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 with 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 morale if you tell your 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 a 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, MyLord."
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 over was not 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, MyLord."
"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, maybe 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, MyLord."
Alexander spoke:
"Arbus, I will take a look at your workshop; show me the swords that are already finished."
"Yes, MyLord."
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 weaponsmith 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, MyLord."
"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 weaponsmith.
"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, MyLord, 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, MyLord, 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!"