"Though this might not be the best time, may I ask you a question, Shiomi?"
As they stepped outside toward the chapel, Artoria spoke up.
"Depends on the question. If it's about my Magecraft or trump cards, I'm afraid I can't answer," Shiomi replied with a natural, matter-of-fact expression.
"I understand that, as a Magus, one must always conceal their roots." Artoria shook her head. "What I want to ask is about my sister, the Queen."
Shiomi raised an eyebrow, caught off guard by the topic. "Go ahead."
After he gave his permission, Artoria let out a quiet breath.
"...Is that Morgan truly the Morgan I know?"
The question left Shiomi momentarily puzzled.
It wasn't an inquiry into a Servant's stats, nor simple curiosity about private matters—it was something much simpler: was she really who she appeared to be?
"I'm not quite sure what you mean," Shiomi said, standing in a beam of sunlight streaming through the chapel window.
"Sorry, I didn't phrase that well," Artoria apologized sincerely. "It's just that, from our first battle with Morgan, through our uneasy cooperation, and everything that followed..."
There was no doubt she was Morgan. Even Artoria couldn't imagine anyone impersonating her.
But there was still something... different.
Close, but not quite the same.
Her instincts, always sharp, nudged at the uncertainty, compelling her to ask Morgan's Master directly.
Shiomi paused before replying. "I have two questions for you as well."
"Please."
"Morgan looks a lot like you... When she was a young girl, did she look exactly like you do now?"
Artoria furrowed her brows. "I was adopted by Sir Ector from birth. Until I pulled the Sword of Selection at fifteen and became King, I hardly ever saw my sister."
"Then, the second question." Shiomi turned to look at her. "In your time, was there a place in Britannia called the 'Land of Rain'?"
This question confused Artoria even more. "It's true that Britannia had frequent rain. You could say the whole country was a land of rain. But I've never heard of a specific place called that."
"I see." Shiomi's expression began to settle into understanding.
Still, perhaps because she rarely spoke about Britannian geography, Artoria added,
"Speaking of rain, I remember there was a group of islands called Orkney in the northern seas during my time. It was said to rain year-round there. I only stationed near it once or twice for politics or military campaigns, but during that time, the rain never let up."
Shiomi gave a quiet nod and thanked her. "Thank you. Some things are best confirmed with someone from that era."
"I'm glad I could help."
"As for Morgan," Shiomi paused to think, "she is who she is. Please don't overthink it. At the very least... she wouldn't betray us."
Artoria chuckled softly. "I understand. Since you trust her so deeply, I won't press the matter. Just forget I asked."
Saber took Shiomi's words as a defense of Morgan.
He meant to clarify, but just as he stepped toward the chapel door and placed his hand on it, he felt a presence from outside—an overwhelming pressure colder than winter itself. His heart tightened.
Artoria instantly shifted from conversation to readiness, taking position with Shiomi on either side of the door.
They reached out and slowly pushed the chapel doors open a crack.
A golden figure, haughty and imperious, stood in the open doorway—wearing no golden armor, yet unmistakably radiant.
Gilgamesh.
They both recognized him at once, and Artoria instinctively shifted into battle mode.
"It doesn't look like this was just a random ambush," Shiomi said, glancing at Artoria.
"In other words, slipping out the back before he fully appears isn't an option." She nodded in agreement. "There's one Servant here, and a Master who can match a Servant. If we work together, we should be able to retreat for now."
With everyone's true names exposed, Gilgamesh's Noble Phantasm remained the only unknown.
The treasury filled with countless Noble Phantasms might be his Noble Phantasm—but what comes after that?
Just like the other Servants, he must have a trump card he hasn't revealed yet.
The plan had been to track Kirei and the King of Heroes, then launch a surprise attack together. But the enemy clearly had no intention of waiting—they'd already made the first move.
"So now the only question is... who exactly is he after?" Shiomi extended his hand, and a red spear materialized in his grasp.
Artoria blinked in surprise. "Is that... a Noble Phantasm?"
He wasn't a Servant, yet he wielded a Noble Phantasm.
Could he, like Iri and the others, have found something passed down from the past in this era?
"That's a question for later. Let's go."
After a brief exchange of glances, the two pushed open the chapel doors and stepped outside.
"Oh? So it's just like Kirei said—you came to the church sniffing for intel." Gilgamesh stood there with one hand casually in his pocket. "Saber... and the God-Slayer."
As his words fell, over a dozen golden portals opened around him, each revealing the prototype of a different Noble Phantasm.
"This place is too open. Not ideal for facing long-range flying weapons," Shiomi muttered as he glanced toward the wooded area beside the church. "Let's use the first wave to draw him toward those trees."
"Understood. Be careful." Artoria gripped her invisible sword, silently weighing whether it was time to unleash her Noble Phantasm's true name.
For some reason, the thought of Tenkei Shiomi dying here made her uneasy. She didn't know how she'd face Morgan afterward.
Even though... not even for a day had she ever interacted with that person as a sister, or as siblings.
"Whatever. It might be early, but with only two Servants left, we need at least one or two more to disappear before that thing can activate." Gilgamesh raised his hand, and the Noble Phantasms extended a little further from the portals. "If you don't want to die, struggle with everything you've got, mongrels."
With a casual flick of his left hand, the weapons rained down on them like a storm.
Explosions rocked the ground, a thick cloud of smoke rising and engulfing Shiomi and Artoria. Gilgamesh stood unmoved, as if disappointed that such an attack could be enough to end it.
Suddenly, a spinning sickle sliced through the smoke—aimed straight at him.
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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