(Former) Estate of Andres Knightfall; Malaga, Spain
Olivier cautiously regarded the tall slender girl standing on the balcony of her estate. This girl with a distinctly familiar accent, and a differently familiar but even more alien face and tonality. This peculiar girl who knew her name and where she stayed but with whom she herself was not familiar, and who did not flinch when faced with the dyad of Durandal and Incendie. She came as if from nowhere with an offer equally as strange as herself, representing an unknown party. Olivier had no stake in the conflict, but the offer was intriguing nonetheless.
"This kind of attack, 'tis exactly the kind of thing you were brought here to stop, no?" the girl, who had introduced herself as Anastasia, asked. "Besides, it could be an opportunity to remind the world the name of the original weapon of mass destruction and one of the greatest warriors of all time. Perhaps the greatest of all time."
She knew how to appeal to the Olivier, her pride. Whether or not the empress knew when persons were attempting to play her personality or not, her boredom was enough to motivate her and she abandoned her aggressive stance, weapons fading into thin air.
"Your words ring true, Anastasia. If nothing else, for the fact that the attempt has been staged upon my ancestral home, it should be an interesting undertaking. Would that I had my army..." Ultimately, she shrugged it off. "'Tis unfortunate, but I am as always as good as any army. I will fight in their names."
"Gracias, ma'am. We appreciate your service," the young businesswoman nodded her thanks. "If you need anythin--"
"That is unnecessary, my friend," Olivier assured, placing a hand up on her shoulder. Before departing, she gave one last look at her face. "You remind me of a friend." She smiled. And then she vanished in a flash.
Left alone on the lawn, Nastya returned the smile to the air in front of her. Self-satisfied, she spoke into her earpiece. "Connection established. The queen is ours."