knight
To Malik, it was as normal as an expedition as any. Or it had been, until the circle of light had appeared underneath him.
A distant and unfamiliar chant reached his ears, at first with the hollow echoing reminiscent of a large hall, but slowly clearing as the light around him intensified. At the same time, the former captain felt as though there was something invading his mind, not unlike that one moment of contact he had had with the mysterious being Lambda. An information overload of foreign words and concepts, but it somehow all made sense.
But most of all, he recognized this for what it was. This was a summoning.
Yet… why him?
When the light had cleared, it was immediately evident that this was not a place that he knew. Instinctively, Malik reached for the curved blade strapped to his back with his right hand, his left hand in front and ready to begin casting a spell at a moment’s notice. He dropped his hand, however, upon seeing the white-robed figure in front of him. She must have been the summoner, an assumption that was confirmed once she addressed him as ‘Servant’.
And then, that information that had lodged itself into his consciousness defined the terminology. Servant: a Heroic Spirit called upon to fight in the Holy Grail War. Holy Grail War: a battle to claim ownership of the Holy Grail. Holy Grail: an omnipotent wish-granting artifact.
He could see why anyone would want it. In the back of his mind, he knew he had impossible wishes of his own - wishes that he was now being given an opportunity to have. It was dangerous to believe in something so unlikely, but he knew that no matter how much he would deny that wish, it would still linger in the back of his mind… to have them alive again, to redo his mistakes.
And so, he once more swore words of allegiance, words that he was familiar with after having said them when entering the military.
“Very well,” Malik said with a nod, lowering one knee to the ground. “To you do I pledge my blade. May you guide my hand to victory, to end this war.” As he spoke the words, he felt some sort of intangible bond now aligning him towards the woman. This must be a sign, he thought - the formation of a contract.
Astraea watches silently as the glowing of the Command Seal on her left hand slowly dissipates, and she lowers it. "The contract is made. I hope for our mutual cooperation."
The figure before her isn't what she expected a knight to look like, but it's not the armor they wear that makes a knight, but his heart and values, and so she puts it out of her head. Garl Vinland was not present in this strange land, and longing for him will bring her naught but sorrow--sorrow that might impede her quest.
She ushers him to rise, and clasps her hands together. "I am Astraea, an exile from the kingdom of Boletaria," she introduces herself. The name of her former kingdom might not ring familiar to anyone, but Astraea thought it formal and polite to mention where she came from.
"What is your name, noble knight?"