The Majors, Who Let the Demon Out? *under rewrite*

Chapter 2: A Demon and a Dream

~Fwhip~

 I wandered down the streets of Eastvale, the capital of my empire, the Grimlands, the pleasantly cool air stinging my nose and tousling my hair into my face... I still needed to redye the blue strip in my bangs.

It was most peaceful at this time, while all my citizens were asleep and the streetlamps were the only source of light, their white glow filling the narrow alleys and roads and leaving the shadows to sliver among the corners.

Though, it was quite fun to occasionally people watch during the daytime, see people weaving their way between the crowds going about their day-to-day tasks.

A strong breeze whipped through the streets, shaking the very few trees Eastvale had scattered in the front lawns of houses squished close against one another, their black brick foundations and white-washed walls cast in darkness from the night.

I pulled my red scarf closer around my neck and face to protect it from the wind, the tips of my ears already starting to go numb...I might as well begin heading back to the mansion soon.

I was about to turn back, when I heard a rustling much louder than the rustling the breeze was causing throughout the walled city, followed by a whisper. It was unintelligible, a murmur of words eerily strung together but slowly fading out into the night...

I paused, my ears perking up as I strained them for the sound again. Soon enough, I heard the same rustling.

"Who's there?" I demanded, turning on my heel towards the sound, which was coming from the front of a building with shrubbery scattered in the front, its incredibly small lawn filled with bushes and greenery. When I got no answer, I grabbed my crossbow hooked to my belt loop underneath my long leather overcoat, loading it and aiming at the spot. "I'm armed!" I called, my finger dancing just above the trigger.

Slowly, a figure lifted himself from one of the bushes, arms raised. He was in a white cloak with leather fastenings fitting it tightly to his chest and waist, its hood up and masking his facial features. In a moment however, he had lowered his hood, revealing sparkling blue eyes, one crossed with a scar of sorts, and a mop of brunette hair and a beard.

"Were you really going to shoot me, Count Fwhip?" The King of Mythland, whom I had deemed Sausage since childhood, asked rather playfully. He was my best friend. Can a twenty-four-year-old have a best friend? I'm not sure but that would be the only thing to call him. Besides a pest.

"Sausage? What the hell are you doing here?" I asked with a small frown, beginning to lower the crossbow so that the tip of the arrow pointed at the ground. "Mythland is ages away—"

The man spluttered for a moment. "Well- I was just- admiring the greenery!"

I gave him a look. "You traveled hundreds of miles to enjoy the dry greenery of the wasteland?" I deadpanned, finally dropping the crossbow down to my side.

"Mhm!"

"Why are you really here?" I asked with an exasperated sigh. This man...

"I- hmph." He said, clearly stumped on excuses. "Actually, I was going to write to you about this- how did the whole trial situation with that elf girl go? I heard it caused quite the scuffle here in Eastvale."

"You're just trying to change the subject—"

"No, no, no I'm genuinely curious!" Sausage insisted.

I narrowed my eyes at him, not believing him in the slightest. "Well...let's just say she's Scott's problem now and not mine- I let her go to Rivendale like she wanted, clearly, she wanted to get out of here and technically I couldn't legally press charges considering she didn't cause any actual damage. She just scared a lot of people—"