"Iranel, has Phillip come in from his wanderings?" asked Emael.
"Executor, be mindful of titles when speaking in my presence," the Judge replied. She closed her pallid eyelids over grey eyes, listening to the world. The far loam earth still echoed with the footsteps of the Prophet.
Iranel opened her eyes, her face was youthful and pure in complexion, though pale and ancient did she seem.
"The prophet still walks the western fields," she said, with a voice strict, yet soft.
"Does he send news of any attacks?" Emael, the Executor, looked older in age than the Judge, though her mannerisms betrayed one who had not walked the earth or flown the heavens for the same eons as Iranel.
The Judge considered the Executor naive, but she was competent enough at what she did, such that there was no discord.
Iranel stared across the ridges of her slim fingers, which hovered, crossed before her lips.
She was looking inwards, and far away.
She spoke, carefully measuring each word, and judging it as she spoke it, "Yes, the eastern fields, a minor upwelling of weaker demons."
"I'll gather the usual group and go suppress it then," spoke the Executor, as she strapped on gauntlets of whitesilver that had been resting on the table at the back of Iranel's room. She was already dressed in a cuirass, pauldrons, tasset, cuisse, and greaves of the same rounded whitesilver. The Judge wore a similar garb, though hers was lighter in both weight and color, being forged in a higher heaven.
"No, not the usual," said Iranel, thinking to herself. "Take a handful of Neophytes, nothing more."
"And of the archaeophytes? What if the battle turns for the worse? Can I at least bring Galabrel or Rael, if not Sera?"
"I will be there, the others are not needed," spoke the Judge.
The Executor then realized, it was to be a training mission for the neophytes, they were still green and the coming days would need experienced troops. Emael also knew that
Iranel did not seem to trust Rael or Sera, though both were powerful in their own right. If the Judge did not trust someone, that was cause for them to be distrusted by many.
"When are we to depart?" Emael asked.
"You are the Executor, are you not? I am merely going along to observe."
"Ah, that I am," sighed Emael, she thought for a moment. "We will depart in two hours."
The Judge nodded her head, briefly letting her long silver hair dust the top of the wooden desk.