Chapter Text
Who would bear the whips and scorns of time, the oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely, the pangs of despised love, the law’s delay… who indeed would bear the weight of a world only to escape through blood into the void he deserves righting every wrong of a broken globe?
It would seem the books, holy or not, got as much correct as they did not. There is, in case of fact, an actual Hell. However, as the ninety-ninth Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire, Lelouch vi Britannia, found, it’s not all fire and brimstone.
There is certainly some to be found, and he did find himself momentarily indebted to an imp who fished him out of a biblical lake of fire on his arrival. Painful, but no lasting damage. But for the most part, the town isn’t unpleasant; only rather poor.
It appears to have grown organically; some parts are slums like the worst he’s seen in the ghettos around the Tokyo concession, others are stone and brick work that appear competently, if not artistically, constructed. There are no highrises and little in the way of modern infrastructure. And for the life – or afterlife – of him, Lelouch couldn’t find any evidence that anyone around here bothered with any industry at all. No electricity, no agriculture, no havens from harm or protection to be had except what he could build for himself, which wasn’t much.
Just a circle full of sinners waiting for their punishments.
But no pain came from anyone that appeared to be in positions of power. There was murder and strife, but it seemed that most, if not all, of it was between individuals rather than any organized punitive action.
Instead, Lelouch kept on the move, exploring as much of the largely round plane of existence he found himself on; mentally mapping the place and seeking a room of his own so to speak within its confines.
In his exploration, weeks or even months into his new eternity (hard to tell without a familiar day-night cycle in the blood-red void that is Hell), a demon bowled Lelouch over. They tumbled to the ground, the enormous horned man taking the fall harder than the twig of a former emperor, and Lelouch groaned.
As he picked himself up, Lelouch quipped, “Not how I’d have chosen to start my day.”
“Oh fuck! I’m late.”
The demon scrambled at his dropped notes, just shoving them back into his satchel fast as he could.
Lelouch caught sight of spreadsheets and diagrams, but didn’t recognize any details from his snooping glance. He leaned over, helping to at least set them into piles if not back into their proper order. He handed the demon, who’d also pushed a pair of glasses up his long, pointed nose, the final documents.
“Thanks for that. The boss hates when I’m late. Missus boss always gives me the evil eye, you know? Hey, you doing anything?”
Besides existing? “No.”
“Then follow me. Could use one more body in the office now that the boss has things rollin. You know anything about keeping papers straight? Not many of the sinners do, but you never know. Life up there ain’t what I’d expect with how boss talks about helping make it. Seems better here all told. Ain’t anyone dying of any such sick or no food.”
By the void this demon can chatter.
“I can keep my books straight and I’m competent,” Lelouch said as evenly as possible. He can’t say he knows much about the hellborn. From what he’s seen so far, it doesn’t appear literacy or many basic useful skills exist in the population of damned human souls. As Lelouch has learned, the people here are largely… not pre-industry, per se, but perhaps pre-Enlightenment. It says something about how time itself might function in the afterlife that he considers everyone and everything ancient by his standards. He hasn’t seen a single machine that couldn’t have been constructed by some ancient Greek if they were so inclined.
But the hellborn, demons and imps and so forth, seem well rounded; ranging from wastes of space to possibly good chess partners if he could find a set to play with. He might have to fashion one himself; easy enough, if he can find supplies.
“Good. Let’s see how you do, and maybe we can find a place for you. How’s Hell been treatin you, sinner?”
Lelouch took several steps to match one of the large demon’s strides, but kept up valiantly. “I am not beaten or tortured on the regular, so I find it’s better than I had any reason to expect. Frankly, I expected nothingness.” Or the collective unconscious of humanity, but who’s keeping score?
“Common misconception, I’m afraid. The torture, I mean. Boss doesn’t go in for that stuff. Some of the mortals knew the boss and passed his story down, the proper story, I mean. Someone started saying some mean stuff about him. Every generation, it got nastier, like someone wanted him to look bad, you know? He went from ‘that one really nice angel that always promised to talk to God about what’s got us down’ to ‘the Prince of Darkness that hit every ugly branch in the tree on his fall from Grace.’ Really sucks how they talk about him.”
“You’re not talking about–”
Lelouch looked up when the demon stopped. They were standing before the single most ornate building in the entirety of Hell. Nothing was taller, nothing more decorated, and if there was an economy of any kind, Lelouch would have assumed someone was hoarding all the money. He’d seen it from afar, but hadn’t approached, having noted the high fence and guards. It was one part medieval castle, one part palatial estate, one part administratum of Hell itself it appeared.
“–Lucifer?”
“Oh, yes,” the demon agreed. “You’ve heard of him?”
“A few stories,” Lelouch said. He knows the basics, but not much beyond that. The Christian faith and their mythologies, despite being state religion in Britannia, interested Lelouch as much as his studies did. Maybe Shirley was right; he should have taken school more seriously.
“Well, don’t listen to the meaner ones. Boss really looks out for us who took our gripes upstairs with him. Besides, ain’t no time for that. We’ve got a city to organize before too many more sinners get sent here. We’re already losing ground and the camps ain’t gonna work out much longer. They say the Shining City is putting up new gates any day now.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Before the demon could reply, the most striking woman Lelouch has ever laid eyes on cut in.
“Bartholomew, please take those documents upstairs. Who is your companion?”
“Heya missus boss. This here’s a sinner says he knows how to work in the office. Hey, sinner, be polite and introduce yourself. See ya later.”
The demon, Bartholomew apparently, ran off towards a wide staircase at the back of the enormous lobby (it reminded Lelouch uncomfortably of the estate where he and Nunnally lived until he was ten). Lelouch bowed slightly to the woman before him, respectful for a noble and he hoped the sentiment radiated from him. “My lady. Please allow me to introduce myself. I am—“ he only hesitated a moment. “—L.L.”
“A pleasure, I’m sure, El-Too. I am Lilith. Now, I must assume that having been brought here, you are not seeking mere protection under the royal aegis. You desire employment. What qualifies you for a position here?”
Lelouch has never been in a job interview, let alone one that feels like more of an interrogation, but he can work with this.
“I am led to believe you are in need of capable subordinates for administrative tasks. As such, my skills include administration of large scale operations, command staff experience in military matters, and both mechanical and civil engineering.”
Lilith looked unamused. “Where did you learn such skills?”
“My work in life was largely in such fields. Much of it was learned on the job, however I like to think I succeeded where many others failed.” He thought for a moment. “I am also a passable cook, so I am told.”
Lilith considered Lelouch for a long moment.
“A bit shady,” she said ruthlessly, “but nevertheless truthful to a certain degree. Come with me. Your tasks for the time being will be in assisting the public works section in laying out roads and simple infrastructure. I cannot say I understand these ideas, but my husband claims they’re straight from Exael, so we’re moving forward in the assumption he knows his work. I shall return to check on your progress in a week. Good luck.”
Lelouch’s check in the following week went swimmingly, and within a year, he’d been elevated by the engineering lead (the fallen angel Exael, apparently) for his work in creating a type of blood-permeable asphalt that could be made using the very dirt and stone they had to dig up to lay the roads in the first place.
All in all, it was a very productive first decade in Hell, if Lelouch could say so himself. The pentagram that could be seen from above made a very interesting, if unconventional, main street for the newly named Pentagram City, and Lelouch finally met the man in charge, Lucifer Morningstar.