To avoid detection by Jeanne's Ruler authority, Red Rider Achilles and Red Archer Atalanta didn't venture too deeply, instead patrolling the border of the Sighișoara region.
Not long after receiving Semiramis's message, the two returned to the throne room.
When they pushed open the doors, Achilles was still carrying half a deer on his shoulder, which seemed to be a catch Atalanta had made while on standby. As expected from the legendary huntress of ancient Greece, she never missed a chance to hunt.
As for the other half of the deer, it had already been roasted and was in Atalanta's hands. Judging by the grease on Achilles's lips, he had eaten quite a bit himself.
Seeing their relaxed demeanor, Semiramis immediately frowned. "I ordered you to wait in readiness to fight the enemy, not to have a picnic."
"Enemy? I don't see any," Achilles said, raising his free hand to his forehead in a mock lookout pose. "You had us blowing in the cold wind all night, so shouldn't I be asking you for an explanation?"
Atalanta was even more direct. She didn't bother to say a word, continuing to gnaw on the deer's leg. Her wild eating habits blatantly conveyed her attitude: "I, Atalanta, ignore you, Semiramis."
Their disrespectful behavior naturally angered the Assyrian Empress, but Shirou quickly intervened to calm things down.
"Alright, alright, since the operation is canceled, let's not fuss over these small matters. Thank you for your efforts, Rider, Archer."
Achilles snorted in response.
Atalanta raised a deer leg. "Want some?"
Shirou glanced at Semiramis beside him and shook his head.
"Thanks for the offer."
To be honest, he wanted to accept Atalanta's invitation. After a busy night, he was indeed a bit hungry. But since Atalanta and Semiramis were at odds, accepting would certainly upset Semiramis. So, for the sake of the upcoming battle, he had to endure it.
Atalanta didn't mind and continued to devour the meat. Although Shirou felt better compared to the scheming and decadent aura of the Assyrian Empress, her wild instincts told her he also had issues.
Radiant particles of light dispersed as Red Lancer Karna walked into the throne room. Despite his silence, his presence was impossible to ignore.
"Lancer, sorry to call you here specifically."
At these words, Lancer lightly shook his head. His slightly pale face remained mask-like, his frozen expression unwavering.
"No problem. What happened?"
"Please wait a moment. I'll explain when the last person arrives."
Shirou's attitude towards the "Hero of Charity" was noticeably more respectful. Not only Shirou, but all the other Red Faction Servants, including the Empress, treated Karna with a certain deference.
Five minutes later, the last person arrived, bearing the impatience of everyone present with a flourish. As he walked through the open doors, he spread his arms dramatically and loudly proclaimed:
"Oh, 'you as black as hell, as dark as night!' 'I find you so beautiful, even dazzling!'"
Semiramis sighed and asked:
"Are you talking about me?"
The addressed man—Red Caster, the literary monster Shakespeare—nodded.
"Who else could it be? The Empress of Assyria!... No, I apologize. I got a bit carried away. I've been itching to write again. Ah, by the way, Father Shirou, did you get that thing?"
"You mean the computer? It's ready in my room."
"Then let's hurry—" Shakespeare urged eagerly.
Seeing this, Semiramis and the others couldn't help but feel exasperated.
"Caster...don't forget about the Holy Grail War."
"Of course not, Empress. Since you've gathered us here, there can only be one reason. It's war, right? Heroes will compete for supremacy, engaging in brutal battles, right? As Caster, I will certainly—watch closely!"
"Hey, aren't you going to fight?"
"Hmm, actually, I am quite unfamiliar with war and magic, 'but the gods, to make us human, have added suitable flaws.'"
Even though he was a Caster, Achilles and Atalanta restrained themselves from pointing this out.
As Shakespeare himself said, he was essentially a Heroic Spirit unrelated to acts of "war." His self-imposed duty was to record the Holy Grail War and weave stories of suffering and despair, hope and violence, involving its protagonists.
More exasperated than the Greek duo was Empress Semiramis, given the challenging personalities among the Red Servants.
Spartacus didn't listen to orders, Atalanta and Achilles were free-spirited, and Shakespeare, who had no combat ability, frequently caused minor disruptions. Apart from the ever-obedient Karna, the rest constantly tested the Empress's patience.
Especially when gathered together, their disruptive potential grew exponentially. One had to wonder how their Master managed to reconcile these personalities—at times like these, Semiramis greatly admired her Master.
"Anyway, everyone is here. Now that our preparations are complete, it's time for us to attack. A rare Holy Grail War like this isn't interesting if we keep engaging in small skirmishes."
Achilles and Atalanta reluctantly nodded at Semiramis's words. Indeed, small-scale battles were quite dull.
However, war isn't determined by mere enthusiasm or interest.
Atalanta, the pragmatic one who lacked a typical hero's pride, said, "Our Berserker has already become an enemy pawn, and our Saber isn't here. Is it wise to launch a full-scale attack on the Black faction under such unfavorable conditions?"
"Hey, sis."
Before Semiramis could respond, Achilles spoke up.
"I'm here. I can take on at least three of them by myself."
"Your true name has been exposed!"
Atalanta's green eyes glanced at Achilles coolly.
"Even if it's exposed, no one can exploit my weakness in a direct fight with me," he laughed arrogantly, embodying the spirit of a hero.
Atalanta persisted, "What about a sneak attack? You've already been ambushed once by the Black Assassin."
Achilles shrugged helplessly. "Sis, whose side are you on?"
"I just don't want to lose. I have wishes to fulfill, that's all."
"Then let me help you fulfill those wishes. In return, you guard my weak spot. With you around, I don't have to worry about sneak attacks."
"You are really..."
At first, Atalanta was dissatisfied with Achilles's naively cunning words. But after thinking it over, she realized it was the best approach and reluctantly wagged her tail in agreement.
"But this doesn't change the fact that we are at a disadvantage—Assassin, what's that look?"
Atalanta noticed Assassin's mocking eyes as she looked up.
"Nothing, I just think your relationship is quite good," Semiramis said, no longer hiding her amusement. "I wonder what Rider's father, Peleus, would think of this scene."
"What does my father have to do with this?" Achilles looked puzzled at Atalanta, who was equally confused.
"Nothing, just talking to myself," Semiramis chuckled to herself, knowing of Peleus's admiration for Atalanta but not revealing it.
"I have no idea what you're thinking," Achilles crossed his arms and sat down. "Instead of saying things I don't understand, why not answer Sis' question?"
"Allow me to answer that."
"You?" Atalanta and Achilles turned in surprise, even Karna showing a slight reaction.
It was none other than Caster, Shakespeare, who responded.