Commission -- A Peaceful Summer at Last 002

The tourist town was awash with light in the evening.

It had been a long day in the sun and Ritsuka felt the fatigue one felt from relaxing a little too hard. The sun had a way of sapping the strength of even the most hardy individual and he was feeling decidedly crisp, and exhausted. Ordinarily, he may have already retired to his room for the night but when he had heard that a night market was to take place, he knew he couldn’t miss it.

The main avenue through the small town was lined with stalls, selling everything he could ever think of. There were the food stalls with their typical fare; chips, burgers, hot dogs, and the like. The same food you could find at the beach during the day but with some extras. It seemed that every cuisine from the world over was represented. He saw Chinese themed stalls with fried rice and spicy noodle dishes, dumplings and more. Mexican with tacos and cheesy quesadillas, burritos, guacamole and salsa. European stews and Indian curries, and the bounty of the pacific; endless seafood from fish to oysters to scallops, and more.

And of course Japanese dishes. Sushi. Takoyaki. Dango. Ramen.

They were catering to the wide variety of Heroic Spirits, a piece of home from all corners of the globe. And Ritsuka could see their appreciation, loud voices filled with joy and merriment as they partook eagerly in the feast.

Aside from the more savory, there was also the sweet. Popcorn and cotton candy, chocolate pretzels, toffee apples, crepes, churros, cream puffs, apple fritters, deep fried candy bars, and much, much more. And that wasn’t even including things like ice cream, flavored ice and the endless assortment of sweet drinks.

Besides the food, there were stalls selling souvenirs. Shirts with pictures of the local scenery printed on front, wooden carvings made by the native people, woven dresses and bags, jewelry fashioned from shells and stones, hats, flags, anything you could think of.

And then there were the game stalls.

“Ohoho~!” a loud, booming voice rose above the chatter, drawing Ritsuka’s attention. A towering man with short red hair and thick, muscled arms laughed heartily. “Let us see if you can beat that!”

Iskandar was standing in front of one such game stall, some sort of throwing game where you had to knock down a stack of bottles with as few balls as possible. In truth, these games were effortless endeavors for such beings as Heroic Spirits, and yet they were earnestly partaking in the provided entertainment regardless.

“Would you keep it down?” an annoyed voice snapped back roughly. “I can’t concentrate if you keep running your mouth.”

“Ohohoh~!” Iskandar continued to laugh, unabashed.

The crowd parted, revealing one very annoyed Knight of Treachery. Mordred scowled at Iskandar, no doubt even more pissed off that she had to crane her head back so far just to meet his eyes. She was dressed in a pair of tiny denim shorts and a white tube top, showing off her lithe, muscled form. When he continued to chortle, she scoffed and turned away, picking up one of the balls and taking aim.

Her form was rough but the ball flew from her hand like a rocket, knocking down the set of heavy bottles with a loud clang. Her smug face as they clattered to the ground was swept away when she spotted Ritsuka.

“Master? This isn’t – I’m just indulging this idiot, that’s all,” she instantly said, denying her enjoyment of the activity. She could be such a tsundere, that one.

Iskandar ruined her deception. “Was it not you that challenged me?”

Mordred spluttered. “L-Lies! Slander, I say! Don’t listen to him, Master.”

Ritsuka smiled at her gently. “It seems you’ve knocked them all down in one throw.”

She flushed lightly, crossing her arms across her diminutive chest and looking away. “W-Well, yeah…”

“Master,” Iskandar greeted, a massive smile on his face. “Would you like to join us?” he waved a massive hand as the stall operator stacked up the bottles again, retrieving more balls. “Some friendly competition.”

“Master doesn’t want to do something so lame,” Mordred snapped, only to stiffen as she spotted something over Ritsuka’s shoulder. Turning, he saw what had her so spooked.

Artoria approached, though this was not the Saber-class Servant but Lancer, wielder of the Holy Lance rather than the Holy Sword. Her face was sharper than her younger counterpart, more mature but carried with her the same royal bearing, perhaps a touch more in tune with it. She was taller with a slender figure but curvaceous, her hips and bust full and womanly. Her long hair was free of its usual bun, tied back in a simple ponytail, and she wore a flowing white and gold summer gown.

“Well met, King of Knights,” Iskandar nodded in respect.

Artoria smiled. “Well met, King of Conquerors.”

Those beautiful green eyes passed over Mordred. The Red Knight swallowed, averting her eyes awkwardly as her body tensed, as if ready for a confrontation. Their relationship was a difficult one, a story of misunderstanding, hurt and confrontation. A story that ultimately led to their deaths. A tale of entitlement, and of love, but also pain, and the collapse of a kingdom – nay, a utopia.

And yet...

“May I join you?” Artoria asked, causing Mordred to whip around in surprise. She stared at her father, uncomprehendingly. “This looks like fun. Master, will you join us?”

Ritsuka nodded. “Sure. I’d be happy to.”

Ritsuka stepped forward and picked up one of the balls, weighing it in his hand. While he didn’t have the physical capabilities of a Servant as he was just a simple, modern human, he wasn’t a slouch when it came to physical activities. Setting his feet, he turned side on and cradled the ball by his side, down near his hip.

Taking a steadying breath, he let loose with a throw more reminiscent of a baseball pitch. It hit the bottles in the middle, toppling the stack but through misfortune or a slight lack of skill, one of the bottles remained upright.

Ritsuka sighed dejectedly.

“Don’t worry, Master,” Mordred attempted to cheer him up, patting him on the shoulder roughly. “That was a good throw.”

She was being unusually nice. Perhaps it was to keep her mind and attention away from Artoria who stepped forward.

“Your accuracy was sound,” Artoria said, nodding. Her ponytail swayed behind her. “You simply required a little more force.”

Artoria nailed her throw, the bottles scattering across the floor. Iskandar went next, and then Mordred, who tried not to preen as she achieved the same result as her father. Ritsuka smothered a smile.

Ritsuka went next and managed to knock them all down this time. Iskandar had another throw, but then they stepped aside as Artoria and Mordred went back and forth, the spirit of competition flaring up between them. They didn’t even notice that they’d pulled back.

“I won’t lose,” Mordred declared stubbornly, her fiery disposition overriding her initial timidness.

Artoria smirked. “Nor will I.”

A competition was a competition, though it felt a little redundant. This was not the type of thing either of them would fail at, and so after eight such games, Iskandar made the suggestion to move on to another stall.

“That is agreeable,” Artoria nodded.

“It doesn’t matter what we do,” Mordred grumbled. “I’m going to win anyway.”

There were many different games to choose from. There were those that tested your strength, those that tested your reflexes, and those that simply came down to luck more than anything else. They tried another throwing game first; ring toss. Again, they were both equally matched.

Then came the test of strength.

“Come one, come all~! Who can strike the bell and win the ultimate prize~!” a man was calling out, issuing a challenge to all that passed. The ultimate prize? A massive stuffed gorilla with a mohawk. Ritsuka watched as Astolfo peeled out of the crowd and skipped over, picking up the comically sized hammer while beaming.

“This’ll be a piece of cake~!”

Ritsuka watched as they swung the hammer with all their might, bringing it down on the target lever. While Astolfo wasn’t the most imposing hero, they were still a Heroic Spirit with strength far exceeding a regular mortal. Ritsuka thought for sure that the weight would effortlessly strike the bell and perhaps even shatter it as Astolfo had not held back, and yet the weight barely traveled halfway up the tower before falling back down in defeat.

This was no ordinary game.

“Whaaaat~?” Astolfo stared in shock.

If that volleyball from the game earlier in the day wasn’t a Mystic Code, this thing must be, surely? Several people laughed as Astolfo pouted furiously, demanding another try. This time they managed to make the weight rise slightly higher but it was still far from reaching the top.

“Awww man~!” Astolfo complained.

“A test of strength,” Mordred declared, fired up by Astolfo’s failure. She pointed at Artoria dramatically, throwing down the challenge. “Will you accept?”

Artoria smiled, a smile that only infuriated Mordred. “I accept.”

“Master, you better watch this closely,” Mordred boasted, flexing her arms. “I’m going to show you why I’m the Servant you should pay attention to the most!”

She sauntered over to the hammer and picked it up, hoisting it across her shoulders. Approaching the lever, she gave it a few test swings, effortlessly slashing it through the air as if it were a sword.

Iskandar laughed, hands on hips. “Your son is a rambunctious one, isn’t he?”

Artoria didn’t reply, her smile sad as she watched Mordred set her feet and haul the hammer into the air.

“Hyah~!” she shouted with effort, bringing the hammer down with a loud bang. The power of her swing caused a gust of air to buffet them, the weight rocketing up the tower. It easily surpassed Astolfo’s effort but it stopped short of the top, only making it three quarters of the way up.

“Haaaah?” Mordred glared, pissed. “What the hell is the deal with this thing?”

She had expected a better score.

“Tch, I think this thing is rigged, Master,” she complained as she rejoined them. “Even so, try and beat that!”

Mordred held the hammer out for her father to take. Artoria grasped the shaft in both hands, and Mordred stepped aside.

Turning her head slightly, Artoria shot Ritsuka a small grin. “Cheer for me, Master?”

“What?” Mordred snapped.

“Uh, hah?” Ritsuka rubbed the back of his neck as Mordred swung her gaze onto him, daring him to cheer. “You can do it…?”

Artoria laughed lightly, the sound like the soft chime of bells. “Thank you. That is all the encouragement I need.”

She approached the tower with her head held high like a King, her presence flooding the area, making everyone take immediate notice. Mordred clucked her tongue, looking both annoyed and in awe, hands tightening by her side as her father took up position.

Raising the hammer above her head, there was a moment of suspension – and then with a flare of power, Ritsuka felt mana gathering in a familiar manner.

“Hey, wait,” Mordred said quickly, stepping forward. “Hey, that’s cheating!”

Mana Burst – it was a skill that temporarily strengthens oneself by infusing their body with magical energy, tremendously raising physical parameters. Strength, speed, reflexes – all of these were heightened, pushed beyond the limits of what was normally possible. It was an ability that both Artoria and Mordred shared.

When the hammer struck the target, the ground shook as a powerful wall of air slammed into them and the passing crowd. Mordred swore loudly as the weight flew up the tower and struck the bell, ringing loudly across the festive street.

“And we have a winner~!” the man shouted happily as Artoria faced them with a very pleased look on her face.

“What the hell was that?” Mordred stomped over, pointing at her father. “You cheated!”

“You never stipulated that we couldn’t use any of our skills,” Artoria returned placidly, calm smile in place. A loophole exploited; though was this a chivalrous act? It didn’t feel like it.

Mordred opened her mouth but no words came out, flapping uselessly in silence. Stunned speechless, she looked furious and embarrassed, ears turning red.

“Your prize!” the game operator handed over the massive stuffed gorilla. Artoria took it gladly, forgetting herself for a moment as she rubbed her cheek against the fluffy toy.

“She can be a sneaky one when she wants to be,” Iskandar said, slapping Ritsuka on the shoulder hard enough to sting. “Master, you should be careful around a King that will find advantage where she can. They are the most formidable. It isn’t easy to deny a King unless you yourself are a King.”

“What do you mean?”

But he wasn’t willing to elaborate, simply smiling with a knowing look in his eyes.

A game of luck went no better for Mordred, seeing as her luck was lower than Artoria’s by a full level. Seeing Artoria’s smug face in contrast to Mordred’s despair as she kneeled in the dirt, screaming at the heavens was certainly a sight for the ages.

“Master,” she moaned as he helped her up off the ground. “The King – she is a beast.”

“Don’t give up,” he encouraged, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Normally, Mordred would dislike such presumptive physical contact but she didn’t shy away, instead leaning in slightly. “I know you can win.”

“Do you really think so, Master?” she pouted. It made her look years younger than she was, bleeding away the hard lines of her usually stern expressions. In this moment, she looked so much like Artoria Saber that Ritsuka was briefly stuck dumb.

They always looked alike, that was true. But like this, if he were to see them side by side wearing the same clothes, they could pass for identical twins. It wasn’t often that Mordred looked soft, feminine. It was something she chose gladly, putting forth a strong, commanding presence.

He liked that about Mordred. But he also liked this Mordred too.

“I know so,” he finally said, nodding. She met his eyes. “These losses are only a setback. You aren’t finished, right?”

She perked up, filled with strength by his words. “No, I’m not, Master. I won’t let you down.”

Their conversation lightened her mood but even still, Mordred took to complaining loudly to Iskandar as they continued onwards to vent her frustrations, Artoria hanging back to walk with Ritsuka. He smiled at her, one she returned, her emerald eyes glittering beneath the light of the lanterns the staff had hung between stalls. The massive gorilla toy she won was hugged to her chest, in a position that many men could only dream of being in.

“This has been enjoyable,” she said suddenly, out of the blue.

Ritsuka nodded. “It has.”

“You treat Mordred well.”

He chuckled, rubbing his neck. “I try.”

“I know that she can be difficult,” Artoria said softly. “And much of it is my doing.”

He shrugged. “I don’t find her very difficult at all.”

“Perhaps she is only difficult with me,” she conceded. “Nevertheless, I thank you for your care. It lightens my heart, truly.”

“Have you spoken with her?” he asked.

“...I have not,” she confessed, expression sad. “Not truly. This outing is the first time we have been in prolonged contact without… a crisis to avert.”

Wasn’t that the truth. It was rare for them to have any downtime to truly relax, and usually when that happened, something always popped up in an attempt to ruin it. Ritsuka caught a flash of pink in the corner of his eye and when he turned, he saw a fox tail disappear behind a nearby stall.

Speak of the devil… but he didn’t have time for that right now. Whatever mischief she was planning or enacting had to wait.

He just hoped it wasn’t too horrible.

“I have very much enjoyed this time around her,” Artoria smiled wistfully. “Perhaps a King should never admit thus, but I have made countless mistakes in my life. My handling of Mordred is one of them.”

“Would you like to be alone with her?” Ritsuka offered. “Iskandar and I could step away, and let you two…”

Bond? Reconnect? Fight to the death? That last one was always a possibility. It was something that had already happened in history.

“I would – but not tonight,” Ritsuka felt her hand touch his arm, fingers light, fleeting. The hair on his neck stood on end as she looked at him with emotion, her eyes drawing him in. “Perhaps another time, should my courage not fail me.”

“Your courage is without question,” Ritsuka said. “Never doubt it.”

“What are you two talking about?” Mordred groused, hands on hips. Artoria quickly looked away, face carefully controlled. Ritsuka laughed awkwardly.

“Oh, you know…” he floundered momentarily. “Just about courage.”

Mordred blinked. “Courage?”

“Yeah.”

Her lips pursed in thought. “I don’t get it.”

“Another challenge~!” Iskandar boomed, waving one of his large arms above his head before pointing. Ritsuka followed his finger and stared, surprised. He hadn’t expected to see one of these here.

This stall was a popular, if somewhat outdated staple at Japanese festivals. Kingyo-sukui – goldfish scooping. It was a traditional game where the player scoops goldfish out of the water using a paper scooper. It wasn’t a competitive game, in truth – though people were known to make friendly wagers with friends to see how many goldfish they could catch. It required speed and precision, and also care as the scooper could tear very easily. It continued until the scooper was broken or incapable of scooping any longer.

Now wasn’t this a nostalgic sight?

There were already a few Servants taking part, mostly of Japanese origin. Ritsuka spotted Sakata Kintoki with his face lowered above the water as he awaited his chance to strike while in the corner, sitting serenely was Sasaki Kojirou, arms neatly folded as he reclined in his chair. In his lap was a small clear plastic bag filled with water and two handsome goldfish. Further along was Oda Nobunaga, her pert rear swaying back and forth as she scooped goldfish with an intense expression on her pretty face, completely defenseless.

Ritsuka tried not to stare too hard.

Mordred tilted her head, watching for a moment. Ritsuka thought that she would deny such a silly, childish game for something a little more physical but to his surprise, she nodded.

“Let’s do it,” she said, sounding strangely eager.

Did Mordred like fish?

The small artificial ponds were lit up with lights underneath, the water crystal clear. Handing over the required money, Mordred and Artoria both took up position at the same station on opposite sides from one another.

“This time, I will not lose,” Mordred declared.

It would have been very impressive if in the next moment, she didn’t immediately tear her scooper. Mordred made a sound of distress and held it up, the paper ripped from too much force.

“W-What, no~! I need another!”

Artoria covered her mouth with a hand, hiding her smile.

“Don’t laugh at me!” Mordred roared.

Mordred received another scooper and was much more careful this time. Meanwhile, Artoria was inspecting the fish critically, observing the way they moved. Ritsuka wasn’t sure if she was gathering intel on goldfish movements or if she was looking for the prettiest one, but compared to Mordred who was trying to gather as many as possible, she appeared to be after a specific fish.

Iskandar stroked his beard, fingers scratching at his chin. “Why do I feel the urge to conquer such a petty stall?”

That was the hidden power of goldfish scooping. Japanese teenagers for decades had known this pull, a call to arms, you could say. Their pride telling them they were too old for such trivial pursuits, yet unable to deny the yearning of their heart; to catch a fish and present it to their crush, or take it home themselves.

“Why don’t you give it a go?” Ritsuka suggested.

“Hmm,” Iskandar appeared torn, though one look at his Master’s face convinced him. “It appears I must meet this challenge.”

As Iskandar claimed a scoop and began fishing for his own goldfish, Ritsuka was engulfed in shadow. Someone large loomed behind him and turning, he came face to face with a ridiculously large chest!

Taking a hasty step back, he looked up and saw who it was.

Barghest was a woman of considerable size. While she wasn’t as tall as Iskandar, she wasn’t that far off. Dressed in an incredibly short white denim mini skirt and a khaki work shirt tied at the ends beneath her massive bust, her rippling abs were on full display, as well as her muscled thighs and calves leading down to a pair of white, black and green sneakers. Long blonde hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and atop her head was a white beret, sticking up in two places like a pair of dog ears.

A member of Faerie Britain's Knights of the Round Table.

She dwarfed many of those around her and was hard to miss, though she had snuck up on him without a sound.

“Master,” she greeted. She had unique eyes, one teal-blue, the other pinkish-red. Heterochromia.

“Barghest,” he returned, smiling. “How have you been?”

“I have been well, Master. The animals of this island are healthy.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed. I spent the day hiking, ensuring they remain undisturbed. As this is a protected zone, I was worried that our presence may disturb them but it appears that Chaldea has taken measures to minimize our impact here.”

Ritsuka thought of one person in particular, the mastermind behind all of this. “Da Vinci thinks of everything.”

Barghest smiled. “It appears that way, yes.”

“Hoyah~!” Mordred called, holding up her dish filled with goldfish. In contrast, Artoria’s bowl contained only a single goldfish – but at a glance, it was clearly the biggest one available. She had gone for quality instead of quantity.

Mordred’s scooper was almost in tatters while Artoria’s was pristine. She could continue if she wanted but she seemed more than satisfied with her catch, bowing out.

“I win,” Mordred declared smugly, thrusting her small chest out in victory.

“It appears so,” Artoria conceded.

Barghest peered at the pair of them, interested. “These two feel familiar…”

Their fish were bagged and Mordred beamed, holding it up to her face as she watched them swim around within.

“I caught the King,” Artoria told him, presenting it to him. “For you, Master.”

“Oh – uh, thanks,” he took it, wondering if she understood the significance of what she’d just done.

Artoria noticed Barghest then, though he wasn’t sure how she could have missed her before that. She nodded at the hulking woman, one that Barghest returned after a moment.

“I’m hungry,” Mordred declared loudly, boldly staring at Barghest. “Should we get something to eat?”

Artoria nodded quickly, bringing a smile to Ritsuka’s face. It didn’t matter which Artoria it was; she had a love for food.

“I will see you later, Master,” Barghest said.

“You won’t join us?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I have my duties that must be upheld.”

Duties? But before he could ask, she was already leaving after a small wave, the crowd parting without effort to let her through.

“I like her,” Mordred said, grinning. “She understands.”

Ritsuka shot her a perplexed look. “Understands?”

But she didn’t elaborate.

They made their way back towards the food stalls, Iskandar remaining behind. Ritsuka could hear his enthusiastic boasts, even when they were halfway down the street.

“What should we have, Master?” Artoria asked, her expression somewhat silly as she glanced around with clear desire. The regal air of a King had retreated and only that of a glutton remained. This was the Monarch of Food.

He laughed. “I don’t know. There is so much to choose from…”

There was anything he could ever want. He’d had takoyaki already, earlier in the day. Perhaps he should branch out and try a different cuisine? At that moment, a particularly strong scent of grilled, fatty meats drenched in spices met his nose, causing his mouth to instantly water. Looking around, he spotted the offending stall. An older gentleman was roasting skewered meats over a charcoal grill, filling the air with such a delightful aroma.

Artoria also caught the scent and wiped at her mouth, hiding the fact that she was beginning to drool. “This way, Master. I think I’ve found something good.”

Mordred didn’t argue, following obediently, just as taken with the delicious smell as they were. Ritsuka sat on a stool, flanked on both sides by father and son. The menu was pinned to the counter; they had beef and chicken, lamb, pork, and then more exotic fare like horse and camel. They also had seafood options; fish, scallops – and freshwater eel.

“What would’ja like?” the man asked, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief. The grill was piping hot and Ritsuka could feel the heat from where he sat.

“Lamb,” Artoria said at once.

Mordred’s eyes narrowed as she read the menu over and over. “I will… take lamb.”

It appears that they held similar tastes.

“I’ll have chicken,” Ritsuka selected.

He handed over some money, paying for the three of them. As they waited for their food, he heard someone shriek behind him. Turning, he saw Illya scrambling as Chloe gave chase, something strange and slimy in her hands. She was trying to wipe it on her.

...no doubt, she was getting her back for earlier.

Illya’s panicked face was quite comical as she hurriedly ducked between the legs of Lancelot who almost dropped his crepe, bouncing off Tristan’s chest and almost tripping over Gawain’s feet.

“Woah,” Lancelot said, saving his dessert only for Chloe to bump him. It fell to the ground with a splat.

His look of dejection was so pathetic that Ritsuka had to look away before it crushed his soul.

When their food arrived, they dug in. Ritsuka could taste it even before he bit into it, the spices and herbs filling his nose with warmth. The chicken was succulent, juices exploding across his tongue as he bit down. The spiciness blended well with the charcoal flavor from the grill, and he found himself devouring his first skewer with a sudden, ravenous hunger. It was so tender that it practically melted apart in his mouth.

“This is good,” he said, licking his lips. His fingers were covered in the flavorful juices and so he licked those clean as well, manners be damned. “Really, really good!”

He didn’t have to tell Mordred and Artoria, the expressions of their faces told him enough. They were in ecstasy, features filled with delight. He watched as soft, pink lips parted, perfectly white teeth biting down on their lamb, the rich juices coating their lips. Ritsuka swallowed as Artoria made a sound low in her throat, an expression of pleasure that was suited to something else. Slowly, she pulled the skewer away, the piece of lamb remaining pressed between her pretty lips.

...she was just eating, and yet…

Mordred shivered as she tore into her skewer, her actions more viscous, rough. The sound she made as she chewed and swallowed was almost identical to that of her father, eyes fluttering shut. Some juice escaped her lips and rolled down the side of her chin.

“Mordred,” he pointed subtly at his own chin. “You’ve – uh, got something…”

She gazed at him lazily, almost in a trance before realizing what he was trying to say without saying. Hastily she wiped at her mouth, flushing scarlet.

“O-Oh,” she wavered, mortified. “Master, I… it’s really good?”

It was. He couldn’t fault their enjoyment but did they have to be so…

Turning Artoria’s way, he saw her suckling on the end of the now empty skewer, completely unaware of what she was doing. When it was cleaned off completely, she set it down before grabbing her next one, bringing it to her mouth swiftly.

She was completely absorbed in her eating.

A King has a King-sized appetite, Ritsuka recalled someone telling him once. It was probably Artoria Saber but he couldn’t be completely sure. These words rang true as he watched her older, more mature counterpart enjoy her meal, an almost manic gleam in her eyes.

“Master,” she suddenly said after swallowing another morsel. “May I order more?”

“Uh – yeah, I don’t mind.”

“Excellent,” she beamed at him, the vision of perfection ruined by the small smudge of fatty grease in the corner of her mouth.

“Hey, no fair,” Mordred slapped the counter. “Master, can I also order more?”

It was sure to hurt his wallet but Chaldea had made sure he was adequately prepared for the week. That meant more than enough money to spend. He was pretty sure the Servant’s had been provided funds, as well.

“Go ahead.”

They ordered a piece of everything, and soon they had a feast in front of them. Artoria and Mordred tore into their food with gusto, and Ritsuka joined them at a much more reasonable pace. The lamb was rich, seasoned to perfection, and fatty in the best way. The beef flaked away in his mouth, a mixture of salty and sweet. The eel was coated in a sticky glaze, the flesh melting on his tongue and infusing his taste buds with that smokiness of the grill and fattiness of the eel.

They ate, and ate, and ate until Ritsuka thought he might burst. He’d never had such a satisfying meal and he couldn’t help but wonder if this food was some type of Noble Phantasm? Maybe it was the grill. Were there any heroes with tales about their godlike cooking? The man running the stall just seemed like a regular human, though.

Was it Magecraft?

Ritsuka soon found himself slumped against the counter, belly full, his manners all but vanished under the assault of flavors. They also served drinks and the man had provided them all with a complimentary ice tea, so he sipped on it as his cheek pressed into the wood.

He felt… absolutely stuffed to the gills.

“Master,” Artoria cooed in his ear, her hot breath gusting across his cheek. He shivered, bolting upright.

“Artoria,” he returned, facing her.

She smiled, a balled up tissue in hand. She had cleaned herself up, her mouth clear of the evidence.

“Thank you for the meal,” she said earnestly, bowing her head slightly. “It was delightful.”

Ritsuka returned her smile. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

“Mordred also enjoyed it, I think.”

Much like Ritsuka had been, Mordred was slumped against the counter, her head resting on folded arms. Was this what they called a food coma? She was out like a light, the soft breathing causing her back to rise and fall gently, her usually stern face smooth and young.

“I’m glad,” he repeated.

Artoria had a strange look in her eye, one he couldn’t quite work out. It didn’t make him feel nervous, per se – but all of a sudden, he felt aware. Almost like he was being judged.

“Artoria?”

“We’ve a week together, here,” she began, bringing her hands together in front of her shapely bust. “And so I was wondering if perhaps one evening, you could spare some of your time for me?”

“Oh?”

“I should like to show you my gratitude,” she revealed. “If you will allow it, Master.”

“You don’t have to…”

“But it is what I wish to do,” she said firmly. “Are you opposed?”

No. He wasn’t.

“Of course not,” he told her. “I would be more than happy to spend time with you.”

Those gorgeous eyes of hers like twin emerald gems glittered happily, her beautiful face radiant with her joy. Ritsuka felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catching in his chest. Any hot blooded male would feel the same when gifted with such an expression.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Anytime, Artoria.”

“Chloe~~~!”

There was a loud crash a couple of stalls down, one that jolted Mordred awake. She sat up so fast she almost flew off her stool, managing to catch herself at the last second.

“What the fuck was that?” she snarled, looking around. Ritsuka leaned back, glancing down the street and saw Illya sprawled on the ground, tangled in the ropes and canvas from one of the stalls. In her attempt to escape, she’d run right through one of the establishments.

And seated on her back was Chloe, her expression victorious as she dumped that slimy thing on her head. Now that he had a better look, it actually looked like a slime from a video game… but where had she gotten such a thing? Another Heroic Spirit? Did any of them produce… something like that?

“Nooooo~!!” Illya shrieked.

“Ahaha~!” Chole laughed. “Get slimed~!”

...what was even happening?