Katenka Makiri
Katenka blinked. And then she blinked again. And once more...
She wasn't entirely sure how to react to this, really. This wasn't what she'd expected at all. What she'd expected was someone less... Impressive, a lower ranked Servant, a minor hero...
And yet here she was, the tug on her mana reserves making it abundantly clear that this girl, this knight in shining armour, the most beautiful girl she'd even layed eyes on, was no
minor hero. She couldn't really focus on anything else except the girl before her, and it took a moment for her to even realize the... Weapon she held. Whilst it was sheathed in winds that shrouded its full appearance, there was no doubt that what the girl held in her hands was a sword.
"...S-saber?" She mumbled, her thoughts spilling out past her lips. "I... I can't have... Summoned a Saber... Especially not one so... So beautiful..."
A red tinge crossed her cheeks as she realized what she had just said, and as though trying to cover it up she began babbling rather incoherently.
"I... Um... Yes, you are my Mast- I mean
I am
your Master and um it is a pleasure to meet you really but you don't have to call me "Master" unless you really want to since my name's Katenka um that's not besmirching your knightly code or anything right I mean you can still call me "Master" if you want although I'd prefer Katenka since I'm not really worthy of being anyone's "Master" and oh my I can't shut up um um..."
Saber of Red
The green grass of the hill was stained red, red with the blood of fallen heroes, a deep red whose stain would forever mark the annals of history. This day, this fateful day upon the hill of Camlann, would forever be engraved in the memory of legend as the day the knights of Camelot came to an end, the day treachery and hatred won over justice and honour.
This was the day the dream died.
And alone on the hill, surrounded by the stench of corpses and the ruins of hope, abandoned by their allies and cut down by their own blood kin, a single knight breathed their last breath, cursing the cruelties of fate and knowing full well that they would forever be remembered as the worst of villains...
As the light of Murdoch's circle faded, a figure clad head to toe in heavy steel slowly came into view, an iron guantlet clutching their sides for a moment as though feeling some phantom pain. The moment passed soon, as the knight fell to one knee and offered their sword, a deep voice echoing from the blank face of their horned helmet...
"I ask of you..." The voice intoned, a voice that seemed twisted and distorted.
"Are you my Master?"@Nanashi Ninanai