Tiramis did not reply. He let him go. He gathered himself and turned back to the Throne Room instead of the barracks. If she was going to disappear from here and he was going to stay, he had to have any line of defence. This was now his home, if one could call the abandoned rooms and hovels where he lived. He was safe here, as long as Hell was independent, which he knew full well was about to change. Since he couldn't tell Lucifer because the Almighty wanted to see him fight, it would be better to take the opportunity out of his hands. Limit the damage.

"You should have stood between him and the demons in the beginning. Now it's pointless," he called out as he entered the Hall.

"Get out."

"I don't want to." He walked over to the desk and squatted on its top. "And you don't want it either."

He smelled alcohol. The Lord of Hell must have been drinking when he went to Beelzebub. All the better, it was easier to do what he intended.

"It doesn't matter what I want. You should get out of here before you say something we'll both regret."

"Maybe I won't say it. I thought to myself about what you said: that I should come to you, not to your servant. So I turned around... You know I want a throne, don't you? It can be this one here." The God of Memories lowered his gaze to his nails.

"I know, but it's mine. We've already had this conversation."

"Yes, yes, that we both know. Think it all over again..." He smiled slightly without lifting his eyes. "It's the throne that pushes you away from all of them. It's building that wall, don't you see? And you're doing a very stupid thing to hold it up when they should be handing it to you themselves, right? It can be done. All it takes is a bit of fuss."

He fell silent, licked his lips, and shifted his gaze across the papers on the table.

"Let's say I take this stool, remove the responsibility from you, and you thrill the demons with your speeches once more. You will remind Beelzebub why they followed you and why he sat here...you will lead the resistance, the rebellion...eventually overthrow me. Wouldn't that be more fun?"

"And you? What will you get out of it?" The god of war asked him immediately.

"The throne."

"Not for long, eh? I won't."

"No? Think it over carefully before you refuse me. Beelzebub is with them, isn't he? You know he is. You're on your own. If you don't want them to overthrow you, you must have a common enemy. The throne has no meaning without support, is that not so?" He finally lifted his gaze to him, smiling confidently, but Lucifer remained silent, slowly turning his eyes away from him to the desktop.

This went on for an awkwardly long time, so the god of memories finally stood up, adjusted his jacket, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Think it over carefully. I'll come back for a decision, one sober."

"Wait." Lucifer stopped him immediately, noticing that he was getting ready to leave. "I...have I understood you correctly? Are you proposing that I hand over the throne of my own state to you just to tug at the Resistance, because they might follow me again? And what if they don't? This is madness!"

He spoke as the god of memories slowly turned back to the desktop to sit on it with a new look and glide his gaze over the documents. If he had been sure that Hell would not be destroyed if he did not take action, he would have withdrawn long ago or not come here at all. But he had one chance to minimize the damage.

"You see it this way. If you stay here alone, without Beelzebub, everything will fall out of your hands anyway. You know it well, you're already falling apart, drinking during working hours. Without him, there's no Hell, is there? And he's going after them, not you," he hissed softly, rearranging the pages written down much earlier by the Hunter of Hell.

"It's his life and his choice."

"In the Heavens, he chose you."

"And for centuries, he paid for it. He is happy, isn't he?" The god of war was now staring at him, believing less and less of what he said.

"Lucifer, I'm just making you a proposition. I won't tell you what to do, but it would certainly be a way out of this situation. No one needs to know, right? And we'll both get what we want. You'll listen to me, won't you?" he said, taking out a cigarette and brushing away the strands of hair that annoyed him. He blew smoke, watching as anger began to flicker across the Lord of Hell's face.

"I'm a god of war, you shouldn't..." he broke off as Tiramis blew smoke in his face.

"Shouldn't I? You need both me and him because you're going to get sacked, and you know I'm right. You'd have to be really stupid not to know what's going on," he said, continuing to smoke and getting up slowly from the countertop.

"So the throne. Well, as long as it's with a bang," Lucifer stood up and turned back towards the stairs to the throne itself, under which the inconspicuous door leading to his flat was hidden. Tiramis waited until he disappeared behind them and took his place behind the countertop, savoring this small victory.

He didn't give a damn about the throne of Hell, he didn't want it, he didn't care about the citizens of Hell, and Beelzebub was certainly right to do what he did. He was sharper than Lucifer and deserved what the demons offered him in return for his help. But someone had to do something, prepare any relief. If he couldn't tell them, if he couldn't get rid of Yahweh himself, then he was going to find a way, put some cards in the deck.

"Clever," Tiramis remarked.

"Yes, of course, clever. I'm the ruler of Hell, after all, right? Are you going to fight off Heaven's attack alone? She's not going to threaten anyone with the two hundred demons you're leading for her. She's facing a five hundred thousand-strong Heavenly army."

"At least she will survive. It would be hard for her here. Yahweh will not let her move, and I am not breaking your bans. Isn't that what you were hoping for? I hope so."