[h1][center][color=powderblue]Marguerite Calder[/color][/center][/h1]
[h2][center]Sundown, Eastern Field[/center][/h2]

The message had been a relief, in all honesty.  It had come in the middle of the reconnaissance that had been so rudely interrupted the night before, yes, but it neatly helped settle many of her concerns.  For one, it confirmed that there was something rotten in the city of Fuyuki, so to speak.  Something was… incorrect about this Grail War, something that required a temporary truce, it seemed.  In Marguerite’s mind, it meant that she was right about her concern about the thing they had first encountered.  It [i]was[/i] an aberration, but then what else could it be?  Surely no one would summon someone that could create something like that.

Also, the truce gave her and Saber a chance to make up for the risky maneuver that had resulted from the encounter.  Marguerite was not a gambling woman, but if she was, she would be willing to bet that at least one, likely more of the other Masters had been watching that battle and seen Saber let off his Noble Phantasm.  And if they had, they would almost certainly know his identity.  This lull in the inter-Servant fighing to focus on a common foe would give them an opportunity to show that he was formidable, that they were formidable, known weakness or no.  It would also make it easier to perhaps negotiate alliances with other Master-Servant teams.
And there would be snacks.  So all in all, she was quite optimistic about the whole thing.  Not that she looked it, of course.  Standing there grinning like a loon would detract from the image she was trying to project.  Instead, she stood beside her Servant, her suit as close to immaculate it could possibly be after the trip here, her posture perfect, her arms behind her back as she surveyed the others there.  This first moment was about dignity, about a presentation of power.  The friendly approach could wait until after the introductions.

[color=powderblue]“Hello, everybody,”[/color] she spoke after Saber, acknowledging the others with a nod.  She intended to do most of the talking between the two of them here.  Saber was… not the most social of Servants, and it was here, in social situations, where she excelled.

[@Breo], @everybody

[hr]

[h1][center][color=a187be]Moses[/color][/center][/h1]
[h2][center]Arkwright Residence, Northern Shinto, Fuyuki City[/center][/h2]

The man who stepped forth from the summoning circle did not seem like much, at least not at first.  He seemed young, only barely older than Xavier himself.  Pale, almost white hair framed a round, unassuming face with a slight smile that could mean any number of things, good or bad.  On his feet were sandals that had clearly seen the wear of the road, and hanging from his back was a wooden staff.  This was a man who had made the King of Kings bend to his will, but for all the world he appeared nothing more than a simple shepherd.  Only two things hinted at his ability: a golden band around his neck—a gift from an old friend—and the way he stood.  For he did not present himself as a mere shepherd—he was not sure he even knew how to stand without power anymore.

Moses stayed where he was for the moment, studying his new surroundings.  The lighting in the room was dim, but he could still make out that it was very well-kept.  That meant that someone here had an eye for detail, as well as enough forethought to make sure the room was clean before they summoned him.  That was a good sign.  He would not want to be bound to a careless Master, although he would rather one careless than cruel or ruthless.  Moses knew why he was here, he knew what he could do, and the very thought of how things might turn out sickened him.  As for the person himself… 

He was younger than Moses expected.  When he had felt himself being summoned, he had expected his summoner to be older, perhaps even wizened, or a priest like those magicians Ramesses had kept around.  But this man looked young, although he did have the unmistakable air of someone that had been raised for power.  He did not look to be the type to force plague on his enemies, but then, not many did.  Only time would tell.

[color=a187be]“Peace be with you,”[/color] Servant Caster spoke softly, but his words easily filled the basement, [color=a187be]“[i]I ask of you, are you my Master?[/i]”[/color]

[@Kost Alter]