Fate/Apocrypha Volume 1 Chapter 3.8

"Well, first of all, I think you should get out of this wretched hive of scum and villainy as quickly as you can!"

Rider's suggestion was candid to a fault. They had barely started talking and the homunculus already felt somewhat taken aback, coming to vividly know of Astolfo's lunacy.

But… escape? Escape to where?

"Anywhere but here. It can't be any worse, right?"

He's right, the homunculus thought. But how could he escape?

"Well, let's not waste any time! We can ride out of here on my beloved steed! If we don't get a move on, my Master will probably call for me again."

Use Rider's steed? Yes, that could work… but the steed of Astolfo is…

"Oh? You know of my hippogriff?"

He did, as part of his knowledge on this Great War. Astolfo brought rise to various legends on the back of mounts like a griffin and the famous Rabicano, but particularly famous among them is something inconceivable for this world – the hippogriff.

This phantasmal horse was a magical beast born from the union of a griffin and a mare. With the upper body of an eagle and the lower body of a horse, this spawn between the two ought not have been possible.

Well… this is not much of an issue for the present. The problem lies more in the fact that the hippogriff is most certainly Rider's Noble Phantasm. By using it, Rider will expend an enormous amount of prana – and it will be none other than the homunculi who will have to bear the cost. Even putting that aside, such an expenditure of prana will inevitably point to the use of a Noble Phantasm.

"But it's very fast, you know! It's like, whooooosh! We'll go as far as we can, then I can just whoooooosh my way back! I don't think it'll use up that much prana just flying."

Despite Rider's gracious attempts to confer the speed of his hippogriff through a variety of bodily gestures, he cannot accept this plan.

"Oh, okay. Hmm, what shall we do, then? Maybe we should discuss it with Chiron."

He suddenly blurted out Archer's true name. When the homunculus pointed this out, Rider's face quickly turned pale. It seems he does realize, to some extent, that that was a bad idea.

"Huh? Oh, right! Sorry! Forget I said that!"

The information wasn't particularly useful to him in any case.

"Phew. Good, good. Don't let the others know, okay?"

He could see little regret in Rider as the Servant roared with laughter. If an opposing faction can manage to restrain this Servant, they will definitely dominate their enemy on the intelligence front. So the homunculus thought.

After some thought, Rider gave a suggestion.

"What about this? This war between Servants will begin in earnest soon. In the middle of all that fighting, it'd be a bit hard spotting one escaped homunculus, don't you think? And even if we do get exposed, they won't have the resources to come after us anyway. So, I'll wait for the right moment to lead you out of this place."

It was a solid plan, a complete turnabout from his previous idea.

"Yes, that should do, Rider."

The homunculus tensed at Archer's words. The Servant had opened, gone through and closed the door, and moved behind Rider without the homunculus ever realizing.

On the other hand, Rider showed no surprise and seemed to have known about his presence. He turned his head towards Archer standing behind him.

"You think so, too, Archer?"

"Yes, I am Archer… please do not call me 'Chiron' by mistake again."

"All right, I get it… Sorry. I really do feel bad about it."

Archer took a seat at the writing desk and gazed at the homunculus.

"You are afraid."

"Well, of course. Who wouldn't be afraid of people like us?"

Rider interjected. Actually, the homunculus wasn't very afraid of Rider any more, but he decided not to argue the point.

"As such, I will put one more fear in you. I speak very clearly – at most, you only have three more years to live."

Archer dispassionately confirmed the cruel reality. The homunculus nodded in understanding. Archer's declaration at his bedside carved itself into his mind.

"If you were but a child, I would lament and give my sympathy. However, you are a homunculus – in a way, you were born complete. That is why you must now consider for yourself."

Consider what? The homunculus asked. Archer stared directly at him with his sharp, piercing eyes.

"Consider how you will live."

To the homunculus, this seemed a task that would prove impossible within his lifetime.

Life itself is already a miracle to him. How can he possible know how to spend it? However, Archer declared sternly.

"Even so, you must consider it. If you do not, then how would your life be any different – or end any differently – even if you were to survive this war? There would have been no meaning to any of this."

"Well, I think being alive is already a blessing…"

Rider muttered as an aside.

"That will not do."

Archer brushed aside Rider's opinion with a single, short reply.

The homunculus could not respond to Archer's words. He did not know how. What can he possibly think about? How should he think about it? He felt like a fallen bough, set adrift at sea.

"Well… you could always ask others. Luckily, Rider is here to help you. Ask him, if there is anything you are unclear about."

"Wait, why does this involve me all of a sudden?"

"That is what it means to take responsibility, Rider. Oh, yes, and one more thing – start by learning to walk. Your feet have become far too soft. Once you can walk, you may be able to use some simple thaumaturgy. That should lessen the strain to your physical being."

The homunculus no longer felt as burdened in mind, perhaps due to the clear and understandable goal he had been given. After all, his walking around won't bother anyone. He can even start right away.

Archer stood up and patted Rider on the shoulder.

"Let us go, Rider. I will lock the door. No one will dare barge into this room during the meeting."

"All right…"

Rider stood up as well, looking annoyed. He was clearly dissatisfied, but the homunculus could not tell what the cause was.

"See you later, then. I'll be back, okay?"

Be careful, said the homunculus as he saw them off, and Rider shook his hand, looking strangely pleased. As soon as the door closed, he began to act. For now – he must begin to walk.

His two feet firmly gripped the floor. They were small and soft, but they could support his body – for a short while, at least. He took a step and felt some slight pain. His feet were dirtied. However, this time, he was not being driven by franticness. With walking as his only goal, he will not be lost.

For now, I shall walk – walk, until I can no longer take another step.

Meanwhile, Rider promptly became annoyed again as they walked down the hall.

"Aren't you being too hard on him?"

"And you are being too soft. I only wished to strike a balance."

Archer smiled as he replied, but Rider sulked and grumbled.

"Aren't you being soft on your Master, too?"

"Ah, is that why your mood turned sour? Rider… the most fitting way to educate is dependent on and different for each person. My Master works hard to remove the handicap that she has borne since birth, as though it were a matter of life and death. But, as a magus, she has come to accept it as though it were only natural. She will fall apart, one day, if there is no one to praise her for her efforts, unconditionally."

"So you think he's not working hard, then?"

"He does not understand the difference between effort and sloth to begin with. Considering his short lifespan, he cannot be allowed to be lazy. That would only lead to regret at the very end."

Rider grumbled, but became quiet and did not speak further.

"Of course… your doting on him is another issue. Without someone to cling to, it is doubtful that he can escape this place. However, do not lose sight of why you were summoned here as a Servant."

"You sound like a teacher or something."

"Oh, but I am."

Archer answered brightly and tried to place a hand on Rider's head, but a peeved Rider brushed it aside.

It seems the two are the last to arrive at the throne room. At Darnic's signal, Caster manipulated the Menorah to display a scene from outside the fortress. This technique, utilizing airborne golems as a relay, far exceeded the maximum viewing range of the normal remote surveillance thaumaturgy used by magi.

The scene that the golem showed was rather difficult to describe – it was of a half-naked, enormous, oafish-looking man, marching through a forest.

Darnic was the first to speak.

"Soldiers of Yggmilennia – according to Caster, this Servant has been pushing through the forest day and night, on a direct course towards this castle."

The others were dumbstruck. They were at war, of course, so it is only obvious that they will be assaulted by a Servant – but there should be several attacks at once, some in ambushes and others in frontal assaults. And some, like the Lancer of the Red, will carry out other tasks as well.

But there did not appear to be any subordinates around this Servant – which means he is advancing on the fortress by himself. It was an act of utter foolishness – but there is one class of Servant that would calmly perform such acts.

"By my judgment, that is the Berserker of the Red. Most likely, he possesses a high rank in Mad Enhancement – running amok in his desire to fight the enemy."

Those summoned as Berserker will have varying ranks of Mad Enhancement based on the anecdotes of their past lives. Those with a low rank will not receive as great of a boost in parameters, but are able to deliberate and communicate with others to a certain extent. Those with a high rank can expect a great boost in parameters, but it becomes impossible for them to even follow commands, much less exchange ideas.

"What shall we do, Grandfather?"

"We will not let this chance slip by, of course. Sending three Servants ought to be enough. But this presents a unique chance – if all goes well, we may be able to make a pawn out of this Berserker of the Red."

At Darnic's declaration, a wave of whispers swept the hall. Lancer waited until the commotion died down before asking calmly.

"Let us hear concisely of this plan of yours. That is why you have gathered all the Servants here, no?"

"Yes, my lord."

Under the directions of Darnic, the ploy to seize the Berserker of the Red was organized. Said Berserker was charging along the shortest length of approach, but with his comparatively slow speed, it would take an estimated one or two days before his arrival.

Victory is all but certain – the problem is how to attain the objective of capture. Will six Servants be enough to restrain such a man?