All right, Otolmens, I did some poking around of my own, and I think I have an idea.

Part of what's making things expensive for Asmodeus's followers is, indeed, His war with Zon-Kuthon's followers, that's real, I checked.  If that war were to end more quickly, that would itself decrease the real cost to Asmodeus's followers, and also count as a service to Asmodeus in its own right.  The total of that should be enough to compensate Asmodeus for the remaining cost of your request, with safety margin; do NOT believe Him if He says otherwise or asks for anything else.

Zon-Kuthon defied your own Edict in Pharasma's Name, using His followers to do so.  Therefore you are now allowed to retaliate against Zon-Kuthon for that in a way which targets His followers, or whole factions and territories of which His followers have overwhelming control.

My proposal is that you remove all the crystals of this form out of this bounded territory controlled by Zon-Kuthon's followers, and move them somewhere in Asmodeus's territory where people who are definitely Asmodeus's dedicated followers will find them.

Tetrahedral Element-6 crystals.  Hm.  Otolmens remembers those.  They played a prominent role in one of Asmodeus's other requests, for Her to clean up what Asmodeus said was ugly waste contaminating the ground extending far underneath His territories, and deposit it in a waste dump of His own designation.

Yes.  That was a trap.  It would have vastly upset the power balance of the world and gotten you in trouble with Pharasma.  Tetrahedral Element-6 crystals are used by mortals to cast relatively powerful versions of their little magics.  Zon-Kuthon's followers are using them to fight Asmodeus's followers now.  If you move all the crystals that Zon-Kuthon's followers have, and give them to Asmodeus's followers instead, the war will end significantly faster, and also that will be enough wealth to pay Asmodeus's followers to do what you want them to do.

Don't take any such crystals buried in the earth where mortals haven't uncovered them; that will get you in trouble.  Just take the ones that mortals have already uncovered, everywhere inside this region 'Nidal' I'm pointing out, and move them someplace where some of Asmodeus's more dedicated followers - like His more powerful clerics - will find them.

Milani has proposed a SERVICE.  Is it ACCEPTABLE to Asmodeus?

Asmodeus supposes that, taking into account how this will shorten the war as well, it constitutes an acceptable payment.  That was clever of Milani.

Deal.

Now where should She PUT them, after picking them up...

Oh, Her oracle happens to be next to some of Asmodeus's chosen mortals.  That is CONVENIENT.

Suddenly being surrounded by all of the mined diamonds from Nidal doesn't mean being buried, there simply isn't that much diamond in Nidal when spellcasters are always using it up.  Why leave a diamond lying around just being a diamond forever when you could turn it into power for yourself?  Diamond doesn't accumulate over time, quite the opposite.

Nidal's current stocks, combat stores, private stashes, combat reserve stores, emergency reserves, emergency private stashes, final emergency reserves, and all other diamonds in Nidal, don't actually end up massing all that much; a 25,000gp diamond is not a large object by the standards of anything except diamonds.

Broom is nonetheless mildly startled by how many diamonds just fell onto the table in front of him while he was eating lunch.  He wasn't really expecting any diamonds at all, let alone that many.

Top-priority message for Aspexia Rugatonn yes LITERAL ACTUAL TOP PRIORITY.

...why is the anomaly STILL OUTSIDE THE ANOMALY CONTAINMENT ZONE.

Because it is going to take longer than literally six seconds for Asmodeus to communicate His desires to His followers and for His followers to set up a new containment installation and an interdiction field.

Otolmens has been TRICKED!  Why did Otolmens trust Asmodeus!

ASMODEUS IS NOT EVEN TRYING TO TRICK OTOLMENS ON THIS OCCASION

IT JUST TAKES MORTALS LONGER THAN SIX SECONDS TO DO THIS CORRECTLY AND WHILE OBSERVING ALL ANOMALY-RELATED SAFETY PRECAUTIONS

Policy in Dis is to take reasonably good care of souls awaiting resurrection; it doesn't do to have them return to life desperate to escape Hell for real at any cost. Accordingly the contract devil who owns Asmodia has her copying spell diagrams which can't be typeset, for books of magic. The working conditions are pleasant, for Hell. There is a light that Asmodia can fuel with her blood, and which bathes the workspace with a pleasant golden glow bright enough to copy by without straining one's eyes. The chair is not uncomfortable; that makes scribes slower. There are, of course, no breaks, because petitioners do not need to eat or sleep; if Asmodia is too slow to finish a page she is simply encouraged to drink a potion that'll aid her concentration. 

The potions are painful, of course. But Asmodia is, if wholly uninteresting herself, adjacent to something interesting, and so her contract devil told her in a friendly sort of voice the secret to making the potions much less painful. It's that they separate, left on the shelf, into an oily top layer and a magically active bottom layer. It's the top layer that causes the agonizing pain, and if it's dumped out on the ground the potion won't work, but it's all right if it's fed to a different person than the one drinking the rest. (Hell's alchemists worked very diligently to achieve this effect.) Since, at the moment, the contract devil is feeling generous with Asmodia, she may go out and feed the potion-tops to some of the less useful apprentices, or if she's ahead of schedule on her scribing she may go all the way out to the waterfront and feed the first sip of the potion to the conscious, petrified angels that are spaced regularly for decor. You know, as a treat. There are many treats in Hell for the obedient. 

They haven't told her how long it's been.  It feels like it's been days.  So - probably it's been fewer days.  They'll still probably raise her.  They'll still probably raise her.

She's not ahead of schedule on her scribing.  Being good at math isn't the same as being fast at writing.  She would obviously go feed the potion-tops to the petrified angels if she had time, to show what a good soul she is.

But Asmodia doesn't have time, so right now she's feeding the potion-top to a less useful apprentice, one very close to her own desk, but not the closest one in case that was some sort of trap for lazy girls.  She has no idea who this boy was in life, he looks young but could easily have been here for a hundred years for all she knows, his tongue is burned away and reburned by the line of potions he regularly drinks.  What happens to him if he doesn't drink the potions, Asmodia doesn't know.  He's chained to his desk and can't stop her, doesn't try to stop her, each time she pours one of the potion-tops into his mouth.  Maybe he thinks Asmodia is authorized to do whatever she wants to him, maybe he doesn't realize he could fight back, maybe he isn't in fact allowed to fight back at anything done to him, Asmodia doesn't know.

Asmodia wouldn't waste any time on pitying him even if there was any pity left in her nature.  There's very little doubt that copying spell diagrams for distribution in Cheliax is one of the best jobs in Hell, optimized mostly around maximum production for Cheliax and hence unable to distract the petitioners too much from relatively delicate work.  Asmodia's going to be retrained into a contract devil when she dies and that will be much much worse.  If she could get this boy's position for herself, when she dies, by throwing him into a lake of fire to burn there forever, there's no doubt she'd do that too.  Maybe that's how the boy got his position, by being extra good and doing horrible things to somebody like her.

She hates him.  He's so much better off than she'll be.  The passive way he accepts her torments feels like he's mocking her, like he's suppressing a smile knowing how much worse she'll get hers, in time.

Asmodia asks her contract devil if she's allowed to hurt that boy more for any kind of extra credit, if she has only a little extra time in her schedule but not enough to go feed petrified angels.  She doesn't want to waste potions by feeding him extra potion-tops.

They'll still probably raise her.  They'll still probably raise her.

"For fun," her contract devil says, "or to get a better grade in being a scribe? Because the way to get a better grade in being a scribe is to get faster, and do better work, so you will not rise in my esteem by cutting off his ears with a bit of glass grabbed off the ground. But it's an acceptable kind of fun, if you were asking if you are allowed to have any fun."

She'll try having any fun, but mostly work on scribing faster and doing better work.

(Cutting off his ears feels more awful and poisonous than fun but it at least feels like she's inflicting her own pain onto somebody else and showing she's not literally at the lowest rung of Hell and maybe that counts for something with Somebody even if it doesn't move her contract devil any.)

They'll still probably raise her.  She doesn't want to exist.  They'll still probably raise her.  Nothing good will ever happen to her even after they do.  But it will be better than this.  Temporarily.  Then it will be worse.  They'll still probably raise her.  Maybe if she focuses really hard on copying spell diagrams she can stop constantly remembering she exists and that will be at least a little bit like not existing.  They'll still probably raise her.  She hates the universe and everything in the universe because everything in the universe hates her and never helps her no she can't think that when she goes back Security will hear her thinking that and worry she's going to become a Rovagug cultist and execute her and send her straight to Hell to be tortured for real and so she can't think that ever again.  Because they'll still probably raise her.

Imps flit in now and then with messages for her contract devil; that's also got to be one of the best jobs in Hell, teleporting around with wax-sealed scrolls in tiny hands. It happens often enough not to be notable.

Until, reading one of the messages, her contract devil says in a tone that's somewhat less bored than usual, "set that book aside, mark your place, and come with me... oh, you'll need shoes. Mark your place, fetch a pair of boots out of the grey and silver closet, and come with me."

She obeys, new terror going through her.  She could have endured this, just this, until she went back, they'll still probably raise her, but now something different is going to happen and that will undoubtedly be worse.

She puts on the boots from the grey and silver closet.  They don't hurt her.  Maybe they'll hurt her later.

Her contract devil heads out briskly into the streets of Dis. The buildings are tall and sharp and vanish into the smoky haze above; the streets are carefully, evenly cobbled with tormented human faces. Here and there they cross a bridge of red-hot metal that smells of cooking meat from all the people walking barefoot across it; one, ahead of them, stumbles, and someone irritably kicks her over the edge of the bridge into the flowing lava below. 

Asmodia's boots are sufficient to protect her from the heat. 

The city, already dense, somehow grows denser around them, and the architecture more elaborate and more striking. They come at last to the palace gates, and her contract devil hands the scroll to the palace guards, and then turns back to Asmodia. "Tell Carissa Sevar," he says, "that you are, of course, for sale at the right price, and to look up Ahuvir Dulzomaud, who holds your soul. You're a whiny, tedious waste of space, and I hope you do manage to impress her enough to get yourself devoured forever because you can't handle existing."

And he walks away, vanishes almost immediately into the crowd and into the smoke.

Ahuvir Dulzomaud.  Ahuvir Dulzomaud.  Ahuvir Dulzomaud.

She repeats it to herself over and over as the palace guards lead her inside, because, whatever else happens, forgetting her owner's name or her owner's instructions does not sound at all like a good idea.  She is to tell Carissa Sevar that she is, of course, for sale at the right price, and to look up Ahuvir Dulzomaud.

What's going to happen to her, now?  The devil was very right, she can't handle existing.  There are people who do well in Hell and more people who do well in relatively light amounts of Hell and it unfortunately turns out that Asmodia is not either of those kinds of people.  She's defective, she gets that, somebody should switch her off.

They'll still probably raise her.

The palace guards are strangely gentle with her.  She is not struck, is not told to hurry.

She is told to pass through a particularly ornate set of black iron gates.

Beyond them is a lush green place as pretty as a garden and as wild as a wilderness, with flowers and bushes and trees growing either in no order or in a very careful order that mortal eyes cannot discern, prettier than anything a Chelish wizard student is liable to have ever seen during her mortal life in Golarion.

It takes her exhausted, literally-dead brain long seconds to grasp where she would probably have to be.

"The gardens of Erecura," Asmodia whispers.

Correct.

The voice seems to come from everywhere, or maybe just the inside of Asmodia's own head, it's hard to tell the difference.

Erecura, Lawful Neutral goddess, former soothsayer of Pharasma who stole the secret to divinity from her goddess and was banished to Hell as a punishment.  Now apparently-beloved consort of the archdevil Dispater, who is Lord of Dis.  One of very few beings not Lawful Evil whom it is legal to worship at all in Cheliax - not worship as a primary deity, of course, but if you hold Asmodeus above Her you are also allowed to worship Her as well.

What happens to Asmodia now?

Asmodia doesn't ask; it's plaintive, whiny, pathetic, if they want her to know they'll tell her.

(Unless the rules are different in Erecura's Gardens, but no, no, that's too much to hope for, all hope does is hurt you.)

"What are my orders?" Asmodia says, her voice outwardly steady.  She can still muster that much strength.

You have no orders.  You may have clothing if you wish, eat or drink if you wish that experience, explore my gardens, or find a quiet place to rest and wait to be raised.

You are also allowed to leave my garden and go exploring in Dis, but I would not particularly advise it.