Ascending along his blanket, the sun's rays infiltrating through the gaps in the shutter soon reached his face, and disturbed by the excess brightness, Staan slowly emerged from his sleep. Although not particularly strenuous, the battle of the previous day had been his first in a long time, and his body was now feeling the aftermath. Staan stretched and grimaced, feeling the soreness, contemplating for a moment whether to stay in bed. However, alas, he could not afford that luxury; a busy schedule awaited him. First step: the kitchen and the coffee maker, which treated him to a concert of sounds as it began grinding the coffee beans. While the machine performed its function, he moved along his bookshelves. The dark covers of some books blending with the ebony of the furniture, he relied more on the spine and their titles in golden letters. He browsed through part of his collection and living room to finally find the book he was interested in: an ancient encyclopedia, whose worn pages testified to the four centuries since its writing.
Sovereign of Hell, he had needed to establish a government to assist him in his task and thus delegated certain tasks to his Infernal Generals: the management of the fallen people had been assigned to Lilith, that of the souls to Samael, that of the dragons to Adramelech, that of the demons to Beelzebub, and that of the witches to Leonard; together, they formed a Council that he himself presided over. Considering the magnitude of their tasks, Staan had let his Infernal Generals surround themselves with beings of their choice. Thus, Beelzebub had called upon seventy-two demons, renowned as Demon Princes on the occasion. It was one of them he had fought the previous day.
And the Ars Goetia would tell him which one. Although written centuries earlier by a human who had never been to Hell, the book was strangely accurate and well-informed about certain infernal entities. A few errors, such as the absence of distinction between Demon Princes and Infernal Generals, punctuated his reading without bothering him; that wasn't what Staan was looking for but a very particular symbol: the mark seen on his opponent's neck. As he scanned the lexicon with his eyes, a small melody interrupted him to notify that his coffee was ready. He went to get it while continuing to read, then, cup in one hand, book in the other, joined his terrace. Comfortably settled in his chair, the book on his lap, he continued his investigation while having breakfast.
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It took him a long hour to find the symbol, as the book, written at the dawn of modern English, was sometimes cryptic. No doubt possible, it perfectly matched the one he remembered and designated a Demon Prince whom Beelzebub had surrounded himself with in the 14th century.
The demon had operated for fourteen weeks, and Staan could hardly see him making round trips to Hell. This meant that an officer from his Infernal General had left for a minimum of three months without any consequence. What could be happening in Hell for Beelzebub to tolerate such a thing? Moreover, the demon had not only wreaked havoc in this particular city but also recognized him despite his human appearance: only one person could have provided him with this information: Leonard, Infernal General. Unable to betray him, there must be another explanation. An explanation he would unfortunately find only in Hell, as well as the reason for the presence of a Demon Prince. If he wanted to understand, he had to go back.
That being said, defeating three primordial angels had probably alerted all guardian angels across Europe. To leave the continent without having to fight, he would have to prepare a journey away from celestial surveillance, especially since, as the Original Fallen, he was the primary enemy of Heaven: orders against him would surely be to attack on sight. Thus, he spent days planning numerous routes and as many possibilities to change them, just in case. Fortunately, his travels over the five years in search of new knowledge had taken him across Europe far and wide, teaching him alternative roads and paths unknown to the Heavens. Now, he could only hope not to be perceived by a celestial soldier during his journey.
A week passed without him leaving his home, between booking his tickets, those taken to dilute his trail, and managing his abode that he hoped to recover upon his return. When he finally concluded all his preparations, he took a well-deserved shower and, after glancing at his clock, decided to visit the few friends he had made in the city. Before his departure, expressions of gratitude were customary.