D' Ultimate Lich King

Flandre's comment stopped Rider mid-sentence. The renowned King of Conquerors, flustered, scratched his head, unsure how to proceed.

Offering a used ladle to such a cute girl was indeed impolite, but he'd forgotten to bring extras.

He could ask for more cups; after all, they were in their home; surely they had plenty.

The King of Conquerors stroked his chin, too embarrassed to speak.

Just as the awkward silence descended, another magical surge rippled through the air.

Rider's eyes lit up; his rescue had arrived.

"You're finally here! I thought you'd gotten lost,"

Rider laughed heartily, but a furious voice cut him short.

"The jokes end now, mongrel,"

With familiar arrogant words, a blinding golden light flashed before them.

Illya stiffened; Arthas, sensing her fear, squeezed her hand reassuringly.

"Archer, you've arrived. And Saber."

Not only Archer, but the silent Saber had arrived; three powerful Servants were now in Einzbern.

"What's this? Why are they here?"

Even Flandre felt the pressure; she eyed Archer and Saber warily, questioning Rider.

Rider, in contrast to Flandre's tension, remained nonchalant.

"Ah, I met them on the street and invited them for a drink—they're late, Gilgamesh and girl. But they walked, unlike me; can't blame them."

The armored Archer, with ruby eyes, stared down at Rider; the silent Saber also glared, a hint of indignation in her expression.

Waver covered his face, mortified; he'd offended two powerful Servants; was there anyone stupider than this big oaf?

"You chose a terrible place for a feast. Your taste is appalling. I came all this way; how do you atone?"

Archer broke the silence.

"Don't say that; have a drink,"

Rider laughed, offering Archer the filled ladle.

Expecting Rider's attitude to provoke Archer, they were surprised when he calmly accepted and drained the ladle.

Illya was astonished; Arthas quietly explained.

"Archer is a 'King'; this mysterious golden Heroic Spirit, calling himself 'King,' couldn't refuse Rider's drink."

A challenge between Kings? Illya mused. Archer spoke after drinking.

"What is this swill? Using this for a heroic battle?"

Archer said disdainfully.

"Really? I bought it from the market; it's good wine."

"You don't know wine, you mongrel,"

Archer scoffed; a spatial distortion appeared—the prelude to a Noble Phantasm summoning; Illya and Waver felt a chill.

But instead of a weapon, Archer produced a set of exquisitely crafted drinking vessels, encrusted with dazzling jewels. Heavy golden flasks contained a clear, colorless liquid.

"Behold, 'King's Wine.'"

"Oh, I'm touched,"

Rider said, unfazed, happily pouring the new wine into four goblets.

Saber, still wary of the enigmatic Archer, hesitated before accepting the offered goblet.

Flandre also accepted a goblet, but Archer cast a disdainful look her way.

"Wait, this is a King's feast; what right does this girl have to sit here, drinking wine meant only for Kings?!"

"Though you say that, I actually came to thank this young lady."

Rider looked embarrassed by Archer's words.

He hadn't given it much thought when he'd met Archer and Saber on the street; he'd simply invited them for a drink.

But now it seemed Archer had completely misunderstood…

"Are you joking, Rider? Or do you want your filthy blood to stain this King's feast?!"

"Enough, Archer. She deserves respect for eliminating the rogue Servant; don't tell me you, a powerful Servant, would tolerate that Servant's indiscriminate slaughter."

Like Rider, Saber felt gratitude towards Flandre. Gilgamesh's actions had deeply offended Saber, provoking unprecedented rage.

"Tch, those filthy ants, I'll deal with them later. You getting a freebie is annoying."

Archer grumbled, seemingly no longer concerned about Flandre's supposed lack of eligibility to partake in the King's wine.

Ignoring Archer's pride, Rider laughed heartily, eager to sample Archer's superior wine.

While all Kings, Rider, the King of Conquerors, differed from Saber and Archer; Rider's life was one of constant warfare and conquest; he hadn't experienced much peace and prosperity as a King.

His life was war; he even died on the battlefield.

Because of this, he had never tasted, or even seen, such exquisite wine as Archer had produced. To him, the wine he'd bought from the street market was already a rare delicacy.

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