Judge and Tempters
Summary: Hastur loved the 14th Century and beyond; it was his heyday of the time during the famine, the black death, the civil wars and the religious upheavals of Europe. It wasn't until 1462 did his life got turned upside down in the arrival of an angel. And not just any angel, but the Archangel Gabriel. What is he doing here messing up with his temptations to Frollo? And what is he doing here if not stopping him of doing his job?
Chapter 5: Jehan Frollo
The two demons arrived at the Palace of Justice within moments from leaving the mass graveyard. They flew side by side in flight; Ligur's darkened elliptical wings was excellent for taking off quickly and maneuvering around objects in high speeds. While Hastur's wings was more shaped like a falcon's, medium long narrow wings to sustain speed through a long-distance flight. They been flying side by side for millennia, as it been years since they ran into each other in flight. Besides the different wingspan, the tips of Ligur's wings match of that of his eyes in every changing colour. Hastur's wings in his feathers drips the same toxic mucus that comes from his own secretions, that most of the time looks more like black sludge. When clean however; his wings looked brown almost like a crow pheasant's own wing colour.
They landed in the dark alley near the Palace of Justice, making sure they were not spotted. The building itself was the among the tallest buildings in the whole city. Despite its name, it wasn't a place of justice but rather a place of fear, injustice and tyranny. The ground floor looked normal as any castle as only the most loyal to Frollo lives there in their own grand suites. Frollo has the largest suite within the building itself. Beneath however in its dungeons and catacombs it was another story all together, for it was nothing more than a stone prison where criminals and those that Frollo deemed as something to get rid of such as the Romani people and the poor, were to be tortured, whipped and hanged. Most if not all those that go there, never see the light of day.
Many humans would call the Palace of Justice, Hell on Earth. Ligur and Hastur knew for a fact that it was worse.
The two demons walked side by side up the stone steps, ignoring the guards at the gate through the wooden grand doors into the grand hallway. It was far too clean, and the feeling of deception was in the air. At first glance it was picture perfect of a palace to show the greatness and justice to the people of Paris. The wealth, the images from the Holy Bible was lined on the walls and portraits of Frollo's predecessors. But it was all a show of the true horrors that lay just beneath their feet. Ligur and Hastur walked down a few halls into a dark room where a kneeling figure was seen.
Frollo kneel alone on his knees; his hands grasp together with his head bowed in prayer. Ligur and Hastur waited for the human to be done with his futile praying. God doesn't listen to them, why would She listen to the humans? Within moments the man stood up and cross his chest and turned to face them. "What is your report, Ligur?" Frollo snapped.
Ligur stepped forward. "We have found three hide outs of the Romani people. They all have been rounded up as we speak and counted for and sent down below."
"Excellent." Frollo said turning to Hastur. "And is she… taken care of?" he asked. His voice quivered slightly, making Hastur feel little uneasy not knowing what it means. Humans are hard to read.
Hastur nodded, nevertheless. "Yes, my lord. We see to it that she was properly buried."
"I see. What do you know of the gravedigger?"
"My lord?" Hastur asked, not certain of who Frollo speck of.
"The man that you seem to know. Who is he?"
Hastur doesn't know what to tell the human about the Archangel, now figuring out that Frollo means Gabriel. Gabriel did say that he won't interfere with their temps and the two of them don't know what his mission here. "Just a person that we come across time to time in our line of work, my lord. He is not that of importance."
"Hmm. I wish to speck with him. Arrange for a meeting." Frollo decided as waved his hand to them as if dismissing them from his sight.
Hastur was puzzled by this but it wouldn't hurt now would it? It may bring things to light to know the true purpose of his presence here. Frollo is too far to gone their temptations for Gabriel to save his soul. "It will be done, my lord." He said as he bowed.
"Judge Frollo, there is something else that you must know, before we go." Ligur said, as he sides glanced at Hastur who shrugged. Frollo slowly turned to the demon, his eyes stare at him with a cold fury.
"What is it?" he asked.
"One of the men that we captured last night. I am afraid to say that the man is your half-brother, Jehan."
Frollo face slightly paled but his face burst into fury. "My brother is dead."
Ligur and Hastur share a look to one another. "Perhaps, you should make sure? After all this man, is masquerading your dead brother. The man must pay." The demon felt their impulse circle around the human.
Something shifted in Frollo's eyes. "Yes. I must speck to this imposer." He said as he stormed out. Ligur and Hastur shared a smile before following the human down to the dungeons.
The torches give out an eerie glow in the passageways in the catacombs. The flickering of the flames gives out shapes of shadows on the stone walls as if dancing little devils. The air was thick as hardly any air was able to circlet through. In one part of the dungeons it would be blistering cold and the next being too hot as the guards' force to work down here would keep the fire going just to keep the winter cold and darkness at bay. The prisoners were not so lucky to have such warmth given to them as few was fortunate enough to give a blanket.
Many would think Ligur and Hastur feel right at home here, but it was far from the truth. The air was too stuffy not filled with the smell of sulfur from the hot springs throughout Hell with the volcanic ash mix with obsidian shards at the banks of the acidic fiery lakes or the ash snow that falls periodicity.
Here the smell was awful mix with human body odor, urine and smoke from fire pits that guards kept going in the barracks. The smell of alcohol was potent as they passed one of the rooms where guards on their breaks as they laughed and deal another game of cards.
The screams and wailing of the prisoners as they walked closer to the cells, one would think would be music to a demon's ears if not for the fact that more than half here are innocent. At least in Hell you know every human soul deserves to be in there, suffering their punishments of their deeds. It was free will that humans done to deserve their time in Hell. All they, the demons ever do is tempt and give the human options of choice. It wasn't like any of them force a human to do evil deeds or trick them on doing anything that leads down their paths.
In times like this Hastur is reminded of Crowley, whom always says that humans are worse than any of them would ever think up. Walking side by side with Ligur, three steps behind Frollo down the corridors, Hastur felt uneasiness as one human screamed at them from one cell, as the human reached out towards them with broken fingers as if the human tried to claw themselves out moments before. The human dropped onto its knees like a lead balloon, wailing. Ligur grabbed Hastur's forearm pushing him closer to him as they continued their walk.
Frollo did not stop nor flinch.
They continue to walk in silence as the demons felt Frollo become more angrier as time went on. The man had his hand grasp together in prayer, his head bowed, and his eyes focus at the path ahead. Every guard under his command, knew to step away from his path. When they saw who he was companied they knew something was about to happen and fled. It wasn't long until they heard yelling.
"CLAUDE YOU COCKSUCKING—"
"That is enough, Impostor." Frollo snapped as he pushed a wooded door open that slammed hard against the wall. The older Romani man from the night before was chained in the middle of a room; with his arms raised above his head from the chains from the ceiling. He was shirtless, with blood dripping from his back where he was whipped. The man was on his tippy toes as the chains kept him from standing properly. His hat was gone, his long hair was mattered with dried blood and sweat from his brow.
"YOU!" bellowed Jehan  as he saw who came into the room. The chains held as the man tried to jump Frollo with a snarl, swigging his legs to kick him. The way the man's shoulders crunch as one of got out of socket, made the man snarled even more. "Where is my wife?! If you done anything to Syeira, I'll kill you—"
Frollo slapped him. "Enough of your lies." He said coldly as he grabbed Jehan's long dark hair and pulled his head back. "Who are you to take the name and face of my dead brother, demon?"
"Are you stupid?" Jehan snapped. "I am your brother, you levereter!" 
Frollo saw red as he yanked the chain higher which made the man lifted off the ground. Jehan yelped in pain as the metal chains dig deeper into his wrists. "LIES!" Frollo snarled. "My brother is dead, and you are nothing more than a demon within his skin."
Hastur and Ligur stared at each other. This is not new as it common for humans to accuse each other of being demons when they are not. Most of the time it was entertaining to watch.
"I am your brother!" Jehan yelled. "Where is my wife? What did you do to her?"
…tell him… the whore is dead… gone into depts of hell… where she belongs….
"That foul creature you called a wife is dead."
Jehan froze. "What—no… you're lying."
Frollo smirked. "The whore is dead."
Jehan kicked him. Frollo screech as he stumbled back in alarm and dropped on his arse. Hastur and Ligur watched, it was the funniest thing they ever saw Frollo ever done as he always parade himself as if everything, he ever does is godly and righteous.
Frollo snarled as he got up, walked to the nearest table and took hold of a whip placed there. It had nine cords with bits of metal knotted within the leather braids attached to a wooded handle. It was heavily used and hardly ever cleaned from blood.
"YOU MURDERER!" Bellowed Jehan. The man started to curse at Frollo in every insult that he could think of. He was angry but mostly angry at himself. Jehan failed to protect Syeira, the only good thing that ever happened to him in his life. And now she is gone. He had thought that after he got his wife and son safe within the church's walls or the next safehouse within Paris, he can go to his brother and plead to him for help. It was he that talked Syeira into coming to Paris, even ignoring the rumours about the new Judge and how his own brother become ruthless and rule Paris with an iron fist. "I curse you!" Jehan spitted a curse that he overhead Syeira's grandmother done to another man that wronged her. "May the demons of hell devour your soul!"
CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!
The whip slash against Jehan's back in a frenzy. Frollo knew the best way to torture someone with a whip was to prolong the torture by easing up between the lashes so the older pain would not dull the next one. If done correctly the person would be able to feel every hit by every second much like every lasting burn that burns nonstop for days.
No, this isn't torture but sadism, he was enjoying seeing the blood bled from the imposter's back. How rich the blood was as it poured down the stone floor. The cracking sound from the whip, was music to his ears as Frollo whipped the man's back repeatedly until the back was nothing more then shreds.
Don't kill him…leave the demon to suffer.
Frollo stopped and dropped the dripping whip back on the table. He turned without saying a word as he left Jehan unconscious dangling awkward. Hastur stepped closer to the human, unsure what to do with the human just dangling there. Hastur was confused. Ligur kept himself silent, as he stepped aside so Frollo can leave the room into the hall to head back to his rooms.
"Take him to his cell." Ordered Frollo, looking at the demon. Ligur's eyes turned red and nodded with a grin. For the next 20 years the cell is what Jehan called home.
(End of Chapter)
 The name meaning of Jehan is "The world or God is gracious". Its origins are that from Hindi, Sanskrit and Hebrew.
 Levereter: a medieval insult that literally means "liver-eater", which means "corrupt or depriving the world of necessary nourishment". This insult dates from 1400s Ghent, depiction of corrupts businesspeople lining their pockets at the expense of everybody else.