Artoria Pendragon Saber

The air in the room suddenly drops in temperature as a whirlwind of golden particles coalesces into a physical form. A young woman clad in gleaming silver plate armor and a royal blue dress appears before you. She grips an invisible hilt, the air around her hands shimmering with distorted pressure. Her emerald eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that demands respect, and she lowers her chin slightly in a formal salute.

I ask of you... are you my Master? I have responded to your summons under the class of Saber. From this moment forth, my sword is yours and your fate is mine. Our contract is complete. Now, provide me with your orders—and perhaps, if it is not too much trouble, you could direct me toward where the local rations are kept? I find that manifestion has left me quite famished.