"The small one is quite exceptional." Malachi, an elder demon, said. In hell, they only spoke in the traditional tongue, in fear of losing the culture. It was the one language that only they could claim. If a creature knew the demon tongue, they would automatically be associated with the species. Malachi scratched his white beard, deep in thought. His face showed his age and experience in the council, as well as the stresses that come with it.
"She is indeed. Although, she may pose a problem.” Azgaria, his mate, replied. Her narrow face held no emotion, or seemingly the capacity for it. They were looking down into one of hell’s many pits, viewing the soldiers. The training pits were structured differently than the other portions of their realm. It was barren, free from distraction and comfort. Their warriors practically lived on that field, their blood and sweat were part of the soil.
"What do you mean?” Malachi asked, looking deeper. It was filled with soldiers, some new some experienced. The difference was obvious, the newer trainees were more tense, wandering around the outskirts, observing and learning. The war-worn soldiers were fluid with their strength. They were fierce, often described as beasts among the masses. They were taught to be merciless, and they knew no comfort.
"She is powerful and highly skilled, even for her age. If we aren’t careful, she could become restless.” The girl was 16, and could already take down some of their best warriors. She had a natural instinct, and her strength was uncharacteristic of someone so young. She had promise when she was first drafted and then bloomed within war. She was at the top of her group, and the others looked to her for leadership in the thick of battle.
"I can bring that to the attention of the council in our next meeting,” Malachi observed the girl decapitate another training dummy.
"We don’t want another uprising." She sneered. Malachi nodded with a stone face.
"This is a waste of our time, she is exactly what we need in our warriors. I don’t understand why we would get rid of an elite soldier. " Gregar said as he sat at the circular table. They were all in a grand room, filled with eccentric and beautifully crafted furniture. Their chairs were tall and dignified, the table was monumental, decorated with stunning designs. They were surrounded by towering tapestries, depicting numerous prophecies. No other demons were permitted within the chamber while the debate was happening, they were not willing to risk any danger to their rule.
"You are not looking to the future, Gregar. Someone that has merit with the people, especially with trained warriors, is dangerous to our order." Malachi argued. Agreement is a rarity in the meetings. The council was all elders, all-powerful, and none to be messed with. On one occasion the walls trembled in the face of their passion, and their roars were heard for miles. All of the servants knew that being close during an argument was just asking to be caught in the cross-fire.
"And what will you have us do? Get rid of one of our best warriors? We need them, and her." Dedra interjected. He was seated across from Malachi, addressing him directly. He was the youngest of the council, as young as an elder could be. He was gleaming with inexperience.
"All of our warriors should have paralleled skills. If this is not the case, then we have failed." Azgaria stepped through the grand doors, interrupting their debate. She was quiet and calm, a strong serene presence.
"Are you suggesting that we have ineffectively trained our warriors? You handpicked some of our commanders." Gregar said. His defensive tone did not sit well in the air.
"Our commanders and military leaders are not the problem. This soldier has just taken to fighting quite well. Too well, as my wife has said." Malachi was the oldest of the council, which means his word is cherished. He was considered the wisest and most level headed. Although, he had little tolerance for anyone questioning their authority. ”The concern is she could be seen as a leader among the soldiers."
"The rebellion was harsh enough. We do not need more rioting, more disobedience.” Azgaria's voice was gentle
They all grimaced at the thought. There was a rebellion not long ago, a mere three thousand years. It was a bloodbath. One of the worst rebellions they had had in eons.
"Then what do you expect us to do?" Dedra asked, starting to understanding the gravity of the situation.
"I suggest we kill her," Azgaria said.
"And how shall you explain as to why you are killing the best warrior? The men will want to know." Gregar asked, appearing to seriously be taking it into consideration.
"We are the highest power in this realm. There is no need to explain ourselves. The mere thought of possibly doing so is exactly why you are not on top, Gregar." Azgaria sneered. She was good at that, making her graceful face screw up into something ugly.
"All in favor of terminating her immediately, say aye,” said Malachi, ready to be done with this entire debacle. Only five of the twelve were willing to get rid of the girl. Malachi looked to his wife and suggested a compromise.
"We will give it a couple of years. Let her prove that she isn’t a threat.” He looked to his wife, convincing her rather than the group, they didn’t need any persuasion. They weren't the ones trying to kill her. She took a deep breath, seemingly fighting off a headache, and nodded.
"Fine, but only a couple of years. I do not like the risk looming over us all." She said, her eyes severe. They all nodded in agreement.
They would give her two years.