I do not own Fate/Apocrypha nor any other Servants depicted here.
Addendum
Let silver and steel be the essence.
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.
Let black be the color I pay tribute to.
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.
Let the four cardinal gates close.
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate.
Let it be declared now;
your flesh shall serve under me, and my fate shall be with your sword.
Submit to the beckoning of the Holy Grail.
Answer if you would submit to this will and this truth.
An oath shall be sworn here.
I shall attain all virtues of all of Heaven;
I shall have dominion over all evils of all of Hell.
From the Seventh Heaven, attended to by three great words of power,
come forth from the ring of restraint, protector of the holy balance!
The chant echoed through the grand hall as the chosen Masters spoke the words for summoning. One even added in a few extra lines for a specific class.
Yet you shall serve with your eyes clouded by chaos.
For you would be one caged in madness.
I shall wield your chains.
Smoke and bright lights expelled forth onto the summoning circles as vessels were crafted and copies installed. When it was over, when the smoke cleared, four more Servants were brought into the world. All four knelt on one knee and declared, "Your summons have been answered. I am a Servant of Black, and my fate is one with Yggdmillenia. My sword is your sword."
Darnic smoothly stepped forward to face Lancer and addressed him, "My liege, these are the Servants our Masters of Black have summoned. They are yours to command."
The seated Servant nodded and rose from the throne. "Champions. Servants," he spoke with pride, "You have responded to the summons seeking the Grail. But, another faction rises to opposes. We must defeat them and rise to victory as the Black Faction!" He turned to look at his Master, who nodded and stepped forward.
"As the summonings conclude, we Yggdmillenia have started walking the path of war from which we cannot turn back!" the magus announced passionately, "Eternal glory comes to those who attain victory! Fear not! We already control the legendary vessel, the Greater Grail!"
"Hah! That! Sounds like good news to me," spoke up one of the newly summoned Servants. He was extremely muscular and quite tall. Dressed smartly in a black business suit with a gold-yellow tie, he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and continued, "Already halfway there. We'll just have to keep the other faction away from it."
"If that is so, then allow me to assist in making this place defensible," offered up another. He wore armor which looked extremely futuristic and kept his entire face covered. Probably an accomplished military man, judging by the amount of decoration on it. His voice was distorted by the breathing apparatus, the red lenses of his eyes glowing as he continued with, "I request the map of the area as well as a tally of available forces."
"Oh my, it seems those two are quite lively," the sole female Servant there exclaimed with a smile, tilting her head as she held a hand to her cheek. She was armored but it seemed a little light, as if for ease of movement. A pair of draconic wings rose from the side of her gorget, framing her long flowing red hair that was kept in place by a cloth hairband.
"Eh, can't say I blame them," interjected the last Servant as he leaned to the side and crossed his arms. His white hair was in a faux-hawk style and wore a dark blue hooded jacket, a tattered dark crimson shirt, black pants, and military-style combat boots. He added, "One's an emo soldier boy and the other's a 'roided up jock. You can't expect anything else."
"Hmph, a barking dog? Is this what I have to work with?" sneered the army Servant, "You should be put down for daring to mock me."
On the other hand, the Servant in the suit laughed and said, "I think I like this one already. Tell me, son, do you have the power to back up those fighting words of yours?"
"Wanna find out?" the last Servant taunted with a smirk as a sword materialized on his back.
"Enough!" Lancer shouted as slammed the butt of his spear on the floor. An intricately made weapon that seemed to have multiple moving parts for the spearhead. "We are meant to work together to stop a common enemy. We should not dissolve into fighting amongst ourselves," he reprimanded them fiercely. After a moment of glaring at them, he continued at a more calmer tone, "Now, if you would please state your classes to make things easier for us."
The military Servant then stood at attention with a salute, an open left palm touching his shoulder thumb first, "I am Archer. I apologize for my outburst, my lord."
The former nodded and replied, "At ease, Archer. Apology accepted."
"I have been placed in Berserker," said the muscular Servant politely as he pushed his glasses up and stepped forward to offer a hand, "Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Lancer grasped the open palm in a warrior's handshake and, "It is good to meet you as well, Berserker."
The woman curtsied and stated, "I am Rider, milord." He returned the gesture with a bow.
"I guess I can work with this... I'm Saber," drawled out the young man as he extended his own hand.
Lancer strode forward and grasped it firmly, saying, "Good to meet you, Saber." With that, he went to the front of the room and turned to face them. "Servants of the Black Faction," he addressed them, "I am Lancer. The other Servant beside me is Caster. While we await the return of one more with good news on Assassin's summoning, I ask of you that we all come together as one to defeat the Red Faction! Let us swear to bring victory!"
"YES!" shouted the other four.
The room was dark, only illuminated by all manner of lighting outside the apartment. A woman lay on the floor, bleeding out of her stomach and sobbing uncontrollably. The chant had been spoken amidst her cries and now the smoke was slowly coalescing into shape. The magus watched eagerly as he awaited the Assassin he summoned. However, instead of the supposed English serial killer, he found someone different. The thin Servant was in a tight bodysuit made of unknown material and colored in blacks and greys. His head was fully enclosed in his helmet, his faceplate an extremely smooth dome cover. His belt had two pouches on the side of his hips.
"What the- who are you?" exclaimed Hyouma Sagara. Was all his preparation all for naught?
The Servant turned his faceplate towards him and said nothing. Something flickered in front of it and a series of numbers and letters appeared.
4SS4SS1N
He stood there dumbfounded for a moment before being able to piece together what the Servant was trying to say. "Assassin? So... I did succeed," he said with a grin.
"It is very odd./ I do not feel tied to you./ Are there two Masters?" the Servant suddenly said in a slightly distorted voice.
"Eh, so you do speak. But what..." the magus started before the words itself hit him. "Damn it all," he shouted with a frustrated tone as he glared at the prostitute, "I had a feeling I should have killed you off entirely. I suppose I have to finish the ritual and the job."
"Finishing the job?/ Allow me to assist you./ Hate unfinished work."
"...Fine, I guess. You can stop her from struggling while I transfer the link properly this time," he ordered while noticing the whimpering woman trying to crawl away.
:-)
The next morning, Caules was surprised to find his Servant in the dining room having breakfast. An all-American style breakfast with a pot of coffee on the side. He ate while reading the day's newspapers.
"Rise and shine, son," Berserker greeted as he motioned to the seat in front of him, "Have a seat. Fill your belly and get ready for the day."
"I thought Servants didn't need food," he stated as he sat down.
"True. But that doesn't mean you should start the day without it," the Servant replied in a friendly manner, "Besides, I want to go on some sight-seeing later. A Servant needs to know of future battlefields after all."
"Another thing. You are a lucid Berserker," he pressed further as a homunculus maid presented him with a more simpler breakfast.
"Not all in this class are batshit crazy, son," said the former as he gestured with his fork, "Some of them just have radical ideas and have the balls and strength to act on them."
The rest of breakfast was finished in silence as Caules thought over what his Servant proclaimed.
"Pull."
A homunculus maid triggered the trap, launching the clay pigeon. Archer tracked it for a moment before shooting to kill.
"Pull."
The process was repeated again. Fiore calmly wheeled up to him with a question on her mind. As if knowing she was already there, her Servant queried, "Yes? Pull."
"I am surprised that you would engage in this sport, Archer," she stated as the shotgun belched out its payload, destroying another pigeon.
He paused to turn and explain as he lowered the gun, "A soldier must keep his skills sharp. I am no exception. Additionally, why waste power on doing this with my Noble Phantasm while I have more cheaper alternates to do so?" Then, he turned back to face the field and ordered, "Pull."
Fiore sighed and went back to the tower. At the door, some outdoor furniture was set up and it seemed like Rider and a very reluctant Celenike were sharing a pot of tea. "Good morning," she greeted as she wheeled over, putting aside the feeling of blood she could feel from the other Master, "Discussions with your Servant, Celenike?"
With a huff, the magus replied, "As grateful as I am to be selected as a Master, I sorely wish I got the Servant I wanted. Disappointment does not begin to describe it."
"My apologies, Master," offered up the Servant as she received a cup of tea from another maid, "I truly am."
"What use is it? I was quite looking forward to meeting the other one. I wonder what type of man was he..." she muttered as she looked away. She seemed to drift off in her mind, presumably thinking of what to do to her desired Servant. No doubt something... undesirable, if Fiore remembered her facts correctly about Celenike's family line.
"Hmm, I think I do understand your loneliness," commented Rider as she stirred her tea, "I suppose it would be difficult to find a special someone in your line of work."
"Huh?" uttered both Masters in surprise.
"Then again, love can bloom in the most unlikely places," the Servant said as she cupped her cheek with her free hand, "In fact, I met my beloved during a war."
Celenike started to chuckle, sputtering, "You think... I am talking about... getting a boyfriend..." She sighed and said, "Well, I suppose we can go with that."
Disturbing didn't describe half of it. Fiore didn't know what bothered her more; the fact that Rider was off the mark or that her Master's dark vibe suddenly increased. Looks like another homunculus is going to go missing... again. And why was she fine with the taint of blood coming off her Master? Not even perfume could cover it up.
"Servant, materialize. I wish to speak with you."
Gordes took a sip and set the glass of wine on the table. Looking around and still seeing empty air, he shouted, "Servant! I order you to materialize!"
Saber did so, with a very bored look on his face. "Why the hell are you shouting so much? It's too early in the morning for this."
"Why didn't you appear when I ordered you!? You are my Servant and I expected you to follow my orders!" he exploded on him.
"Yeesh, fine. I'm here, fat ass, now what do you want?" the Servant shot back as he crossed his arms.
"I will not tolerate this, Servant! You are just a glorified familiar!" Gordes continued his tirade as he stood up from his seat, "You! Will! Obey!"
"Geez, not just a fat ass but a hardass as well," he grumbled as he suddenly hauled the Master up by the collar and said, "Alright, asshat, if this is your idea of reaching an understanding with a Servant, you've got another thing coming. I don't care if you're the one keeping me here, this is how we're gonna do things. Out of a fight, you can say whatever you want. I'll go along with it 'if' it suits me. But in a fight, I call the shots. You just find a safe place to hide until it blows over. Got it?"
The magus hastily nodded. He was fine with it. All he wanted to do was talk about what not to say to the others and discuss their wishes. And maybe the Servant's identity. This was a lot more than he bargained for. He was suddenly let go and he fell back into his seat. He smoothed down his clothes and said, "Well, glad we could come to an agreement. Oh, and, if you don't mind... may I know your identity?"
Saber stared at him for a moment, shrugged and replied, "I guess it couldn't hurt..."
Lancer stood there staring out the window. The scenery was beautiful enough. Reminded him of home. But overall, he was restless. He disliked waiting for the enemy. He disliked having to react to their movements. If the enemy was familiar to him, he would be fine. He would anticipate their movements and counter accordingly. This time, he didn't know a thing. This is why he hoped that whomever that was summoning Assassin for the Black Faction would get someone that could help with information gathering. At least someone who knows what to do about it.
"Are you worried, my liege?" asked Darnic as he stood behind him.
"Indeed, I am," the Servant admitted as he turned away from the window to take a seat, "We know so little of the Red Faction. I would feel better if I knew more about our enemies." After some thought, he asked, "How soon is the Master of Assassin going to arrive?"
"Soon, my liege, soon," assured the magus as he poured him a glass of wine, "Hyouma, while being like a rat, is a resourceful magus. I am sure he is already on the way back to the city, Assassin with him."
"I certainly hope so," stated Lancer as he swirled the glass a little before drinking the wine.
Sagara grumbled as he walked down the road. After that debacle last night, he didn't have enough cash to hire a ride to Trifas. So there he was in Sighisoara, wandering around until he can come up with a way to get there.
"I am bored as hell./ I would like to kill something./ Can we friggin' go?"
It also didn't help that his Servant liked to wax poetic about his circumstance. It was then he came across a blonde girl in some student uniform talking to some guy that looked like a farmer. He walked past them, preoccupied with his thoughts, pieces of their conversation sounding past him about a trip out of the city. It then occurred to him that maybe he should take the same approach and maybe thumb a ride back to Trifas. That meant walking out of the city and...
"Excuse me, sir?" asked someone behind him, feeling a tap on his shoulder, "Are you in distress?" He turned around to find that same girl facing him, that other man moving towards a green pickup truck.
"Hmm?" he sounded in surprise and annoyance, "Yeah, I have some troubles. What's your problem?"
"That girl has power./ She might be an enemy./ Can I kill her now?"
He stiffened upon hearing his Servant's words. He looked past her and saw that the man was sufficiently far away. "Hmm... another Master?" he growled out, "You know we aren't supposed to fight right now."
"Servant Ruler," she corrected, "I am here to mediate, not to take part. I repeat, are you in distress? The farmer said he is heading to Trifas."
He stared at her for a moment, wondering if she was lying to him. Warily, he shrugged his shoulders, not wanting to look the gift horse in the mouth, "I suppose. Yes, I'll join you."
She just smiled and turned to walk to the truck. As he followed after her, he asked mentally, "What in the world is the Ruler class?"
"As she has stated./ A wishless Servant brought forth./ Here to judge the War."
A Servant without a wish? Hmm, he could deal with that. Not to mention that he was able to catch a ride to Trifas. That was something.
Caster hurried along one of the many hallways in the castle. All the Servants were called by Lancer to the great hall for some reason or another. It was quite a bother.
"Then again, I suppose the carvings can wait," he intoned to himself as he opened the double doors to the room. All the Servants and their Masters were present, including his own. What a talented boy. His golems were quite intriguing and may prove to be of use to himself later on if he should survive this. "My apologies for my lateness. Have I missed anything?" he asked gently as he took his place next to Roche.
"Accepted. Please, Caster, look at what is being displayed," implored Lancer as everyone was busy watching was happening on the projection that was formed, angled from the ceiling.
Intruders. How daring. One seemed to be a Master, the other a Servant. One used firearms and bombs, the other was clad in armor and used a sword. How amusing. It somehow reminded him of his descendant's hirelings. Then again, the crusader wasn't as reckless, nor the highwayman so explosives inclined. Still, the first volley had been fired and it was up to the Black Faction to respond. And how?
"That must be Saber. He seems strong," stated Lancer as the skirmish ended. He then asked their faction's Servant, "Saber, should you two clash, can you win?"
"If that's all he can do? Yeah, I can win," the Servant of the Sword replied. To Caster, it sounded a little arrogant.
"Truly? Remind yourself that overconfidence is a slow and insidious killer," he advised the younger man.
"It ain't overconfidence if it's true," was the cheeky reply.
"Enough. No more arguments," warned Lancer as he fell into thought. Glancing over to him, the Servant of the Spear asked, "Caster, why didn't your summons respond to this intrusion?"
"To keep it a secret," he explained with some confidence of his own, "For now, they only know the existence of homunculi guards and golems. They know nothing of my undead and it shall remain so until they come in force. By then, it would be too late for them to plan for this. As I have explained to young Roche before, they are merely cannon fodder. To slow down the Servants and their Masters. Who knows? We may be lucky enough to take out a Master or two should they be the type like tonight's visitors."
"Well said, Caster," said Lancer, giving his support. Addressing the rest, "I think this is enough excitement for the night. We should let our Masters rest as the enemy may appear at our doorstep tomorrow. Let us adjourn."
Muttering their agreements, the other Servant's shifted to spirit mode. As the others filed out, Darnic pulled aside Saber's Master and said, "Gordes. Lancer and I have a mission for you."
"I have been waiting for you," said Shirou as he got up from his kneeling position.
"Well, my Master said you were needing my help," replied Lancer as she stepped out of the shadows.
"Yes. Right now, Servant Ruler is moving towards Trifas," he nodded as he began to explain, "For all of us, he is a disturbance. He must be destroyed immediately."
"Understood. I shall leave immediately," accepted Lancer as she shifted to her spirit form.
Commentary:-
Hello everyone. Welcome back to the next chapter of Doubtful Origin. We have five new Servants for you to look over. Previously, we had a look at the Servants of the Red Faction as well as Lancer of Black and Caster of Black. I hereby confirm the identities of Archer, Rider, and Berserker of Red. Were Lancer and Caster too vague? Hmm, I shall try to give a better implication in later chapters. For now, we have the rest of the Black Faction Servants as well as what happened the next day. If you want to ask as to why Saber of Red is not featured except in reference... Sisigou got the Servant he summoned. Care to take a gander as to the identities of the Servants of the Black Faction? Try the other two as well. Please, all are welcome to try as many times as you want.
Please read and review, would you kindly?