[h1]Lancer[/h1]

Were he visible at the current moment, the dutiful guard would have struck an imposing and intimidating form to any potential intruders. Not that there was anyone to intrude anyway; his Master was in the room behind him, accompanied by several maids. Obviously, there were no fellow Servants like him either. That did not change the fact that it was Lancer's duty to safeguard his Master's privacy.

His Master was an interesting specimen, to say the least. Despite her young appearance, she had the talent and ambition to rival the lords of his time. His knowledge of magecraft was understandably limited, but from what the Servant had witnessed in their short time together, her skills seemed abundant in that area. Lancer couldn't help but be a tad bit concerned about her excess of confidence, however. No matter how skilled she may be, this was still a war, and there would *always* be an unscrupulous coward that would avoid a direct battle, and opt for a sneak attack. A valid battle tactic, to be sure, but not exactly Lancer's preferred conduct for warfare.

The door opened, and his Master called for him. Immediately, he materialised his physical form, revealing a towering man with flowing, green robes adorned in armour of bronze and gold. His most notable feature was the finely-combed black beard draped across his chest, the large Servant running his fingers through it after bowing to his Master.

"I am ready to fight, my lady," he spoke politely, "my blade shall strike down all of our opponents. You need only give the order."

It was regrettable that a young child such as this had to fight. War was a cruel environment, especially in this particular battle. However, Lancer simply had to succeed, and he could at the very least, protect the life of his new lord.

This particular oath, he made to himself.