[@Breo]
[h2][center][b]Emmerich Lisztmayer-Anschütz von Sabern, 
[i]Master of Rider[/i]
Nearby the Tohsaka Manor
The 27th of August, 1939[/b][/center][/h2]

[hr]

To say that Emmerich eagerly anticipated this moment was an understatement. The officer had an itch since they set foot in the Orient to get closer to his opponents for purposes of observation. As the Sun set and the seaside city quietened down, the perfect tactical opportunity finally rose for reconnaissance. Hawkish blue eyes spied on the familiar manor through a binocular, fixated on windows and doors as they looked for a sign of life indoors. He took his sweet time with the approach, spending the better half of the evening with lurking closer and closer to his query whilst he expertly hid his presence - That is to say he spent the last hour sitting in a convenient shrubbery across the street.

The lanky officer dressed for the occasion - Only the usual constants of his garb remained the same, the black jackboots and the field grey pantaloons. A majority of his figure was obscured by a smock of odd green patterns, making it almost impossible to spot him in the cover of nature. The iconic helmet atop his head bore a helmet cover of similar design whilst his face was completely obscured by a black mask pulled up to the bridge of his nose. Only striking blue eyes were discernible from Emmerich's visage. What he wore beneath the smock remained a mystery, but bottle-green collars bearing blank black tabs peeked out from the garment's confines.

However, the man was no longer unburdened like earlier. Clad in a plethora of black straps and buckles, the standard issue german webbing attached a plethora of tools and provisions to his tall figure: Shovel, bayonet, pistol holster, munitions pouches, grenades and a bread bag - All fixed around the belt above his waist that sported the same buckle he'd be seen wearing before. His binoculars hung from his neck with a stripe of leather. The only rucksack on his body was the plain brown one hanging on his right side and strapped onto his thigh. The officer did not seem to mind the extra weight of his kit at all, or at least one could not notice his discomfort if he had any. 

While one bare left hand clutched the binocular against his eyes, another held a weapon that hung from his shoulder via its leather strap. Made of fine metal and bakelite, the grey submachine gun was meticulously built. The milled body and the compact design may be immediately recognized as what the outside world would call a "Schmeisser". Disregard the fact that Hugo Schmeisser had little to do with its development, but Emmerich was not concerned with that now. As he let the binocular hang, both his hands reached for his gun. The squatting officer was wound up and ready to move on the Manor with the support of his most-definitely orderly and very sober Servant Rider, whom he hoped was loitering around the immediate vicinity. For a moment, as the crickets began their orchestra and the warmth of Autumn faded from the rise of the Moon, the lanky man thought of his amusing lunch with Rider and their appreciation of fine brews afterwards. Truly he was fortunate to have such a man as his ally in this conflict! A shake of his head quickly dismissed the fond memories as he prepared to move.

Unfortunately, a wrench flew into the battleplans. The officer already had half a leg on the outside of his shrubbery by the time his blue eyes snapped wide with realization. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]... Donnerwetter.[/i][/b]"[/color] He was not alone. Not only a tumbling tourist wandered its way right into the middle of his operations but apparently this person was also a man of the Moonlit World. Almost tripping in the branches that he spent the past few hours entangled in, with a rustle he quickly withdrew. The arcane presence in the misplaced man was clear, but something else quickly became apparent - The burn of his command seals. Whatever was going on, he was in the right place but at the wrong time. The officer's heart beat rapidly as no doubt combat was about to erupt and there had to be a civilian that strolled right into the middle of it. A second's hesitation had to be made - Make collateral damage of the poor sod or risk his entry but ward the wandering person away to safety? Eyes flickered rapidly left and right, scanning the manor and the streets before suddenly he burst forth from the foliage. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]... Gottverdammte scheiße, halt! HALT![/i][/b]"[/color]

Shrill orders split the silence of the streets as Emmerich came to stand before the tourist, holding an open palm towards him to gesture a stop before immediately harking again - Right hand still on the grip of his gun. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]DU! SOFORT HIER RÜBER! Dies ist eine gefährlich stellung, du pimmelbirne![/i][/b]"[/color], he harked the demand and the warning before strolling quickly closer to the man. His posture did not suffer under his battledress, fortunately. However, as soon as he got close to the lost man he extended a hand instinctively. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Ihre Papiere, Bitte![/i][/b]"[/color], came the order. Emmerich himself was surprised that he'd do such a thing out of reflex, but it was already said and it'd be awkward as all hell to correct himself now. Not that the entire situation wasn't terribly dangerous and awkward already - Only now did he realize that the man was a fellow European. As he cleared his throat, he calmly repeated the order to the Mysterious Uncle.

[center][color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Herr - Ihre Papiere, Bitte.[/i][/b]"[/color][/center]

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/wiD2ByQ.png[/img][/center]