Meanwhile Lucifer was just glancing with his almost black eyes at Tiramis standing in front of his desk.

“What do you want? You're high, and as far as I'm concerned you're probably drunk too,” he muttered with obvious nervousness.

“And none of the above is a reason for such behavior," he replied quickly without losing his smile.

“Well, what do you want then? Don't hang over me like that,” muttered the god of war with a resigned grin.

“I want? That's the wrong word my sun.... I demand. That guard who goes after Belz, Arod. Literally for a few days, I don't care about the money but your signature.”

“What for?” Lucifer was now drilling him with a cold stare, and he wouldn't be put off at all.

“I didn't ask what Beelzebub needed the drugs for, and neither do you.”

“I understand. He's should be at his place, but he's has to come back. Alive," he hissed, writing out the document and handing it to the god of memories.

“No problem. After all, I wouldn't give you a dead one, the corpse is heavy and I might not carry it,” sighed Tiramis in reply.

Indeed, since he had this body, previously belonging to the Almighty, he had not sinned with his musculature. There were times when he was mistaken for a girl, and it did not help at all that his facial features were quite delicate, nor the earrings and gold rings on each of his fingers. Lucifer measured him with a glance, as if he honestly did not believe what he had heard, but he shrugged his shoulders in the end.

“You wouldn't do that even if you could. This is going to sound foolish, but I would like some advice from you in return.... What to do to make the demons afraid again?”

“Are you really asking for advice? Me? You know my methods, you know which spells cause pain. If you ask me nicely I will find something for your subjects.... force them to do what scares them. If you play it right within a month there will be peace here. Personally, I think there's nothing like the fact that someone is capable of killing just for their own personal caprice, but you know that, don't you? After all, you survived.”

“I'm going to make them angry.”

“Why do you care? You're not the ruler here by any chance? You are not affected by their laws. And if they were to stand up to you, you probably know what to do, right?”

“I think so,” muttered the god of war in reflection, so Tiramis leaned over the tabletop to press himself close to his ear.

“And his name was Tiresse.... the one who carries fear. I know my way around.,” he whispered before completely entertained by the consternation on Lucifer's face as he moved to leave.

He walked pretty quietly and in silence, which he really appreciated. He passed the black marble-lined corridors of the sixth and fifth floors and moved upwards through the Hell Palace to reach the second floor - the City of the poor, which was nothing like the deeper levels. The numbering of the floors he never understood, it was reversed - he supposed it had something to do with the distance from the surface but honestly: he didn't give a damn.

“Did you miss me? Because I did very much. What do we get for those brief moments when you're standing next to me during my conversations with Belz?” he asked cheerfully, sitting down at the table where his old colleague was sipping something from a large wooden cup and flipping through a heavily rubbed book.

“Get out of here,” muttered the one immediately removing a dagger from behind his belt and over the tabletop aiming the tip of the weapon at him. Tiramis, in response, placed a letter from Lucifer on the table and slid it towards him, then took out a cigarette and flicked it away, as if he hadn't noticed the weapon.

“Since the formalities are behind us I am already explaining why I came here. There have been some changes in the Heavens, I already have a suspicion why, but it is not important. The important thing is that their former mistress, Princess Ksira, needs help. She has had, shall we say... minor problems with that Order of hers that Hell lost the last war to. That can certainly be sorted out, but she can't hang around in the woods until then, it's not appropriate for someone like her. Can you keep up?”

“And?”

“Someone needs to get her out of there. It's a delicate matter, and you're the only one who doesn't gobble, which means there's a good chance our lovely girl won't slaughter you. You still owe me a fair amount, so let's make it up.”

“Hell no. I'm not going anywhere, do you understand? And certainly not outside Hell. You know what you can do with that piece of parchment from Lucifer…”

“What do you mean you won't go?” he asked finally, while the guard looked intently at his dagger.

“Like  that. I won't go and that's it. I'm guarding Belzebub, those were my orders when they took me out. And as far as you're concerned about my debt.... if perhaps you hadn't sent me out the door of the Land of Tears, from where no one supposedly returns it would still be actual,” he replied. The god of memories, meanwhile, fixed his gaze on the blade that was still aimed at him.