How should one prepare for the journey with a powerful oracle of Hell? First of all, he needed several strong spells and resistant clothing to shield him from the other demons. Lyric couldn't go to Ariana because she would immediately run to Belial. That wouldn't go well.

So Lyric went to one of his best friends when it comes to fashion and design. He entered the building in Paris, the city of love, and walked directly towards the reception desk. The lady at the reception froze and looked at him spellbound. This happened to him often but was just annoying.

"I would like to see Jean, please," he said kindly, hoping that the lady would gather herself soon.

She was obviously new, which was always annoying as it takes up unnecessary time. Somehow, she seemed to catch herself again and typed into her computer. "Um... do you have an appointment?" she asked, stuttering.

Lyric smiled. "I don't need that, sweetheart, just let him know that I'm coming."

That seemed to throw the brunette completely off track. "I... um... I am sorry. I... You can't... not without an appointment."

Lyric sighed. Hell, that's annoying. "Dear, tell Jean that his muse is here, then he will wave me through."

The lady didn't seem convinced but was also confused. She picked up the phone and called her supervisor. "Hello Lucille, yes, here is a guest without an appointment. What? He called himself your 'muse'. I told him he can't... Oh, huh? Yes, of course." The brunette stood up and made a frightened expression: "I apologize very much. The elevator is already ready for you."

Lyric smiled and walked into the cordoned-off area. He took the elevator to the top floor and got out when the doors opened with a bing.

"I apologize for the inconvenience. He's waiting for you in the décor room," an excited Lucille said, who was Jean's assistant and longtime collaborator.

"No need to worry," Lyric said, walking to the said room. He knocked out of courtesy and entered it. A person with short gray stubby hair, a large nose and ears with a joyful smile came towards him.

"Lyric, mon ami. What gives me the joy of your visit, my muse?" French fashion designer Jean Paul Gaultier greeted him.

"Hello Jean, I know you've been retired for some time now, but I'd like to ask you for a little favor," Lyric told his friend.

"But of course, everything you want," said the Frenchman nicely.

Lyric sat down opposite him and as soon as they were sitting, Lucille brought them a few drinks. "Chérie, I don't want to be disturbed in the next few hours. Cancel all appointments," Jean told his assistant. She nodded and left the room with her clacking heels.

The fashion designer leaned forward and asked, "What can I do for you, mon ami?"

"I need a new outfit that has to meet very special requirements. Similar to the previous one you designed for me," Lyric began.

Jean leaned back. "I'm all ears."

"It should cover my runes, but at the same time the fabric should also be so thin that I can establish a connection to them by touching them. The material should be very resistant, but also light and comfortable. And of course it should have style."

Jean laughed. His muse was, as always, his most difficult client, but he enjoyed nothing more than the challenge. He owed his groundbreaking success to Lyric. He would do anything to make him the right outfit, eventually Jean took a drawing pad and a pencil. "I think I have the right material – now for the style. Arms free or covered?"

"Free to about the middle of the forearm."

"Jacket or vest?"

"Vest."

"The pants rather tight-fitting or with some free space?"

"Not quite tight, but without the danger of getting caught."

"Colors? Rather dark or light?"

"Rather dark, although not exclusively black."

Jean knew everything he had to know. His imagination already began to blend all the details into a suitable image.

Lyric saw his friend completely in his element. His hand flew over the block of paper. That's how he had always been. Whenever an idea grabbed him, Jean was in his own world and the most beautiful creations were created. Numerous pieces from his collection came from the hand of this man. After about half an hour, Jean was done. He stood up and said, "Follow me."

Together they entered his studio. Hundreds of fabric samples, numerous pincushions and scissors hung on the wall. He spread out his sketches on the table on the wall. Lyric stood in the middle on the small pedestal, waiting for further instructions.

The fashion designer fetched various fabric samples and held them to Lyric's body. Some he nodded to, others he rejected.

"Come back tomorrow. By then, It'll be done." He hadn't even taken Lyric's measures, no, he knew them by heart.

"Thank you, my friend. Of course, I'll reward you for that."

"Not necessary," he waved off.

Lyric walked off the podium and made his way back. When he turned around, he saw that the fashion designer was already in his own world. So he walked out of the room past his assistant.

"He won't be available today," Lyric said with a smile and he walked downstairs and left.

Lucille went to the front desk to let Janette, the new receptionist, know that her boss would no longer receive any visitors.

"Who was that?" she asked with dreamy eyes. Yes, this effect he had on everyone and she had to admit that after all these years, she was not completely immune to it.

"That, Janette, was Jean's muse – also known as 'la séduction.'"

Janette made big eyes.

"He's 'la séduction?' The legend? The unknown beauty that has inspired numerous fashion designers? But of whom never even a photo was taken?" Lucille nodded. Janette was scrolling on her computer.

"It's rumored that nobody knows his name except Monsieur Gautier. But he hasn't revealed anything so far. Oh, and forget about it. The surveillance cameras didn't record him."

Janette's questioning look said it all. She looked and indeed he was nowhere to be seen. How was this possible? "That, Janette, is la séduction's secret." She then left her puzzled employee alone.

After being with Jean, he went to his next destination. He entered a shop in Berlin, the capital of Germany. It was a rather hidden business, but it was one of the best arms shops in the world for knives and other sharp weapons. When he entered the shop, he immediately felt the flair.

The store was not that big. Everywhere on the wooden walls hung knives and weapons with short blades of all kinds – daggers, butterfly knives, kunai, short tantō and of course his beloved Karambit knives. The particularly beautiful and expensive pieces were in showcases made of shatterproof and bulletproof glass. The rest was in special holders that couldn't be removed from the wall without a code.

The owner was Benjamin, a German who ran the store for the fifth generation. He was 32 years old and slightly taller than Lyric. He had ash-blonde hair with a short military haircut and several piercings on his nose, lip and ears. He wore a loose black hoodie and brown trousers, plus a pair of black boots.

Benjamin greeted him with a beaming smile. "Ly, what's up?"

"Hey Benni. How are you? How is the business going?" Lyric asked.

"Ah, it isn't going badly, but there's some slack right now."

Ho-hum. Benni's work was outstanding, but unfortunately also pricey. If you wanted something of high quality, you had to pay accordingly.

"What can I do for you?" he asked in a good mood.

Lyric put his Karambit knives on the counter and said, "I want to sharpen them a bit and have them repaired. I would also need a few more toys. I would look around for that."

Benni looked at the weapons, turned them at every angle. "All right. It takes half an hour. The code is 15627."

Lyric nodded and Benni went to the back of the shop – his forge. Barely five minutes had passed when he heard the clinking of metal.

He used the time and looked around. Every time he came here, he couldn't help but take a few pieces with him. But this time he didn't look for his private pleasure, but with a goal. His gaze stuck to several small throwing knives, which were very sharp, but also light. He typed in the code and took it out of the display case. They were just as long as his fingers, but razor-sharp.

Lyric positioned one in his hand and threw it on the opposite wall, where it sank as if it were made of butter. "Very nice." Exactly what he needed. He took about twenty of them and put them on the counter, then he looked further.

The demon took several small daggers with a blade length of about ten centimeters but a width of only one centimeter. Forging them in such a way that they didn't simply break off was a true art. He placed two of them with the corresponding sheaths on the counter. A little lockpick joined them.

After about twenty-five minutes, Benni came back to the store with Lyric's knives. Lyric was still in concentration when he examined a tantō. Benni cleared his throat and his customer reverently put the knife back. "Like new," Benni said, holding out the specimens to him. "I strengthened the blades a bit and repaired the handle so that it fits well in the hand."

Lyric took the knives and moved them swinging through the air. Very good. They are perfect.

"Do you want to take all this with you?" the blacksmith asked, pointing to the pile.

Lyric nodded. "I would still need a container for the throwing knives where I can pull them without hurting myself."

Benni nodded and walked into the back room. He came with a sack that had incorporated twenty small loops inside. He put the throwing knives in the loops, so they were safely stowed away. The boy really has everything. Just like his father.

"How is your father doing?" Lyric asked.

"Quite good. Just out on the beach and enjoying his holiday."

"Well, how much does everything cost?"

Benni calculated. "So for the twenty throwing knives, holder, the two daggers with scabbard and the knife repair, 8500 €. The lockpick is free of charge."

Lyric looked at the wall. "Benni, I damaged your wall", he said and pointed to the puncture site of the throwing knife. The young man looked a little confused, but then saw the spot.

"Don't sweat it, it-"

"Considering that mold can form at this point, and that major damage can be very expensive given the situation, I'll pay in advance for the damage in order to avoid possible consequences."

Benni didn't seem to understand. Lyric put a check on the table and took his weapons. The young man looked at the check and made big eyes. "What the hell?"

"See you, Benni," Lyric said with a laugh, leaving the young man behind.

"$100,000 He's crazy." He went to the small hole in the wall in disbelief. This hole should cause damages resulting in $91,500? He shook his head and smiled. His business was already financed for the next five years. Crazy.

________________________

Lyric prepares for the journey.

What do you think of his stopovers?

Your Mouse Goddess