Fate/Apocrypha Volume 1 Chapter 2.3

—

"That didn't go so well. I'm afraid that he might have sensed something."

"Was it not possible for you to perceive Saber's true name, Shirou?"

"It seems not. His Saber must possess some sort of skill or Noble Phantasm that can keep her identity secret. I was able to obtain her parameters, but aside from that…"

"As I see it, uncertainty is the first enemy we must eliminate. There is still time – could we not send an agent after them?"

"No, no, we shouldn't. It's still much too early for fighting among allies."

Shirou quickly rejected Assassin's merciless suggestion.

"Allies? Hardly."

"Our interests coincide, and that makes us allies. We can deal with them after the Servants of Black are defeated. And how is it going with your Noble Phantasm, Assassin? The materials you lack should have all been gathered by now."

"Yes, only the ritual required to establish it as my Noble Phantasm remains. I need three more days."

"I see. Then it seems we will be able to breach Trifas in three days' time."

"Yes, we need only to have the doves act as our scouts for these few days."

The two abruptly ended their discussion and looked towards the door. After a short while, it was thrown open by an intruder, but Shirou relaxed after identifying the man.

"Well hello, Caster. What are you doing here?"

The man called Caster, foppishly dressed in refined Medieval-esque clothing, walked briskly down the nave while spreading his arms wide and shouting.

"A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!"

After a brief silence, Shirou – rather nervously, as though he felt somewhat apologetic – spoke.

"…Was that from one of your works?"

Caster's shoulders dropped as he sighed with disappointment at Shirou's words.

"Oh, Master! How can it be that one lives in this age yet does not know of one of my greatest works! You must take the time to read this!"

He held out a bulky hardcover – apparently, he had visited a book shop in order to buy his own work. The title read, The Works of William Shakespeare.

The Caster of Red, William Shakespeare – the only playwright whose fame had reached around the world. To say that one has no knowledge of his works is to be disparaged as ignorant. It is even said that if one were to trace the source of any piece of modern literature, one would always find a Shakespearean creation.

However, there is one thing he said just moments before that could not be ignored. 'Master', he had called Shirou – the one who already possesses Servant Assassin. Neither the priest nor the assassin had been taken aback by this. If this were true, then Shirou already had control of two Servants.

While such a thing is possible, it is rather irregular. There has never been a case of a single Master commanding two Servants in prior Grail Wars. One would barely be able to prevent a self-inflicted death via prana drain. In that case, just how much prana does this man have reserved in him?

"I might have been summoned by the Holy Grail, but it could hardly have granted me such knowledge as details about your works. All you are to me is 'a famous writer of history.'"

Hearing Assassin's comment, Caster gazed upwards and lamented.

"O Queen of Assyria, let me hear no more of such painful words, I beg you. Every line you speak is a refusal of my very individuality!"

"…Yes, I suppose you would see it that way. But Caster, what has happened that required you to appear in material form?"

Her question immediately stopped all of Caster's exaggerated grievings.

With a cough, he spoke again with some discomfort.

"Ah, yes, well… lovers and madmen have such seething brains, as the phrase goes, but the one we know as Berserker at times conducts himself in a way most unappealing to logic…"

"…Has Berserker begun his rampage?"

"Oh, no," Caster answered Shirou.

"Then what exactly is the matter? Explain yourself."

Assassin approached Caster, her face contorted into an irritated scowl. With a smile like that of a jester's, Caster delivered the news.

"Berserker has begun his march on Trifas. It seems he has discerned the enemy which he must strike."

"…What?"

"Oh my… that is troubling news."

Assassin was lost for words whereas Shirou's murmur was practically casual.

"For now, Archer is in pursuit, but whether or not she can stop him may as well be decided by the flip of a coin… well, it is mostly likely that she will fail."

"This is no laughing matter, Caster."

Assassin muttered bitterly. But of course, because while all the Servants of Red have been assembled, they are not fully prepared for war. This is without mentioning the Servants of the Yggdmillennia who await within the impregnable Fortress of Millennia, in perfect condition and awaiting their advance – Berserker has no chance of breaking through by himself. His march will only end in the meaningless death of a Servant.

"How will we proceed, Master? My Noble Phantasm is not yet prepared. In such a state, it would be senseless for us to make our attack. Our only choice is to leave him to his fate."

"Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou will…"

"Oh? So it was you who spurred him, then, Caster?"

Caster ended all of his excessive gesturing and averted his gaze with seeming embarrassment.

"So it was you who told him of the location of Trifas! You little…!"

"Oh, but the pitiful berserker wishes only to seek the adversary for his rebellion – I can not possibly stand idle while he is filled with such anguish!"

To Shakespeare, this world truly is the greatest story ever told. Or rather, it ought to be so. For he loved from the bottom of his heart all who are out of the ordinary, and pursued the tales which they spun.

That is why he is willing to employ deception and provocation – anything for the sake of the story.

"More and more, you prove yourself to be nothing but trouble…!"

Assassin sighed, but Caster replied gracefully.

"Now you know that I am what they call a 'troublemaker'… or perhaps 'trickster' is more fitting."

"There's no helping it, then… we will have to ask Archer to support Berserker. But give her strict orders to retreat if the situation turns disadvantageous. Berserker cannot be stopped – even if his Master expends a Command Spell, it will only delay the inevitable."

"Yes, Master. My familiars shall pass your words unto Archer."

"And as oversser, I will have to follow Berserker and deal with whatever is left in his path. I will not be able to act for some time – do keep out of trouble, won't you, Caster?"

Because Shirou is also the overseer, he must of course do everything in his power to preserve the secrecy of thaumaturgy. After all, if Berserker is heading for Trifas in a direct line, it is highly likely that he has been seen. If only he were in spirit form – but, as overseer, he could determine that it would be meaningless to expect that sort of logical thinking in a Berserker… especiallythat one.

"Oh, yes. I understand, my Master…"

As though to encourage to disheartened Caster, Shirou said with a soft smile,

"Fear not, Caster. The battle shall soon be joined. With seven Black Servants and seven Red Servants, it shall be the greatest of Holy Grail Wars – the Great War of the Holy Grail. I do believe that this battle will satisfy your love of stories."

***

And so the night ended, with the assembly of the fourteen Servants. On one side, the clan of the Yggdmillennia magi who have rid themselves of the Clock Tower – and on the other, the magi sent by the Clock Tower, who accepts no abdication and aims to seize the Holy Grail.

There will be no place for submission or reconciliation, no room for negotiations. For it will be a true war of annihilation, a fight to the death as the two sides slaughtered one another. However, as with most wars, the beginning of this war was quiet.

Kairi Shishigou and Red Saber reached Trifas after one night's journey. Shishigou, holding back Saber – enthusiastically pushing to start a fight as quickly as possible – and downing an herbal mixture to stave off his drowsiness, set about the business of creating a workshop.

He had considered renting a hotel room, but that place would most certainly warrant the greatest attention to the enemy. However he may alter a hotel room into a usable workshop, it does not change the fact that such a building is weak. And there are those in the world who think nothing of blowing apart an entire building to get at a single room.

"…And this is your solution?"

Saber voiced her complaints with some weariness.

As she had requested, Shishigou bought her some modern-style clothing at a boutique in Sighisoara. With a tube top that exposed her abdomen and a crimson leather jacket, it seemed quite chilly even for autumn. Of course, she is a Servant, so the weather probably poses no problem to her.

What Saber is disheartened by is the place that Shishigou chose for his workshop. Saber has dealt with magi in her life – her mother was a magus, after all – so she knew well that they were eccentric, obstinate and egotistic. But…

"…you want to make your den in the catacombs? Surely, you can't be serious…"

Saber is well within her rights to lament – the candles around them illuminated looming piles of bones. Two sleeping bags have been placed over a slightly more open area, seemingly an altar, confirming that Shishigou is planning on sleeping here.

"Don't be so demanding. There aren't many leylines of this quality, you know? This place will definitely help with recovering your prana."

"Damn the leylines. That's not the problem."

"Oh… are you scared?"

When Shishigou slapped his hands together in understanding, Saber made a face like a bellicose snapping turtle and yelled.

"No! I simply cannot stand this poor treatment! I was a knight! And even if I weren't, no one would be able to accept this!"

"Sigh… all right, fine. You can use that sleeping bag. It's more expensive, so it should be more comfy."

"…"

Saber's shoulders dropped.

As the adage goes… 'the key to dealing with a magus is to give up'.

—