If the Servants gathered when they weren't in combat.

The table was long and regal, plenty fit for one king but definitely worthy of the three that sat there. None of the Masters were present as they were all worried over matters that didn't concern them. At the head of the table there was Gilgamesh, of course. To his right was Arturia and to her right Diarmuid. At Gilgamesh's left there was Iksander. On the table there were many foods on various platters, none of which were necessary but all of them adding ambiance. For the most part they chose to engage in silence until Rider, who'd formerly been shoveling food into his face, broke the silence.

"You should be honoured, Lancer," he said through a mouthful of food. "To be dining with three kings."

Lancer had been staring ahead at the wall or down at the food he'd grabbed for himself. This wasn't what he was there for, what he'd been summoned for. He was supposed to be killing these people in a formidable duel. "The honour will be awarded after I defeat you all in duels." He didn't say anything more. The remark brought a trademark smirk to the golden king's face. His laughter broke through the tense silence as he grabbed his chalice from right next to Saber.

"You aren't even worthy to dine at my table, Mongrel. Like someone like you could even come close to engaging me in combat." He smirked and took a drink as Lancer seethed. How much could one's ego take before pride had to best them? Lancer ground his teeth, reminding himself that he needed to keep calm. He knew what Archer's Noble Phantasm was capable of and, despite his speed, couldn't engage him on his own. He would need these other kings to help and it looked like the only one who would offer such a service is Saber. She seemed to be the only one filled with more disdain towards Archer than he was. It probably had to do with the delusion that the two of them were going to marry. At least that's what he'd heard.

"If I am so unworthy to dine at your table, we could settle this with a duel and be done with it," Lancer said. He forced a light air to his tone and let his own smirk come to light. He was in no mood for games. Apparently Gilgamesh had a different agenda.

"Such an ungrateful creature..." he tsked. "Fine. I shall teach you some manners." This time when the room behind him turned gold it was not swords that appeared behind him. They were things Lancer and Saber hadn't seen before. They looked like the spoon Rider was using, but they were pointed... like forks. The two knights looked to one another to see the same looks of confusion dancing across their faces. Archer elaborated. "Sporks, the humans call them. I thought I'd try them out." With a simple nod of his head, the sporks attacked.

Saber vaulted over the table with the concealed Excalibur in her grasp. The sporks were flying everywhere and raining down upon them all the while. Lancer was deflecting them left and right. He twirled Gae Dearg in a blur of red. The sporks could bounce off of the spear, but even with all of his skill he wouldn't be able to keep going. Gilgamesh kept conjuring more and more to attack them all. He threw his head back as he laughed at the frustration of those around them. There was only one person who wasn't involved in the conflict at all: Rider. He was content with his meal and his host. He couldn't be bothered with such a petty quarrel.

The sporks only stopped when Saber stood on the table in front of Archer with the invisible air so close it was whipping his hair about his face. "Stop this nonsense," she said, her unnerving gaze staring at his.

He smiled. "There's only one way to make this stop."

"And what way is that?"

"You have to marry me."

"I won't ever marry you."

"Then it looks like you're going to need an umbrella. The rain isn't stopping any time soon." He was about to make it even worse for the other Heroic Spirits when his smirk faded to a hard line of displeasure. His red eyes lost all their mocking laughter and he glared at nothing. "He's so boring," he sighed. Just as suddenly as it started, the volley of sporks stopped and they all fell to the floor. "You got off easy, mongrel," he said to Lancer just before he dissipated into golden dust. His Master had called him away just as things were getting good.

As soon as he left, Rider picked up a spork and started flicking it, bending it, and biting down on it to test its durability. His loud boisterous laughter filled the room, combating the silence and the creaking of the chandelier that was trying to fall off the ceiling. "Our Masters really don't know how to enjoy a party."

Lancer and Saber exchanged a glance. "Thank you for your assistance, King of Knights," he said with a nod of thanks.

"It was an honour to be the one to have a weapon pointed at him." She sighed and looked at the damage. Rider hadn't moved. Chairs were toppled. They were standing in a miniature war zone. "Who's going to clean this up?"

"The one who isn't a king, of course!" Rider said as he grabbed another spork and used it to heap another piece of meat onto his plate. "Get cleaning."

A soft sigh left his lips as he looked to Saber. "I'll help you. Go find a broom."