"I know, imagine how they behaved knowing who I was. They bowed down and were afraid to get up. I had to call Amojmon to calm them down. They know who Lucifer beheaded, they know where they sent those who were removed from the lists. They're hiding under the desks," the Hunter of Hell reached for his cup and then drank the contents. They were both silent for a moment, shifting their gaze behind the exceptionally busy regulars in the Wardens' Room.

"So this is it," Mephisto finally sighed. "I'll ask again: knowing what's going on out there, can you be bothered with the Ksira? You've sent out a copy of those scraps Lucifer sent out. You know what's happening to those not accepted on the first year lists. And you know who's in charge, so that's what he ordered. I've done so many executions with the boys that I could have painted this room with their blood several times over."

As he spoke, he looked at his hands, evidently checking that the blood had not persisted somewhere under his fingernails. He had scrubbed his hands well after what he had certainly done only a few hours ago. Then Mephisto shifted his gaze over the papers he had scribbled, finally lifting his eyes up to him.

"I didn't stand behind him to murder our own. Do something about it, or I'll gather the Council of Hell, and I'll deal with it."

"I'll try," Beelzebub fled with a glance, pretending to look into the now-empty cup again.

To calm the demons, he had written out a document much earlier that allowed them to dismiss the lord of Hell at a meeting of the Infernal Council. This one consisted of 30 old demons and Lucifer himself and was supposed to meet once a century to decide the most important questions of politics, war, and law. In practice, however, it was convened when a list of important subjects actually came together, regardless of when the last one was. So he gave them the famous Regulation 905, which allowed the Lord of Hell to be removed from the throne by a simple majority, a privilege the old demons had long whispered about. He was praised for it, patted on the back, even given a bottle of rather expensive wine.

The problem lay in the fact that he never sent it back for signature. It never reached the chancellors, and it was never entered into the register. The bill he waved in front of the demons' faces had no cover. It didn't even lie on the desk for very long. Lucifer knew all about it too, was aware of the scam... and he dreaded to think of the consequences if anyone tried to take advantage of a nonexistent opportunity.

He was only snapped out of his thoughts by Mephisto, who placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and put a piercing look into his eyes as soon as the Hunter raised his head again.

"I'm not asking you. You've got to get it done, do you understand? I'm not going to walk out of work once again having my hands in the blood of brats. And I promise that if I see another execution like that in the Throne Room the same day, he will lose his throne," he did not take his eyes off the only eye visible from behind the storm of his atramentous hair. "Has it reached you, or shall I repeat that again?"

"It has, and I understand what you are saying, but that doesn't change my answer. I will try. I have no legal rights to what you expect of me."

"Not rights, but privileges. You are not going to tell me that he doesn't allow you to block some of these ideas and make adjustments. Convince him of their necessity," the pain master invariably insisted.

"Didn't you hear him before the execution? But I'll give it a try. You have forced him to defend the throne, and he will bite and kick to the point. He expects respect."

"Belz... he ordered..." raised his hand to silence the demon, and when he suspended his voice for a moment, he opened his mouth himself.

"You forced him. How many times have I asked you not to provoke him? How many times? Damn it, I told you it would end like this," he stood up and pushed back stray strands of hair, gathering himself. The committee had to be on their way, and he honestly hated to settle anything with them. "Belz, can you hear yourself? We are not responsible for his crimes, no matter what you try to make me believe," growled the Pain Master firmly.

"You're not, but that's your mistake. It must have happened because he felt insecure."

"And that somehow explains that...."

"He is showing you what he is capable of," Beelzebub interrupted him immediately. "This has to wait."