes. Will you continue insulting me with such disrespect?"
Allen gave a polite bow. "My apologies for the discourtesy." He raised a Bounded Field around the garden to keep out intruders, then released his disguise. His form shifted, revealing a boy no older than eleven.
"Forgive my late introduction. My name is Allen Barthomeloi, magus of the Clock Tower. It's an honor to meet you, kings and heroes of all eras," Allen said with aristocratic poise.
Saber's eyes widened in shock. "You're… just a child?"
Archer arched a brow, suddenly intrigued.
"Hahaha! No wonder you lacked proper respect. You're only a child! Still… I'll forgive you this time, for having the courage to reveal yourself before me. I won't pursue it further."
Velvet's face went pale as recognition struck him. "L-Lord Barthomeloi…" he stammered, trembling.
"Oh? You know him?" Caster asked curiously.
Allen, now sitting casually on Medusa's lap, ignored Velvet's reaction.
Velvet nodded quickly, his voice rushed. "He's from one of the oldest magus families in England! A first-class magus, famous even at his young age for hunting Dead Apostles. His family holds the title of Lord, and he was even a candidate to inherit as head of house—but for some reason, he turned it down and gave the position to his sister."
"Hah, it seems my Master knows you well, boy," Caster said, clearly impressed.
Saber's eyes softened slightly as she recalled the past. During her own time, she had heard the Barthomeloi name—Merlin himself had mentioned it once among the council of magi.
"Okay, stop chatting already—when does this banquet actually begin?" Archer was getting tired of their chatter. Though he was somewhat curious about Allen's background, to him it was nothing worth dwelling on. No matter how great Allen's titles might be, they were still far beneath his own.
Iskandar only smiled, breaking open the barrel with his hands. And thus, the Banquet of Kings and Heroes began. Rider poured generous portions for the other Servants, and Medusa quietly accepted her drink from Iskandar, sipping it calmly in silence.
But the moment Archer took a sip of the wine, as always, he voiced his complaints. "What is this swill? Are you really serving such a lowly drink to heroes? This is the kind of cheap wine fit only for slaves!" Archer sneered.
"Huh? Is that so? But I think this wine tastes just fine—it's the best one available in the market," Iskandar replied, clearly oblivious to the fact that even if it was the finest wine he could buy, that didn't make it a truly high-quality drink. After all, Fuyuki was nothing more than a backwater town in Japan.
"You think that because you're a country mutt who doesn't even know what real wine is," Archer mocked, standing up and opening a golden portal. From within, he pulled out a massive vessel filled with wine, along with four golden cups, tossing one toward Caster.
"Take a good look—this is what wine worthy of a king truly is!"
"Ohhh, this is perfection," Caster replied, immediately serving the drinks into the golden cups and passing them to the other heroes.
Rider took the first sip and instantly praised its taste. "Ohhh, this is magnificent—completely different from the wine I brought."
Saber, feeling somewhat uneasy, followed suit and drank. For the first time, she felt her throat refresh with an extraordinary sensation, as though the wine carried a grand and noble essence.
"This wine… it's incredible. It doesn't seem like something crafted by human hands—it feels divine."
Hearing the praise from Saber and Caster, Archer's lips curled into a satisfied smile. It was as if he had finally proven what it meant for a true king to partake in drink.
Rider drank the wine quietly, as if he already knew it—perhaps he'd tasted it before.
"Rider, give me a little," Allen said. Rider poured a cup and handed it to him without hesitation. Allen discreetly scanned the drink; when else would he get the chance to copy something from Gilgamesh's treasury—especially a vintage that might date back to the age of the gods?
"You know where this wine came from, Rider?" Allen asked. Rider only nodded and replied, "It's divine wine made by Dionysus."
"Ah—so you're right. You lived in the age of gods and knew them well. You deserve my praise. In my vault there are weapons and wines whose quality rivals this—this is the taste of a king." Caster merely shook his head and resumed drinking.
"Are you kidding, Archer?" Saber interjected, ready to contradict Archer's earlier assertions. The relaxed atmosphere cracked.
"If you judge a king by nothing but the flavor of one wine, you're no different from a clown," Archer snapped.
"Saber you are a party-popper," Allen muttered, sipping as he listened to the brewing drama.
"It's pathetic to watch. Someone who can't tell good wine shouldn't claim to be a king."
"Okay, okay—cut the arguing, everyone. Saber, calm down," Iskandar said with a smile. "Archer, your wine is magnificent and worthy of being called priceless. But alas, the Holy Grail is not a cup of wine." He fixed his gaze on Archer, Saber, and Rider. "How about a contest of sorts to decide who most deserves the Grail? First, tell us what you would do if you obtained the Grail."
"You country mutts—don't rely on luck. It's obvious the Grail belongs to me. All treasures in this world come from my treasury; some artifacts may be lost over time, but they still belong to their king."
"Have you ever possessed the Holy Grail? Do you even know what it truly is?" Caster asked.
"I don't know," Archer admitted, denying Caster's implication. His answer threw Caster off for a moment.
"Nevertheless, do not judge with dog eyes. The king's treasures exceed the king's own knowledge. If it's an item, it is mine. And for those who wish to take this king's property, thieves must know when to stop."
Allen was speechless at Archer's logic—what kind of thought was that? Should I dissect his head to study it? he wondered.
"Your words sound like the ravings of a madman; there seem to be Servants here losing their minds," Saber scoffed, mocking Archer. Caster simply sipped his wine and watched Archer.
"So if we gain your permission, we can obtain the Holy Grail?" Caster asked with a sly smile.
"That's right—but this king has no reason to hand his treasures to a dog like you."
"Are you some kind of tyrant?" Iskandar demanded.
"Foolish. I give my treasures only to my subjects."
"Then, Caster, if you submit to this king, maybe I'll grant you one or two of those sacred cups."
"Well… it's impossible for me to submit—I am a king of sorcery." Caster stroked his beard, perplexed by Archer's posture.
"Archer, you don't seem to care about the Grail, yet you still take part in this Holy Grail War to claim it."
"Of course. This king won't allow a thief to steal his treasures. That is my principle."
"Do you have any particular meaning behind that?"
"It is law—the law this king established when he began his reign."
"Hmm. A perfect king, holding fast to principles. Still, I'll take it from you, for I am Iskandar, the Conqueror King."
"Fine. If you break the law, I'll force it back, and there's no room for debate."
"Then we'll settle it on the battlefield," Iskandar replied.
Archer still managed to maintain his pride, and Caster showed his relief. They merely lowered their heads at one another, as if acknowledging an unspoken agreement—that whatever bond or rivalry existed between them would ultimately be settled on the battlefield.
"But before that," Iskandar said, raising his cup, "let me finish this fine wine first. Then we can resolve whatever disputes we have in battle."
"Of course. Do you really think I'd waste such a priceless wine the king has offered?"
"How could I ever waste something so precious?"
Saber, who had been observing the conversation between Gilgamesh and Iskandar—neither hostile nor truly friendly—could no longer hold back her question.
"Conqueror King, are you admitting that the original owner of the Holy Grail is someone else, and yet you still plan to seize it by force?"
"Of course," Iskandar answered plainly. "My kingship is conquest—meaning to take and invade."
Saber clenched her heart in silence, forcing back her anger at such a statement, for it reminded her too well of how her own country had been invaded, how she had borne the burden as king to protect her people and her land from foreign aggressors.
"Then what is your wish, should you obtain the Holy Grail?" she asked.
Iskandar met Saber's eyes and replied with conviction:
"To live again."
"You—you—what?!" Velvet blurted out. "Isn't your wish supposed to be world conquest?"
Iskandar simply flicked his Master's forehead.
"Of course I still want that. But what kind of fool would wish to conquer the entire world by using the Grail as a shortcut? Conquest of the world is my lifelong dream, and the Holy Grail is nothing more than a tool to bring me a step closer to it."
"Pathetic," Archer scoffed. "So you dare challenge me over something so trivial as wanting to conquer the world?"
But Caster's expression remained firm. "Even if we Servants can only materialize through magical energy, I'm not satisfied. I want to feel what it means to live again."
Velvet, listening to Iskandar's words, finally understood why her Servant always rejected the idea of relying on spiritual techniques. To him, that was no different than being a wandering ghost in the world.
"Why do you desire a physical body so badly?" Saber asked again.
"Because," Iskandar declared, clenching his fist, "it is the very foundation of conquest."