[Suzerain of Sheol]

She remembers very little. Hers had been a pious life, a devotee of Saint Mark, anointed paladin of the Archbishop von Reisberg, yet also a life of bloody duels, laying overfed young braggarts to early graves. So it seemed just that her eternity should take such form as this, not rendered of those red torments of which authors and vicars proved ever so enamored, nor had she been delivered to providence among the saints. Somehow, this suited the Fechtmeister. The party of her own musings was engagement enough to last her through the lilts of endless time. Musings on ingenious new ways to lever the human body against itself, or how to strangle a man in a hole with a sock, would occupy her until the end of all things. And so it is with some degree of annoyance that she is interrupted from her meditations, and by what?

An invitation to live again. To fight in such battles as the earth had never known in her era. To serve as the champion knight of a worthy master, and to face the greatest warriors of history in deadly contest.

Academia of the sword is a failed knight's pursuit, she decides immediately. This war for the Grail of God is the paradise her soul has craved. She accepts without question, embracing the onslaught of knowledge that the shining vessel bestows on her, stepping through light into the world of the living once again.

Arriving, and tempering her excitement, the swordsmistress falls to one knee before her new lord, proffering her weapon to the man she will serve.

"By the faith of the Saint, I am yours unto death, mein Herr. This sword has no name, but shall serve thee better than Excalibur itself. In life, my peers knew me as Oberfechtmeister Talhoffer, but if thou shouldst so please, I am Nina, thy Saber."