Gil-kun and the Absinthe

"Do not compare me to yourself, mongrel!"

"Hey, hey, don't be so cranky!"

"Shut up! I refuse to be in the same room as this fool! We shall leave!"

Salter slammed her bottle on the table, causing the whole room to fall silent as she stood up and walked over Gilgamesh with a serious expression on her face.

"That's enough! You always act high and mighty, I refuse to do this, I want to do that, I shall show you my whatever... it doesn't make you someone with self-respect and a clear objective, it just makes you an asshole! You just prince around in your little mood swings, caring only about yourself, because you think that's all you have to do! News flash: everyone doesn't take you seriously as a ruler because of the way you act! And when your solution to that is showing off your power, it just makes you seem immature and it undermines the strength of your character! These people are offering us help and shelter and have treated us with outmost respect. But you still feel the need to whine because you feel obliged to, like you can't just accept to momentarily be like others, you always have to be the superior one, Gilgamesh the great. Someone so far removed from the rest and from humanity shouldn't go around preaching stuff like compassion, unless they can back it up. So if you have any dignity and integrity in what you say, I suggest you shut up and sit down, and stop acting like a little child and start being the King of Heroes, before you defile that name any further!"

She concluded as she sat back down. Gilgamesh stood there, unsure on how to react, before quietly, with still no clear emotion, sitting down and coming closer to the table.

They quietness was deafening. Finally, someone spoke up. It was Nero.

"As my dear Uncle Claudius would say... British, am I right?"

And the whole group of painters laughed with her, lighting up the mood once more. They started chatting a bit, revealing that they had been in that house for quite a bit, and that there were indeed strange creatures roaming around who didn't seem like Heroic Spirits, and that they had never gone to any of the golden cities, preferring the calm countryside, where they could paint freely.

Salter drank quietly, occasionally joining the conversation as Nero and Michael were the most active and were clearly enjoying themselves.

"Oh great king, someone as humble as me has not much to offer you, however, I can give you some of the best absinthe you have ever tasted." Monet said to Gilgamesh.

"That is, if Edgar didn't drink it all already." Renoir joked as Degas was next to him with a thousand-yard stare into nothingness.

"That's fine, I can make some more."

Monet said with a smile as he started painting a new bottle, when suddenly he had a coughing fit and it seemed like he had great pain in his chest. Within a single moment, all the other painters vanished, as did all the paintings and the objects. The house was suddenly empty.

"W-What? What's going on?"

"Where are the others?"

"D-Don't worry, my friends will be back in just a minute."

"What does that mean?"

"None of them, apart from this mongrel, are actually real, they are just recreations produced by him. Isn't that right, painter of impressions?"

"G-Geez... you saw right through me, didn't you? This is my Noble Phantasm, Café Guerbois. I can summon my friends to aid me, since their memory is still burning bright in my heart, as the painter who is most synonymous with Impressionism."

"Then, since you have been summoned here..."

"Yeah, I've been keeping my Noble Phantasm active throughout my waking hours. It really exerts my power, however, it's fine. I will use every last bit of my energy to keep them by my side, if necessary."

"Why? Aren't they somewhere here in this world?"

"We are people who have existed in a pretty recent time. Mistery surrounding us is still pretty weak. There's only enough strength to our legend to bring one of us to the Throne of Heroes. And, as the last survivor, I'm the one who took up that role."

"But why would you basically kill yourself, just to spend some time with... fake versions... of the people you once you?"

"Because, although they might be fake, their company is real, their presence makes my heart sing with joy and fuels my inspiration. After all, the meaning of life is the friends, the people we loved along the way. No man is brought in this world to be alone. Some may find all they need in one single friend, others may marry once and live happily ever after, and some keep making friends even on their deathbed. It matters not. What matters is the strength and the meaning this connections have and how they define and change us. A life without others is like a painting without colours. Blank."

"That is... truly beautiful..."

Nero said as she dried the tears that were forming in her eyes. Michael let them flow freely.

"I thought I would have to struggle so much... but in so little time... I found someone... who has groked everything there is to know... you, sir... really are a remarkable man."

"Oh, please, you're going to make me blush, hehe."

Salter looked at him with a stunned expression, her mind flashing back to a similar speech.

"You must not think that you are alone! No one was made to face the hardships of life on his own! No person should die without the company of someone they care about! I took up that burden myself, and I won't let you be forced to experience it any further. That's why, I want you to know that... despite our differences and the fact that we fought, I'm your friend, and nothing will ever change that!"

Before she could even realise it, she also was crying.

Gilgamesh retuned to his previous position, letting his head rest on his hands as he put his elbows on the table. He stared far, far away, as if he had been caught in a state of deep reflection for already quite some time.

"Oh, right, I keep forgetting. The absinthe!" Monet broke the awkwardness as he created a bottle full of green liquid and poured it into two glasses.

"Cheers, golden king!"

"... I suppose I should honour your offering, since you went through the trouble of making it only for me." Gilgamesh conceded as he drank the beverage, before slightly pulling back and getting hit by the inebriating feeling of the so called "Green Fairy".

"Pretty powerful, right?" Monet chuckled as he put his hands together as if he was praying and then expanded them. All the other painters reappeared in the room, back to their original seats.

"Edgar, I got you some more absinthe."

"Oh... I see... pour it in the glass... thanks..."

"He's out of his mind."

"He had too much."

"Serves him right, the traitor. Him and his shitty preparatory sketches!"

"Sketching is a fundamental part of creating art!"

"That's so 1480!"

"It's an ever-lasting truth."

"More like an eternal lie."

There was a golden flash. A small vase appeared in Gilgamesh's hand.

"You drink reminded me of this special potion which was offered to me in a village just over the Euphrates. I shall allow you to try it."

"That's most kind of you. Wow, look, guys! It's so green! Hold on, before I try it, I need to make this scene into a painting." Monet said as he started painting frantically and with quick strokes of his brush, sometimes helped or guided by his friends.

The end result was, obviously, a spectatular masterpiece.

"Do you three want any?"

"No, thanks. Beer is fine."

"I'm a light drinker, I'm afraid. Alcohol doesn't exist on Mars."

"I'm OK like this too, Goldie."

"Very well then..."

He commented drily as he simply drank his glass in a quick and simple manner. Monet followed suit and emitted a satisfied groan.

"Wow, that's even better than my absinthe! May I have just a bit more?"

"You may, as long as you give me the importance and the radiance I possess naturally even in your representation."

"I sure will!"

An hour later...

"They're both knocked out."

"So it seems. Monet called off his Noble Phantasm, so he must be sleeping deeply."

"Goldie's out too."

"It looks like Michael is about to fall asleep too."

"I guess we'll go to sleep then. It was a good thing we made them paint our beds into reality before the got too smashed."

"I agree. Hey, Nero..."

"Yes, Salty?"

"Was I too harsh before?"

"No, you gave him an eye-opener."

"Ok... truth be told, I am not the best at relating with others either, so I'm afraid I won't be able to express myself properly."

"Do not worry about that, umu! Everything you said was very interesting and on point."

"Thanks, Nero."

"No problem. That's what friends are for, right? And we are friends, aren't we?"

"... I suppose..."

"Yeah! Friends! Friends!"

"Then help me carry Galter to the couch!"

She groaned as she started moving Gilgamesh, until they were able to laying him down and let him rest. They each reached their own bed.

"Thank you for the support, Nero. Goodnight."

"Don't worry, friend, goodnight! Yeah, friend... hehe..."

The next morning the two of them woke up, still a bit tired, but regardless, ready to start the day. However, they were the only ones: the other three were still sleeping peacefully and deeply.

"No good... they don't look like they want to wake up... what should we do, Salty?"

"I'd say that we can start heading towards the golden city, as we decided to do so, no? We'll ask for directions and help. Even if it is a trap, we should be able to survive if we work together."

"Are you sure it's fine if we go alone, without warning?"

"Don't worry, we're not going to see ghosts, nor are we going to fight if not absolutely convinced that there's no other way. After all, we survived just fine without external help for some time, no?"

"Y-Yeah, you're right! Let's go then! I'll leave a written message to the three of them, detailing that we went towards El Dorado."

"How do you know it's El Dorado?"

"It's a city full of treasure that is completely golden. If that's not El Dorado, I don't know what to think anymore!"

"Very well, then let's go towards El Dorado."

"Sure thing!"

They both exited the house and started going up and down the hills all around it to reach the misterious city. Little did they know, they had been observed by quite some time.

A golden robot spies on them from afar, analysing all kinds of crucial information and running back towards his master.

In the city of El Dorado, the Emperor Cortés is relaxing in his court, when suddenly this robot comes crashing in as much as a calm and reasonable machine can crush in.

"My lord, I'm sorry to interrupt."

"What is it?"

"They're coming."

He smiled, getting up from the throne and walking towards outside.

"Send a message to the Empress of Catai and ready the troops. We are about to go hunting."