Chapter 3 — Demon

“I need you to investigate. Ask around, see if anyone has noticed anything suspicious by the bridge over the last week.” 

Snake sighed, it was far too early to be investigating a murder. But those words, “I need you.” he nodded. “Very well. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you.”

Snake felt oddly unsettled, having to go about and investigate this murder. And it was a feeling sated deeper than his usual discomfort with speaking to people. It settled somewhere deep within the scholar, a seed planting root in his gut, slowly growing. It was almost painful.

“Nope. Haven’t been by the bridge for a long time—I’m not looking to get speared.” 

“I see. Thank you.” Snake turned on his heel. He decided to speak first with the people living near the bridge. Of course, no one lived directly beside it. The bridge had tall gates that only a select few people had keys to open. Fallon and himself included.

Snake couldn’t figure out for the life of him who would ever commit such a crime. Fallon Ridge had extracted from the war as quickly as they met the demands to share land with neighboring kingdoms. Vaust was close enough to surrender to focus on Iron Aris, so the soldiers standing guard near the bridge were simply doing just that. 

Smoke traveled from Vaust to Fallon in no time—the sky blending from gray to orange the closer Snake got to the bridge. The heat of the relentless fire stuck his cloak to his skin, itchy and irritating enough for Snake to damn near lose his mind. Luckily, he had braided his hair before he left, so he could pull it over his shoulder and keep it off his neck, though it didn’t help much. Snake took a deep breath to ground himself. In. Out. Just like Laina taught him. It didn’t help. Not in the slightest. He would remove his cloak and send it down the river if the alternative wasn’t a burn so severe he’d be bed ridden. Alas, the world was cruel that way.

Just then, Snake felt a chill creep up his spine—a featherlight tickle, causing his entire body to shudder, breaking in a cold sweat. 

“This boy you have is demonic, Earl. You’d be better off leaving him to the wolves.”

“I could never do such a thing. He is still my child.”

The shaman pressed his calloused thumb to Snake’s forehead, just between his eyes.

“This baby is demonic. His eyes are red like the devil himself. I will keep him in my prayers, but you two had better keep an eye on him.”

Two short years later, Earl and Sony had run away, leaving Laina at just fourteen summers to raise him. 

“We would love to stay with you, sweetheart, but this boy is a demon. Since he’s been born, we have lost more than we can ever gain back.” Sony held Laina’s face with tender hands, thumb sweeping the tears from beneath her eyes. 

“I don’t know how to raise a baby, Father. What if he brings me misfortune, too?”

“Then leave. He will be alright, and if not, perhaps it is for the best.”

Snake’s brows furrowed, he shook his head once, folding the parchment in his hands neatly before returning to the castle.

He fell onto the bed unceremoniously after discarding his cloak and pants and shirt, stripped nearly bare with the lattice open. Snake laid on top of the sheets, his face only slightly red, cheek pressed to cool silk of the pillow, his eyes drifting shut.

The door opened much louder than it closed. Fallon must have assumed Snake was taking a nap. Not that Snake particularly minded this assumption—he would never complain if Fallon let him sleep for more than five hours. Fallon settled for the edge of the bed, the sound of flipping papers accompanying the soft hiss of wind picking up outside was soothing. 

“Did you find anything useful?”

Well, there goes Snake’s peace. “Nothing worth noting.”

“Then why are you back so soon?”

“It’s hot.”

Fallon hummed, standing up to open the lattice completely. 

“You should find a better way to regulate your temperature. Autumn is nearing and you’ll catch a cold like this.”

Snake left this remark unanswered while Fallon moved along to open the door for a servant. The smell of baked potatoes and veal nearly made Snake’s mouth water. He’d forgotten briefly that today they could eat.

Fallon, the ever empathetic king he was, had decided that he and Snake would eat every other day to accommodate his people and the lack of food beyond apples. Snake’s appetite wasn’t particularly large anyways, so he didn’t mind. In fact, he felt as though this reinstated his point of being a single step down from royalty himself. If Fallon was including Snake in his lack of meals, did that not mean that he and Fallon were equals?

Regardless, the hunger had taken a larger toll on Fallon than it had Snake. The scholar himself had always been slim, so his appearance didn’t change as much. But months of eating only scraps every other day had turned the once meaty and muscular king into someone more lean. Of course, he did still have plenty of muscle, which Snake liked more than he’d admit, but his weight was declining quickly.

Fallon set the tray on the bed, handing Snake a fork before picking his own up.

Snake sighed, he ate the potatoes with a distant mind. When he finished those, he raised a brow. “I don’t like veal. You eat it.”

Fallon’s brows knitted. “This isn’t a matter of preference, Snake. You need to eat.”

“I had potatoes. And I found an apple while I was investigating.”

“I wouldn’t think the apples were still good this time of year.” Fallon had yet to touch the veal.

“Well, I suppose I got lucky. Now eat. I’m going back to sleep, if you plan on joining me, bathe first.”

Fallon sighed but reluctantly ate the veal, leaving a mouthful left for Snake. Before he retreated to the bathhouse, Fallon rose from the edge of the bed, taking a bit of the veal but not swallowing. Instead, he pressed a kiss to Snake’s lips, using his tongue to open the scholar’s mouth. Snake closed his eyes with a soft, hum, then quickly pulled away when he felt the veal on his tongue. “Mh—” 

“Eat it.”

Snake sighed, but he did.