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I hate this life that I was brought into. Why do I always have to feel confined in my town?
I grew up admiring the noble and brave. Knights and adventurers, who bid farewell to their families, if they had one in the first place, and ventured out into the mountains. Not for glory, or fame, but for a special thing called adventure.
I hate this life that I chose myself. I left my town unwanted by anybody. The only reason some folk motivated my plans, was surely because they wanted me to leave as fast as possible, and cease being such a waste of space. A boring, good for nothing waste of space.
I grew up admiring the bards and minstrels, and how they caught the positive attention of everyone, and brought laughter and joy to the king himself. But even after I’ve played this instrument for years after years, I’ve never caught a glimmer of a smile.
But I played, because he encouraged me to. My Darling Haltfate. He saved my life, when I was wandering lost amidst the thick forests. I hoped I would die, but he led me on and showed me the things I’ve only ever dreamed of until now. I never participated. I only leeched onto him, like the parasite that I am, and watched from the sidelines when Halt did such heroic acts.
Why did this happen? I don’t understand. Things always seemed nice for us. We have spent so much time together. I thought that I knew him well.
But Haltfate, he rejected me. He was stressed and torn. After a dangerous battle that left him wounded, he continued to fulfill assignments and brought us gold every day. But despite my own good health, I could never have done anything to help or assist him. The few coins that I received were not enough compared to the payments that he received, despite his wobbly walk and pained expression.
It came out of nowhere, and I didn’t expect it. Haltfate left me alone. He took the bags, and the tent, and left me alone.
Maybe I misheard him, I thought and hoped. Maybe he’ll just come back later, and I’m supposed to stay here.
So I did, and I stood on the edge of a cliff for two days. Until the rumbling in my stomach made me realize that my worst paranoia was true; Haltfate didn’t want me anymore. Haltfate didn’t want to be my friend. He had a bigger mission ahead of him, and the off-tune plucks of my biwa only weighed him down.
Why can’t I jump off this cliff? A quick death. The brambled shrubs at the far away bottom would tear my body to pieces, and no one would know.
I don’t want to be unknown. I don’t want to die. But that thought doesn’t leave my mind. And I didn’t stand up from the cliff’s edge.
Perhaps if I play a song, one last song, it will motivate me to end it all. I sat on my knees, pointed the biwa upright, and the same as I always do, I played a messy melody.
Plucks and strums, I don’t know how to play otherwise.
After the fifteenth second of my improvised tune, I began to smell sulfur, increasing with each heartbeat. In the evening, the wind is cold, but I suddenly felt strong heat emitting right behind me. I swung around and watched in terror, as a formation of fog and green flames danced in the air, accompanied by a low male voice.
A pair of black wings snapped upwards out of the formation. A pair of bovid hooves stepped out, and soon with it, I saw the silhouette of a man.
“I crave the sweet souls of fools.” the voice said, followed by a harrowing echo, “Offer yours unto me, and you shall receive whatever you wish for.”
The man stepped forwards, fanning fog away with those magnificent black wings. His face was unlike any I’ve ever seen before. So cold, unbothered. Like he had never felt any regret in his life. But then a smug smile formed on his features, “...Come, what is your desire?”
I gawked, too confused and scared to speak. “W-Who are you?” I asked with a dry throat.
“I am a demon who heard the melody of your biwa. Wallenstein.”
“Demon?!” I shrieked and nearly fell back into the abyss, but stopped myself and crawled forward. I have never seen a demon before. The people who spoke of having met a demon were either deemed crazy or liars. Afterall everyone knows, that contacts with demons always end in painful death.
“What is your name?” he asked calmly.
“N-Neg Piedpiper.” my voice wavered, “...I’m a minstrel.”
“Piedpiper.” He didn’t seem to make much of a mental note about it though. “Now then Piedpiper, what is your wish?”
If this was any other point in my life, I would’ve panicked and cried and begged to be spared. Afterall, what does lending a soul mean? Would he kill me right after granting my wish?
I didn’t know the answer to those questions, but I thought a minute long and hard about it. The smell of sulfur slowly began to feel soothing to my face, and the fiery warmth that surrounded him was like a comforting blanket on my dirty hands. I raised my chin and stared right into the empty violet eyes.
“...I want to be of relevance. I want to be important, enough that I'll be loved by dozens and they'll rely on me. I hate my current life, sir Wallenstein. This body and name never did me any good. I want to discard everything, and become someone relevant and charismatic."
Wallenstein listened. Closing his eyes, he interpretted the words. His voice was calm and dark. Comforting in a way that I haven’t felt before, "I can grant you all the nobility that you want. In return, your soul shall become mine."
I have not hesitated. I dropped the biwa in my hands, and reached out for his hand.
Wallenstein was the one who held back for a second. For the first time in his centuries-long lifetime, he met someone who so eagerly agreed to form a pact, despite not even knowing about Wallenstein’s existence prior to now.
He struck out his gloved hand, and accepted mine into a warm grasp. With another wave of smoke, the abandoned biwa on the ground played it’s very last note.
The minstrel could not recall his last moments. He felt frozen in a void for a hazy, dreamlike moment. He felt himself become torn apart on the inside, but it all seemed harmless and painless. He watched light form around him, stripping him of his former identity. His body reconstructed right before him, and he was nothing more than a slowly beating heart.
Wallenstein’s voice comforted him one last time, before he fell into an invisible, cottony cloud. Soft and delicate, more than anything he’s ever felt before. He fell asleep.
No one remembers when he came. No one knows where he came from. One day up in the clouds, in a panorama of mountains, appeared a kingdom. It was always there, the people of the world assumed. There was no proof to say that there wasn’t.
We must’ve simply missed this great, colorful kingdom.
The King said, that this place is the Holiday Kingdom, where the festive mood lasts all year long. The citizens are all happy, and no one ever suffers. It spreads across many miles, and anyone is free to travel it, discover new things.
The King said, that the Holiday Kingdom is one of a kind in many ways. The economy never suffers, and as long as everyone does their parts including him, happiness will also last all year long.
Every now and then a dozen citizens go missing.
They disappear without a sign, but mourning them too long is not encouraged. Twice as many people will surely join the kingdom soon anyway.
The King bowed and grinned back at the happy crowd formed in front of his tower for the last time. He tossed in a few lovely and charismatic words, and eventually, returned to the depths of his castle.
The smile never faded off his face, when a red tentacle slithered out from beneath his cloak, and dragged along the comatose body of a teenage town’s woman.
In a hall that no one is allowed to enter beside himself, he unlocked the door, and treaded down a flight of endless stairs. The light which once was yellow, slowly shifted hue with each new candle. At the very last step, The King dissolved into a whooshing, glowing entrance.
Before he knew it, The King was looking around at a castle hall just like his own, though this one was dark and gloomy in coloration.
And then there came the smell of sulfur.
“Good evening, darling Wallenstein.” The King rose his chin and sung. The smile never faded off his face. “The King wants to make this offering. For how long will it satisfy you?”
The King brought forward the limp body of a human. A scaly snout leaned in and sniffed it. Wallenstein sighed, and his body shrunk down into a humanoid shape.
He stepped forward, and met the king upfront. He put a hand to the body’s throat, and forth came out a blazing little orb.
“...A virgin, is that so.” Wallenstein closed it in his fist and hummed thoughtfully, “...If you bring me another one of those, that might do it for the month.”
“I see!” The King let the body fall to the ground, and clasped his hands. “The King thanks you very much! The King will bring you whatever you want!”
“I am thoroughly glad, and thankful for your cooperation as well, your highness.” Wallenstein murmured with a smirk.
“The King is the happiest he’s ever been!” He danced, flaunting the long cape wrapped around him. With any movement that seemed too rapid, his body split for a mere second. Sometimes when he’d give the demon a big smile, a third eye would appear on his cheek, or have a second head grow beside him. But The King didn’t mind. And Wallenstein didn’t mind either. The King puffed up the fluff around his collar, and then put a thoughtful finger to his chin.
“...Is there anything The King missed? Hm...” he scanned the black bricks around them, and the thorny throne behind Wallenstein.
The King’s cyan eyed landed on the draconian himself, his lips curling into a sweet smile. Wallenstein raised an eyebrow, but waited patiently.
The King took a large step forwards. Wallenstein flinched, his tail stopped lashing. But quickly enough, he comfortably eased into the kiss. The King forgot what he was supposed to do with his hands for a second, and then awkwardly placed them on the slightly shorter man’s shoulders.
The natural “hellish” heat which emitted from Wallenstein at all times always increased just slightly, when The King did this.
A couple of multicolored, vaguely bird-shaped tentacles grew out from behind The King’s back. Blindly, Wallenstein reached to put a hand on one of them, which seemed to ease into the “headpat” as well.
The King finally pulled away from the kiss to see the uptight demon’s just slightly flustered face. “You sure are confident now, aren’t you. So eager to put your little hands on anything and everything.” Wallenstein spoke with a lilt in his voice. The King’s smile eased into a small and pleasant one.
“The King would love it, if you could visit the Holiday Kingdom again sometime... The King recently decided to build a new attraction, you see. There will soon be a huge garden right next to my castle. It will have bellflowers and tiger lilies, and..! The King also wants to make a pond in the middle. The pond will have glowing jellyfish!”
He picked up Wallenstein’s hands and cupped them between their chests.
“The King really wants you to see it, and to like it. You will definitely love it.”
“Hohoho~” Wallenstein let out a dry chuckle, hardly breaking eye contact, “I see, I see. I will make sure to make time in my schedule. Let me know when the attraction is fully finished, then.”
The King hopped joyously and then wrapped his arms around the other, forcing a grunt out of Wallenstein. “Be careful, your highness.” his advice seemed to go mostly unnoticed when The King simply pet him on the head (and then his horns, who more or less get in the way).
Just like that, The King dashed away, and left Wallenstein standing awkwardly on the other end of the hall. His tail waved slowly from side to side.
“Goodbye, your highness!” The King waved back at Wallenstein, and he bowed in return. “Goodbye, your highness.”
Once the enthusiastic king was gone, and Wallenstein was left alone to his business again, he dropped the humanoid shape, taking on the form of a quadrupedal beast. He laid down in front of his massive, but not quite massive enough throne, and let his head rest on the floor.
In a crystal ball right next to him, he saw a vision of the kingdom itself. The Holiday Kingdom. Which he helped so thoroughly to create.
Traversing over there is not much problem. The only issue is the temperature. Wallenstein is a creature from hell, who finds peace in high heat. This place is so far off in the mountains, that he might catch a case of demonic cold very quickly.
But that’s not something he is not willing to risk, for his partner in crime. Partner in royal business.
He observed the kingdom’s buildings and towers in the distant reflection. It seemed welcoming. Wallenstein wouldn’t trade his current position to join it, but he thought the coloration was pleasant. And he remembers the place smelling like flowers and biscuits, somehow it overpowered his strong odor of sulfur. It was pleasant.
And The King himself. In his rowdy, sometimes overwhelmingly so, but so understanding and compliant personality. Wallenstein found it charming as well.
A direct opposite of who he was, back then as a human. Wallenstein preferred the curious and confident King much more, than the loser on the cliff from back then.
One day, he knew, he will visit the kingdom once more. And his partner along with it... Far away on the horizon.