[center][h1][b]Albert Prelati[/b][/h1]
Interacting with: Berserker ([@Grey])
[h3]Fuyuki Hyatt Hotel - 5:39 PM December 1st, 2012[/h3][/center]

[hider]Electricity crackled around the circle as the lights flickered back into being, their diligent watch momentarily broken as if distracted by the magnificent figure they all now beheld. Albert's hair stood on end. The hounds growled for but a moment, silenced by a harsh mental reprimand from their master. A black knight stepped forth.

His immediate instinct upon beholding his Servant was to consult his Master's intuition, a special type of clairvoyance granted by the Grail to read the stats of Servants. Though he'd never used it before (obviously), the information was delivered to him as soon as he thought to look for it, as if discerning the abilities of Servants by sight was as natural as being able to tell if someone's eyes were blue. This was one of many gifts granted to Masters.

The honeycomb mold crunched beneath the black knight's steel boot as they left the circle, offering their allegiance to him. He was pleased. A surface examination of his Servant's stats revealed they possessed A ranks in most of the important combat parameters when boosted by the Berserker class' signature ability. Truly, they possessed abilities worthy of a Knight class, had he chosen instead to manifest them that way. There was, however, one minor detail that was bothering him. 

[i]Damn zose are some nice legs...[/i]

He stared at his Servant, who towered over him like an iron giant, evidently distracted by her physical appearance. Her. As in feminine. He'd summoned a [i]woman[/i], not a man. This was immediately troubling.

He scratched his head, regarding his Servant with equal parts awe, confusion, and agitated, rising dread.

"Yes..." he said hesitantly, not quite sure how to answer her question. "But zat depends. Are you... Roland? Roland of Brittany, ze most famous of Charlemagne's paladins? You are, aren't you?"

He tried to hold back his shock and disappointment. Not in her, necessarily, but in himself. Everything had been [i]perfect[/i]. The heir of Prelati was to summon Roland, and no one else. If it had turned out he'd summoned the wrong Servant, that he'd [i]failed[/i], after all his idle boasting and the effort he'd put into obtaining his catalyst... 

He shook his head, trying to avail himself of the doubts that now plagued him. No, that was impossible. The abilities of the Prelatis as summoners were beyond reproach. His catalyst had been the very fragments of Durandal, scraped from the walls of the Breach that bore Roland's name. There was [i]no possible way[/i] for him to have summoned anyone else. If he had, it might have been an even bigger achievement than summoning Roland in the first place, because failing a summoning with such an obvious catalyst would have clearly meant he'd somehow [i]broken[/i] the Grail. 

[i]No wait,[/i] he thought. [i]Maybe zere's anozer explanation.[/i]

He had heard of this before, believe it or not. Some anecdotal evidence from past Grail Wars had suggested that certain Heroic Spirits who were remembered by history as men may have either disguised themselves at certain points like Hua Mulan or had their legends altered posthumously by future historians and the passage of time. It wasn't unheard of, is what he was saying. Or at least, that's what he was trying to convince himself of. He certainly [i]hoped[/i] it was the case.

"I'm sorry if I sound surprised," he added, not wanting to appear impolite. "It's just zat if you [i]are[/i] Roland, I was not quite expecting you to be a woman. It seems 'istory 'as chosen to remember you differently zan you were in life."[/hider]