Archive of Our Own

Pentagram City - Pride ring - Hell

It was yet another day in Pentagram City. Sinners were going about their daily business, killing, stealing and making deals with overlords.

No one paid any particular attention to the obscure alleyway between two crumbling buildings in the Doomsday district. Nor to the person who showed up there just a moment ago.

A shimmering of a portal slowly faded leaving her alone in the dark alley.

She took a deep breath. The stench of decay, brimstone and ash filling her nostrils.

Her black lips curved in a narrow smile.

She was finally back.

Outskirts of the Pentagram City.

A rusted iron gate creaked as she pushed it open. Before her was an old, dilapidated mansion. Its tall, dutch styled roof had more holes than tiles left. There wasn’t a single intact pane on any of the windows and the few remaining shutters were barely hanging on to the rusted fastening. All doors were either broken open or boarded shut.  

Most sinners knew to stay well away from the spooky house, lest they go missing without a trace. But she was not a sinner.

She squeezed through the half open wooden door of the main entrance. As she set foot in the abandoned manor, her nose was assaulted by the oppressive stench of rotting wood and still air. Her already quiet footsteps were muffled by a thick layer of dust. Cobwebs covered every corner. The gloomy atmosphere inside was eerily quiet, the usual bustle of the Pentagram City too far away to reach these old halls. It was clear that nobody had been there for ages. 

And yet, she felt it clearly. The second she set foot on the warped floorboards, she was being watched. An unseen presence seemed to hang over her, silently witnessing her every step and every breath. An oppressive feeling of some unwelcoming presence made every shadow look ever so darker, and every noise even more unsettling.  

Good. She counted on it. It meant that she was at the right place. 

Now she just had to find the one she was looking for and she could get the answers she came here for.

As she walked through the atrium, she heard someone speak to her. The ethereal voice echoing through the decrepit corridors as if coming from another world. The unnerving sound whispering right in her ear, while also seeming to come from far away. 

“Greetings to thee, twice-born daughter of Adam.”

Carmine Industrial Solutions - industrial district - Pentagram City.

Lute entered the main office building of Carmine Industries, one of, if not the largest corporation operating within the Pride ring.

She approached the reception, where she saw the familiar sinner manning the desk. The horned skull floating above the bloodstained shoulders turned her way.

“Lieutenant” His voice was raspy, like someone who had smoked two packs of cigarettes every day for twenty years.

“Hallo Roland.” Lute greeted him. “Is Ms. Carmine in her office?”

The headless sinner seemed pleased to see her. At least as much as his limited facial features allowed him to express it. “I haven’t seen her ever leave it.”

He pointed towards one of the elevators.

“Thank you.”

A pair of heavily armed hellhounds stepped aside to let her through and into the elevator. She didn’t know them, but they clearly knew about her. As they should.

Lute pressed the button and the elevator took off with a quiet hum, ascending all the way to the top floor. A carefree tune played in the background. Soon enough the elevator reached the floor and Lute stepped out. She went through a short corridor, passing by the conference rooms and a few smaller offices. The scarce few sinners and hellborn who were working there paid her no mind, occupied with their own tasks. 

It wasn’t until she reached the actual office of the CEO, did anyone notice her. A secretary asked her to wait as he informed his boss about the visitor.

Lute waited patiently, admiring the interior design. The changes were minimal, but she could notice some colors sneaking into the utilitarian blacks and whites that still dominated the color palette.

Soon enough, he informed her that Mrs. Carmine would see her now.

The office was neat and elegant, if a little spartan. An antique bar cabinet on the left and a few bookshelves on the right. The spaces above the large windows were adorned with various pieces of weaponry. But unlike when she first was here, none of them had the telltale silver glint of Angelic Steel.

Not that she expected to see any. It would have been somewhat problematic, given the recently signed accords between Hell and Heaven. 

On the other end of a massive wooden desk sat the CEO of the Carmine Industries. She was tapping away at her computer, surrounded by stacks of papers. She finished whatever she was doing, closed the laptop and looked up. Her crimson eyes showed little emotion, like usual.  

“Good afternoon, Lute. It’s been a long time.”

Her tone was cordial at best, but that was nothing new. Lute knew her well enough to get used to the cold mannerism.

It had been a long time indeed. Last time Lute saw her, she was still meekly hiding behind her mother, running errands and keeping schedules.

Now, Lute was addressing the most influential entrepreneur in hell.

“Odettete. A pleasure to see you again.”

Spoke street - Cannibal Town - Pentagram City 

The perpetual twilight that covered the ring of pride made it hard to distinguish between day and night. A scarce few sinners wandering the streets went about their daily business, keeping up the routine they grew familiar with over the course of the centuries.

Lute walked down the main street of the Cannibal town, a sight almost nostalgic to her in its familiarity. This particular quarter of Pentagram City looked just as she remembered it the last time she was here. In fact, she didn’t think it changed much since she first saw it back in her previous life, as an exorcist, an avenging angel of heaven.
The distant memory of those days brought her to think about how much she has changed since then. 

When she was still the Lieutenant commander of the exorcist host.
When Adam died. 
When her rage and sorrow had consumed her to the point where her only rational thought was to come back to the hotel and kill every last sinner she saw.
Her utter failure to do so, which cost her her place in Heaven.
How Charlie and Vaggie took her in, despite every wrong she has done to them.
All the years she spent in their care and the few opportunities she had to pay them back for it.

Lute stifled a sigh at the memories. She really took a long and winding path to come here.

She was brought out of her thoughts when she saw her goal: Rosie’s Emporium. 

The elegant store was located near the central square of the Cannibal Town and was a popular gathering place for sinners. As she drew closer she started noticing the looks cannibals were giving her and hushed whispers coming from around. Normally one of the vendors might have called out to her to advertise their goods, but her fixed eyes and brisk pace gave everyone enough of a warning to not disturb her.

A door mounted bell announced her entrance with a chime. Inside Lute saw multiple sinners sitting by a few tables, gossiping over tea or coffee. Lute approached the counter. A cannibal sitting on the other side looked up at her. His black, hollow eyes betrayed a hint of surprise and a whole lot of boredom.

“Yes? How can I help you?”

Lute grunted with annoyance. Of all the residents of this town of course it had to be the one who didn’t know her. She put her left hand on the countertop with a heavy thud. The black and red appendage came to rest between them. She kept the claws hidden, but the spikes on the forearm should help her get the point across.

“I am here to see Rosie.”

She had hoped to skip this part of asking to see his boss, but apparently she had no such luck today.

“I am sorry, ma’am, but Lady Rosie is currently occupied. If you…”

Lute stopped listening halfway in. She felt wrath starting to boil within her.

She was absolutely not in a mood for petty discussion. For a moment she considered just shoving the man out of her way and barging into the private rooms unannounced, but she knew the cannibal overlord would not appreciate it. If Lute had a way of contacting her directly, she was sure Rosie would drag this idiot by his chain and feed him to her guests.

That gave her an idea. He may not have known her, but there was something every sinner was guaranteed to recognize. Lute flipped her hand palm up and drew on her power. A few of her spikes may have scratched the counter, but she didn’t care. For just a moment she let her wrath and contempt resurface, ignoring such trivia.

She kept her gaze fixed on the sinner before her, catching every detail of the unfolding spectacle. First his face became illuminated with a faint red glow. Then his eyes darted to her palm. She saw them widen at what he saw. The nervous gulp that he gave when he realised what was materialising before him. The beads of sweat forming up on his forehead as he looked back at her expectant expression. She furrowed her brow slightly, giving clear indication of her fleeting patience.

She slowly closed her palm and pulled towards her, watching as the man twitched at every metallic clink that accompanied this motion.

“I see. O-of course, ma’am. R-right this way, ma’am.”

He scrambled from his chair, almost tripping along the way, as he apologized for the inconvenience. 

Damn right. 

Lute dispelled the summon and gave him a mocking smile. The years she spent in the company of the princess may have helped with her tolerance of sinners, but the internalized aversion she feels towards the cannibals was something she’ll probably never get fully rid of.

She followed him to the elegant room in the back.

One that contained several mannequins, pin cushions, rolls of uncut cloth and a smile full of razor sharp teeth.

The vault - Carmine Angelic Security - industrial district - Pentagram City.

The doors of the elevator opened to the basement and the two women went down the concrete floor of the underground corridor. At the end stood a massive blast door with the word “Vault” plastered on them with big bold letters. Odette scanned her keycard on a reader and the door slowly opened with a hiss.

The sight that unfolded before them would have dropped the jaws of any sinner short of overlord. The enormous hall inside was filled to the brim with all sorts of priceless possessions. A collection of artworks, luxurious vehicles, several sculptures and various other invaluable items were stacked wall to wall, leaving only a few narrow passageways in between. 

Odetted led her through the maze of the valuables, until they reached a wall covered with weaponry. Ornate armor sets, gilded guns and a collection of polearms that could rival the armory of the old exorcist barracks, stretched across the entire hall. Every piece of armament was a work of art in itself. Given the Carmine logo present on every one of them, that was only to be expected.

However, not a single one had even a pinch of angelic steel in them.

Odette walked unhurriedly along the collection, occasionally grabbing seemingly random items. She pulled on one of the halberds as if it was a lever. A few paces later, she turned one of the baggers hanging on the wall upside down. Finally, she pulled one of the swords halfway out of its sheath and put it back in.

As soon as she did so, one of the storage racks swung forward, revealing a doorway hidden behind it. The door was made of matte black metal and seemed very sturdy. It had no handle, no hinges, no keyhole or any other visible opening mechanism.

Odette pressed the palm of her hand to the flat surface. With a white glow a web of intricate patterns began spreading across the metal plate, accompanied by a series of muted clicks, as the unseen mechanisms were unlocked.

With that, the door finally unlocked.

Odette gestured for the Lute to enter and bid her silent farewell. On the other end of the hidden passage was yet another storeroom, but this one was slightly different.

For one, it was much smaller, maybe a tenth of the size of the grand vault she had just been in and with a ceiling nowhere near as tall. Nor did it contain the luxury items stored in the outer vault. Only a small workshop in the corner and rows upon rows of storage racks housing weapons of various kinds. 

These were all made of Angelic Steel. The silver metal made up the cutting edges of all blades. Every firearm sported at least one visible part made of the precious material, with many more undoubtedly hiding inside.

Finally, there was the small matter of the fact that she was not alone.

“Ody?” 

A voice called out from somewhere inside. 

“...‘s that you? Wha-” 

Lute saw a masked head pop up above one of the shelves and quickly disappear among the clutter of armaments. The occupant of the secret vault appeared from beyond the corner and marched straight towards her, discarding the more restrictive articles of clothing along the way.

“Lute!” A cloud of curly white hair spilled out from under her headband and the familiar crimson eyes revealed themselves from beneath the welding goggles. Dark skin peeked out from between the rolled up sleeves and elbow length work gloves.

“You bitch! You’re still alive?!” Clara asked with a widening smile, pulling back her hand as if to throw a haymaker. Lute reached out in kind, clasping their hands together in a surprisingly strong handshake.

Lute held her hand for a moment. She had to actually put some force to hold it. Nowhere near as much as she would use in a fight, but enough to easily push over any other sinner.  “Haven’t been better.”

“So, what brings you back to this rathole of a city?” Clara said, wiping her hands on a piece of cloth. Her apron and toolbelt were smeared with all sorts of oil and soot, a testimony to how busy she’s been.

“Business.” Lute preferred not to say too much, but there was little need. They both knew each other well enough to not ask unnecessary questions regarding their respective professions. The less they knew of each other’s secrets, the less reason they would have to stress over it later. Especially since both of them had a lot to answer for.

“I see.” Clara looked over her shoulder at the armory behind her back. The content of just one of those stands would be enough to piss off Heavenly envoys and Hells royalty alike. “Guess you need a restock then?”

Then again, so would Lute’s work, and yet, here she was. 

“Exactly.”

Abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Pentagram City.

Lute followed the voice through the half collapsed corridors as it led her to an old and dusted library. A few broken windows let just enough light in for her to be able to see. Rows of bookshelves covered the walls, with a few tables and chairs in various states of disrepair littering the center.

She knew this was not what she was after and yet there was no other way for her to go.

Lute closed her eyes and concentrated. She calmed her breathing. Relaxed her muscles. Tried to empty her head and let her senses wander. A faint tingle in the fingertips of her left hand let her know she was on to something. 

She let the energy of this place flow around and through her. Let her feel the unseen powers that weaved through this place. Like dipping your hand into the stream to feel the current, she let herself explore the aura surrounding her. Not interfering, just opening herself up to the world around her. Until she felt it. 

A barely noticeable tug. 

She took another calming breath and focused on the sensation. Trying to get a feel for this unseen force guiding her. Then she reached within herself and drew from the magic.

Any decently trained magician knew the allegory of pouring the water into the vessel when channeling their potential. Knowing where to draw from, whether it be an external power source like an artifact, a natural well or contracted souls. Lacking those, one could always harness their own innate reserves, such as their natural deposits of magic potential, their souls, or in few rare cases, their divinity. Some even mastered the art of turning their body or blood as a fuel for witchcraft. When giving of oneself it was imperative to not to draw too much, lest one risked a fate worse than death. 

Lute herself had dangled on that edge once and was not keen on repeating the experience.

While she did grasp the basics of magic, she was not a particularly well trained magician. Her stubborn pride as a warrior of heaven meant that she shunned such tricks as both cowardly and blasphemous. Her attitude towards magic wasn’t helped by the very bad first impressions of the first magicians she came across. Only the dire necessity of knowing how to detect and counteract arcane assaults to protect herself and more importantly, those who she devoted herself to protect, made her even consider dabbling in it herself.  

Still, that didn’t mean she had to like it or be particularly good at it.

In her case she was not guiding a gentle stream to pour in her desired vessel, but rather raking her hand through the water, splashing it in the general direction of where she wanted it to go.

Crude, but it brought a desired result.

A sudden thud caused her to open her eyes. She saw a cloud of dust particles dancing in the crimson streaks of light that was seeping through the windows, kicked up by a book that fell off its shelf.

Bingo.

Lute walked up to the shelf and studied it carefully. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and cobwebs. An empty slot left by the fallen book revealed nothing of importance. She reached and started tugging at each of the tomes, until one of them refused to budge. 

Lute grabbed the offending book and pulled harder. It gave in, but as it moved a terrible screeching of metal was heard, followed by a continuous rumbling from behind the shelf.

She let go and the tome returned to its place. 

For a second nothing happened. Then, the entire shelf moved, caving inwards with a terrible rumbling and screeching, before sliding off to the side, revealing a dark passage with stairs leading down.

Before Lute could take the first step down the gloomy tunnel, the voice spoke to her once more.

“I knew thy would come. I do have something exceptional to show thee.”

Rosie’s Emporium - cannibal district - Pentagram City.

To say Rosie’s smile was unnerving was an understatement.

One may have compared her to a certain other overlord, whose name Lute refused to say out loud ever again, but he smiled all the time regardless of the situation or his mood. It was just a weird quirk of his that with time grew more annoying than scary. Even less so, when she learned that it was a permanent feature, etched into his body as a form of punishment. Just another bodily alteration, of the kind that every sinner experienced to a varying degree. Lute drew some satisfaction from knowing the deer bastard hated every second of it.

Rosie had no such issue with her countenance.

The fact that her face wasn’t stuck in a fixed smile, meant that all her expressions were natural or forced through sheer discipline and self control. While antlered assholes’ permanent shit eating grin masked his feelings better, Rosie’s ability to maintain her facade regardless of circumstances gave testimony to how dangerous and in control she was.

The way she liked showing off her teeth didn’t help anyone feel at ease around her, either

“Lute! Good Satan!” Rosie gave some excuse to the other cannibals she was talking with and turned her attention to the newly arrived angel. “Welcome back to Pride.”

Lute found her more tolerable than other cannibals, even if only because Charlie trusted her. Still, she remained wary of the cannibal overlord. Being titled ‘the most dangerous overlord’ was something one ignored at their own peril. 

“Hallo Rosie.”

Lute greeted her with a small wave. Despite everything she respected the overlord. Being a sinner, cannibal and overlord aside, she tended to keep her end of the bargain and wasn’t overly pushy with her power, preferring to stick to running her quarter of the city. 

Rosie closed in, just short of invading her personal space.

“My, my. You’ve changed since last I saw you. What was it, two, three years ago?”

She looked Lute up and down, taking in the small differences. A few new runes etched on her left arm, a couple of new scars and perhaps an ever so slightly brighter glow in her golden eyes.

“Now, darling, I’m sure you have a lot of fascinating stories to tell about your travels.”

Rosie wasted absolutely no time, ushering Lute towards one of the small tables, already set with a pair of teacups. Within seconds, a pair of sinners were with them, serving tea and some light snacks, the latter of which Lute politely declined. She may have fallen, but she still had her limits.

“Thank you Rosie. That’s some quality tea.”

Lute had to admit, it was pretty damn good. Certainly nothing local or mass produced from Wrath. This had to be the good stuff. It didn’t taste like seaweed, so that ruled out Envy. Probably from the gardens in Gluttony. She could wait for Rosie to pick a subject, but this was one of the rare occasions where she spoke first:

“You know, the imp trade unions have started another riot down in Wrath. Management changed on several large plantations. Mostly hops and wheat.” 

Lute knew that there was no skipping over the smalltalk with the overlord before they cut into business. Which didn’t mean that smalltalk couldn’t be a business in itself.

“Oh my, really?”

“Yeah. Real nasty stuff. The harvest is likely going to be rather poor this season, with all the bickering and protesting.”

She raised her teacup slightly and gave a pointed nod to the overlord.

“I’m sure it will impact some importers here.”

Rosie took a sip of her own tea. She looked pleased. No doubt she was about to share some stories of her own. Lute still had a few more interesting news to share, but she decided to let the overlord share some gossip now.

Back in the day, it may have annoyed her that she can’t just get what she came here for and leave. But that was before she learned the fine nuance of gossip. No intelligence briefing will ever convey as much immediately useful information as a teatime with Rosie.

And given what she was planning, she could use a bit more intel.

The secret vault - Carmine Angelic Security - industrial district - Pentagram City.

“The usual?” Clara asked, already turning away.

“Yes.” Lute gave her a nod.

She wasted no time, disappearing between the racks of highly illegal weaponry, already looking for an adequate piece.

Lute took this moment to observe the collection. She could see anything from spears to machineguns. Nunchucks, glaives, handguns, rifles, a multitude patterns of blades, from the smallest pocket knives to an egregiously oversized no-dachi that sat perched across several stands. She knew very few beings who could feasibly use a blade this size and none of them resided within this Ring. 

“Right. I know your past fondness for basket hilts of Scottish variety…” Calara’s voice came from somewhere on the other side of the racks.

Lute recognized several Exorcist pattern weapons hiding among the collection. These must have been here since the last extermination took place. That they weren’t already smelted and reforged surprised her, but wasn’t particularly bewildering. They were probably kept for special occasions or to be reforged later. She didn’t know the intricacies of the processing, but she assumed that reforging them in one go was better than smelting them into ingots and then smithing them later. Or so she guessed.

Still, a presence of exorcist pattern weaponry was a rarity these days. It’s not like you can just find those things lying on the street anymore.

“...however…”

The sinner soon returned holding a sheathed sword. The scabbard was just a simple leather, probably with a wooden inner lining. Clearly only meant to protect the blade while in storage.

“...I can wholeheartedly recommend a new design of Schiaviona.”

Clara placed the sword on the table, hilt forth. 

The basket was beautifully made, in the shape of overlapping wings, the steel polished into grey shine. Two prongs of crossbars were twisted and made of unpolished black metal, probably stygian iron if she had to guess. The handle was made of dark red leather with silver  wire weaved around it in an elegant spiral.

A true masterpiece, worthy of a royal court. Very fitting for the occasion.

Lute grabbed it and gently pulled the sword out of its sheath.  

Abandoned mansion on the outskirts of Pentagram City.

Lute looked down the murky staircase and sighed. Was there a rule stating that all secret passages must be dark, damp and dangerous? The light that was seeping from the outside quickly ran out and she saw no other light sources. A few months ago, this may have been a problem. Fortunately, she learned a thing or two during her trip to the lower rings. 

Lute gently touched the rune on her left forearm and reached within herself once more. Diverting one’s innate potential came easier than trying to cast it out onto the world around her, so she didn’t feel as clumsy as she did before. She felt the magic flow through her fingertips on and onto the symbol. The beauty of runic magic; one does not need to comprehend the intricacies of the actual spell, so long as the rune remains unchanged the effect will always be the same. She only needed to provide power for the spell to take effect. 

She slowly traced the symbol carved into her metal arm, letting the energy flow through her.  Lute felt it following the circuits of her body. From her heart, through her arm, down her fingertips, onto the rune. From there, she felt it come again, a narrow, precise stream, like a cold and slow lightning taking the shortest path to its goal, up her body until she felt warmth underneath her eyelids.

Then she opened her eyes and the darkness no longer held any secrets from her.

The tunnel seemed to predate the building above and likely anything that was still standing within the Pentagram City. The stone steps were cracked and crooked. The low hanging ceiling was strewn with spiderwebs and Lute took utmost care not to touch them. While getting some entangled in her hair was certainly not an appealing prospect, she was more concerned with disturbing their makers. 

Rounding the turn in the passageway she saw a faint green glow from a doorway ahead of her.

Soon enough, she found herself in a spacious chamber. Several candelabras set up by the walls provided some illumination. The candles were lit with sickly green flames. The walls were lined with skulls and bones, bringing to mind old medieval catacombs. If Lute were to guess she would say that these were the unfortunate sinners who wronged the owner of this place.

The center of the room was occupied by a massive stone table. Lute tried not to think of it as an altar. This comparison wasn’t helped by a few candles standing on it’s edges. Nor by the single leather bound book that was resting at the center of it.

Aside from that, there was nothing of interest in the whole chamber. No other door 

She carefully approached the altar table, her steps light and quiet against the cobbles. The book was bound in brown leather, its cover was embellished with gold and rubies. Reflections of the green flames danced in the precious gems, like tiny fireflies trapped within the glass bubbles. 

The title made her heart skip a beat. Its big bold letters read “Where Devil dwells: the secrets of Morningstar Manor” This was exactly what she came here for. Lute paused, suddenly becoming very aware of the entire set up.

This was too easy.

She took a step back and opened her senses to the surroundings once more. 

As expected, the energies of this place were very prominent. The flow of powers, the glow of auras and webs of connections lining the entire chamber. Not an insignificant number of those were focused on the tome in front of her. Lute couldn’t make out the meaning of every single one of them, but she saw enough signs to know that touching the book was a bad idea.

A slow shift in the flow of the energies caught her attention. The delicate balance of powers within the chamber was disturbed by the appearance of the focal point. One that had a name and was right behind her.

“It is a virtue most admirable among those who search for knowledge, to know when to restrain oneself.”

Lute didn’t need to turn around to know that the owner of this place was now in the room with her. Or more likely, was present the entire time and only now chose to show himself.

Despite the sense of dread which crept up her spine, the angel forced herself to stay calm. The primal part of her brain demanded she run away from this scary thing, but was reigned in by the rational mind. After all, it was her who asked for a meeting with the overlord.

“Hello Zestial.”

Rosie’s Emporium - cannibal district - pentagram city.

Lute stood still, her arms hanging slightly away from her body, as Rosie paced around her, measuring tape in hand.

“Tell me, darling, is this a formal event or social affair?”

Lute felt a prong of anxiety in her stomach when she felt the overlord graze her shoulders as she took the measurements. She quelled it easily, only slightly displeased that it showed up at all. Rosie quietly said something to the pair of attendants who quickly noted it down. Lute didn’t bother with them, instead looking at herself in the mirror, occasionally peeking at what the other woman was doing. 

“A formal one.”

Lute saw no reason in trying to obfuscate anything. Everyone in Hell knew about the upcoming ceremony. Lute’s arrival to this circle at this time was very unlikely to be a coincidence. Her asking for a new suit was a dead giveaway. Trying to play dumb could easily be seen as an insult. Especially to someone as well connected and informed as Rosie.

“For day or evening?”

The banquet was likely to take the entire day, with the great ball preceding the main event and the following party probably lasting well into the early hours of the next morning. Greetings and announcements of the newly arrived alone were likely to take at least an hour.

“I need two. One for day and one for night.”

All the most prominent people in Hell were invited. Aside from the Sins and royal family, there was a long list of invited guests. The noble houses of Ars Goetia and their close associates, the prominent Overlords of Pride and of course, her royal highnesses’ closest friends. Lute was fairly sure she qualified to at least one of those groups.

“Evening party?”

Rosie asked with a ping of interest. Lute considered for a moment. 

She was looking forward to meeting the hotel crew again. This was an excellent opportunity to meet up with her old acquaintances. She hoped that at least some of them would be happy to see her too. Catch up, show souvenirs from other rings and trade all the stories each of them has without a doubt gathered during that time. The party was an excellent opportunity to do so.

It was a shame Lute was probably going to miss most of it.

“No.” Lute turned her head to look at the overlord, with a rather cold expression. “Night shift.”

Carmine angelic security - industrial district - pentagram city.

Unseathing the blade, Lute brought it up and inspected the blade from up close. It was matte black, marred with intricate veins of silver patterns, bringing to mind Damascus steel. The edges were razor sharp and glinted with a shine. Lute could have almost swore that the patterns actually moved, as if the piece of metal was a living being. A Carmine seal was engraved on the base, just above the hilt. 

“That’s Nephilim Steel you’re looking at.” 

Clara explained, excitement vibrant in her voice. 

“One of mom’s last inventions. A brand new alloy. Lethality of Angelic Steel and durability of high carbon one.“

Lute found that it fit her hand rather nicely. The wire that spun the length of the handle gave it a good grip and would prevent the sword from slipping out, even if her hands were to get a little wet. She took a stance and gave it a few swings and thrusts. She liked the sound it made as it cut through the air, the tip trailing silver lines through the air. The sword was on the heavier side but it didn’t bother her. If anything it made her heftier swings harder to stop.

“95cm double edged blade. Tapered tip for easier thrusts”

Lute made a mock exchange; a feint, lunge, high guard, sidestep, riposte. The blade danced through the air at her will, any sense of novelty and unfamiliarity quickly disappearing as she watched and felt the sword move. Soon enough she was wielding it as if a natural extension of her body. 

“And I know you’ll appreciate the extra mass.”

She did. The sword may have been heavier than the average cavalry saber, a tool designed to deliver crushing slashes from the horseback, with no regard for finesse or precision. Yet thanks to Lute’s unnatural strength and centuries of practice, she wielded it like a lightest of fencing foils, having no issues with quick flicks and shifts, always drawing the point of the blade right where she wanted it.

She sheathed the sword and put it down on the table.

Seeing that the angel was satisfied, Clara asked: “What’s next?”

“Something handy. Discreet. Definitive.”

She gestured with her left hand, making sure Clara got her point. The sinner gave a small nod as she followed along. 

“Discreet… Definitive…” 

Clara pondered the question for a moment, tilting her head slightly. Then her lips curved into a hint of a smile.

Abandoned mansion on the outskirts of the pentagram city.

Lute watched as Zestial slowly rounded the table until he was across it from her. The very shadows seemed to be drawn to the spider overlord, as if they were a physical substance that stuck to him and followed his every movement.

“The secrets that dwell beneath the royal residence are rife with perilous dangers…” 

He spoke, reaching over the book. Several circles of previously unseen runes suddenly appeared around it and started vanishing one after another. No doubt the powerful wards and curses that protected the knowledge contained within these pages. Lute was very glad she avoided this fate.

When the last one disappeared, it was as if the veil was lifted from the tome. The vivid colors seemed to drain from it, as the book itself seemed to suddenly become much less appealing and eye-catching. 

“...but also opportunities for those bold, or foolish enough, to seek them out.”

The tome was now bound in black leather and was so old that the title on the cover was no longer readable. As he opened the book, Lute noticed that the pages inside were in decent condition. Maybe not brand new, but definitely not looking like something that spent centuries in a damp cellar. Whether it was thanks to masterful work of the bookbinder or some arcane magic she couldn’t tell.

“The Palace has existed for almost as long as his majesty has reigned-”

Zestial flipped the pages, skipping over large portions of the book. Lute glimpsed symbols and illustrations that covered some pages, which seemed to detail the history of the Morningstar palace and the royal family. Eventually the overlord stopped on a chapter he deemed worthy of interest. 

“-and yet there are ancient secrets lingering there that predate even those days”

Lute read the title and raised an eyebrow.

‘The roots of Eden’

She was looking for a way in and out of the place, not wondering about the history and the origins of the Garden. Nonetheless, she read on. If someone like Zestial offered to share some of his knowledge, she would have to be a fool to turn it down.

Rosie’s Emporium - cannibal district - pentagram city.

Having taken the measurements, Rosie busied herself with picking the right materials, tools and forms. Lute watched her work with mild interest. She had no passion for tailor’s work, but she did find it enjoyable to watch a master at work, regardless of craft.

“What style?”

“French”

Lute was content with giving answers and making sure the outfit answered her needs. 

She was in need of something new. An outfit presentable enough to befit the royal palace, but not too flashy. Something elegant enough, but unremarkable. Allowing her to carry whatever she needed, but fitting well enough to move unhindered. 

If there’s anyone who could deliver on it, it was Rosie.

“Tail length?”

“Knee high”

In the past years, Lute grew out of wearing one set of uniform for every occasion, every day.

She did assemble quite a collection over that time. From the Hotel uniform, bought for her when she was still contracted under the princess, to the elegant suits she wore when she accompanied her on official meetings. There were the leathers and crop tops she wore on her off duty outings, as well as the sets of armor she wore when she was expecting to dive head first into trouble. Nowhere near the quality of the heavenly armories, but durable and light enough to allow for ease of movement.

However, none of those would be fighting the public appearance in the royal palace. Especially on an occasion as grand as this one.

“Trousers?”

“Tapered”

She liked what she was getting. 

A black tailcoat, with light gray accents and matte silver buttons, bringing to mind her exorcist origins. A large flap on her back, like a faux-cape covered the two vertical slits on her shoulderblades. Maroon vest covered in discreet patterns, coupled with a red shirt underneath alluded to her association with the hotel and the princess. A dark brown leather belt would be sitting high on her waist, holding a scabbard by her left side. High cut, dark grey riding pants and black leather knee high boots completed the look, being both elegant but most importantly, comfortable to move around in.

“What about the lining?”

Lute looked at the person in the mirror. 

A fallen angel. A disgraced commander of exorcists. A person whose entire identity was burned down, both by the fires of hell from the outside and the flames of vengeance from the inside. A criminal who has found mercy at the hand of her would-be victims. A warrior reborn. She was unshackled and her eyes opened.  No longer a tool of misguided divine wrath, nor a beast collared for her own good, but someone who has found a worthy goal to strive towards. Who has the means and will to see it done.

No matter how many friends and enemies she’ll make along the way.

“Chain mail.”

Carmine angelic security - industrial district - pentagram city.

“Mk 23.” Clara placed a pistol on the table.  

A blocky, matte black handgun with a stubby suppressor on its muzzle looked well made.

“My pet project, a renowned design by HK, slightly tweaked by yours truly.”

Lute picked it up with her left hand. Despite being right handed, she did find that it was easier to shoot with her left. The natural steadiness and recoil absorbent properties of her prosthetic arm were a welcome discovery.

The gun was on the bigger side, and quite heavy, but not unreasonably so. 

“Chambered in .45 ACP with integrated suppressor. Will put a guy to sleep without waking up others in the room.” 

She put her right hand to it, building a proper grip, checking the fit. It sat comfortably in her hands. She brought it up and aimed at one of the walls, away from anything vital. The three glowing dots aligned before her eyes.

“Tritium sights, to aim in the dark.” 

She flicked the safety off and racked the slide back, checking the chamber. Empty, as one could have expected, but it was never a bad idea to check. The slide locked in the backwards position, as it should, given an empty magazine was still in. She then pressed the mag release and caught the magazine as it smoothly slid out of the well. She slammed it back in with a satisfying clack.

“Flared magwell, for easier reloads.” 

She pressed the leaver, sending the slide back forward. She was grateful for the ambidextrous decocking leaver, which let her drop the hammer quietly while using her left hand and without breaking her grip. Finally, she flipped the safety back on and put the gun down on the table.

Lute could see herself using it. She nodded with approval.

Clara looked pleased with herself.

“If you want, I can offer some quality hallow points.” She walked to the workshop corner. “My own, extra spicy loads.”

“Don’t you mean ‘Hollow points?’ ” Lute may not have been a fan of firearms. In fact she never even held one before she was cast out to hell. But that was years ago. Since then, she learned a thing or two about guns and ammunition they used.

“I know what I said.” Clara smiled as she put a box of cartridges on the table before them. A silver sheen on the flat tops of the bullets told her everything she needed to know.

Abandoned mansion on the outskirts of the pentagram city.

As Lute read on, Zestial kept bringing in more documents, pointing out the chapters and passages that were relevant to her research. She studied the accounts of witnesses of experiments performed by sorcerers who tried to defeat Lucifer’s own hexes, memoirs of the treestalking druids and long forgotten journals briefly mentioning fallen angels balancing the powers of heaven and hell. 

The many grimoires and scrolls contained spells, runes and formulas that on their own seemed senseless or downright useless. Tree languages, mycelium transformations, osmosis manipulation. Others were more reasonable, but still not of much use on their own. Frameworks for spell binding, principles behind combining runes, rules behind thaumaturgy. Lute’s limited understanding of magic allowed her to comprehend the general idea behind them, even if the exact wording and implications behind why one would try and create something like that were lost to her.

Still, she didn’t relent. There was a point to all of it, she just had to see it.

“This is the layout of the roots of the tree, as documented by Azazel, the royal advisor.”

Zestial unrolled the yellowed parchment. The text on the sides was in a script unreadable to Lute, but she didn’t need it to recognize the map of pride and the spreading web of roots that sprawled across the land. She quickly found the location of the Pentagram City and the nearby palace.

The spider overlord gently touched the old manuscript, causing it to ripple and come alive. With a small wave, he made the whole sketch zoom in and center on the king’s residence. Or at least what existed of it, back when the sketch was created.

The old castle was standing in the fork of the roots, as if nested against them on purpose, the thin tendrils wrapping around the outer walls.

“And here are the contemporary palace plans.”

A modern style blue print unrolled on top of the old scroll. A myriad of thin white lines on a bright blue background sprawled before Lute, making her eyes hurt, but she stayed focused. Reading maps and scheming battleplans was always Vaggie’s forte, but it doesn’t mean Lute was helpless herself.

After a few moments of familiarising herself with the schematics she started seeing the sense in this design. The walls, the corridors. She quickly found the grand hall where the coronation will take place and her eyes were already mapping out all the exits. She wasn’t worried about getting in, but a way out was bound to be a challenge.

Zestial pressed the two documents together, overlaying the two schematics on top of one another. The stone altar below started glowing, causing the two pages to become semitransparent. The outline of the castle from the manuscript matched with the oldest part of the modern palace. But millennia of expansions, rebuilding and modernization, meant the new palace has grown far larger than the original designs from the bygone era. Easily spilling over the long forgotten roots of the tree of knowledge.

“As you can see, the roots cross the perimeter in three places.”

Zestail’s long, thin finger hovered over the map, trailing over the thin dark line that ran under the outer wings of the building. Many of them in the places less often visited and nowhere near as heavily guarded as the inner keep. Far away from the main entrance.

Lute’s pupils grew wide. It was all coming together. 

She finally had her egress route.

Rosie’s Emporium - cannibal district - pentagram city.

“And a lovely little half cape to top it all off.”

Rosie pointed to one of the mannequins standing nearby.

It was bare, save for a short cape draped over one shoulder that reached to the abdomen. Two small golden chains arced around the neck, keeping it tied, with a small black and silver brooch in the shape of a single wing, proudly displayed where the chains met the fabric.
Lute didn’t consider it to be ugly. Quite on the contrary. It was beautifully made, black but glittering with silver weaves on every move. Modest, but elegant.

She just really wasn’t a fan of unnecessary accessories.

“I appreciate it Rosie, but I think I’ll pass on this.”

The overlords' eyes narrowed but her smile grew wider. 

“Oh, I think you’ll like it”

Without any warning, Rosie spun on her heel and lashed out at the mannequin with a previously unseen blade.

The overlord proceeded to slash and stab the thin layer of fabric. Lute saw a telltale glint of silver. It was foolish to expect her not to have an angelic blade easily available to her. The poor dummy swayed at every blow, only kept in place by golden strings which flashed into existence every time it got close to a tipping point.

After a short moment Rosie ceased her onslaught and beckoned for one of the attendants. The sinner deftly took the little cape off the dummy and brought it closer for Lute to inspect.

Lute knew that Rosie was a master at her craft. Even in the days long past, when the Vees, or more precisely Velvette, held a stranglehold over the fashion market in Pentagram City, the quality of Rosie’s products was unmatched. It was no surprise that most of the overlords, bosses, and even the princess’s retinue made use of her services. 

And yet Lute was still surprised to see that this seemingly flimsy little cape has withheld such an assault without as much as a torn thread, let alone a cut.

She knew Rosie was a dangerous opponent and could easily tell that the cannibal overlord did not hold back when doing her little demonstration. She saw her give a satisfied smirk as she caressed the fabric.

“A little bit of spider silk, graphene weave and some good old southern hexes.” Rosie explained as if she was babbling over tea. “Will stop any blade or bullet you’re likely to see down here.” She flipped the material over, showing no signs of abrasion.

“However…” the overlord paused, and pointed at the mannequin. Lute’s eyes followed suit, her eyebrows raising at what she saw. The poor dummy now sported several deep dents in its chest area. Rosie winced a little, her hand instinctively coming up to her chest. “... it still hurts, I’m afraid.”

Carmine angelic security - industrial district - pentagram city.

“One more thing. I’m going to need something special.” Lute said, taking stock of the items in front of her. These were good enough for everyday use, but this was not going to be a regular day. She needed every edge she could get. 

“Sure thing.” Clara gave her a daring look. If there was anyone who could supply Lute with quality killing instruments, it was her. ”What will it be?”

“Silent. Compact. Armor piercing. Precise up to three hundred meters, but also handy indoors. Semi or fully automatic.” 

Lute was sure that she could have gotten all of that and perhaps more with enchantments and charms, but she would like to avoid resorting to magic if possible. She wasn’t too fond of using spells if she could avoid it. Magic was a finicky thing that had no rules and infinite rules at once. It was too unreliable and unpredictable for Lute’s tastes. Mechanical engineering on the other hand, didn’t care how many powerful beings were in the area, how unbalanced the auras were nor about the relative positions of celestial bodies.

“That’s a tall order…” Clara raised her eyebrows at the list. 

Lute was prepared to make compromises. She knew you can’t have everything and will probably have to deal with something that won’t fit one or maybe more of those categories. If it’s too loud, she’ll have to deal with extra heat from the second she pulls the trigger. If it’s too cumbersome she’ll just have to ditch it before she goes indoors. If it lacks power, she’ll just have to rely on repeated hits or go for weak spots, as annoying as it can be.

Clara walked along the collection, seemingly deep in though. Her hand seemed to hover over some of the weapons there, but not touching any of them. Then she smirked. Her eyes glinted with excitement as she reached for one of the stands.

“Lucky for you, I have just a thing like that.”

She pulled out a peculiar looking gun.

“Screw Cutter”

It had a layout of a typical assault rifle. The stock was just a hollow wooden skeleton. The simple curved box magazine wasn’t much longer than the pistol grip behind it. The barrel was surprisingly thick, which Lute recognized as a built-in suppressor. A scope on top was attached to the side of the receiver, instead of a top mounted rail like in typical modern guns.

“Chambered in 9x39. Subsonic, but the tungsten core is heavy enough to punch through Level III vests with ease.”

The rifle, from muzzle to butt, was no longer than the sword’s blade. When Lute picked it up she felt like it couldn’t weigh more than three kilograms. She could probably hold it in one hand and if she were to sling it over her back, it wouldn’t interfere with her wings. 

“I replaced the rubbish PSO with a decent LPVO. 1 to 8 magnification.”

Lute shouldered it and looked through the scope. Without looking away, she adjusted the zoom on the scope to the max then down again. She was pleased with how smooth and easy it was. The picture was clear, the thin lines of crosshairs not obstructing anything. A pair of handy rangefinder curves on either side were a welcome addition, helping her estimate the distances to target.

“Extended flap on the selector switch.”

Lute flicked the safety off and yanked the charging handle back, barely even registering the resistance of the cocking hammer. She tilted the gun to the side and peered at the insides as she racked the bolt back a few more times. The chamber was empty. Then switched from semi to full and back to semi-auto. The extended flap meant that she could do it with just her index finger, without taking the hand off the grip. Finally, she squeezed the trigger. It gave in the loose with little resistance, growing slightly heavier as it actually started lifting the sear. When she heard the dry click of a hammer striking the pin, she flipped the safety back on and put the weapon down on the table.

“A rare example of Tula actually making something right.” 

Lute nodded. Now it was her turn to smile. “Gadgets.”

Clara made big eyes at that statement, her face a dreamy bliss. “Gadgets?” 

Like a flash she disappeared in the workshop corner, digging through crates, lockers and piles of loose items that littered all available surfaces.

Before long she presented Lute with a collection of devices, trinkets and other items of more or less sophisticated use. Of them all Lute picked a trio of perfectly balanced throwing knives, and a few grenades of different types she actually knew how to use. Meanwhile Clara continued to drone on and on about her latest inventions and special properties of her trinkets.

Abandoned mansion on the outskirts of the pentagram city.

Lute didn’t know how long she spent in the underground crypt, reading, noting, re-reading and internalizing all the information relevant to her plan. She knew however, that by the time she was done, she had created a new and quite possibly unprecedented spell that would allow her to bypass any barrier set up by other sorcerers or perhaps even Lucifer himself.

There were just a few loose ends left.

“And here…” 

Zestial opened his palm, showing her three metal amulets. Judging by their ugly grey color and how brittle they seemed, Lute guessed they were made of pure iron with no admixtures. The alchemy behind making a reliable talisman was a little beyond Lute’s knowledge of the craft, but she understood how it played a crucial role in making the magic work. Each one was carved with the same set of runes, except for one symbol.

“-are the keys that shall let you travel along the roots.” 

She listened with apt attention as the ancient overlord explained the way of using them. Lute was very glad for the wisdom of the runic language. Having the proper spell already inscribed on a hard metal ensured that she wouldn’t end up stuck between the realms or erased from existence by one mispronounced syllable or a momentarily lapse in concentration.

Lute accepted the keys and put them away into her pocket, where they joined all the other items currently stored in her subspace. Then she held out her left hand. With a faint clutter a dozen or so shimmering crimson chains manifested in her palm. She picked five of them and offered them to the Overlord.

“Well done Zestiel. You have my gratitude.”

The moment Zestails’ hand closed around the chains, they collapsed within themselves with an echoing whine, like a distant chorus of voices groaning in surprise and fear, turning into thin strings of sickly green silk. As if carried by a gust of wind they slipped from his palm and drifted to his coat where they vanished from sight, weaving themselves into the fabric, among the uncountable others.

“A pleasure is all mine, Miss Lute.”

Rosie’s Emporium - cannibal district - pentagram city.

“Worry not, darling, it will all be ready in time for the big day.”

Rosie assured her, as she directed her attendants to carry out menial tasks. The two overlords were once again sitting at the table by the window, enjoying some more quality tea. 

“Shall I send it to your room in the Hotel?”

Rosie asked innocently. It was no mystery that Lute frequented the hotel during her time in Pentagram City. Sometimes at the invitation of the princess, other times as a temporary business partner of the manager. Then there were the times she made sure nobody knew of her visits. Not even the two women she has grown so fond of.

Lute gave the woman a weak smile, but shook her head.

“No, I will have someone pick it up.”

Lute parted with six more chains, plenty more remaining in her grasp. Each chain, a contracted soul, bound to her service for all eternity. Each one, a stepping stone on her way to the top. And every single one of them, a reason why she never officially checked in as a guest of the Hazbin Hotel.

Carmine angelic security - industrial district - pentagram city.

Lute was pleased with the selection before her.

“I’ll take the sword and the pistol now. Can you pack up the rest?”

She holstered the pistol and took a look at the sword. She’ll have to get a new scabbard made that’ll match her new outfit. But that was something to be fixed later. For now she wanted to keep the new blade with her. The other items were not going to be immediately useful and could be picked up on the day of the ceremony. 

“Sure thing.” Clara gathered the leftover weapons and set them aside. “Should we deliver it to the Hotel or would you prefer a more discreet pick up?”

Lute felt a prong of hurt deep inside. Not only because of what she was going to do, but also because she really wished she could just go to the hotel, meet with Charlie and Vaggie and tell them everything she knew. Everything that was happening and was going to happen. But she knew that she couldn’t. They mustn’t know, lest the plan fails and Lute loses everything she strived towards all this time. 

She could perhaps pay them a brief visit before, but was absolutely not going to be staying there.

“I could use a dead drop, yes.”

Lute picked another handful of contracts to transfer to the arms dealer overlord. She made sure to throw in one extra, just to keep it an even number. She knew how the sisters shared everything. Clara handed her the form and she wrote down the address, date and a few other instructions for a delivery.

“Enjoy your Carmine purchase.” Clara said with a straight face. 

Lute gave her the most deadfaced look she could muster. Then they both burst out laughing at the joke. All this time and the old marketing line was still making them crack up every time they heard it. 

“Take care, girl.” Clara patted Lute on the shoulder. “See you at the party.”

“Be seeing you. Say hi to Ode for me.”

With that said and done, Lute turned to leave. She’ll find her way out.

“Oh, and Lute.”

“Yeah?”

She stopped on the threshold, looking over her shoulder. Clara gave her one last look, the thin smile barely masking the seriousness underneath.

“Do enjoy the party.”

Lute returned the smirk, effortlessly donning her mask of professionalism.

“I wouldn't dare ruin their big day.” Lute lied before she left.