The Invisible King

Chapter 2: Efran

Chapter 2
Efran

The sunshine gleamed over Efran's freckled half cheeks, and a half was buried in hays. Squashy but a little bit itchy. He grasped onto his rough bed to sit up and stretched his arms in front of the bright window.

"H-Hungry?" a soft woman's voice gently pierced into his ears. He glanced over his shoulder and saw an angel holding an apple–clad in the thin white dress was a freckled white skin of a thin-boned girl with a fine height. Wavy dark chocolate hair contrasted with her light purple iris–a Malvado signature eyes, a clan who can tear one's flesh on a single flick of fingers. They lived in North Trost, but their blood spread like a plague down to Flostania.

"Y-Yes," he stuttered as he peered at the corners of the barn before picking up an apple. He sat back on the straws with crossed legs and eyelashes fanned up to peek at Malvado's reaction and then back his stare into the apple he held with both palms.

This isn't poisonous, right? Or some sort of, when this special apple came to my stomach, then she could control my stomach to force me to obey her orders?

But he must not show some doubt in her front. It would alarm her his suspicions and might just crumple him straight ahead or drain his blood. Where was he anyway? Did something happen last night? Well, he had never slept in a barn before, so clearly, something happened. His dreams–they were not dreams but reality.

He was about to bite when he thought of an excuse. "Where is she? What's her name again?"

"Xie-no-rra," she answered, fingers touching her struggling throat, then grasping into her violin laying on top of hay.

Isn't the name supposed to be Riri?

"Is she here?"

"Did you miss me that much?"

The huge wooden door creaked open, vomiting sunlight through the dried pack of leaves as a figure of shadow entered–the Rajir woman who wore a black bamboo hat with a half veil and sleeve gloves in her crossed arms.

"Sorry for the late introduction. My name's Zao Xienorra. Rajir surnames were introduced first before the first name," she then tapped the Malvado's shoulder, "And this is Caesura Mortuguese. Don't make her talk too much. Her throat is not well."

He scanned the barn. From the angular plank ceilings, slat walls, and wooden posts dividing the empty spaces full of dried grasses. No single animal here except them.

"Where's the cute wolf I rode last night?"

"Don't worry about it. Worry about your job that has to be done before the sun settles down."

Efran frowned against her eyes. "Sounds déjà vu."

Xienorra tilted her head up to the ceiling, "Kirovah Ichor. I hate the feeling of being stalked."

"Now you know what I felt last night," Efran murmured.

"I'm not stalking."

Before his green eyes tried to follow the raspy voice, a tanned boy with silver hair fell in front, landing with soft crackling dried leaves. He swiftly slid out a paper somewhere in his ragged brown tunic and lent it to Efran. "I'm just waiting for my grand entrance. Cool, right, Efry? Call me Roh."

He ignored the cringe nickname as he reached out for the paper and opened it. Beige canvas with black wax seal of tiger's head. Written on the head title: Legionnaire Identification Document

"You have four documents to edit," ordered Xienorra. "My friend adviced to don't replace our names. Only the physical features."

"You mean documents to forge," he corrected and scanned the papers to see if he counted them correctly. "Where's the other four?"