Fate/Apocrypha

Chapter 3.4

"Grgh..."

Gordes gnashed his teeth as he watched over the death-match between the Saber of the Black and the Lancer of the Red. There was no chance for him to use his thaumaturgy - the opposing Master wasn't even at the scene.

But what most displeased him was the fact that his Saber - the great hero Siegfried, the most powerful of Sabers who can ignore any attack below B-rank - was not winning.

Even Saber can not entirely defend against Lancer's assault. He must seek her aid.

"O Ruler, I beg of you. At the least, teach us his true name - "

"I cannot. That would against my position as a neutral Servant."

Ruler replied sharply. Gordes doggedly continued.

"But he tried to kill you! If the Servant of Black were to fall here, you would become his target again. We must - "

"As I have said before, that has nothing to do with it. I was summoned as Ruler - I cannot allow my personal matters to foul the battle between them."

"...!"

Gordes' impatience resurfaced. They were watching, of course they were - Darnic and the others, through Caster's remote viewing thaumaturgy and familiars.

They were watching him, the fool of a Master who can only stand there frozen by the utterly dominating presence of two mere Servants, unable to give any commands or support with any craft.

This is preposterous! Are we not fighting the Holy Grail War? Is it not supposed to be ultimate competition of thaumaturgy decided between two Masters and Servants? Where is the enemy Master? Why is he not here? Does he fear for his life? Come out and let me defeat you! I shall destroy you!

"Show yourself, Master of the Red! Let Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia see how a dog of the Association measures! You are watching this, are you not? Are you not?!"

There was no response. No one paid him any attention - not his own Servant, not even Lancer or Ruler.

The sensation of being left behind led Gordes to feel something he had not felt in a long time - embarrassment, and shame.

-- I must do something.

-- I must have the power to do something.

-- I do. Yes, I do, right at my side.

Gordes looked at the back of his right hand. Yes, the proof that he was a Master was right there - the bond between him and his Servant, the Command Spells which were carved out by enormous stores of prana.

That's right - use this Command Spell, and the Servant is effortlessly placed under his control. Gordes mustn't forget that his Servant is not a hero. He is nothing more than a puppet.

He cannot allow himself to do nothing but watch his Servant fight with blank amazement. As a Master, ought he not find victory through skill of craft and calm judgement?

However, even Gordes was calm enough to recognize that the present situation was not one he could interfere with. Perhaps it is better to say he was simply too intimidated.

Lancer's every thrust was like cannon fire, throwing out roaring gusts.

Saber's golden sword slashed the wind and cleaved the dark.

Every attack was met by its opposite, entwining together and scattering into sparks. The pinnacles of swordsmen and spearmen continued their struggle for dominance.