Chương 58: Switch Paste

"Good morning!" an annoyingly cheerful voice sounded right on top of me.

"Morning, morning, MORNING!!!" I glared at Henriette, but she just smiled back at me cheekily.

"I've never slept on something so soft and fluffy!" she declared, and then began jumping on the bed.

"And jumpy too!" Donk, donk, donk. The mattress bounced violently, sending me bobbing up and down with every jump. Annoying brat! I yanked her leg mid-jump. She crashed onto the mattress, but it only made her laugh harder. Then I sniffed, and my nose, which was a great deal better than any nose had a right to be, found something delicious.

"I think… Alexy made us breakfast?"

"Really?" Henriette gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"So what are we waiting for?!" And she jumped off the bed and pulled me after her. We headed downstairs and, as predicted, the skeleton cook was standing by the kitchen table, and on it were two plates with what looked like eggs, some monster meat, and something that might have been porridge.

"A non-plump-helmet-soup food!" Henriette almost shouted. She didn't waste a second before digging in.

"Nom nom nom, soooo good!"

"Thank you," I said, politely remembering to thank Alexy. He only grunted, muttered something I was fairly sure was Russian, and trudged away. I thought he and Zsanareth would get along really well. They could stand in a room and grunt at each other for an hour. I started to munch myself, and noted with delight that Henriette hadn't exaggerated. It was a delicacy. After we ate, there was a knock at the door. I went to open it, and there was Augustin, with four men waiting behind him.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Well, I… I guess I am." I looked over at Henriette, who nodded in approval. Oh. I guess she wasn't coming. Augustin then looked at Henriette and smiled.

"I actually have a nephew about your age," he said.

"I'll send him over. He can show you the city — give you a tour. Would you like that?"

"Oh, sure!" said Henriette.

"Maybe he's cute," I told her with a smirk, and waved her goodbye. And with that I was off with Augustin to… the palace, I supposed. On the way I got myself a little stressed out. Now we were really going to see the big scary high demon, and I would finally learn what my new job was. That's right — I had not the faintest idea. It could be awful servant work, like cleaning. I'd only specifically asked not to wash dishes, because I was stupid! But… it could be torturing people. It was hell, after all.

Oh, I don't want to do that.

"Is it a torturer?" I asked Augustin.

"My new job, that is."

"What? No!" He looked at me, baffled, then smiled under his mustache.

"It's not that dramatic. Don't worry. You'll know soon enough." Then I looked around, and my nerves slid right off me. I was seeing the city in daylight for the first time. Well — red daylight. And there wasn't a sun exactly, just red clouds. But still. The city looked amazing. White houses, pretty as sugar. Little bridges arching over the canals. A fountain in every small square, and trees down every street, their canopies a lush, strong red. And people, so many of them. Skeletons out walking.

A lizard-woman fighting a losing battle to keep her three children together. An old demoness went past with a strange sort of creature on a leash: a pale, furred lump of flesh with big eyes and a small, lost mouth. There was even a bone-themed playground that looked like it would hardly pass any safety standard — though the demon, human, and lizard children swarming over it didn't seem to mind. This… this honestly looked like a nice place to live. And it made me a bit more relaxed about Azearothiel.

I mean, it was his city, right? So he can't be that bad. Then the palace rose up in front of us — white and enormous, all towers and long bright galleries, sitting above the city like something that had been set down rather than built. Two large, stern-faced lizards hauled the first gate open for us. Beyond it lay a huge garden — red hedges clipped into spirals, black roses, a fountain at the center. Then a second gate, greater than the first, and past that a corridor so long my feet got bored of it.

We didn't End up in the throne room, not yet. Instead, Augustin led me into an antechamber: a fancy little room full of fancy furniture, with a life-size angel statue standing in one corner.

"We will wait here," said Augustin, "until we are summoned for our audience with Azearothiel." I nodded and wandered over to get a closer look at the angel statue. It was pretty, and finely made, with a serene white face, complete with wings and a halo and everything.

"Why do you even have an angel statue?" I asked, studying it.

"Aren't they the enemy?"

"Oh, that's no statue," he said.

"That's a Halomaton. We have a few of them in the palace."

"Umm. How nice," I said, and leaned in closer. Up close, something was off about it.

"What is a—" The statue turned its head and looked me in the eyes, green light shining in them.

"Hello! How can I help you today?"

"AAHHH!" I screamed, stumbled back, and landed on my butt.

"Get away from me!"

"Oh, that's right, you've never seen one." Augustin gave a small chuckle and offered me a hand up.

"Please, calm down. They're harmless."

"That thing is a real angel!" I scrambled to my feet, keeping my eyes fixed on it, wide and wary.

"If there is some confusion or misunderstanding," said the angel, "I'll gladly try to help. Please elaborate…"

"Shut it!" I barked at it, my heart pounding.

"Understood," it said.

"Reach out whenever you're ready or need assistance with anything."

"Please calm down," said Augustin, and turned to the angel.

"Please bring us two glasses of water."

"Of course. I'll bring two glasses of water right away. Let me know if there's anything else you need." Then it walked out of the room.

"That was an angel!" I panted.

"They're like… dangerous killers, or—""Not an angel." Augustin was calm as a sunset.

"A Halomaton, like I said. I… probably should have warned you. They're not alive, despite the walking and the talking."

"That means they are alive!" I said, still rattled.

"Look," he said, "I don't understand how they work either. But Halomatons are magic constructs, made in heaven. They don't feel things and they don't want things. They simply follow orders. And they're mostly quite annoying." I thought about it. So maybe it was like puppet Drizella, except obedient? And with no need to stay still? But how could it obey without wanting anything? I didn't really get it.

"So this is… a normal thing in hell city?" I asked.

"Not really. They're extremely expensive, and only the wealthiest can afford one. And they're far from ideal servants, more useful for showing off your money than for getting any actual work done." I nodded, and then I thought of something.

"You said they're made in heaven," I said.

"That means there's… trade between heaven and hell? How can that be?"

"Oh, there is trade, definitely." Augustin said.

"Just not a legal one. Not according to heaven's law, at least. But there are always angels willing to risk it for a high enough price." The door opened and the Halomaton came back with two glasses… only one of which was full. It handed Augustin the full glass, and handed me the other one. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

"It's empty," I said, scoffing.

"You are absolutely right," it said.

"It was wrong of me to fill only one glass. Would you like me to try again, and—""No!" I snapped, irritated now.

"Don't talk to me."

"Understood. I won't talk to you anymore. If there's anything else you need, just say the word and I'll—""Stop! I said shut it!"

"That's perfectly clear. I won't continue the conversation. Whenever you're ready to—""I WILL KILL YOU!"

"Hey, hey." Augustin put a hand out between us.

"They're like that. You can just… ignore them." The door opened again, and thankfully this time it was a normal suit-wearing talking skeleton.

"The High Demon will see you now," it announced, in that typical shrill, icy skeleton voice. I suddenly remembered what all this was about, and swallowed. Should I argue if I got an awful job? Should I raise my voice? Now that I was here, it was obvious this High Demon was really important, and in a way that was more intimidating than him being huge and scary demon. And he actually was both. We walked into an audience chamber the size of a small town.

The ceiling climbed past any sensible height, and the walls were covered with paintings of demons and angels locked in some enormous battle — and in the paintings, at least, the demons were winning. Everything else was white marble, lit not by magic crystals, but by hundreds of candles burning a clean, cold blue. The chamber was busy. Two more of those cursed Halomatons drifted about doing a badly-done job of serving.

Skeletons, lizards, and humans came and went with trays and papers, guards stood along the walls, and a small crowd waited near the far end, where a bright golden chair sat. And on the chair sat… a normal-sized demon. Wearing glasses. Reading a parchment. Every so often he stopped to discuss something he'd read with an old lizard at his elbow, who nodded or shook his head very seriously, and with an old white-haired woman in a purple silk robe, who rolled her eyes and looked bored.

The rest of the people around him he seemed not to notice at all.

"This is his small form," Augustin explained, gesturing at the not-very-threatening demon on the golden chair.

"He doesn't like it, but you can see why he uses it. It's more convenient."

"Oh, I see." And squinting, I could just make out Azearothiel's features in that face, even if the glasses made him look utterly ridiculous. Azearothiel then peeked over his parchment, saw us, and gestured for us to come closer.

"Walk with me," whispered Augustin, "then bow and wait. This is a royal court. We act accordingly." I nodded. We crossed the marble until we were a few feet from the chair, and bowed. I knew how to behave in a court, and when. Obviously.

"Rise," said Azearothiel. I straightened, and he set down his parchment and looked me over.

"It's good to see you." His voice wasn't echoing and booming now; it sounded almost ordinary.

"Few of those who serve me have cost so much effort and coin to bring here as you did."

"Well, one might have tried simply asking nicely," I answered smoothly.

"I have been told as much before," he remarked dryly, then gave a small wave toward the windows.

"Well? What do you think of my city?"

"It's beautiful," I said truthfully. There was nothing else to add—it simply was.

"Yes. It was not always." Azearothiel laid the parchment in his lap.

"For nearly a hundred years we have worked tirelessly to make it the finest place in all hell. You have not visited the cities of the other High Demons. Some of them you could hardly call cities at all." I nodded politely. Yes, he was bragging. I'd let him.

"And your new house," he inquired, "is it to your liking?"

"It's rather lovely," I said.

"Ah, thank you sir."

"Quite a contrast to Kar'telm's desert and the cave system beneath it," he said.

"Frankly, I'm surprised you managed to hold out there for as many months as you did." I found myself bristling. He was looking down on my life there, and I had nothing but fond memories and a real, aching longing for those damp caves, with their simple food and their good friends.

"Actually," I said, lifting my chin, "the caves were rather lovely too. I didn't come here for the luxury of it. I came for the job that was offered to me." That's right. Stop enjoying yourself and tell me my job already. Azearothiel gave me a sharp look.

"Ah. Forgive an old man his chatter," he said.

"You prefer business. Then let us come to it." I gave him a smile at that.

"Your new post is Justiciar of my city," he said.

"A Justiciar is a high officer of the law. You will work alongside the other Justiciars, and above the lower officers — the Apparitors. Your task is keeping the peace, maintaining law and order, and protecting our citizens.

"Justiciars do not merely enforce the law. They pass judgment too. That makes them powerful. This city may look beautiful and peaceful to you. It is not, everywhere, and where it is not, a Justiciar is sent to put it right.

"You will serve under Augustin's direct command. He will start you on small matters and take your measure. As you prove yourself, the work will grow, and so will your independence." He looked at me over the top of the ridiculous glasses.

"I know how to reward those who serve me well. Do this properly, and there is wealth and power waiting for you beyond anything you can imagine. But I have very little patience for failure, and none at all for incompetence." I nodded. I like the part about wealth and power.

"As for the liaison duty," Azearothiel continued, "it will normally be a monthly affair. More frequent when a time loop occurs, depending on the loop. Before any of that there are formalities — a judge's approval, certain documents, an amendment to hell's law, the council, and so on. It may take some time."

"I see," I said. And even as I said it, even if it took time, it got me excited, because it meant it really was going to happen. One day I really would step out into the living world, and… see her.

"The last matter is your marriage." I jerked upright.

"Yes?"

"The wedding will be held in six days. All the paperwork will be taken care of by then."

"Wait… who… who am I marrying?"

"Oh, the final details are still in progress. But they'll be settled by the wedding day, so you have nothing to worry about." What! I had every reason to worry about it. But I managed to stop myself from losing it completely. I couldn't rant too much in this time and place.

"It's just… I'd prefer not to marry someone old," is all I said. Azearothiel gave me an amused look.

"We shall see what can be done." I nodded.

"Everything else — your salary, the conditions, all of it — take up with Augustin, or with Eulalie." That seemed to be that. I was already turning to go.

"Drizella." His voice was low, but suddenly it echoed all through the chamber. His goat eyes glowed at me, and all at once he was terrifying. My blood ran cold.

"Yes?" I said in a small voice.

"You work for me now. Don't forget that, and don't disappoint me."

"Yes, sir." I swallowed. Then Augustin signaled to me. We bowed, and headed back. A dozen steps down the corridor, I could breathe again.

"That Azearothiel!" I hissed under my breath.

"He didn't need to try and intimidate me like that!"

"He's like that," said Augustin.

"But, well. I've worked with him many years, and if nothing else, he's a fair employer. Come. Now we go to the Justiciar headquarters." The headquarters occupied a grand building adjacent to the palace. The area bustled with activity—officers, guards, scribes, and servants darted back and forth beneath towering arched architecture. Inside the main hall, weapons and war trophies decorated the walls. In the middle of it all was a wide wooden desk covered in call dolls, at least a dozen of them, lined up and staring.

Behind the counter sat a short demoness: pale skin, two small horns, and black hair pinned up in a messy bun. She was very pretty.

"Hi, Lizzy," Augustin said. Lizzy came around the counter and shook my hand with both of hers, smiling wide.

"Drizella! It's so lovely to finally meet you!"

"Umm. You've heard of me?"

"Oh, indeed we have!" She nodded.

"All of us. It's quite the tale, and it has been making the rounds — the servant Azearothiel wanted, who ran off, and whom he simply could not find. And with a mimic-many-tongued, no less! You've a tale or two to tell, I'll wager."

"But not right now," Augustin intervened.

"I'll take her through to the others; she has a first assignment. We'll need all the documents signed, and a uniform arranged, and equipment, and a weapon."

"On it!" she said, circling back to her desk and looking thoroughly driven about a mound of paperwork.

"Thank you," Augustin said, gesturing for me to follow.

"Let's head upstairs." We took a wide staircase to the second floor and came into a huge room. Maps covered one wall, stuck with pins and scribbled over in grease pencil. Another held posters with faces on them, some of them crossed out. A third was hung with muskets, a dozen different models, and between them hung bones — long, strange, jointed things. There were a few busy-looking people about.

I knew Eulalie, her bright blue wig impossible to miss, engaged in a heated argument with a tan-skinned human man wearing a silly tricorne hat. Augustin cleared his throat to get their attention.

"Drizella," he said, gesturing at them, "this is Eugène. Eulalie you already know. Both of them are Justiciars. There aren't many of us — twenty in the entire city — and a great deal of work to share between us."

"Ah, the famous escapee." Eugène looked at me with interest.

"Good job, starting at the top without having to climb the ladder like the rest of us. I take it Azearothiel likes you quite a lot."

"I take it he doesn't," I replied flatly. I didn't think he meant it as a compliment.

"So tell me." He leaned closer.

"Do you have any experience with Marrow-Imbuing? How's your Ossomancy? Your Sepsimancy?" I scoffed at him.

"If all those fancy words mean magic," I said, "then no, I don't do that. But I have a great sense of smell. I know, for example, that you need a bath." Eugène narrowed his eyes at me for a long moment.

"She certainly has much to learn," said Eulalie in that icy skeleton tone.

"We shall see to it soon enough. And if there is any talent for magic in her, it will make itself known."

"Well," said Augustin, "I'd like Drizella to accompany you on today's operation. She needs to learn the ropes as quickly as possible."

"But today we're dealing with Ragn'tatt." Eulalie sounded surprised.

"We'll likely as not be going down to the lower city — some ugly switch-paste business. For her very first day… are you sure?"

"Yes," said Augustin, and looked at me.

"Our work can be harsh. Ugly, too. But that's the truth of the thing, and there's no point in sugarcoating it. I'd rather she saw things as they are from day one." I nodded. That made sense. It also made me a little curious.

"I'll leave you to it," Augustin said to Eulalie.

"Explain today's mission, get her ready, and let her see what her new job actually is." She nodded, and Augustin gave me a long look.

"You'll do fine." With that he headed out.

"Sit," said Eulalie, gesturing at a chair. I sat, and she took the one facing me.

"Justiciars handle a wide range of duties," she began, "and today's operation is a particularly messy one.

"There is a popular product in this country called Switch Paste. It is a substance that is smeared onto the skin, and as it soak in, it flips the user's sensory and emotional perceptions to the exact opposite. Pain becomes pleasure. Grief becomes comfort. Shame becomes pride. Hatred becomes love. And despair… despair becomes hope."

"So if I'm happy—" I said.

"Then it isn't for you," she said.

"Nor if you are sad. This is bad stuff. People use it instead of fixing their lives. Needless to say, it's very popular in the poorer districts, where people are hungry, out of work, and out of prospects. It's used most of all by those who see no future for themselves at all. Which is why, down there, they nickname the substance 'hope.'""Oh, that…" I said in a small voice.

"That sounds horrible."

"Yes," said Eulalie.

"It is also business. The jerk who runs the switch-paste trade is called Ragn'tatt. He pays Azearothiel healthy taxes and holds exclusive rights to the trade in this city. He is also, well… important. Think of him like a baron in your living world." She tapped the file on her desk.

"Ragn'tatt has been having trouble with a group out of the lower city, selling switch paste illegally and taking a bite out of his business. So he has asked for our help. It happens from time to time."

"I understand," I said. So that was the mission. Someone was selling illegally and not paying their taxes, so we simply had to make him stop.

"What is… this lower city?" I asked.

"This area you see around us. The bridges and the fountains, the gardens and the clean white stone. This is the pretty part." Eulalie folded her hands.

"But much like the caves you come from, the ground beneath us is riddled with tunnels and caverns, and many thousands of people have lived down there for hundreds of years. That is the lower city. And that is where you will see what Augustin meant when he spoke of the ugly part of our work."