The day after her unexpected conversation with the Lord of the Pink, Elise de Bellefeuille received an even more unusual summons to appear that afternoon before the Arch Inquisitor Supreme himself. The short note gave no hint of the reason for this interview, for good or ill, but Elise has had ample time to consider what that might be. She arrived promptly at the requested hour, but has been left cooling her heels in the secretary's antechamber before his office, while the Arch Inquisitor Supreme presumably attends to "important matters."

Finally, the secretary's intercom beeps. "Show in the lieutenant now, Holly."

A very pretty, very young Siamese Khatta enters the room and bows to the middle-aged white poodle seated behind the desk. "Sir, Lieutenant Elise de Bellefeuille, by your request," she mews.

"Excellent," replies the white-furred poodle, as he sets aside a journal. His hands are bedecked with many sparkling silver and gold rings, and the rings set with precious jewels, and his fur is of that particular shade that suggests "bone white". One hand sweeps toward the simpler chairs – fortunately, not the one with restraints. "Do sit, Lieutenant de Bellefeuille."

The lieutenant gives a formal salute to her superior, glances at the indicated chair – being quite relieved to find it isn't the one with straps – nods, and proceeds to settle herself to sit as directed. She places her long Drokar-headed cane across her lap and folds her hands atop it once down and perks her ears to await the Arch Inquisitor Supreme's words.

Maleficos smiles, though in his formal robes of black accented by smoke-gray trim, it comes across as a grimmer expression than that of his relative. "Ah yes, Jean spoke truly when he ascribed beauty to you, Lieutenant. A shame my duties prevented me from attending that recent little party that he mentioned; you must have shone quite prettily then." He raises an eyebrow. "As my cousin is fond of saying, every jewel shines best in its own proper setting, does it not?"

The lady inclines her head, and says, "Indeed, though I would venture to say such parties are certainly not any setting I am truly fit for. Lord Jean Dunbarre, however, wields social grace with a master's hand. He was far more suited than I." The woman's muzzle twitches, as if in a quickly constrained smirk. She adds, "And far more pretty."

This draws a laugh from Maleficos. "Perhaps it is the fault of our names," he says. "Jean was always intended to look after affairs better served by fine words and manners. Whereas I – " He gestures about his office. "I find this is a setting that instills the appropriate amount of respect and fear in my visitors. My position is not one which is best served by kindness and mercy."

"Understandable. Though not quite a perfect comparison, I have much the same situation within my own family. I find Their path best found," she says, tapping a nail against her cane, "with blade in hand while my mirror would think to wield the fan in duels of politeness and courtesy." She smiles, brief and faint.

Maleficos chuckles. "A pity I am not thirty years younger, or I might begin to entertain notions of directing my cousin's attention to your own sister, leaving… " He quirks one corner of his thin lips up into a smile. "Well, time stays its hands for none. Would you care for wine, Lieutenant?"

Elise cocks her head to the side, blinks, then smirks for a moment before returning to sit as she had been. "No, I fear time waits for no one. Their will, to be sure. My sister is also to be married, and I am certain you know what became of the last man who tried to wrest her hand from Lord Grant de Ayde. Lord Jean Dunbarre is a fine man, though perhaps not suited to what that would entail." She laughs herself, and shakes her head. "Forgive me, Arch Inquisitor Supreme. Had matters been different, I – well, who is to say? Regardless, yes, I would care for a cup, thank you."

The Arch Inquisitor Supreme smiles more widely. "Indeed. My cousin spoke of you as a woman of spirit as well. Perhaps he seeks a woman who will do more than shine prettily." He presses the intercom, which crackles only the tiniest bit. "Celeste, a bottle of the Dunbarre Criaderra '45 for myself and my guest."

"Yes, sir," comes the crisp response.

"'Spirit,'" says Elise, savoring the word. "Yes, I do believe I prefer the sound of that to – oh, what does my sister call me? – 'stubborn,' I imagine." She smirks again, then simply shrugs. "As for shining prettily, that is fine and well so long as it does not interfere with the greater work at hand. Such things," she says with a gesture to the room, "I am sure you understand."

Only a minute or two after his request, a Siamese feline enters, bearing a silver tray with a crystal decanter and crystal sherry glasses upon it. At first, Elise might take the girl for Dunbarre's secretary – but then she notices that the girl's uniform overrobe is pinned over the left breast, instead of the right. A twin, perhaps, or maybe just very similar in appearance. The young woman pours two glasses, and offers one to Dunbarre first.

Elise takes note of the curious similarity with a raise of her eyebrow.

Maleficos accepts his glass and waves it under his nose with evident delight, then sips. "You prefer actions to speak for you, rather than be content with words and hand-wringing alone, do you not, de Bellefeuille? And do try some of the sherry. It's from our family vineyards in Gallis."

The lady nods, accepting her glass in turn, and sips. She makes a slight and vague gesture with her glass as she ventures to answer. "Actions speak louder than words, I find. Regardless of the situation, one must typically use a type of force to meet a satisfactory gain. Be that force the sword, will, or as Lord Jean Dunbarre prefers, the power of proper manipulation."

"A philosophy my family has long enjoyed," Maleficos says, settling back into his chair, looking at Elise through the pale liquid-filled glass he holds, then sipping from it again. "When a family has many children, each may be encouraged to excel at those talents that best suit them. In so doing, they may be in a better position to help out their relatives and friends, n'est pas?"

"Such is as I find Their will, blessed be the First Ones," agrees the lady. "In doing that which we are best suited for, we fulfill our role in servitude and in faith, accomplishing what is individually minor, but together a great thing indeed I truly believe."

"I could not have put it better," agrees Maleficos. "As it happens, the affair you mentioned earlier, the unfortunate case of your sister's involvement with haut Glas, was brought to my attention recently… "

She nods. "Dreadful affair, what with that mad Lord haut Glas and his scheme and the infinitely more undesirable element that is the Body. Dead, all of them, and rightfully so," she says. Her head then tilts and she raises a brow inquiringly, "I trust you had words on the matter, Arch Inquisitor Supreme?"

"There was some criticism of your … lack of formality in the investigative process, shall we say," responds Maleficos, smiling thinly. "But you certainly retrieved your sister against very difficult odds, did you not?"

Elise's muzzle quirks in a grimace. "Yes. That." Her head shakes and she makes a dismissive gesture with her cup. "I have come to find I do not regret the action so much as I did. Guilt is an emotion, and emotions ran as high as a sky island during that whole situation. The matter of danger to one's family is not a matter I take lightly." She then nods. "But you are correct, of course, I did."

Maleficos presses the point. "Moreover, don't you think those who attempted to wrong your sister and yourself regret their actions now?"

"I should hope so, and I should also hope they rot in the great Darkness," confirms the lady poodle. "Though in the matter of the Eeee… " She tilts her head the other way, pondering. "Why, I cannot be sure if I would rather think them to meet their gods – it would be fine poetic justice – or find them dead, or rot in the Dark. Lord haut Glas was greatly misguided. Perhaps in time They shall think to forgive him if he is worthy."

Maleficos waves his free hand airily. "I leave matters of theosophical discussion to my brethren in the priesthood," he says. "My charges are rather more worldly. By taking such drastic actions, and letting it be known that you are willing to go to such ends, you have sent a strong message to others who might contemplate similar crimes against your family that you will tolerate no such mischance."

The lady nods, simply. "I should hope so yes," she agrees.

"How familiar are you with the workings of the Inquest?" inquires the Arch-Inquisitor Supreme. "By your records, I note that you've seen much action both escorting dignitaries… " He chuckles, as if to say his cousin surely needs not be mentioned here. "… and of the military sort, but you've rarely been assigned to aid an Inquisitor in his investigative duties."

"That is mostly correct, though if you search more, I trust you will find that I once served as an … 'Ambassador' … " Elise gives Maleficos a look. "… to Gallis as well. I have not, however, aided an Inquisitor directly."

"To be precise, and it is a virtue I hold much in regard in my line of work," Maleficos says, raising an eyebrow. "While you were indeed credited with the title of an Ambassador, you were advised that your position would be completely decorative; in practice, you were charged with learning all that you could of the military situation therein. I see that … ensuing events in Rephidim complicated your mission, such that it did not prove the most desirable course to return you to your position there."

"You are well informed, as is expected. Faraon the Fiend – ah, excuse me, 'Friend', I think they call him – rather proved to be especially troublesome. I could not complete my mission in Gallis," explains Elise. She then takes another sip of sherry.

Maleficos looks amused. "Nevertheless. Contrast the two, if you will: when charged with investigation, you have shown no great sparkles of brilliance, but when called to action, your work fairly shines. Would I be unfair in characterizing your record as such?"

The lady glances at her glass as she stirs the cup, letting the liquid swirl in a slow motion, her eyes following the course of the wine as her brow narrows in thought. She nods, then looks up and answers, "No, I think that a fine review of my work."

The Arch-Inquisitor sips more of his sherry and smiles. "Well, as it happens, a vacancy has recently opened up in the Executors, which I was hoping to fill with someone skilled and dedicated … someone who would be able to get things done for me – in my role of ordering the fulfillment of Temple judgments, of course – no matter what it takes."

Maleficos looks into Elise's eyes across his glass of sherry, his eyes measuring. There are faint wrinkle lines in his face, a map of his many years in a very high office in the Temple.

The lady settles her wine cup to rest between her hands, and leans forward slightly. "I see," says she. She taps the glass with a nail, then adds, "I might be well interested in such a position though it would appear a certain matter of complication has arisen. I am to be offered a chance to prove myself as a knight, which has left me to wonder at the proper course. Praise be the First Ones, though they do not often offer so many paths to choose."

"Yes, I had been given to understand that something of the sort was in the works," the Arch-Inquisitor Supreme replies, smiling thinly. "I do not expect you to decide immediately; Lord Pink might think that I had resorted to untoward means to snare you for the Inquest." His eyes glance toward the rack of the tools of his trade. "Still, your record of achieving a most satisfyingly thorough conclusion to a case makes you an excellent choice for the Executors. And of course, knights are held to rather different standards than those of us who must deal with … more worldly matters."

The lady leans back, and her gaze falls to the instruments the Arch Inquisitor Supreme now looks at. "Yes," she agrees. "Time waits for no man, though it would seem it hesitates for me – an unkind gift I might think one faced with such important and delicate choices. Both are an honor," she says with a nod, "to be sure. But it is the very case of standards that gives me cause for the greatest concern. I would hope to impose upon you – should you be inclined, of course – to explain the office of Executor in your words? I would think of anyone, you would know them best."

"Of course: while our Inquisitors are perfectly capable of dealing with matters of the Temple's judgment within the bounds of Rephidim – " Maleficos is interrupted as the intercom emits a buzz, and a light on it flashes. He frowns and taps the intercom button. "Yes?"

"Your 4:30 appointment is here, sir," comes Holly's voice, polite and professional.

Elise eyes the technological instrument uncertainly, unused to such devices that are not creations of magic. Though she may well be a Templar it is not often she attends such well-kept technological wonders and the offices that hold them.

Maleficos glances toward a list of appointments. "It would not do to keep him waiting, no. Advise him that I will be with him in a moment, and do offer him some of the good wines, should he wish refreshment."

"Yes, sir," the secretary answers. The light on the intercom winks off.

"Weighty company," remarks Elise as she turns her gaze from the device back to the male poodle. "I should not think to keep you. If you would prefer I ask my questions of another, I can certainly track someone down of my own accord." She smiles, faintly, her voice pleasantly even.

The Arch-Inquisitor Supreme turns back to Elise. "Briefly, Lieutenant, it is the task of Inquisitors to discover wrongdoings, and within Rephidim, they are well supplied with guards to aid them in catching the perpetrators and administering justice. However, should a criminal – perhaps one highly placed and thus given resources that most malefactors would not possess – be advised that Temple judgment is on the way, and choose to flee the bounds of our blessed island… " He gestures toward the edge of the desk, as if to suggest the fall from the orderly state of things that is Rephidim. "It would hardly do to task a busy Inquisitor, who often has many cases on his or her slate, with the job of journeying out exclusively after this criminal, would it? That task falls to the Executors, and their task is to ensure that no criminal can escape the justice of the Temple."

"Should you have other questions, I suggest that you consult Arch-Inquisitor Gaelan an Tsagairt. It is thanks to his recent and happy promotion… " Maleficos smiles thinly again. "… that a position in the Executors has recently opened. He is a Jupani, but of excellent taste, discernment, and discretion in the performance of his duties."

After inclining her head in thanks, Elise says, "I thank you for the explanation, and will certainly seek out Gaelan an Tsagairt should further questions come to mind – and I believe they do." In preparation for the dismissal she assumes is near, the lady places the glass in her left hand and pulls her cane from her lap so that her right hand might rest upon it, and it in turn upon the floor. The hard wood of the support makes a thump as it is placed.

"Very well then, Lieutenant. Farewell, and First Ones watch over you, whatever your choice," Maleficos says, raising his glass as if in a toast to Elise. He sips from it, then taps the intercom. "Holly, you may show the Lieutenant de Bellefeuille out now."

"Yes, sir," A moment later, the secretary reappears, opening the door, a cool smile on her lips as she bows to the two nobles.

The lady meets the toast, sips, and smiles. "May you walk in Their light, Arch Inquisitor Supreme," she says. Farewells said, Elise rises from her chair with the aid of her cane, sips again, and offers her glass to the secretary to manage as she awaits her lead in departing.

After accepting the glass, Holly leads the female poodle out towards the hallway, and they pass a human male, sharp-featured and sandy haired, dressed in plain clothing. Dunbarre's second feline assistant, Celeste, stands next to him with a tray and an opened bottle, while the man sips at a glass of red wine. His eyes flick up to watch Elise as she passes, and for a moment, she imagines a smile hidden behind the glass. Then, the secretary presses her palm to a panel by the doorframe, and the door opens with a faint swoosh. "Good day to you, my lady," Holly offers with another bow.

Elise's eyes trail past the secretary leading her to the plain-clothed individual beyond her. She doesn't recognize him, though given the Arch Inquisitor Supreme's reaction she can only think him to be important – mysterious, she is certain of. She returns the smile, faint and uncertain, and inclines her head respectfully before turning to nod at the secretary. "Thank you," she tells her somewhat distractedly, and then she turns and is gone.

A little inquiry on Elise's part, while she is still at the Temple, secures her the location of Gaelan an Tsagairt's office. "The Arch Inquisitor is out at the present time," his secretary, a vacuous-looking avian, chirps. "I believe he's gone to exercise. Would you like to make an appointment for later?"

"Yes, whenever he is available and would think to answer some questions from a curious lieutenant," answers the poodle lady.

"Then again," interrupts the lady, "would he be near and terribly offended if I interrupted him?"

The clerk makes a show of flipping through an appointment book. "A curious … er … " Whatever train of thought she might have seems derailed by the poodle's next question. "You mean – while exercising?" The bird blinks a few times. Elise thinks it must be an act. No one could possibly really be this vapid. Surely not in the Temple.

"No, while tormenting someone on the rack. I am loathe to miss a good show," answers the lady, and her sarcasm eased a bit by the way she smiles and then laughs. "Yes, while exercising. The First Ones help me if he is on the track."

The bird flutters her wings, a few feathers drifting over her desk at the motion. "Well – ah – er – that is – I never – I don't know," she clucks. For what surely must be an act, her confusion is terribly convincing. "He's – um – at the weight room – I think?" As soon as she chatters the words out, she looks like she might be regretting it.

The lady tilts her head in consideration of the avian, and her head shakes slowly in disbelief. "I should hope he is," says Elise. For a moment she considers asking if the woman is all right, and as that thought passes, she considers the matter of her demeanor. Truly if the Arch Inquisitor has taught his secretary to be a brainless twit that she might misdirect and confuse he has done a fine job of it, or else the Temple has suddenly taken to running a job charity program. "Good … " She eyes the woman, for good measure. "… day."

Blink. Blink. "And to you, miss!" the secretary chirps in reply.

As usual, there are a number of people making use of the facility, including three Jupani – one sparring with a Rhian in a ring, another lifting weights, and the third running on a treadmill.

"Well then." The woman taps her cane once to the floor, then hobbles off to speak with one of the choices. She opts for the treadmill runner first – it strikes her as the most ironic choice, and thus amusing to her. As she approaches, she inclines her head and hails the Jupani with, "Greetings, are you by any chance Arch Inquisitor an Tsagairt?"

The runner stumbles in surprise, almost falling off the mechanical contraption. His built-up momentum on the roll keeps it going, and forcing him to take several halting steps forward to keep from losing his balance completely. "Me? An Arch Inquisitor? Are you nuts?" the Jupani asks, staring at her.

The woman simply shrugs. "A guess, no more, knowing not as I do what the man looks like. Given one Jupani … " She gestures with her cane at the boxer. "… is occupied, I chose the most ironic of choices." And she gestures to the treadmill. "The Arch Inquisitor – have you seen him?"

"Uh – who'd you say? An Tsagairt?" The wolf frowns, wiping at his forehead. Having slowed to a halt, he twists about to look at the others in the room. "That's Roy in the ring," he says. "The one lifting weights might be who you're looking for. Can't remember his name."

"Thank you," says Elise, and she nods to the man. "I shall leave you to your running." And with that the lady turns and proceeds to make her away on over to the weightlifter, greeting him when he looks to have his weight positioned safely lest she startle him at a poor time, "Arch Inquisitor an Tsagairt?"

The wolf, seated on a padded bench, wears baggy trousers and no shirt – not atypical attire for a male in this section. He's doing curls with free weights. Though Elise has little used free weights herself, the short bar this Jupani holds looks loaded with more of the sand-filled disks than would seem normal. He handles it easily, however, if not without effort, muscles rippling beneath the fur as he brings his clenched fist to his shoulder, then drops it parallel to his thigh again. Even sitting, the tan and white Jupani looks powerfully built and imposing. When Elise speaks, he looks toward her, not breaking his rhythm. "Yes?"

"The Arch Inquisitor Supreme suggested I might speak with you," the lady answers. She folds both her hands atop her cane and shifts her weight to her left to relive her now slightly achy right. All this walking wears on her faster than it used to.

"Did he, now." An Tsagairt doesn't seem impressed. He tosses the weight to his right hand, then resumes his exercise with that arm. "And who might you be?"

Elise inclines her head. "I am Lady Elise de Bellefeuille, lieutenant, Guard branch," she introduces herself in even tones she typically uses when dealing with matters of career and business. "The Arch Inquisitor Supreme recommended you as a source of information on the topic of Executors."

"Ah." The Jupani doesn't stop mid-curl, but the sound betrays that his attention has been caught. He completes a set, then places the dumbbell on the ground, weights clanking as they hit the ground. "Lieutenant de Bellefeuille." The Arch Inquisitor turns to eye her up and down, appraisingly. "Interesting. Wanted to ask me questions, did you? All right. I'm listening."

"I would like you to describe the office of the Executor in your own words. I am told you were of the sub-branch once, and I think your view holds insight," is the question Elise poses. She moves again, leaning just slightly more forward and curling her hands one atop the other on her cane.

"Heh." The wolf finishes his inspection of her, then stands, torso twisted to look at her. He has an impressive build, such that it takes a moment for Elise to realize that he is not, in fact, especially tall – perhaps a few inches taller than her, if that – but every inch of him looks like a weapon, finely honed and balanced. "An Executor is just that, lieutenant: one who executes the will of the Temple – whatever that may be." He bends to pick up some loose weights from the bench.

The lady takes a moment to return the inspection, and she glances over the man while just barely moving her head in the manner of one finding something curious though unwilling to show it more effort than would be proper for appearances. "An answer, and a simple one, though interesting none the less." She raises a brow as she turns her gaze to his face or what she can see of it at the moment, "I take it you are aware of my interest in potentially joining the Executors?"

"I am," the Jupani replies. He gathers several disks into a stack and carries them to the storage bins, slotting them into place. "If you take the post, you'll be working for me." An Tsagairt glances at her after saying that, watching her expression.

If that surprises her or otherwise strikes a cord in the lieutenant, she doesn't show it. She merely inclines her head to the point, then unfolds her left hand from the cane so she can gesture at the man with it. "It is good to know I would be serving under one who is aware of the details of the position I might serve. I find that on occasion such knowledge is … " Her muzzle quirks in what could have been a slight snarl or perhaps a smirk. "… lacking."

The Arch Inquisitor shares her smirk for a moment. "A mixed blessing," he says, lifting a barbell from the floor and stripping the disks from it. "When the boss knows your job, he knows when you're doing it wrong, too. But I gather you're not afraid of criticism, are you, Lieutenant?"

The woman shrugs, and she makes a reserved expansive gesture with her free hand and cane. "I am awash with criticism lately, like a tide flood tide across the Bromthen flood plains," she remarks, humor in her voice. The woman is smiling now, and as she settles her cane to lean against again she adds, "No, Arch Inquisitor, I am not so greatly preoccupied with criticism these days."

A grunt from the Arch Inquisitor as he scoops another pile of discs and stores them. "Good," he replies. He takes the empty shafts of the barbells and holds them loosely in one hand. "Just so long as you're not oblivious to it. From the right people. And that'll be me. If you're working for me."

"Of course. And some criticism is rather useful, depending on how you wield it," Elise agrees. Her eyes travel to the weight and she watches him lift it with a vaguely interested look in her eyes, "Was there anything else you might offer? On skills, abilities, training you might think well of or suggest I train should I accept the position?"

The Jupani takes a moment to consider her question. "Yes." He tosses one of the posts to her, lightly.

Elise raises her left hand to catch the post, right hand bracing her weight on the cane. The pole, even without a weight, is heavier than she expected, but she manages it without much difficulty.

An Tsagairt smiles. "Hone your instincts, lieutenant. They'll serve you best." He slots the other post into its place, and walks toward the exit.

Straightening, the lieutenant turns her eyes to the departing Arch-Inquisitor. She smirks and nods faintly. "I see," she says to no one in particular. The post is put down, and the lady hobbles off towards the exit, the steady thumping on her cane following as she goes.