To Summon A God, TAG;; Gilgamesh

There was a calmness in her character today, even as she moved about the mansion of a house - well, compared to most of the other houses in Fuyuki, it was easily considered that - that she had purchased years ago. It had been so long... A year and a half since the last Grail War. And this time, Sierra would not be beat by any Einzbern or any other, for that matter. She knew what Servant it was that she had wanted, and she would have it. She would have what would equivocate to the most powerful Servant in the entire Magus War.

A smile came across her face. She was likely the only candidate in this entire war that would even have a fleeting chance to control such a Servant. Berserker servants alone are hard to control when they are utilizing their madness, but this particular Servant was even more difficult. Hercules would be a legendary Berserker class, and under the power of a Magus of her caliber, he would be nothing less than godly. Nobody would be able to stand in their way, not even an army of Servants. Illyasviel might have been a powerful Magus, but her skill was questionable. From what Sierra had learned, she had used Berserker as her only weapon. That was not something the young Barthomeloi would allow. Her Servant would be only one of the many tools she would utilize.

Having set herself up in the basement, she checked again. The circle had been drawn in blood - her own blood, but also carved into the floor just slightly using her wind magic. The lines, however, were not visible unless one were looking for them; they would easily be overlooked by anyone, not to mention that considering this area was usually covered by a large and rather cumbersome rug, hopefully nobody would think to look under here. She checked again, still holding the grimoire in her hand, open to the page that she would need. She did not think she would have to reference it, but she would also not allow imperfections. Her catalyst was ready as well; she was sure, almost one hundred percent positive, that it would summon the Servant that she wanted. The most powerful Servant their could be.

She had prepared well for this. She had gone to the point of researching everything there was to know, and to find a catalyst that would work. She had come across, by way of a number of underhanded methods, a tablet with ancient Greek writing on it. The writing was faded and worn, but even a historian could have looked at it and said it was certainly Greek, albeit a rather unreadable version. She had crossreferenced some of the glyphs and could rather clearly make out the name of the Servant she wanted... As so she hoped.

"Ye first, O silver, O iron." The power already began to swirl around her, lifting her hair gently. The faint marks of her modified Command Seal could be seen upon the length of her arm, under the edge of her chin and the side of her neck and, were she not wearing a boisterous tank top, along the side of her body as well, reaching down to her hip.

"O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract. Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg." Her words held a power to them as the floor lit up beneath her, glowing just slightly under her feet. It would have been clear to any witness that she was a truly powerful magus; the sheer power emanating from her spoken words and the look of concentration upon her face would have told such.

"Let the descending winds be as a wall. Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition. And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead! Set. Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade. If thou submittest to my calling and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond." Her arm began to glow now, the command seals resembling vines and thorns upon her arm as they twisted, glowing a dark, almost bloody red along the length of her arm. Some might have thought the effect made her look like a truly dark, dangerous woman.

"I make my oath here. I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heavens. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades. Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past thy restraining rings," The power swirled more now, shimmering brighter and brighter as the chant began to reach its apex, swirling Sierra's hair about her. Her eyes snapped open before the final line, setting the stage for the summon.

"And be thou the hands that protect the balance-!"

A flash of light ricocheted around the room, momentarily blinding Sierra as the power whipped and swirled around her. She could feel it crawling up from her toes to her nose and to the ends of each finger, filling her body with absolute power and control. Her command seals tingled lightly, stretching along her arm and side as they locked in upon the Servant she had summoned. She had to have done it; she had to have summoned the most powerful Servant of them all. Any Servant would be formidable under her rule, but the servant she wanted was undoubtedly the most powerful. As the light cleared and her vision began to return, however, she was likely to find quite the surprise...

The images from that night still remained burned vividly into his memory. She stood against the hail of divine mysteries, if only barely, battered and broken like a child's plaything. He had been sure that she would fall to him that night, and that she who dared refuse him and his generous offer to become his possession would perish. He had without effort swallowed up her most powerful attack, and - believing his victory to be inevitable - had carelessly advanced upon her. As he had briefly called off the attack to gaze upon her corpse, she had emerged without warning; with one swing of her Holy Sword, she dealt him a fatal blow. It was in that moment that Gilgamesh, known as Sha naqba imuru, fell to the Once and Future King of Britain in an unexpected demonstration not of power, but of protection. In those last moments, he had realized that if he was to be defeated, then he was glad it was Arturia Pendragon who proved to be such a worthy enemy. And without a thought of the Fake-priest or the fate of the world, he disappeared into the ether.

That was his last memory of reborn life: an honorable defeat against an enemy whom was not necessarily superior, but certainly worthy recognition. Gilgamesh had found that the other side was not as he had remembered it. Maybe it was because of his experience during the climax of the Fourth Heaven's Feel...he was not sure. But he did not feel dead...or rather, he did not feel as if he did not exist. He now felt a feeling of self-awareness that had not existed before the Grail had called him forth under the orders of Magus Tokiomi Tohsaka. He knew he was alive...he just didn't feel the breath of life within him. He could not see, nor could he hear...but he could think. And he could feel. That was enough to keep the Golden Knight originally summoned by the House of Tohsaka very much alive and aware within the Throne of Heroes. He waited, lost within the darkness...it felt as if he was suspended by some substance around him, when truthfully he knew there was only darkness. So within the darkness Gilgamesh did the only thing he could do: he patiently waited.

And now, one-and-a-half years after his defeat at the hands of the King of Knights, he felt a sensation he hadn't experienced in just over two decades. His feet finally felt as if they had touched upon solid ground. He was disappointed to see the floor beneath him was still made of darkness. But now he could move...his body was responding to his command once more. He was under his own control...and the nostalgic feeling from twenty years ago returned. It almost felt like someone was tugging at strings attached to him. As if some unknown force was trying to guide him in the right direction. Gilgamesh's suspicions were proven true when a sudden light appeared at the end of the tunnel. He did not bother trying to run to it, nor did he attempt to obtain it. He knew that the light would come to him, should he accept its desire to do so. As the dim glow of light barely flickered like a far-off candle, he heard a voice.

"Ye first, O silver, O iron!"

The light sprang into existence with those words alone, but it remained a tiny, flickering flame that threatened to be extinguished at any moment.

"O stone of the foundation, O Archduke of the Contract. Hear me in the name of our great teacher, the Archmagus Schweinorg."

The light now seemed to pulsate slightly, as if it were being given a life of its own. In a sense, that much was true. A sliver of a smirk crept across the thin lips of the Original Hero as the familiar chant was spoken. Yet, he also found something unpleasant was occuring...not in the event itself...but a particular element of the event now taking place. Truly, only Gilgamesh the King could find a reason to be critical of now being summoned after a year of stillness and inky blackness. On top of that, one might find the reason for his displeasure laughable...but to him, the voice itself was irksome. It spoke with confidence and humble authority. But it wasn't the tone that bothered him...it was the pitch of the voice. It didn't sound grating: even the voice itself was smooth and elegant, refined. But amidst all of these facts, he still found one reason to feel a stigma towards the voice.

It was the voice of a female.

A female, a creature inferior in all aspects to their male counterparts. A human made to serve man as court entertainers, and possessions to be saved for the kitchen, the garden, or the bedroom at a man's whim. Such a creature...such a person...was calling upon him with the same words spoken to him twenty years ago by Tokiomi Tohsaka. He had answered the call then, but this time he felt hesitance. Still, he listened to the voice as it spoke...there was something about it. Something within the voice itself that said if he was not Gilgamesh, He Who Saw the Deep, that he would have no choice in the matter. The sheer power of the mystic words being spoken made the bright star "feel" more appealing to him...because an individual with such power to invoke a summoning could only be a magus doubly more powerful than that boring plebeian from last time. So, despite his mild displeasure, the smirk of intrigue refused to leave his flawless face.

"Let the descending winds be as a wall. Let the gates in all directions be shut, rising above the crown, and let the three-forked roads to the Kingdom revolve. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Shut. Five perfections for each repetition. And now, let the filled sigils be annihilated in my stead! Set. Let thy body rest under my dominion, let my fate rest in thy blade. If thou submittest to my calling and if thou wilt obey this mind, this reason, then thou shalt respond."

This...isn't the same as before.

He thought to himself, beginning to almost tremble with excitement. His tiny smirk had spread wider, so much so he seemed close to splitting open a grin. He knew the voice was female, and he hated it for that fact. But this was not the voice of a slave girl, the likes of which whose virginity he had many times claimed before the eyes of a husband to be. No. This voice reminded him of her. It spoke with power, and dignity. It commanded his attention, and had he been any lesser spirit, he would have been sucked into the star and summoned by now. But his staggeringly stubborn ego allowed him to just watch as the star grew in intensity and size, spreading around the darkness much quicker than when he had been called before. He was swayed, now, by personal interest to listen to the voice's plea. It did not dare order his appearance...it pleaded for it, yet it did so with its head held high even whilst bowing before his superiority to all things.

"I make my oath here. I am that person who is to become the virtue of all Heavens. I am that person who is covered with the evil of all Hades. Thou seven heavens, clad in a trinity of words, come past thy restraining rings,"

The light spread even further into the darkness with those words. It practically swallowed up the inky blackness of the world around him, and Gilgamesh knew full well what his reply would be. For against his will he stood on the paper-thin precipice over an endless abyss of purified light. If he stepped fully into it, then he could manifest once more in the material world as a Servant to a Magus - clearly a powerful one at that - and seek the entertainment and amusement he had for so long missed since being felled by that foreign blade. His teeth were bared in an almost excited grin, and he decided to - for the sake of his own personal pleasure - make a quick change before he accepted this invitation.

Briefly, did a key appear in his hand, and almost instantly a golden liquid poured itself upon him. It clung to him, as if it were its only means of survival. It filled his eyes, nose, ears, mouth, and not an inch of his body was left uncovered. Then, it slithered back into the ether, revealing a much younger-looking Gilgamesh. He had the same golden hair - albeit let down now - and a softer skin-tone. He could be no older than seventeen, but still he was Gilgamesh. He had taken the only measure he saw necessary to answer this call. Normally, the fact a woman was to be his Master would be enough reason for him to refuse her plea. Yet, the sheer power of the magical words spoken...the pure insistence that he answer the call, and the staggering will behind the words. These changed his mind, and he heard the voice call out the final line.

"And be thou the hands that protect the balance-!"

Instantly and without hesitation, Gilgamesh calmly stepped into the light. The hand had been not only offered to him, but thrust forward into his face to accept. It promised not to use him as a crutch, but to utilize him as the best tool for whatever craft he was used for. Servant Archer, Gilgamesh, decided to answer the call. He disappeared from the Throne of Heroes, and seamlessly returned to the world of the living. For him, the process was that plain and simple and nondescript. But the golden-hued eyes of his Master would have been left to behold a very different sight had the light not blinded her for the instant it took. The light, the magical air circulating about as the ritual was completed, all these things appeared as normal. But the change would be in the artifact itself. It began to levitate into the center of the room, slowly beginning to reverse its aging process. The tablet's cracks and fissures slowly repaired themselves, and the dust and dirt and weathered stone all yielded to the power of the Throne of Heroes.

The cuneiform upon the stone began to glow brightly, and the stone itself had been restored to its prime. Then, it tore itself asunder into thirteen fragments. These fragments twisted and turned and ground themselves into a fine powder. Then, the powder began to fall. This all happened in less than an instant, but the power itself did not fall upon the ground. It trickled down from a point, and then began to fan outward and spill quickly into a shape: the shape of a human being. But as the light cleared, Sierra would be left to see none of this, but instead: a man. Yet, the aura that emanated from him would not be that of a human or Magus. Unless the girl had been around a Servant before, it would be a totally new feeling she would almost inevitably be subjected to. He appeared in the instant the light faded away, and stood upon the powered remains of the tablet.

Gilgamesh appeared clad in very little: no shirt, but this left Sierra able to see his sculpted body. The legends say that Gilgamesh was given glory in all ways even upon his birth. That his body was magnificent, like a bull. In that regard, truly the legend could be seen as accurate. His muscles were not overbearingly large, but clearly held within them even in life more power than any other person. Well, save for one, in his time. Still, Gilgamesh's perfect physique was undeniable, and even more of it would have been seen were it not for loincloth he wore. It was clearly made of lion's hide, and secured about his waist and between his legs. Upon his wrists were magnificent, long bands of gold. About his neck, a silver necklace with golden teeth decorating it...clearly not teeth belonging to a human. Gilgamesh did not look around just yet...he needed to clarify something. The grail urged him to do so politely, but he was not one to be swayed by the magic governing the grail...which, to his surprise, must surely still exist. But even that was not yet his concern.

With royal haughtiness did he regard her: his position firm and upright, shoulders squared and feet shoulder-width apart. His fiery gaze case upon her with a mixture of surprise, disdain, respect, and curiosity. He raised an eyebrow now, and simply shrugged, a cocky grin decorating his face.

"Hm. I doubt a woman could properly be so insistent when she comes knocking at my door, but let me ask you a question anyway." He took a step forward, and proudly carried himself over to the girl. He was stunned for a moment...he, the King of Heroes...because this girl...she looked just like...Enkidu. Her hair was the same...and for a moment -if the girl looked for such faltering- she would see his eyes widen not in fear, but interest. His eyebrow lowered, and he continued his question, needing to establish a certain fact before he could have any other business with this woman. His arrogant grin had thus faded into a more serious, even remotely respectful expression. His tone was also less sarcastic, even if only for a moment.

"You, who summon me with such fervor. Are you the Magus who dared to summon the King of Sumeria and the Builder of the walls of Uruk? Are you...my Master?"

Beauty of another was something that was not so easily recognized by the young Barthomeloi, though more common in the case of women than of men. She believed herself to be the most beautiful creature out there in existence; she had every right to, considering the status she held in the world she lived. What appeared before her, however, was not entirely what she had expected. Were she a more naive girl, she would have stood there, dumbfounded in his presence. She was not, however, as such; she stood, shoulders held high and confident, as she regarded the Servant before her.

His regal nature was not unknown, and his presence would have been daunting to anyone lower than Sierra. She had not herself seen a Servant before, but regardless, her strength and nobility allowed her to hold her ground steadily in this man's presence. He was quite arguably the picturesque man; tall, broad-shouldered, with shimmering golden locks and equally shimmering orbs. His hair took on a slightly tousled nature, giving him the typical 'bad boy' image that so many young teenagers were thrilled by in novels. His muscles were chiseled, as if they had been carved out of marble; all in all, he was truly a beautiful creature, a sight to behold.

"Hm. I doubt a woman could properly be so insistent when she comes knocking at my door, but let me ask you a question anyway." His voice had a depth to it, as it seemed to boom, commanding respect from anyone within range to hear it. It carried a very charismatic and almost kingly tone to it, making Sierra pause for a moment to think. This did not seem like the type of man that would be Hercules, nor would he be classified as a Berserker. Perhaps her power had allowed her to summon him as a different class, rather than the madness-corrupted version of him reserved for weakling mages. Or perhaps.... No, that could not have been the case. She could certainly have not made a mistake, not at all. It was simply not possible; every step had been perfect. Every syllable pronounced to a T, properly enunciated.

She watched as he took a step forward, carrying himself just as proudly as she would have herself. Curiosity reigned within her; there were two possible ways this would work. Either they would have enough respect in their being to acknowledge the other, or they would clash greatly. This man's presence commanded respect, an effect that wasn't entirely lost on the cold, psychopathic Magus standing before him; no, it was clear that the respect commanded was respect that was deserved. She watched carefully as he took in her features; her long, luscious hair, and her shimmering golden eyes. His grin turned from cocky to serious, even somewhat respectful for a Magus of her caliber. She could clearly see the interest behind his orbs, the only feature that betrayed such.

"You, who summon me with such fervor. Are you the Magus who dared to summon the King of Sumeria and the Builder of the walls of Uruk? Are you...my Master?"

Sierra's expression went from surprised... To angered. Fires burned beneath her eyes, spreading to every corner of her being. This was not Hercules, if he was who he claimed he was. No... He was Gilgamesh, King of Uruk, known as the King of Heroes, the Sha naqba imuru. Hatred and anger boiled within her, a rage unhidden by her eyes, and betrayed by the pursing of her lips.

"...What?" A single syllable echoed from her lips, acidic and lashing. She nearly shook with rage. How was this possible! She had done everything perfectly; her Servant was to be Hercules! The legendary Greek hero, arguably the most powerful! She had done every bit of research, spent copious amounts of time finding herself the right, the proper catalyst to summon him. Had that tablet not been of Greek lineage? Her fists clenched at her sides as she regarded this man, a sense of almost pure hatred behind her gaze.

"I called no such Servant as yourself. I sent a call for the legendary hero of Greek mythology, Hercules. The half human, half god, son of Zeus." She paused, glancing just barely at her command seals. They glowed faintly in the presence of this Servant, confirming that he was indeed the Servant she had called. Now it was time to think. What did she know about the Epic of Gilgamesh? She thought, hard... He was the first king of Sumeria to be spoken of widely, had been popular with his people... What else? He was the son of....

A god and a demigoddess.

His divinity far surpassed that of Hercules.

Realization dawned upon her face, and her lips cracked from that pursed, angered look into a wide, sly, and sadistic grin. She lowered her face as she cackled lightly, the sound bubbling up from her throat, almost as if she were a witch. She couldn't help but laugh. It was too perfect! Here she had been, intending to summon what she believed was the most powerful Servant of all time, and yet... She had missed one. She was so focused on defeating that Einzbern wench that she had not researched properly. The laughter became louder, and eventually she threw her head back, recovering just slightly as she continued to grin.

"It seems that I have misunderstood, King of Uruk, legendary King of Heroes, Sha naqba imuru... No, you will indeed be far more useful than that brute I had intended to bring forth. I can tell you are of the Archer class, correct? Your power and regality would have been lost on any mainstream Magus, and yet... This all is much too perfect." She appeared to possibly be rambling as she circled, watching this man.

"I am indeed the Master who has unwittingly called you forth from the Throne of Heroes, Archer. It is only prudent that I also introduce myself; I am Sierra, of the Barthomeloi line of mages, the most highly reknowned and powerful of mages that there are in existence. I am the most skilled and powerful Master you could hope to expect, though I am sure even you can tell such.

"You surpass far beyond any other Servant I could have hoped to summon. I do hope that you will accept me as your Master, fair Archer, so that we may both emerge as the victors in the upcoming battles." There was a sense of respect behind her words, despite the dark undertone her words carried. Reaching up, she flicked a lock of hair behind her shoulder, extending her arm bearing her Command Seals in a wide gesture.

"Are you willing to accept someone of my stature as your Master, Archer?"

Gilgamesh had no qualms revealing his identity to anyone, though for those who could not recognize him at first sight, only death typically awaited. During the Fourth Heaven's Feel, he had been summoned proper by a prestigious magus who humbled himself before the presence of the Golden Knight and promised him entertainment and amusement during his time walking the Earth as a Heroic Spirit. In one instance in particular, he recalled having some oaf ask him his name. Gilgamesh had replied in no manner indicating the usual secrecy with which Servants operated, but had simply and sincerely insisted that those who could not recognize him by his glorious appearance alone deserved nothing less than death. So, while some Servants avoided even telling their Masters whom they actually had been in life...Gilgamesh was so conceited that doing so wasn't a problem. He had introduced himself only after advancing upon the girl, but even as he had walked towards her, he had noticed she was...different.

No. To say that would be incorrect.

He had known she was "different" from the moment he had been called forth from the Throne of Heroes. He remembered the first time he was called, twenty years ago. The light had been bright and warm, but compared to the beacon released by Sierra Barthomeloi's summons, Tokiomi's light was but a candle to the sun. The pure intensity of the summon itself had been what convinced Gilgamesh to accept the call and appear. Now, as he walked towards the golden-eyed woman, he noted a difference in how she acted. Tokiomi had practically bowed before him, knowing full well Gilgamesh's place as a tremendously powerful Servant worthy of the respect he demanded. This woman had not disrespected him, but she too stood with dignity, much like himself. Through his crimson hues, he saw a Master who was...similar, in a way.

As he had spoken down to her in a more polite manner than he was accustomed to addressing those who called him, he had accurately read the expression of surprise she had in taking in the Golden Knight's certainly inhuman beauty. His own physical form was literally chiseled by the gods themselves, not earned through tedious training or inhuman labors...though in his lifetime, Gilgamesh had surely accomplished many of the latter. He expected - due in part to this girl's own elegant, refined appearance - a calm and perhaps rehearsed answer to his intimidating presence. Yet, this expectation had initially been thrown out the window when he noticed she had not yielded to the aura of power that surrounded him as history's First. And so, his surprise was much less readable when a look of what he interpreted as pure anger flared behind those honeyed hues.

"...What?"

The girl's tone would have betrayed her sheer anger, had her eyes now already done so. The fire burning in that gaze was more than Gilgamesh had expected from the surprised looking young woman whom had so modestly and quietly been studying him just moments ago. He frowned upon witnessing this inhospitable display, not sure why she was so upset upon him confronting her. She looked as if she were about to explode, and spoke to him with venomous words...and a tone that many found themselves last able to use upon addressing the King of Heroes in such a manner. Still, he let her speak, if only to satiate his own curiosity about this girl. He had felt how powerful she was while she established her end of the contract and called him here. It was this personal interest that allowed the woman to speak the next words she chose and continue to draw breath.

"I called no such Servant as yourself. I sent a call for the legendary hero of Greek mythology, Hercules. The half human, half god, son of Zeus."

At these words, Gilgamesh found himself not exactly enraged, but...amused. He understood, now...that look of anger hadn't been enough to hide from him the sense of quiet confusion she harbored within herself. She was frustrated...and normally, anyone who spoke to Gilgamesh without the due level of respect found themselves skewered by a hail of divine mysteries. Yet, he actually didn't feel angry at all...his lips turned up into a small smile of bemusement as he watched the clearly skilled Magus vent her frustration regarding the most recent developments in this Heaven's Feel. He had been preparing to lecture the girl, and teach her just how weak even Hercules was before his presence, when the girl finally seemed to realize who he actually was.

She lowered her face as if she were staring at the floor, and she began to physically tremble. But Gilgamesh knew well how to read the fear he instilled in others, and fear was not something she was feeling. Instead, she began to laugh. She seemed happier, at least, which meant she'd lose that attitude of hers. Even so personally interested in this Magus, too many instances of disrespect couldn't be tolerated. Yet, the hatred had left her eyes, and Gilgamesh only watched in quiet amusement as she demonstrated briefly her own excitable nature. The girl addressed him again, but this time whilst she was in much higher spirits. And with due respect, Sierra proceeded to explain the situation further to him...letting him understand why she was so happy now.

She accurately read him as one of the Archer class, and began the customary Master-Servant tradition of referring to the Servant by their class name. It was no matter, to Gilgamesh, if his foes knew who he was or not. The end result was always the same: he would win, they would lose...he would live, and they would die. And that was how he had operated even under Tokiomi. His power under Tohsaka had been considerable...but this...this feeling he had now was unlike any he had felt.

In fact, the only two times he had felt so exhilarated were when he was wrestling with Enkidu upon first meeting him, and after being "tainted" by the mud of the Holy Grail so long ago. It was a feeling of power...and he could feel the prana of this magus already beginning to circulate within him. The contract had been formed already, because he had accepted her the moment the words left his mouth. And once Sierra had mentally accepted the King of Heroes as her own...their new relationship as Master and Servant had already begun. Still, he let her continue talking uninterrupted, the smirk plastered on his face clearly amused as he crossed his arms and watched her carefully. His eyes had lost their condescending luster.

"I am indeed the Master who has unwittingly called you forth from the Throne of Heroes, Archer. It is only prudent that I also introduce myself; I am Sierra, of the Barthomeloi line of mages, the most highly reknowned and powerful of mages that there are in existence. I am the most skilled and powerful Master you could hope to expect, though I am sure even you can tell such.

You surpass far beyond any other Servant I could have hoped to summon. I do hope that you will accept me as your Master, fair Archer, so that we may both emerge as the victors in the upcoming battles."

It seemed the green-haired young woman had changed her mind, and accepted him as her Servant because she had finally realized just who he actually was. She introduced herself as Sierra Barthomeloi, and then went on to brag about her lineage. Normally, Gilgamesh wouldn't have been concerned with the lineage of a magus whom had summoned him. But this time, things were different. He could already tell that much, because everything from the "force" of the summoning to the prana flowing through his body now was far different than before.

It even felt of higher quality than Tokiomi's had, and it was far more satisfying than the energy afforded by the souls of orphans. He couldn't observe his own capabilities under this magus like Masters generally could, but he could feel the difference. And so, with this feeling in mind, he found himself able - or rather, willing - to listen to Sierra talk about her lineage. And he knew that when she mentioned she was the most skilled and powerful Master in this war...he had no doubt she was telling the truth.

Sure, she spoke out of vanity...but Gilgamesh could certainly recognize divine providence, and so if this Sierra woman was truly as great as she was in regards to her talent and capabilities, then he was more suitable to her than anyone else as a Servant. He already knew his position as the King of Heroes, and accepted his place as the strongest Heroic Spirit that could be summoned. And this time, his Master wasn't some boring old magus with no ambition. She was a magus who knew her place above others in this plain, and simultaneously recognized his greatness as an unmatched Servant.

"Are you willing to accept someone of my stature as your Master, Archer?" Sierra asked him, prompting a lazy smile from Gilgamesh. The young adult's arms moved from his chest and to his side, though his left arm and hand remained extended, and - without waiting for approval or acceptance - he took her hand in his own, gripping it firmly, but gently enough to not actually hurt her, an all too easy to accomplish feat all things considered. He looked down into her eyes and gave a quiet nod, allowing that small but friendly and confidant smirk to grace his handsome features.

"Hmph." He exhaled indignantly, his nostrils flaring just slightly, contrary to the friendly nature of seizing her extended hand.

"You know, woman," Gilgamesh began, his voice a mixture of calmed irritation and dignified grace.

"I was almost inclined to rid myself of you when you made the implication that some rampaging mad dog could possibly be a better Servant than I. As the only King of Heroes, you see, my pride is important. I heard how that brute met his end, and I only have this to say: I would have expected more from a fellow demigod."

He shrugged his shoulders casually, pulling his hand from her grip - well, assuming she gripped it back...because if she didn't, he'd simply release his grip on her hand - in order to more fluidly do so. His words were haughty, but sincere and not disrespectful. He literally meant what he had said: he had considered killing her, and now he recognized that he could operate well under her as a Master. So, he continued on, no killing intention in the air.

"But, there's nothing for it. You've apparently realized your mistake in hastily rejecting my services. Besides, I think joining forces with you will prove to be the most rewarding and entertaining course of action. And as long as I can be kept entertained adequately, you have me as your loyal Servant. My first Master from the Fourth War made the mistake of boring me, but I got to teach his student the meaning of entertainment...of seeking pleasure...tell me, Master...Sierra...what do you know of such things, I wonder? Do you understand just how thrilling this world and those in it can be?"

Even regardless of what Sierra did, or her apparent anger at first, that smile of intrigue never left her Servant's face. He truly was intrigued by her, it seemed; and why should he not be? She was the most powerful candidate in this war, no, in this city alone, for any Servant to have as their Master, and here she was, having summoned the most powerful Servant there was to have. How possibly could she have been so foolish? Hercules was nothing but a mere brute compared to this. Perhaps she had thought he would have been too refined by his kingly nature to have been properly equipped for battle, and yet... Even she could feel the power emanating from this Servant. None could compare to it, as the power flowed through their bond, informing her as the Master how powerful her Servant truly was. She felt it through her entire being, coursing through the parts covered by her Command Seal.

"Hm. You know, woman...I was almost inclined to be rid of you when you made the implication that...well...that thoughtless monster could be a better Servant than I. Even to a King of Heroes, you see, our pride is important. I heard how he met his end, and I only have this to say: I would have expected more from a fellow demigod."

"Perhaps it is easy to mistake that many kings would be too soft to engage in battle to such degrees as a brute like him," she stated offhandedly. "Or, perhaps, even the fact that ancient Sumeria's true history is lost to the modern texts of this age. I would not be surprised if the historians missed more than a few important things. I can say clearly now that your legend does not accurately reflect your power as a Servant, that much is obvious." It wasn't hard for her to tell such a thing; even she could feel the sheer power radiating through their bond. It was beyond anything else she could have asked for or expected. As he shook her hand in a gesture of greeting, she too returned it, a gesture she was not quickly accustomed to. It was very rare that any being commanded her respect, and even without the charismatic nature of this man, she would have certainly respected his power and ability.

"But, there's nothing for it. I think joining forces with you will prove to be most rewarding and entertaining. And as long as I can be kept entertained adequately, you have me as your loyal Servant." He released the grip on his hand, still grinning that same grin.

"My first Master made the mistake of boring me, but I got to teach his student the meaning of entertainment...of seeking pleasure...tell me, Master...Sierra...what do you know of such things, I wonder? Do you understand just how thrilling this world and those in it can be?"

He would have seen the look upon her face change drastically. Previously, she wore a somewhat haughty, powerful look; now, her features changed completely as she grinned widely. That grin, however, was not the typical one; there was an element of danger behind it. Her eyes would have flickered, revealing just barely the true insanity of her mind. She believed she was as normal as any other could be; she was, put simply, different. Many, however, would have tagged her as psychopathic and clinically insane.

"I can assure you, Archer," she said, her tone taking on a dangerous, deadly tone. "I know just how thrilling creatures can be... Far beyond what you might believe I would comprehend." Her statement was simple, and she began to chuckle darkly. The smile never left her face. Anyone with a semblance of intelligence and thought would have been able to see the sheer change in her personality; she appeared deadly, and perhaps even seemed to give off a slightly murderous, psychosadistic intent.

The look and feeling quickly disappeared, however, as a change of subject was brought about.

"What sort of entertainment is it that you crave, Archer? I'm sure indulging in such would certainly be a useful endeavour, as there is little more I had planned for the remainder of this evening. Or perhaps I could give you a tour of the lovely complex here. The decision is yours."

"Perhaps it is easy to mistake that many kings would be too soft to engage in battle to such degrees as a brute like him," Sierra began, the talented young Magus still under the appraising eye of her newly summoned Archer-class Servant."Or, perhaps, even the fact that ancient Sumeria's true history is lost to the modern texts of this age. I would not be surprised if the historians missed more than a few important things. I can say clearly now that your legend does not accurately reflect your power as a Servant, that much is obvious."

Gilgamesh - upon hearing Sierra's words - had preemptively prepared himself to argue in the defense of his legend, but he chose not to bother with doing so. In this day and age, he couldn't be one-hundred percent sure what truth among fiction still existed in the modern-day interpretations of his epic. Besides, to Gilgamesh, it seemed as if his Master was an intelligent individual at this point. Further, Gilgamesh could also sense Sierra' power as a magus, the bond between the two natural born geniuses was certainly dichotomous in that regard. The fact he had been able to appraise her potential as a magus before the summoning was even complete was more than enough to gauge his correct assumption: this girl was a very powerful magus and likely the most compatible choice for him as a Master in this Heaven's Feel. Even when she had accepted the formal gesture of contractual agreement, he could tell that she had more than enough prana to spare to effectively serve him as Master.

To Archer, the practically ear-to-ear grin was an unexpected and sudden shift upon the flawless visage of Sierra. Both as a Servant and as a wise individual with a talent for "reading" individuals, he could sense the instability behind his Master's expression. She seemed almost excited that he had asked such a question, whereas that Fake Priest had constantly shown signs of disgust or doubt. Gilgamesh took no issue with the insanity of his Master, into which he was given a brief but meaningful glimpse. He already found this girl to be interesting enough with her staggering reserves of prana and the typically dignified air she had about herself. Gilgamesh's own smirk remained small but constant upon his own lips, as he listened to Sierra affirm his interest in her...whether she knew she was doing so, or not.

My, my...how interesting. It seems the gods have finally shown me due grace and favor, by putting me with such a Master as this. I would have sworn my life after death was hell when Tokiomi first called me forth. But this promises to compensate me for such a lackluster performance on my Master's side. She has the capacity to handle me well, and it looks like I won't be bored. That's good. Still, such a sudden shift in her mood means that she likely has a volatile temper. I can't wait to see her go toe-to-toe with another magus. And of course, I'll get to discover just why and how I'm even here again...but for now, I'll simply observe and get my bearings.

"What sort of entertainment is it that you crave, Archer? I'm sure indulging in such would certainly be a useful endeavor, as there is little more I had planned for the remainder of this evening. Or perhaps I could give you a tour of the lovely complex here. The decision is yours."

Gilgamesh underwent no physical changes to indicate that he had begun analyzing his Master and his situation in general. The same look of quiet approval and scrutiny laid itself upon her, only replaced by a slightly more relaxed and bemused look as his Master shifted the focus of their conversation. It had been well over a year since he had tasted any fine wine - well, any wine, actually - or food. Yet, he could feel that his summoning was once again as a Heroic Spirit, which meant he had an ultimate goal once more. If he was here, then the Holy Grail must exist. Which meant that he could again entomb himself within a flesh and blood body. The thought alone made him visibly happy, though since the expression he wore was already pleased, it would be hard for anyone to notice the brief pleasure the thought of life gave him.

"Surely, you jest, Master." Gilgamesh began, the bemused expression remaining plastered on his face, though now his brilliant, red eyes showed signs of personal intrigue once more. "I believe it would be far more prudent to begin our campaign in this war." He had re-shifted the focus of the dialogue, showing that he was indeed a Heroic Spirit and had just as much a motivation to win the Holy Grail as any Servant.

"I'd like a tour of your dwelling place, sure...but first thing is first. Have the other six been called already? Do we know anything about them? Where is the vessel for the Grail being kept this time around? The Church, I presume?"

His questions indicated two facts. First, he was a loyal and dutiful Servant prepared to wage merciless and overpowering war upon Sierra's enemies...to be the scythe - swung by Barthomeloi - that would fell the other hapless, hopeless participants of this Heaven's Feel. And the second fact would likely be just as obvious to Sierra: Gilgamesh did not seem to know the disturbing rumors...that the Holy Grail had been destroyed.

"Surely, you jest, Master. I believe it would be far more prudent to begin our campaign in this war."

"I do no such thing," replied the woman as she began to ascend one of the many majestic staircases in the mansion. She would never jest, not ever. She was not the type to do so; no, she was clear and straightforward with everything, and each and every action of hers had a purpose, a meaning, regardless of how dark and sadistic it might have been. A smile crossed her face once again. Just the thought of having a Servant of this caliber caused her to writhe like an excited child inside. It was the same time of invigoration she got from her usual... hobbies. It was a rather enjoyable feeling, that sense of glee, accomplishment, and sheer entertainment.

"I'd like a tour of your dwelling place, sure...but first thing is first. Have the other six been called already? Do we know anything about them? Where is the vessel for the Grail being kept this time around? The Church, I presume?"

"Ah... it appears that upon your summoning you were not informed of the events which occured." Sierra began, noting that it seemed her Servant believed there was a Grail to be fought for. "This particular time... Things are much more complicated than you can possibly imagine. In straightforward terms, there is no physical Grail to fight for. It is simply a war, nothing more, nothing less." She wasn't about to beat around the bush regarding the matter; she would tell him outright what exactly the circumstances were.

"A year and a half ago, a boy by the name of Shirou Emiya, along with his Servant, destroyed the Grail. This was an ultimately futile attempt to put an end to the Holy Grail War altogether, though as you can tell, that is surely not the case," she began, leading him to a smaller, somewhat cozy sitting room where they could be comfortable and she could explain the circumstances. A maid entered with a platter of hot, freshly-brewed tea and two cups, setting a cup down in front of each of them. Sugar and cream was also on the tray and, setting it down and bowing, the maid left. Sierra herself took a seat and added both sugar and cream to her tea; it was a vanilla rooibos tea, with a rather nice, aromatic vanilla scent.

"After the news reached the Association, many mages, including myself, were particularly disgusted by this. The Holy Grail War was a method by which mages could showcase their abilities and power over other mages, cementing their family's ability amongst that of other families. Of course, there were always other ways and methods to do this, but the Holy Grail War was the most widespread and well-known method of this... As it cemented it by death of a member of mage families, usually. It also allowed mages to learn of the secrets of other families in order to better themselves in comparison. It was, arguably, the ultimate war of mages, and the ultimate way mages could compete against each other.

"Shirou Emiya's actions ruined that, and as a result, mages have begun to revolt against each other. Searching for a new way to compete against other mages with the loss of the Holy Grail War, mages simply began to turn against each other, slaughtering each other almost unnecessarily... Or so they say. I do not find that the death of other mages is unnecessary..." Her voice trailed off as that same dark look came back into her eyes, though she quickly recovered.

"Exactly how someone found out it was possible is unknown, but upon arriving in Fuyuki City, it was made known that the power to summon Servants was still viable. However, rather than there being only one of each class, there is the ability to have, arguably, any number of Servants present in the war regardless of class. These Servants against serve the same role as the previous war; to some, a tool used by their master; by others, a companion, a comrade, someone they can rely on when in danger; or for others, a form of protection. Or perhaps even all three, depending on how you view it.

"I came solely to search for Shirou Emiya. I want to make it known just how much trouble he has caused... And I cannot wait to see just how that turns out." The smile became darker, dangerous, and her eyes exuded only one thing: blood. Death. Torture. The true face of someone consumed by a sheer lust for blood and torture, someone who would not only kill her opponents, but torture them to hell and back before robbing them of their life. She was what the majority of society would deem unstable, sadistic, and dangerous.

"And, of course, there are some other reasons why I chose Fuyuki City as a place to go... And why I have chosen to participate in these wars." She went no further than that; she was sure her Servant could feel the emotion through their bond. She was a dangerous and mentally unstable (according to the majority of society at least) woman who was to be feared. She longed for blood, for a plaything to torture... and that desire won out.

"I believe we can save a tour for later... Perhaps you were right when you said that we should cement our position in this campaign." That smile never faded, even as her eyes metaphorically glowed a bloody red. Setting the cup down, she stood, turned towards one of the doors, a maid handing her a jacket as she passed.

"We will surely find something of amusement should we decide to... Sightsee a little bit."

King of Heroes.

On Your Knees Dog.

"Hmph, they desecrate my garden, and have not the courtesy to even do it squabbling over my fabulous treasure?" Gilgamesh huffed, taking up a cup of the piping hot beverage. It was wonderfully fragrant, seet, and pleasantly nutty. Something simple, yet enjoyable.

"A year and a half ago, a boy by the name of Shirou Emiya, along with his Servant, destroyed the Grail. This was an ultimately futile attempt to put an end to the Holy Grail War altogether, though as you can tell, that is surely not the case,"

The name Shirou Emiya sent a sickening sensation down the Sumerian's throat. He'd destroyed the King's treasure. A far worse crime than merely taking it once he had killed Kotomine.Perhaps it would not be a total loss if Saber yet lived. Ashi new Master continued on, explaining the situation with the Magi across the country, and beyond.

"After the news reached the Association, many mages, including myself, were particularly disgusted by this. The Holy Grail War was a method by which mages could showcase their abilities and power over other mages, cementing their family's ability amongst that of other families. Of course, there were always other ways and methods to do this, but the Holy Grail War was the most widespread and well-known method of this... As it cemented it by death of a member of mage families, usually. It also allowed mages to learn of the secrets of other families in order to better themselves in comparison. It was, arguably, the ultimate war of mages, and the ultimate way mages could compete against each other."

The loss of the Grail from the world was a terrible crime. One, it was Gilgamesh's treasure, and his alone. No other could lay claim to it without his approval. Second, the Grail Wars, as his Master had so accurately put it, was a way to cull the weak Magi from the strong. Without it, there were Magi with their power left unchecked. The unworthy could not be separated from the worthy. Something the King of Heroes would be quick to correct.

"Shirou Emiya's actions ruined that, and as a result, mages have begun to revolt against each other. Searching for a new way to compete against other mages with the loss of the Holy Grail War, mages simply began to turn against each other, slaughtering each other almost unnecessarily... Or so they say. I do not find that the death of other mages is unnecessary..."

Gilgamesh's mouth took on fey curves. It was glorious to see such enthusiasm from this woman who had summoned him. It was sure to provide him with ample entertainment. She too wished to rid the world of the unworthy. Those who dared to tread his glorious garden. Delighted to see another who thought the way he did. Fate had provided him with another chance to show the foolish mortals of this age the authority of the one, true King, to dispense with the pretenders.

"I came solely to search for Shirou Emiya. I want to make it known just how much trouble he has caused... And I cannot wait to see just how that turns out."

"I like the way you think woman. Truly you are the most suited to provide me with mana." Gilgamesh asserted. Sierra was now of worth. More than Kotomine had ever had, and more than Tokiomi could haver ever hoped to have.

"I believe we can save a tour for later... Perhaps you were right when you said that we should cement our position in this campaign."

Upon seeing that his Master prepared for travel, Gilgamesh hastily finished his drink. Had his glorios Vimana not been shot down by the maddened hound of the Matous over a decade ago, Gilgamesh would have had the inkling to pluck it from his treasury and use it .Settling for travel by foot, and with no formal clothes to speak of as of yet, Gilgamesh, in a shimmering display of light, clad himself in his gilded suit of armor.

"We will surely find something of amusement should we decide to... Sightsee a little bit."

Sharing his Master's vile grin, Gilgamesh was filled with glee. Whichever poor soul out there would soon be in for a very nasty surprise should they dare cross his Master. Any Servants who wished to cross the Archer in gold would be met with a swift, uneventful death.

credits to leesh! @ caution & lydia