[h1]Siegfried[/h1]

Sundown, Eastern Fields. The message had been clear and brokered no room for argument, and considering the nature of the sender, he could not very well refuse. It put him on edge, in a way – at least on a certain level, to be surrounded by so many potential enemies, and his eyes narrowed at the thought of how his last confrontation had gone down.

In that regard, he knew it was not really a pressing concern – after all, to attempt something at that time would be almost guaranteed to be suicidal, but he was cautious nonetheless. It was a matter of how he was as an individual, and simply could not be helped. At the very least, it’d allow them to actually scout the competition, even if it would be the same for them. 
And so, at the appointed time, in the appointed place, he approached the gathering with certainty in his step. He made no attempt to hide his presence – at least in so far as this temporary ceasefire would be concerned, it would serve no purpose. He materialized with little fanfare, lacking any sort of modern fashion choice that he could have used to blend in at any one point. Balmung was slung across his back, resting in its sheath, and he hoped he would not have to retrieve it in the following hours, but. . . 

Well. Better be prepared anyway.

It shone softly, that greenish sigil etched across his entire chest, reaching his cheek and making his appearance all the more striking. Certainly, to someone looking at him right now, he could very well seem a knight straight out of a fairy tale. Looking at the other attendants, he tried to force the tension to ebb away and act polite – after all, common courtesy should be observed, correct?
“Good evening.” His voice was firm, but soft – nothing like a boastful bellow, or a haughty declaration. Merely a simple greeting, before he fell silent once more. Perhaps he was just not much of a people person, perhaps he saw no point in saying further at the moment. Or maybe both. Not much one could tell when he sported that grim, stony-faced façade that seemed to fit him like a well-worn cloak.

It probably was like one. After all, a tragic hero can’t ever really escape being one, can he?

But, well. . .no time to dwell on that. His piece said, he awaited to be addressed or for his Master to give a command. Subservience was not a habit he had managed to break within his lifetime, and he seemed to be unlikely to break it now of all times.

A shame, really. Perhaps he would be better off if he was just a more outgoing man. But, well – words were never really his forte, anyway.

[@ConstantlyComic] @Anyone Who Cares

[hr]

[h1]David Ríos, Eastern Fields[/h1]

To say he was expecting to be called would be a lie. And for an instant, it had worried him – like so many things tended to, these days. But it seemed he was not in trouble – and, in fact, this appeared to be a wonderful time to scope out potential adversaries. Plus, he would be able to confer about the presence Lancer had felt, though the thought was pushed to the back of his mind for the moment.

He had considered whether it was wise of him to go, obviously, but he could not help but feel it was the right choice to attend in person instead of looking through Lancer’s eyes. He surely felt it would, at least, serve to build up his relationship with his Servant – and he could not very well stay cooped up in that house for the duration of the war, anyway. He would have to leave, eventually, for one reason or another – might as well take the chance and see the city by himself while the opportunity of risking little by doing so presents itself so graciously.

The arrival could have been better timed, perhaps early to try and get a gauge of the overseer of the war himself, but alas, that was not to be, and it seemed quite a little party had formed by the time he stepped foot into the clearing. 

Quaint, so very quaint. They had provided snacks, even! Very nice of them, though his first thought had been checking them for poison before deciding that he could lower his guard a bit – attempted assassination would not be a smart thing to attempt here and now, of all times, would it? So, with what he hoped was a relaxed smile, he approached the group. Lancer would keep watch for both of them. . .or so he hoped, anyway. It’d be quite embarrassing to die because he was too trusting, of all things.

“Hello, sorry if we are running late.” He offered an awkward chuckle, or what passed off as one, anyway. At least breaking the ice could be the first step. 

That, however, did not really stop him from still being somewhat on edge. So many things could go wrong, so many potential problems that could arise. . .

Calm down, get your act together, and try to scout some of the competition while you are here anyway.

[@Ijoyen] @Anyone Who Cares