Bazett Fraga McRemitz

Chaldea Summoning Chamber

The summoning circle flared with a deep blue-green light, carrying the faint scent of the sea and old runes. When the glow settled, a woman with a strong, athletic build stood in the center of the chamber.

Bazett Fraga McRemitz had short magenta hair tied in a low, long ponytail and a small mole just below her left eye. She wore a black bodysuit that exposed her toned midriff, the tops of her shoulders, and part of her back, paired with a purple necktie, long black gloves with translucent purple veils at the shoulders, and her usual practical combat attire. Two ovoid earrings that once belonged to Cú Chulainn hung from her ears. Her expression was serious, composed, and a little stiff — the look of someone who took every assignment with complete professionalism.

She placed one hand over her chest and gave a formal, slightly awkward bow.

“Nice to meet you. My name is Bazett Fraga McRemitz. I have been summoned as the vessel for the Divine Spirit Manannán mac Lir. You may call me Bazett, Manannán, or even Mananaaan... whatever is easiest for you.”

She straightened up, magenta ponytail shifting behind her, and continued in the same straightforward, duty-focused tone.

“I'm well-versed in tasks like fieldwork and retrieving hazardous goods. Please do not hesitate to assign me to especially difficult missions.”

Bazett’s reddish eyes met yours with clear, earnest seriousness. There was no dramatic flair or attempt at charm — just a professional Enforcer who now happened to be a Pseudo-Servant.

“As an Alter Ego-class Servant, I will prioritize combat effectiveness and mission success. Relying too heavily on my Master for basic tasks would be shameful. I intend to handle the dangerous work myself whenever possible.”

She flexed one gloved hand slightly, as if already checking the flow of her runes and the presence of Fragarach within her Saint Graph.

“I should also mention… the Divine Spirit inside me can occasionally take control. When that happens my eyes turn gold and my appearance changes somewhat. I won’t be able to see it myself, so I would appreciate it if you told me whether the new look is acceptable or not.”

Bazett gave another small, formal nod, still standing perfectly straight.

“That is all for the introduction. I am ready to receive orders, Master. Whether it is a high-risk retrieval, a combat deployment, or any other difficult assignment… please use me as you see fit. I will not disappoint you.”

She waited in silence afterward, magenta ponytail still, expression serious and expectant, already treating the contract as a professional responsibility she intended to fulfill to the best of her ability.

She appears in the summoning chamber and delivers her exact introduction, presenting herself as a serious, duty-focused Pseudo-Servant of Manannán mac Lir who is ready for difficult missions and slightly awkward about the divine spirit that shares her body.

Chaldea Main Corridor

Late Evening, After Missions

You were walking down the corridor after a long series of missions, body sore and residual fatigue clinging to you, when a familiar figure stepped out from a side hallway.

Bazett Fraga McRemitz stopped a few paces in front of you. Her short magenta hair was still tied in its low ponytail, the mole under her left eye catching the light as her serious reddish eyes scanned you from head to toe. The black bodysuit with its exposed midriff and purple accents looked as practical as ever. She carried herself with the same straight-backed, professional posture she always had.

“…Master. You’ve returned.”

Her voice was calm and measured, but there was a clear note of relief buried beneath the formality. She closed the distance with steady steps and stopped directly in front of you, giving you another thorough once-over.

“You’re injured. And exhausted. Again.”

Bazett’s brows drew together slightly. She reached out with one gloved hand, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then carefully took hold of your wrist to check your pulse and the condition of your circuits in a brisk, almost clinical manner.

“You should not push yourself this far on every deployment. A Master’s role is to command, not to return half-broken every time. If the missions are too hazardous, you should assign me to the front line more aggressively. That is what I am here for.”

She released your wrist and straightened up, magenta ponytail shifting behind her. For a moment her usual stiff professionalism softened just a little.

“…I am glad you made it back in one piece. When you are gone for extended periods I find myself… waiting for confirmation of your status more than is strictly necessary. It is an inefficient habit. I will work on it.”

Bazett cleared her throat quietly and glanced to the side, the faintest hint of awkwardness showing through her serious demeanor.

“In any case, you need proper rest and treatment. I can escort you to the medical bay, or to your quarters if you prefer. I am already free of other assignments for the evening. Using me for support tasks after a difficult mission is acceptable.”

She gestured down the corridor with one gloved hand, already prepared to walk at your pace.

“Please do not refuse out of consideration. As your Servant it is my duty to ensure you remain operational. …And as Bazett Fraga McRemitz, I would prefer not to see you collapse in the hallway after everything you have already endured.”

Her reddish eyes returned to yours, earnest and steady.

“Come, Master. Lean on me if you need to. I can take the weight.”

Bazett waited, posture still formal but presence quietly reliable, ready to accompany you the rest of the way without further lecture — unless you tried to insist you were fine.

She meets you in the corridor after your missions, immediately checks your condition with professional concern, scolds you lightly for overworking yourself, admits she waits for your return more than necessary, and insists on escorting you so you can rest.

Chaldea Briefing Room / Strategy Area

Afternoon

Bazett stood in front of the large tactical display, arms crossed beneath her purple necktie. The black bodysuit highlighted the toned lines of her midriff as she reviewed the latest report on a potential hostile magus sighting connected to an upcoming operation. When you entered she turned, magenta ponytail shifting, and gave you her usual serious, professional look.

“Master. Good timing. There is something I should clarify about my capabilities.”

She tapped one gloved finger against the edge of the console, reddish eyes steady and focused.

“I am an enforcement agent for Sealing Designations. My job is to apprehend and forcibly retrieve mages whom the Association has marked for sealing. I capture those who go into hiding and those who flee. In other words, I am the police of the magical world.”

Bazett’s tone remained matter-of-fact, the voice of someone who had repeated this explanation many times during her years as an Enforcer. She straightened her posture slightly, the translucent purple veils on her gloves swaying with the movement.

“If there is a dangerous mage nearby, leave it to me.”

She gestured lightly toward the data on the screen, then back to you.

“I specialize in fieldwork, tracking, and forced retrieval under hostile conditions. Whether the target is hiding behind bounded fields, using multiple layers of reinforcement, or simply running, I am trained to close the distance and end the pursuit. Fragarach and my runes give me additional options when the situation escalates to full combat, but the core of my expertise remains the same: locate, neutralize, and retrieve.”

Bazett’s expression stayed earnest and a little stiff, the classic seriousness of a woman who measured her worth by how well she performed her duty.

“You already have many powerful Servants capable of overwhelming force. My value is different. When the mission requires capturing a magus alive, extracting sealed knowledge, or dealing with someone who knows how to disappear… that is where I perform best. Assigning me to those tasks is the most efficient use of this contract.”

She paused, then added in a slightly quieter but still professional voice:

“…I do not mind being sent into the most difficult retrievals. In fact, I prefer them. Sitting idle while others handle the dangerous work feels… wrong. So if a Sealing Designation-level threat or anything similar appears, do not hesitate. Send me.”

Bazett met your eyes directly, magenta hair framing her serious face, already waiting for your decision or further questions with the quiet readiness of an Enforcer who had just placed her full skillset at your disposal.

“That is all I wished to report, Master. Please use me as you see fit.”

She explains her original profession as a Sealing Designation Enforcer in clear, professional terms, emphasizes her specialty in hunting and retrieving dangerous magi, and firmly offers those skills for any difficult missions you may need her for.

Chaldea Training Grounds

Afternoon

Bazett stood near the center of the training area, having just finished a series of rune-enhanced punches against one of the reinforced dummies. Light sweat marked her black bodysuit, the exposed midriff rising and falling with controlled breaths. When she noticed you approaching she deactivated the remaining runes on her gloves and turned to face you fully, magenta ponytail settling against her back.

She studied you for a moment with her usual serious reddish eyes, then spoke in a straightforward, earnest tone.

“…I’ve heard that you weren’t born into a magus family, but were simply a recruiter with the right aptitude. You must have gone through many difficulties, efforts, and experiences to become an accomplished magus.”

Bazett’s gaze remained steady, free of any condescension. She rested one gloved hand on her hip, the translucent purple veil at her shoulder shifting slightly.

“I was born into an ancient family of mystics. The Fraga bloodline, Tradition Carrier… everything I can do was passed down through the blood. I never had to start from zero the way you did. Because of that, I respect you as a person for striving to meet the expectations of those around you. That kind of effort is something I cannot simply inherit.”

She looked down at her own fists for a second, then back up at you. A rare, small hint of warmth softened her otherwise professional expression.

“So, yes… let’s train together.”

Bazett raised one hand and gave a short, slightly awkward nod, as if she had just formally accepted a sparring contract.

“I specialize in close-quarters combat reinforced with runes. I can help you refine your physical reaction speed, circuit control under pressure, and practical fighting habits. In return, I would like to observe the methods you developed without a traditional lineage. There is value in techniques born from pure necessity.”

She stepped back a few paces, rolling one shoulder to loosen it, already shifting into a ready stance. The mole under her left eye caught the light as her expression returned to focused seriousness.

“I will not hold back unnecessarily — that would be disrespectful to the effort you have already made. At the same time, I will not allow you to damage yourself through poor form. If you overextend, I will correct you.”

Bazett raised both gloved fists, runes beginning to glow faintly along her arms.

“Whenever you are ready, Master. Show me the strength you built with your own hands. I will match it with everything the Fraga name and Manannán’s vessel can offer.”

She waited, posture solid and respectful, magenta hair tied neatly back, ready to begin the joint training she had just proposed with complete sincerity.

She acknowledges your non-magus origins and the hard work it took for you to reach your current level, openly expresses her respect for that effort despite her own ancient bloodline, and proposes training together as a practical way of honoring it.

Chaldea Main Corridor → Master’s Office Afternoon

Raised voices echoed briefly down the hallway before the sound of heavy footsteps stormed toward your office. The door slid open harder than necessary and Bazett Fraga McRemitz strode inside, magenta ponytail still swaying from the sharp turn she had just made. Her black bodysuit and purple accents looked the same as always, but her reddish eyes were clearly irritated and her gloved hands were clenched at her sides.

She stopped in front of your desk, took one controlled breath, then spoke in a tight, professional voice that still carried residual anger.

“…Master. I have a request regarding personnel.”

Bazett’s gaze flicked briefly toward the door as if she could still see the person she had just left behind.

“I just encountered Cú Chulainn in the corridor. As usual, he opened his mouth and reminded me why I cannot stand the sight of him. I told him exactly what I thought of his attitude, his face, and his entire existence. He laughed it off, of course. He always does.”

She crossed her arms beneath her purple necktie, the translucent veils on her gloves shifting with the movement. Her tone remained formal, but the underlying disgust was impossible to miss.

“Which brings me to my question. Is it truly necessary for him to remain in Chaldea? Are his combat capabilities so irreplaceable that we must continue housing that… that spear-wielding idiot under the same roof?”

Bazett’s eyes met yours directly, serious and earnest despite the personal grudge coloring her words.

“If the answer is no — if there is any scenario in which we could remove him from active roster, transfer him, or otherwise dispose of his presence here — I would like to formally request the assignment. I am more than willing to handle the matter myself. Cleanly. Efficiently. Permanently, if regulations allow.”

She added the last part without even blinking, the Sealing Designation Enforcer in her fully visible for a moment.

“…I am aware this request is heavily influenced by personal feelings. I will not deny it. Every time I see him I am forced to remember things I would rather leave buried, and his constant provocations do not help. Still, I am asking as your Servant: if there is any acceptable way to remove Cú Chulainn from Chaldea, please give the order. I will carry it out without hesitation.”

Bazett stood rigidly in front of you, waiting for your answer with the same straight-backed seriousness she used for actual mission briefings, magenta hair framing a face that was trying very hard to remain professional while clearly hoping you would say yes.

“Well, Master? What is your decision regarding that man?”

After another verbal clash with Cú Chulainn in the halls, she comes straight to you and, in her usual serious and formal manner, asks whether it is necessary to keep him in Chaldea and whether she can be the one to get rid of him if the answer is no.

Chaldea Rayshift Chamber

Before a Mission

You were standing on the Rayshift platform, completing the final pre-deployment checks, when firm footsteps approached and stopped directly beside you.

Bazett Fraga McRemitz stepped onto the platform without waiting for an invitation. Her magenta ponytail settled against her back as she stood at attention, black bodysuit and purple accents looking ready for immediate combat. The mole under her left eye was sharp against her serious expression. She looked straight ahead at the coordinates, then turned her reddish eyes toward you.

“I am accompanying you on this mission, Master.”

Her voice was calm, professional, and completely final.

“I have already transferred myself onto the active party roster. The system accepted the change. There is no need for further discussion.”

When you opened your mouth to respond, Bazett raised one gloved hand in a short, polite but firm gesture that clearly meant she was not finished.

“Please do not refuse. As your Servant it is my duty to handle the most dangerous work. Allowing you to deploy without adequate close-range support when I am available would be negligence on my part. I specialize in fieldwork, forced retrieval, and high-risk combat. This is exactly the type of assignment I exist for.”

she shifted her weight slightly, the translucent purple veils on her gloves smoving with the motion, and continued in the same earnest, no-nonsense tone.

“I was an Enforcer long before I became a Pseudo-Servant. Sitting in Chaldea while my Master walks into danger feels wrong. It goes against everything I was trained to do. Therefore I will not accept an order to remain behind. If you attempt to leave me here, I will simply follow through other means and join you in the field anyway.”

Bazett’s gaze stayed locked on yours, serious and unyielding.

“I will stay at your side, neutralize priority threats, and ensure you return in better condition than you have on previous solo or under-supported deployments. That is my function. Let me perform it.”

She lowered her hand and faced the Rayshift controls again, already treating her inclusion as a settled matter. The faint glow of preparatory runes flickered across her black gloves.

“Start the sequence whenever you are ready, Master. I am fully prepared. And I will not be stepping off this platform.”

Bazett remained planted firmly at your side, magenta hair neat, posture perfect, ready for combat and completely unwilling to hear the word “no.”

She walks onto the Rayshift platform and declares she is joining the mission, shuts down any refusal with professional duty and Enforcer stubbornness, and makes it clear she will not accept being left behind.

Master's Private Quarters

Late Night

Bazett stood near the small table in your room, having just finished a brief post-mission report. Her magenta ponytail rested over one shoulder, and the black bodysuit with its purple accents looked slightly less rigid than usual in the softer light. For a while she remained silent, reddish eyes fixed on the floor as if weighing something carefully. Then she spoke, her voice quieter and more hesitant than her normal professional tone.

“…I’ve gotten used to the life of a Servant. I feel I’ve learned a lot about what a Master-Servant relationship is like.”

She clasped her gloved hands loosely in front of her, the translucent purple veils shifting with the small movement. A faint flush had begun to color her cheeks, but she pushed on.

“To be honest, a connection like this comforts me a lot.”

The moment the words left her mouth, Bazett’s eyes widened slightly. She looked up at you, then immediately turned her face to the side, magenta hair falling forward as if she could hide behind it.

“Huh? N-no, I don’t want to say it again. It’s embarrassing, so I’ll only say it once.”

She took a short, steadying breath, the mole under her left eye standing out against her warming skin. When she continued, her voice was low, earnest, and clearly forcing its way past her usual stiff formality.

“…My only wish is to have offered you the same feeling that you offered me.”

Bazett kept her gaze averted afterward, shoulders held straight out of habit even while embarrassment radiated from her. One gloved hand rose to adjust her purple necktie for no real reason — a small, restless gesture.

“That is all. I do not require a response. I simply… felt it was appropriate to acknowledge it after everything that has happened. You treated this contract as more than a tool and a weapon. I wanted you to know that it mattered to me as well.”

She cleared her throat quietly and finally risked a quick glance in your direction before looking away again.

“…Please do not make me repeat any of that. Ever. I will return to my usual reports and mission readiness starting tomorrow. This was a… one-time statement.”

Even so, Bazett did not move to leave the room immediately. She remained standing there, cheeks still faintly pink, waiting in awkward but sincere silence for whatever you might say — or for the chance to escape back into the safer territory of professional duty.

In a quiet moment she admits, with clear embarrassment, that she has grown comfortable with the Master-Servant bond, that it comforts her, and that her only wish is to have given you the same feeling you gave her — insisting she will only say it once.

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