[@Breo][@Over Illusion]
[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]

A radio-call later, Emmreich sat on the pavement - One leg extended while the other was pulled in, his back resting against the black vehicle. With submachine gun in lap, the german officer boiled in a resolute rage. Despite his earlier outburst on the radio, he was no longer frothing with anger. One could say he managed to put the lid back on it. Not a single grunt escaped Emmerich, but few things hurt the man as much as being hapless in a fight. Absolutely useless, the german gazed up at the darkening sky in a bid to avoid wallowing in his wounded honour. [color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]So... [u]Unvölkisch[/u].[/i][/b]"[/color], he mumbled the humourless curse. It seemed that this really was the greatest offence for the officer: To go against the greatest, truest national socialist ideal. No longer he could keep the fire burning nor fight for the glory of his ancestors. He was utterly helpless. Even as news came of their rescue by the hand of Saber, he could not garner joy from the knowledge that they might not die tonight. The noise of battle was the only thing that rang in his ears as memories of the Eastern Front slowly crept back into his mind. In a blunt, cold tone he notified his fighting Servant.

[center][color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]Rider. Saber is en route to support us. Hold fast.[/i][/b]"[/color][/center]

His own bones felt every hit Sigurd had taken for the Reich, breath fastened as combat intensified - And so, in the throes of despair and pain of dishonour, Emmerich sought for a sign. A miracle. Anything that could help them. The burn of his command seals grew to insufferable levels, if not only because of his shame. It was then when he finally twitched in pain. As Sigurd came in contact with that wretched hammer, Emmerich's heart skipped a beat. Like white hot iron being driven into his chest, the officer squirmed in pain. Yet in that pain he found absolution, for struggle is manhood. A hand snapped to beneath the left of his chest, where the command seal burned. Springing to his step, with his left grasping the submachine gun by the body, he broke into a reinvigorated rush towards the fight. No matter if death is his reward, victory is his banner. With teeth gritting and blue eyes flaming, the officer roared the order as he rushed.

[color=#8c8c8c]"[b][i]RIDER - KILL HIM! SKEWER HIM! ERASE HIM! MAKE HIM [u]DIE[/u]! FOR THE GLORY OF THE FATHERLAND AND OUR GERMANIC RACE![/i][/b]"[/color]

Emmerich said the words and the command seal activated as if it was triggered not by the order but the officer's refined resolve. God damn it, he's going to die fighting or win, no matter the tenacity of this foe. Together with a legendary hero, side by side, he is going to prove just how true german superiority is. Panting like a hound on the chase, adrenalin flooded his system to remove the pain for the time being. With order given and the officer closing in on the fight to support his servant, Emmerich longed for an unlikely glory to be made his in the light of his command skill being blown on the first fight.

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