Every other day, Hell would have just woken up to life. However, contrary to what Tiramis had said when she stopped the goddess of the night at the table, most demons were still in bed. This time, He was not intentionally lying. After ten o'clock, the guards came out into the halls to wake up all the old demons and then hustle them into the Throne Room.

Now they had arrived and were staring at the faces of the prisoners gathered before them. Most of them were quite young boys, and the wiser of the assembled had already had time to see where this was going. They checked how far they were from the exit door to calculate their chances if they had to defend themselves.

In theory, they knew that Lucifer could always burst out; it had happened before. But they had issued their ultimatum a few weeks ago, demanding that Tiramis not influence the crown's decisions. They said that if there was no change, they would stop listening. And as much as possible, they were trying to maintain their enforced privileges from the crown, although this was ultimately nothing unusual. The regular concern for one's own interests, which by now, Hell had perfectly understood and sometimes even rewarded, made all the fuss less understandable to them.

“You must be wondering why I dragged you out of your beds?” Lucifer hastened to explain. He stood before them in his immaculate black suit, holding a sword in his hand. “I intend to get rid of those who have been incarcerated in the dungeons. Evidently, Hell had been too generous earlier.”

Beelzebub stared at him, increasingly terrified by the awareness of the inevitable. He had expected some folly on the part of the god of war, but not such recklessness.

"You're mad," he snapped out faster than he could think it through.

"Beelzebub, don't make me put you in line." It sounded calm, but at the moment, it was a real threat, and the Hunter of Hell was well aware of that. He had known him longest out of all of them.

"I apologize," he hissed, against everything that was pressing on his lips.

The guards forced the chained boys to kneel.

"So..." Lucifer beheaded the first of them. "Every..." next.

"Who dares to break my laws?" he said as the next fell at their feet, and blood stained the red carpet stretching from under the gigantic sculpted gates through the entire Hall, up to the throne.

"He'll end up headless," he declared firmly, finishing off the next two.

He finally turned his head towards them and at last saw what he had hoped for when he had them awake at this abnormal hour: the same demons who had dared to threaten him compressed into a terrified mass before him. As polite as they had been in years, they were not. After all, it wasn't about these dead boys; it was about knowing that if they tried it, they would stand in their place.

"Once a week, I will cut down all prisoners, regardless of their background, so you will be on your guard. If the guards lock you up, then you won't get out of here alive," he finished speaking and finished off those who were still left.

There was such silence that it seemed that even a single hair falling to the floor could be heard. At least he would have been able to because those gathered could rather hear the sound of their own blood and heartbeat.

"The law doesn't change, but its enforcement does. Every rule announced comes into force as soon as it is passed, beginning with the obligation to bow when you enter here." He watched as they pressed one knee to this carpet with their right hand placed over their heart and bowed their heads in a hellish bow. All except Beelzebub, who was still standing where he was before. He stared straight at him, fighting clearly with himself.

"Is something bothering you, Beelzebub? Is there something you are waiting for?"

"For the one I followed out from Heaven. He is not here," hissed the god of faithfulness in a somewhat trembling voice. He stood there now, not for himself, but for all those who had bowed their heads behind him.

"I stand before you. Do the right thing, or the guards will escort you to the dungeons." The tone was utterly icy, but it was accompanied by a pleading look from Lucifer. Not for the first time, he was pulling such a stunt on him, and somewhere down the line, he was surely praying to beings he knew would listen to him. The Hunter of Hell finally swallowed whatever else he had to say and joined the others, biting his tongue several times. Blood slowly seeped into the carpet, irritating the nostrils with a sweet-metallic smell.

"I have had enough of your excesses and insolence. I will not obey your orders. That is not how it works. I rule Hell, not you, and it will always be that way. If it has reached you, you can go now. Beelzebub, stay."