[center][h2]Amano Nanase[/h2][/center]

Nanase sat with crossed legs a few dozen meters away from one of the building’s entrances, enjoying the bright sun and soft breeze. Perhaps ironically, she had never had as much freedom in her life as she did on this island that was far away from any other landmass. 

It was a strange feeling, to not always have someone with an eye on her in some fashion. Despite having found the island’s scenery to be beautiful from the moment she had arrived, she had had a hard time convincing herself to spend some time outside, too used to the mansions full of authority figures she had lived in her entire life.

She [i]was[/i] growing accustomed to this temporary home of hers, though, as was evident by the diminishing anxiety in her stomach at being outside of the facility.

The girl let herself fall into the grass, splaying her body out as she lifted her hands above her head to eye the compression bandages wrapped around her wrists and forearms. Fiddling with the bindings idly, her thoughts continued to drift.

It wasn’t like there weren’t any authority figures here—Zelretch cut quite the confident figure, and even the Servant she had summoned herself wasn’t very interested in fitting the definition of ‘servant’ much.

Ozymandias, summoned under the Rider class. Nanase suspected many of the other Masters would have found him... [i]overbearing[/i] as a Servant, but truth be told, she was grateful for his personality. She’d do her duties as his Master, and he could do as he saw fit—he was one of the stronger Servants summoned, and he appeared to be quite on board with the their goal of saving the world. As such, in the few days since she had summoned him, she had come to trust he’d stay on her side as long as she stayed useful herself—which was not something she was worried about.

A voice from the speakers lining the outside of the facility caught the girl’s attention. She glanced over towards the building, causing blades of grass to tickle her cheek. As she scratched it, she shifted onto her knees and stood.

So it was beginning.

Her expression lost all hints of the relaxation she had been experiencing moments before, replaced by an emotionless focus. 

[i]”I may be a minute later than others, Ozymandias,”[/i] she said to the Rider as she began a light jog. [i]“I’m outside.”[/i]

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[center][h2]Penthesilea[/h2][/center]

The Amazonian Queen had been in the bathing room where her Master was, musing on the girl’s many maids while in her spiritual form. She had been learning bits and pieces of the small girl since her summoning, and one thing that had been obvious from the start was that she was of some high status. Penthesilea herself had had handmaidens in life, but she found it strange how her Master let hers do so much for her. A difference in culture, of course—being summoned as a Servant allowed her to not be completely shocked by the current world thanks to the knowledge innately granted to her—but it still seemed like an unnecessary show of weakness to allow oneself to be doted upon in such a way.

Estelle though, despite her appearance that seemed several years younger than even the Amazon’s own teenage appearance, was not quite what one would consider weak. In physical prowess, she was certainly leagues below an amazon child, but her ability as a magus was another thing. The Servant could tell simply from a glance.

She had a... [i]strong[/i] personality as well. Perhaps gratingly so, but Penthesilea could appreciate it, despite what it sometimes brought on... like the mention of her outfit only moments after being summoned. She hadn’t reacted much to the comment at the time—after all, her state of dress was practical and had been completely normal in her life. But as the few days had gone by, the Berserker had found herself dwelling on her Master’s words more often than she would have liked, and with an uncomfortable measure of self-consciousness.

Her clothes [i]were[/i] quite out of place among her new companions. Modesty was far more valued in this time and society, causing her to begin to wonder and worry if the clothes were drawing attention to her femininity. 

For now, at least, she had convinced herself that this was how an Amazon queen dressed. Though it would have been simple to wear another outfit, her pride kept her from doing anything more than keeping her weapons in their spiritual form. Any who took issue with it could bring it up with her. And any who made mention of whatever ‘beauty’ they found in her as she wore such clothing would likely end up with a fist to the face... if she was feeling particularly merciful in that moment.

A call to gather the Master and Servants rang throughout the facility, and moments later came her Master’s command.

Berserker materialized just behind Estelle as the girl walked off. She glanced to maid and nodded reassuringly. “She’ll be safe,” the Servant said, before following after Estelle. 

It was difficult to tell just how much the maids cared for their charge and vice versa, but Penthesilea could see there was at least something genuine behind the somewhat robotic personalities. She felt it important to acknowledge them, at least—she knew how much she had cared for her own handmaidens in her life.

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