Amina stepped into the church with a brisk but immaculately measured step. There was not a single pause between each of her footsteps, nor was there any discrepancy in the distance each covered. Her gait yielded nothing. It did not hint at the slowness of surprise nor did it reveal the quickness of anxiety. 
She moved with a resolute determination despite not having been to the church before. Her posture was stiff and formal, with ramrod straight back and arms calmly trailing her sides. Her left hand did float over her sheathed rapier, however, revealing a wariness that only her eyes, which darted analytically from side to side, showed. 
As she had been called here along with every other master, Amina had no choice but to be on guard. The holy grail war, was, as its name would suggest, a war. Duplicity could be found in any battlefield, and Amina preemptively prepared against it.
Despite how tense she was, Amina did feel relief to know that she wasn’t alone in this ritual. A magus hunter was going to accompany her here, but her scanning of the church didn’t find a familiar face. She would have to wait, and she did so, absent-mindedly feeling the crossbow bolt – her catalyst – in her pocket.