Fate/Apocrypha - Volume 1
Page 20
It took a few coughs before Saber could unstuck her expression. As she stood atop the wall, haughty and proud, the king looked down upon Shishigou and proclaimed.
"That's right! And I won't attack them to replenish my prana, either."
"Yeah, I got it. We'll work based on that."
Shishigou is a full-fledged magus. Naturally, both of those acts have been incorporated into his strategies, as emergency measures. However, if the essential piece of said acts - the Servant itself - refuses to take part in it, then it cannot be helped. It's all well and good if the Servant itself wishes to replenish prana in such a manner, but if it does not, then the issue should not be pressed.
Shishigou's policy is not to have Saber act as he wanted. It is to let Saber act as she wanted, for him.
In a regular Holy Grail War, there is little choice but for the Master and Servant to place their lives in each other's hands; it is a necessity, whether the two share a bond or not, when they are surrounded by six other pairs of enemies. In this case, though, Servants have an exceedingly high chance of surviving the deaths of their Masters. In extreme cases, a surviving Servant can even betray their own allies for a Servant-less Master on the other side.
What this means is that the Master who does not build a relationship of mutual trust with his Servant will only receive a knife in the back for his troubles - especially in the case of this Saber of the Red, who sees the Master-Servant connection as simply a 'pact'. If she ever feels that there is a difference in perspective, or that the alliance will not benefit her, she will most likely toss her Master to the wayside.
It would not be betrayal, but disposal. It is only fitting for one who would be king.
"Hold on... are you mocking me...?"
"Imagined slights, my king. Anyway, this place is no good. Next, we'll..."
They both turned their eyes to the sky at the sound of cries and beating wings. A single dove dropped a piece of paper at their feet and flew off. Only their mutual beneficiaries - Father Shirou and Assassin - would pass something along in this way.
"A message, huh..."
As soon as he read it, Shishigou's face became grim. Bad news, I take it - thought Saber as she jumped off the wall and peeked at the note.
"'Berserker has gone wild and is advancing towards the castle'...?"
"Hey, not so loud!"
Shishigou hurried to stop her. It was not something that should have been said under broad daylight. However, Saber replied calmly.
"What could an outsider possibly make of such words besides nonsense? More importantly, what do they mean by 'gone wild'?"
"Yeah... I'll explain once we're back at the workshop."
"Explain now."
The stubborn Saber refused to budge. Bluntly, Shishigou looked at her and sighed, but she did not care for that at all.
"Apparently, our Berserker has a pretty unique rank of Mad Enhancement. They could talk with him, so they thought they could actually communicate ideas, but..."
Shishigou threw his arms wide open.
"...he didn't understand them at all. Berserker would not change his mind, no matter what they said to him, and he would not stop. So, he's off to complete his objective now."
"Huh... and that objective would be?"
"A fight, probably. Well, what else is there? This is bad."
"Why is that bad?"
Shishigou stared at her in disbelief.
"This is a war of seven against seven. If he goes charging off by himself - he'll die, obviously. And then it will be seven against six. Without anything that could replace the power of a Servant, we'll definitely be at a disadvantage."
As a rule, they should not be sending in their forces piecemeal. The fact that they have no reinforcements available only strengthens that. And yet, Berserker has begun his rampage. If they do not find a way to save him, the Berserker of the Red will most certainly meet his end.
To Shishigou - a Master of the Red camp - this was quite dismaying news. On the other hand, his Servant no longer seemed interested now that she knew the full story.
"What does it matter? He's but a mere Berserker, and Berserkers will always meet their end in wars like these. It is only a matter of time. I say we leave him be."
Saying this, she bit into the apple that Shishigou bought for her from the market - and then immediately frowned and passed it to him.
"What utter dross... you can have it back."
"You know you're terrible, right...? Geez, this is crap."
Shishigou took a bite as well, and frowned.
Once Alma was asleep, Ruler left the attic and stepped outside. Trifas at night once again returned to its dead silence. However, the smell of corpses, of prana, carried on the otherworldly air, was proof that these streets currently hosted a Holy Grail War.
Ruler dipped her right hand into the holy water collected at the church, and cast it into the air. The water gave a dim glow and then began to smoothly draw a three-dimensional map of the city. This is one of the many privileges afforded to the manager of the War: the function of locating Servants.
The search gave a result. Only a single Servant of the Red camp was confirmed to be in Trifas.
"Hmm..."
Tilting her head, she expanded the range of detection. Six Servants were assembled at the Fortress of Millennia. They were of the Black camp.
"Six Servants of the Red missing... and one of the Black, as well...?"
It seemed the Red camp was keeping away from the city and observing it from a distance, understanding that every part of Trifas was enemy territory. In that case, the single Servant there would be a scout.
Did that mean the single missing Servant of the Black camp was performing the same role? Most likely, the Red camp had established itself in nearby Sighișoara. Strictly speaking, the Holy Grail War only takes place within a single municipality. It could be considered a violation for participants to be stationed in a neighboring city.
"But, given the situation, I suppose they have little say in the matter."
After all, the land is managed by the Black camp. Unlike Fuyuki, where the three great families allowed for some form of fairness, one single clan is in absolute power here.
This is without mentioning the small size of the city, where the rustic streets were apparently forbidden from further development. Again, unlike Fuyuki, there is a severe lack of places where outside magi can hide. Conversely, the Yggdmillennia need only hold out within their unassailable fort.
Possessors of the Greater Grail or not, the situation is simply too imbalanced. At the very least, she should let them set up camp outside Trifas.
The streets were calm to a disturbing degree. Normally, there should have already been one or two skirmishes...
"...but as long as one side does not make a move, the other will not either."
Perhaps this will be a quiet night.
As though in open rebellion against her thoughts, the Servants within the castle began to move. They headed, not for the streets, but outside the city.
"The forest...?"
She changed the search area to the forest filling the area east of Trifas. She confirmed the presence of three Servants.
It seems they plan on fighting the war away from the streets, as though to maintain peace in the city.
"Well, as long as the population is safe..."
Although destruction of the environment is troubling in its own way. Hopefully, the forest will not end up being burnt to a crisp by the Lancer of the Red...
So Ruler thought, as she took off down the road and made her way towards the forest.
---
Chapter 4-1
---
The man was pure muscle.
However you think about it, that is the only word that can do him justice. Anyone who sees this giant of a man - over two meters tall - will find their eyes drawn to his extraordinary mass. The sense of hopelessness only increases as you tilt your head to try and guess at his height.
After all, what could come of taking a paring knife to a ball of metal? The man's body is a steel mass in itself. A sharp blade may cut his skin - even draw some blood - but it stops there.
His arms alone are virtually the size of crocodiles. There is nothing covering his pectorals, but it is clear that the toughness of his body is practically armor. His legs trudge along with the force of mammoths.
Leather straps tightly coil around his entire body, including his face, but he does not appear to be suffering. In fact, the man is smiling, as though enjoying it - as though asking, is this all that constricts me? Certainly, the straps around his waist and between his legs cannot be considered protection at all.
That is fine; his flesh is not something meant to be contained within armor. If anything, it is unnecessary. That is the immensity of the man's mass.
The man crashed through the forests east of Trifas as evening set in. To the onlooker, a fish walking on land may be more believable; he stood out like a sore thumb against the abundance of nature that surrounded him.
He is the Berserker of the Red.
"Would you stop, Berserker?!"
Someone was pursuing this unchained brute. Leaping from branch to branch, a girl clad in verdant green called out to Berserker again and again. Her cold, sharp eyes contained a beastly glint. Her hair stretched out long and unkempt, utterly devoid of the silkiness that one would find amongst those of noble birth; however, it befitted someone which such an feral appearance. Yes... she may well be a beautiful beast in human form.
Berserker chortled and answered her words without ever breaking stride.
"Ha ha ha! I cannot respond to that order, Archer. I must bring myself to that castle, to where the oppressors are."
Archer shouted in exasperation.
"You gull! We merely wait until the time is ripe! Why do you not understand?"
However, Berserker did not stop. He continued to walk, one powerful step after another. He had been walking for two days already, and spotted by passers-by more than a few times. Archer could only pray that that shady priest had things under control.
"To me, the word 'wait' does not exist."
This is it - Archer decided to give up on him. More accurately, seeing as she could not persuade him, she chose to focus on supporting him instead, as ordered.
"Only a madman, in the end... this task is beyond me."
She sighed as she muttered to herself - but she was answered by another.
"I guess so... not for nothing is he a Berserker."
Archer looked up towards the source of the voice; standing on one of the branches was a man with a carefree smile on his face. He was pleasing to the eyes - but not in the way of knights of old whom softened the hearts of noble ladies with their courteousness. His eyes were those of raptors, he was of a strong and firm build, and yet he was free from any appearance of crudeness. He looked the image of a great hero - one adored and admired by any man and woman, young and old, who looked upon him.
He was the Rider of the Red - the man who, according to Assassin's Master, could match the invincible Karna.
"Rider... do you suggest we forsake him?'
He shrugged and replied.
"Do we have a choice? The only thing he can think about is fighting. You're the strange one here, trying to talk him out of it."
"I was rather skilled in the restraining of wild beasts. I did fancy putting a shaft through his knee and being done with it, but..."
If she had done so, Berserker would undoubtedly have changed his course and rounded on her instead.
"Well, I'm glad you decided not to."
"So, why did you come?"
Rider grinned affably, as though he had been waiting for her to ask.
"Why else? I wanted to make sure you were all right."
"Indeed."
Archer showed no embarrassment, surprise or even anger. She simply did not react to his words at all - even though said words, coming from someone of Rider's demeanor, should have flustered even a virtuous wife.
But to Archer, who had lived in the wild alongside beasts, words of courtship hold no meaning. Rider scratched his head awkwardly as she shrugged off his sure-fire advance with ease. He coughed and returned to his original mission.
"Anyway... we were given the role of the rearguard: support Berserker if reasonable, and gather as much information as possible."
"The enemy is already close at hand. I dare say he will reach the fort in the small hours. No doubt he will be checked before then."
"Huh... well, in any case, here's hoping some of the Melas will grace us with their presence."
Both Archer and Rider are superb hunters and warriors. They hold no illusions about winning a battle against seven entrenched Servants with barely half that number.
"Stopping such a Berserker calls for two Servants at the very least - if they do not send their entire force."
Yes - stopping that man would require such an exceptional effort.
"Yet... he truly has leapt from our given understanding of what a Berserker is."
"I'll agree with that. You'd think his Mad Enhancement was low, seeing as we could talk to him..."
However, the Mad Enhancement of the Berserker of the Red is an irregularity. It is possible to talk to him, but it is impossible to communicate fully. He does not disobey commands as much as he simply does not understand them. Even an order given with a Command Spell will do nothing more than weigh him down; two Command Spells are required to stop him.
"The Thracian gladiator and symbol of rebellion, Spartacus... what an obdurate man."
Spartacus was a Roman slave and gladiator who escaped with seventy-eight of his comrades. He later repulsed an assault force of nearly three thousand, becoming a hero and inspiring armed uprisings by slaves in many places. In the end, he was betrayed by the pirates whom he depended on, and cut down by the Roman legions - but until then, he had not lost a single battle. He remained a shining beacon of hope to the undertrodden slaves.
He hated all oppressors, his will to fight set aflame by those with power. This mad warrior fought the masters to protect the weak - care for them, heal them - but moreso than anything else, to stand in defiance. That is the Berserker of the Red.
"Where is your mount, Rider?"
"Well, we're here to gather information... no need to give them any in return. I'm keeping them out of this."
"Hmm... I suppose that will not prove to trouble you. What of your weapon - is it a sword, or a spear?"
"A spear, of course."
Rider and Archer continued to pursue the loosed Berserker; there was no way they could lose track of his slow, unwavering stride.
"By the way, Archer, there's one thing I want to ask..."
"Ask, then."
"Have you seen your Master's face?"
"I have not... I have only met the mediator for my Master... that priest."
---
Chapter 4-2
---
As soon as she was summoned, Archer noticed that the man standing before her was not her own Master. After all, what was clearly a Servant was standing by his side and, more importantly, she felt no connection to him at all.
"I haven't, either. Then again, I suppose that's only to be expected for a bunch of magi..."
"Yet... it is still peculiar. But, considering what awaits all of us at the end, perhaps it cannot be helped..."
In this Great Holy Grail War, the biggest issue is not defeat, but victory - and what follows. Whichever camp survives, it is unlikely that all seven Servants will remain accounted for - but it is also highly unlikely for only one to remain. In the end, the Holy Grail will only grant the wishes of one Master and one Servant. As soon as victory becomes clear, the division will begin.
Who among the magi does not aim to reach the Swirl of the Origin that sits outside this world, where all futures and all pasts are recorded? With such a possibility contained within the Holy Grail before them, even the closest of comrades would gladly slaughter one another. Servants are certainly not exceptions; the only way to have their own wishes granted is to terminate the allies they stood shoulder to shoulder with. Therefore, any alliances will most likely last only until the winning side is decided.