Sir Lancelot
There was something going on in the background, but even with confusion etched onto his face, Lancelot reacted instinctively to the sword--Arondight's gleaming length materialising in his hand and shining with a faint radiance even as it did so. Or possibly it was merely reflecting the light of the shop in an unusual manner. He didn't attack though, eyes widening some more whilst looking at Clarent.
"M-Mordred!? How can..." the other Saber started, before thought took over. He knew the story as well as anybody else, how Mordred had tried to be acknowledged as the king's son but been rejected, the rebellion following on from that. Of the many knights, he was one of the few that knew the secret of Artoria's sex, and the idea that the King could have had a son was one that raised confusion. But now with Mordred before him, and knowing Morgan as a witch... "... of course. There can be no other explanation. You look exactly like her."
The sword lowered further, resting easily on the floor. "You, me, Gawain, and the king... I wonder how many more will be summoned."
Gilgamesh
His inkling had been right after all--it was that boy. A man, now, no doubt vastly more experienced than that day--or even the time of the last Grail War. Was that loyalty still left untarnished by the politics of magecraft and daily life? Was nearly three decades enough to forget the final command? Or would the magus use this chance to play the good subject and summon his king?
"Interesting..." Gilgamesh stated, rising out of the chair and placing the glass aside, "I shall be attending this meeting."
Without waiting for the reply, he walked through the door ahead of Hinami. Perhaps he knew the exact place to go, or perhaps not--his Master would know better than to dawdle, and if Gilgamesh was uncertain, discerning his Master's destination would hardly be difficult.
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