Michael had taken him to Hell with Celine and Samantha. Alexander appeared in front of the palace. This time dressed in tight leather, as it had been brought to his attention that his jeans and t-shirt habit would not be well received in Hell. He had swapped his cowboy boots for a pair of heavy combat boots, and on his chest was an emblem of a red, fire-breathing dragon. He got the idea because his father, Lucifer, was also called the Great Dragon. He was the son of the dragon, and he was willing to burn everything in his path to achieve his goal, to be with Samantha. If he was honest to himself, and he was, all the rest was secondary. Not that he would tell many people that tidbit in the near or far future. It's not good for moral if you tell you soldiers or those who depend on you for their survival that they are secondary.
Lord Robert was waiting for them with a group of guards. From the moment he saw Alexander, his voice echoed throughout Hell.
"Behold, this is Prince Alexander, everyone will treat him worthy of a Prince. His word is as Princess Samantha's law. Ignore his word or refuse to obey his orders and I will consider it treason to the throne!"
Alex was impressed, for before him stood King Robert, ruler of Hell, and no longer the genial, good-natured Lord Robert he had come to know. Gone was the three-piece tailored suit; in its place had appeared an impressive leather outfit with gold breastplate and silver leg and arm guards.
"Prince Alexander, welcome to my kingdom. Things work a little differently here than upstairs. Here, the Demons are always treated with the utmost firmness and discipline. Yes, the Demons are treated much better here than in your Hell, but this is and remains Hell. Understood?"
"Yes, My Lord."
The king took his daughter in his arms, kissed her gently on the cheek, and said:
"Princess Samantha, you know I hate it when you visit here. Please do it as little as possible."
It was visible that the boy was impressed, and for a moment there was fear in his eyes for Robert. Something the king could beat himself up for considering Alex's past, he should have prepared the boy better. Showing the boy before his visit the outfit he wore in Hell, assuring him that regardless of the outfit he wore, he was Robert, Samantha's father, and not a savage like that piece of crap who had mistreated him so much on Earth. No wonder the boy was momentarily apprehensive about suddenly being confronted as if out of nowhere with an authoritarian figure. Miraculously Alexander recovered himself with lightning speed, held his chin high, and said with composure:
"Yes, My King."
"So you wanted to see the best weapon-smith, Prince Alexander?"
"Yes, My Lord."
"That would be Arbus, and he is not far from here. Come, we will walk; there is no point in flying."
Alexander did not like the short journey through Dis very much. The atmosphere was oppressive. The appearance of the Demons they encountered along the way was the same as Celine's, they could all pass for humans. He mentally jotted down one question after another that he would have to ask Robert in the future. If he wanted to improve the hell in his universe, it had to be at least equal to this one, and if possible, much, much better. Because he did not like this one at all. He knew from the connection with his mother that the condition in his Hell was much, much worse than here because of his father's negligence because he was blinded by his hatred. He did not like this Hell at all, so he had no desire to make his Hell the same as this one. No, he had to be able to do better and do more! Besides, there was a small voice in the back of his head that said he needed to talk to Sam in private about the future of this hell. Again, things could be different and better, but for that he needed an ally who knew much more about the history of the place. First Sam and then work on Celine together? He asked himself.
In silence, they arrived at the weapon-smith's forge, who immediately fell to his knees, face down in the dust, at the sight of his king.
"Arbus, this is Prince Alexander. You will treat him like the Prince of Hell he is and give him whatever he wants."
"Yes, My Lord."
Alexander spoke:
"Arbus, I will take a look at your workshop, show me the swords that are already finished."
"Yes, My Lord."
The blacksmith jumped up and led Alexander to a wall completely covered with swords. At his leisure, Alexander looked at the weapons one by one and wrote them off just as quickly. Until his eyes fell on a katana. He could tell by the blade that Arbus was a true master. The hilt and the guard were blue. He took the Japanese sword from the wall and felt it in his hand.
"Where is the sheath?"
The blacksmith hurried to a workbench and quickly returned with what Alexander had asked for. He took the scabbard and slipped the sword into it. Slowly, he pulled it out a few times, but not completely, leaving the tip in the sheath, and he put it back.
"This sword is now mine, Arbus."
"Yes, My Prince."
Alexander walked slowly through the workshop and stopped at a pile of iron clogs. These were the clogs that Arbus used to make his weapons. He looked at the clogs for a moment, picked up one in particular, and studied it intently. He turned and placed the clog on the anvil the weapon-smith was using. He continued to look at the clog for some time.
"Arbus, come here."
The blacksmith did not know how fast to get in front of Alex.
"The katana is made by repeatedly forging this lump. Once it has its shape for the first time, it is flattened and then folded over and over again. How many folds does it take to make a perfect sword?"
"It can be more than a hundred, My Lord."
"How long will it take you to make my sword?"
"Five days My Prince."
Alex remained lost in thought for a moment and then picked up the lump. He threw it to the blacksmith, letting the hellfire ignite in his eyes, and said in a threatening tone:
"Keep this and guard it with your life, because that's exactly what I'll claim if you lose it. I will return, and then you will make the perfect katana for me. A copy of this one."
He held out the katana he had just chosen to the weapon-smith.
"I will guard it with my life, and I will make the perfect copy for you."
"You'd better, Arbus. You may begin to make a new scabbard, but I want it wrapped in the purest violet blue you can lay your hands on, with a green and gold thread visible. And I want another perfect copy, use any lump, but not the one you must guard until I return. For this sword, I want a green-wrapped scabbard with violet-blue and gold thread. Understood?"
He turned and said to Robert:
"Thank you, My Lord, for this gift."
"You are a Prince and you should have a sword befitting a Prince."
The party turned and walked back the way they had come. They entered the palace briefly, and Robert sent the guards away.
"I assume you know what to do?"
"Yes, My Lord, I know what I have to do."
"Good, go back upstairs now."
Without saying another word, the four disappeared back toward Heaven. Arriving in front of the palace, Alexander fell to his knees and threw up. When he was finished, Michael gave him a cloth to wipe his mouth. He hurried back to the suite and rushed into his bathroom where he vomited again and then rinsed his mouth. Samantha had followed him:
"Are you okay Alex?"
Hellfire blazed in his eyes, but she was not at all impressed. She knew what the visit must have done to him. He almost screamed and through the open doors, Celine, Michael, and the Goddess heard what he had to say.
"I'm not well at all, Red. The way I treated poor Arbus! I'm not sick of that place, Sam, I'm sick of myself. And I'm sick of myself thinking about what I'm going to have to do in my Hell because that place is a hundred times worse than yours."
The three outside had clearly heard what he had said. The compassion Alexander felt for a demon only reinforced their feelings that he was good through and through. He sank to the ground, sitting on his butt he took a few deep breaths, and the hellfire extinguished. Softly he said:
"This man threw himself face down into the dust at the sight of your father. Just seeing is enough to make them completely submissive. And I treated him as if he were something, not a person. I threatened to kill an innocent man, Sam. What kind of fucking existence is that?"
She sat down beside him on the bathroom floor and replied:
"Dad's been doing his best to change Hell for thousands of years, Alex. Listening to his stories and what Celine, Michael, and Samael have to say about this horrible place, it must have been much, much worse than it is now. The work is far from done, but we will get it done.
"For fuck's sake, who creates such a disgusting place?"
"Heaven and Hell come together with the Gods and the Universe."
"So my mother and Franklin are responsible for this?"
He asked incredulously.
"From what I understand, partially. They can create the universe and then Heaven partially according to their wishes, but Hell always comes in a fixed form."
"So whoever created my mother and Franklin is responsible for this shit?"
He asked quietly and Samantha just nodded.
"For fuck's sake, whoever it is is a sick fucking SOB and when I get to meet him or her you can bet I will have one or two things to say about that!"
The next morning he was in the park with Celine and Michael, who were going to teach him how to fly. Before they started, Michael asked:
"Now that Sam is not here, I have a question for you, because I already suspect that the answer would not please her. The katana, after you put it in the scabbard, you never took it all the way out of the scabbard, the tip stayed in. Why?"
"I read the code of the samurai. I don't know if it's all true, but I liked the idea. According to Japanese culture, they were honorable warriors. Something to be taken with a grain of salt, or a whole mountain of salt I guess, because they felt quite elevated above what they considered the absolute lower classes. Anyway, one of their rules was to draw the katana from the scabbard only when the sword would draw blood, to temper the blood-lust of the sword and ensure that the samurai would draw his sword only when absolutely necessary. And this katana will only be drawn once..."
Michael and Celine nodded in silence, knowing exactly what he had in mind and what would happen in the near future. Alex asked:
"Okay, how long will this take?"
"A few days for normal wing flying and maybe a week for trans-location."
Alexander thought about it and said after a minute:
"For flying, one day for the basics. The rest I can learn from Samantha and practice on my own. Sounds like fun to come to the park together and fool around a bit. Trans-location two days. I want to be able to get from point A to B. The rest can be done later in bits and pieces."
Michael could see the logic of regular flying. He thought it would be good for the two of them to have some fun in the park, some harmless fooling around, some harmless physical contact like the teenagers they were. They would need that in the future because this was going to be incredibly hard.
"Okay, today the basics of flying. Take off, small maneuvers, land."
Alex nodded and manifested his wings, which still hurt like hell but were slowly getting better.
"Okay, let's do this."
He kept at it long after Michael had wanted him to stop for the day. He thought Alex would have had enough much sooner. Apparently he had not counted on the boy's stubbornness. The number of times he had landed in the pond, in the branches, and on his face on the ground was almost uncountable. So when he made his first landing and stayed on his feet, he looked pretty beat up. Sam had joined them a while ago and wanted to yell at him to stop after she had seen him crash a few times. Michael had shaken his head, however, and with a great deal of reluctance, she had remained silent. When, after his first well-executed landing, he had finally stayed on his feet. He fell to his knees after a few seconds, completely exhausted, and that was enough for her. She went up to him, grabbed his arm, and said, without tolerating any resistance:
"We're going to Fuzzie now!"
Moments later, they appeared at the door of the healer, who took one look at the battered boy and shook his head. He was already beginning to suspect that Alex would become a regular customer. He helped him inside and laid him on a bed, then removed his dirty clothes and saw that his body was covered in bruises.
"Well Alex, did you have a midair collision?"
Alexander laughed tiredly through his teeth:
"Well, no Fuzzie, no other Angel involved, but I did run into an eighteen-wheeler that ran me over a couple of times just for fun."
"Okay, I'll patch you up, kid, but tomorrow your whole body will be stiff and sore again."
"I know Fuzzie, I know. I'm starting to understand why Michael said we were going to be really good friends, and that was before Celine came into the picture."
A seriously pissed-off Samantha said:
"It is you yourself who is pushing like this Alex and who has backed Micky and Celine into a corner by cutting the time they think is needed for your training into four. Not twenty years, but five years."
"Samantha Gummy Bear, I know that I am responsible for this. Unfortunately, time is an enemy at the moment until I can begin implementation, after which it becomes a luxury."
Fuzzie went to work, and this time it was not like the first time. No trace of a warm, peaceful feeling. This time he had to clench his teeth hard because the pain was almost unbearable at times.
The next two days were spent on the trans-location and went more or less the same way. On the first day, he had seriously miscalculated his trans-location to the Notre Dame. He had crashed into the massive double doors, knocking the air out of his lungs and leaving him lying on his back on the grass in front of the building. The bang itself had been heard far inside the building and Laia came out curiously. When she saw Alex lying there on his back, a mischievous smile appeared on her face, for she suspected very well what had happened, so she said amusedly:
"You really don't have to knock, Alex, the door is always open."
With great difficulty, he spoke:
"I thought it would be polite to knock before coming in, Laia."
He was then dragged away to the healer by a seething Samantha. Every night he was patched up by Fuzzie and taken to the suite by Samantha and placed in his bed. Accompanied by appropriate threats, which Casiel found more than amusing. In fact, she was the first to notice that they resembled an old married couple in those moments.
When she did so again on the third day, he asked:
"Samantha, would you please ask Celine to come up to me and leave us alone for a moment?"
She looked at him and knew instinctively that he was up to something he wanted to keep her out of. She could see it in his eyes, which lacked any warmth. Nevertheless, she did as she was told. A few minutes later Celine entered his room. He said:
"Sit down."
And pointed to the foot end of his bed. Celine immediately realized that this was not an invitation, but an order from her Prince. She replied:
"No, Samantha. So this is not a social visit."
He shook his head.
"You and I are going to Earth tomorrow night and I will do what I have to do there. I haven't quite mastered the power to scan my surroundings yet, so I need your help."
"I think you'll do it anyway if I refuse."
"Absolutely, even if I have to walk once I land."
"I saw what they did to you Alex and I am still against it."
He started to say something but she raised her hand.
"Not what you are planning but the timing. The last three days you have exhausted yourself and your body. I would rather see you take it easy for a few days."
"I have to get this over with, Celine, otherwise it will continue to preoccupy me and pollute my thinking. I just have to keep my thinking pure. This whole mess is too important. The slightest mistake could be fatal."
"Are you sure of yourself? There is no turning back after this. You will never be the same after you draw blood for the first time."
"It just has to happen, Celine. I'm not looking forward to it. Although I dream and fantasize about getting revenge, I know very well that there is a big difference. Besides, I would prefer you to be there."
"Why me and not Michael?"
"Michael is an Angel, Celine. You know the rules of the gods. Besides, I would rather have you as an advisor than Michael. Michael is perfect as a mentor, as a teacher, not as an advisor. You are tougher, cooler, and more calculated when it comes to strategy and combat. Not brute force, you are a scalpel. That is why I am asking you to join me on my little journey through time. I know that your king has ordered you to accompany me on this journey. However, I value free will above all else. Therefore, I ask you if you will volunteer of your own free will, and believe me, I will not hold it against you if you refuse. This is not a weekend of camping, it's six thousand fucking years we're talking about.
"Yes, I will go with you to Earth, but you have to do what you have to do, I am just there to back you up. You have to do what you have in mind. Not just for revenge, but to prepare you for the hellish task ahead. You know by now from your Mom and Franklin what a shitty place your Hell is. Duels, rebellions, and civil wars will be the order of the day once you begin your renovation. By comparison, tomorrow night will be a relaxing day at the baths."
She manifested his favorite drink and a cigarette, which he accepted with a grateful smile.
"I could ask for time to answer your question, to join you on your little journey in time, but we both know that would be bullshit. Somehow my little Hellion wants you back in one piece. So yes, I will go with you to make sure you get back to Samantha in one piece. On one condition."
"And what is that?"
"If I say I will go ahead of you, then you will let me go ahead of you without discussion and without asking any questions. And I mean this deadly serious Alexander. I want your word of honor!"
He nodded:
"If you want my word of honor, Celine, then I will give you my word of honor."
He held out his hand and Celine shook it, and their agreement was sealed.