Camelot, royal palace.
Samael rushed to the scene in a blaze of urgency, then fell into thought at the sight before him.
"So, what are you doing?"
"Barbecuing!"
Merlin answered as if it were only natural. Smiling, he stuffed a chicken wing into his dear friend's hand, dragged Samael down to sit, licked his slightly dry lips, and raised an empty cup.
"Hurry up, hurry up. It'll get cold if you don't come soon. Also, I've been craving that good wine you hid for ages."
Samael took a deep breath. Veins bulged on his forehead, and his twisted face squeezed out a chilling expression as he looked around.
"Where's my sword?"
"It's in your hand..."
Melly poked the man's back and kindly reminded him, though her face was full of malicious delight.
"Oh, right. Don't move! I promise I won't chop you to death!"
Nearly furious enough to lose his mind, the ancient serpent gritted his teeth and drew the holy sword, ready to chop that grinning old fraud in front of him into seventeen or eighteen pieces.
"Samael, Samael, it's not that serious! It's not that serious!"
Seeing this, Kay hurriedly grabbed hold of the murderous Holy Sword Wielder, who was gripping his sword and preparing to kill someone, and hastily explained.
"We're making preparations. Once we've stocked up enough, we can immediately hold a banquet for My King!"
"You're openly pulling shady little moves right under a god's nose. Are you sure you can hide it from Artoria on the spot? And the Magic Potion needs time to take effect! Are we all supposed to sit around playing Werewolf at the scene? Or wait until the King of Knights notices something is wrong, smashes a cup as a signal, and mobilizes the entire Knights of the Round Table