Hell's Missing Piece

Chapter One

"I am just saying that you really need to reconsider the pillow designs in the waiting area. They do not give off the right message." Says an 18-year-old blonde female in a red office. "You people on the council do not know how to decorate I swear!"
This young female's name is Pouella Daemonium, who is currently verbally assaulting the council in Hell over the waiting room for those who, let's say, are not going to have the most pleasant afterlife.
"What do you suggest we do then, Lady Daemonium?" says the Chief Councillor. The rest of the councillors turning their heads, or head equivalents, back and forth between Pouella and the Chief.
"Well leopard skin, bear skin and tiger skin are not the greatest choices one could have for pillows in a public waiting room for sinners," She yells as she bashes her hand on the long wooden table. "They are in that room because they sinned and you are just going to put those in there like the beginning of some vaguely explicit movie?! The criminally insane could come up with better patterns."
Half of the chairmen retort and scoff.
The one on Pouella's left mumbles, "Maybe we should get the insane down here."
"This is nonsense! Leopard skin is classy!" shouts back the Chief.
"We should definitely get the insane down here." the one to her left mumbles again as the next one down knocks him with her elbow.
"I will not neglect to add that you councillors suck at arranging souls. I'm pretty sure we have some OCDs that would be better at your jo-" a rapping at the chamber door interrupts her rant.
"Come in." says the vice chairman.
The door opens to reveal a messenger spirit, clad in grey.
"The General and Our Highness have summoned Mistress Pouella." the messenger says in a breathy voice.
"Okay, I will be right with them." she says to the messenger before turning back to the council and glaring at them. "I am the ward of King Phaeidra, it would do you well to listen to me." She then smirked and turned around, leaving the room with her shoes clicking on the wooden floor.

。・°°・・°°・。

Footsteps sounded throughout the chamber, echoing off the polished stone walls. This large room was either called the ballroom or the lobby, but that didn't really matter to Pouella, this was the room that she spent most of her "childhood" in.
She learnt how to ride a Nucteques, the skeletal horses of hell, a four legged beast that makes a weird sound. Neigh, what the heck was that supposed to mean?
She would have asked her Mistress, the ghost that had raised and educated her, but she didn't want to sound dumb. In one corner of the giant room she was taught how to read and write and in another how to perform magik.
Her favourite, though not as highly condoned by the nobles of the court, was combat training. She was taught by one of the best, the late General Bluateou, but now he is, well, not currently on this plane of existence to put it lightly.
She had to be trained in the proper hellish way, and so she was.
So, right now she is walking through this large, red and black chamber thing. She ought to find a better name for it. Her shoes are clicking on the granite flooring tiles. Pouella walks up to the large wooden doors clamped with iron, takes her fist, and slams it against the door.
Bang Bang Bang
From the other side of the door she hears the muffled voice of one of the guards.
"Password." Not this asshole, why is he always on duty.
"Steven, every time I am summoned you are always here and you always do this, can you just let me in?" she replies, a mixture of exhaustion and annoyance in her voice.
"As you wish."
With that the huge wooden doors creak open and golden light touches Pouella's form. The room behind those big wood doors is the Throne room. And what a throne room it is. Red walls and grey stone tiling with gold columns lining the walls with black magic snaking and weaving around it. Giving the look that the pillars are rotating and going up and down all at once. In the middle almost against the back wall sat the Throne.
The Throne was golden with carvings of skulls and death on it and it radiated magik that looked like black fire off the top. In it sat the King, Alaecriz Phaeidra. He wore his obsidian spiked crown and his dragon like black armour.
His messy brown hair held the crown in its place and his black eyes scanned Pouella.
Next to him stood the General.
Her name is Naveita Atohno. She has dark brown hair that goes past her shoulders and electric blue eyes that you can almost see from across the room. She wore her famous silver armour, stained with the blood of a thousand battles, and when she wore it, the look it showed was so ferocious she looked as fearsome as a bear. Sexy and about to bite your head off. Truly an experience for those she met in battle, if they lived to tell about it.
The 18-year-old general's eyes were not focused on Pouella as they were looking up at the depictions of the great wars Hell had been involved in.Under the most recent painting there was a score tally. A small smirk played at her lips as she read the numbers.