Chapter 4
Efran

"Efran, my son, you're going to be a great soldier like me someday," a tall man in a black military uniform said as they walked through the night city.

"I will, father!" the ten-year-old kid said, smiling, not until his fit stopped in front of the wooden entrance of the tavern. The insides were glowing orange through the lamps and torches. Tables were filled with busy people, buzzing, clanking ceramic plates against the wooden table, and barrel mugs tugging to each other as they shouted for cheers.

Too noisy, too intimidating, his heart rapidly thumped as if sensing a danger–the danger of going to an unknown and uncomfortable place. He clenched his father's hand and asked, "Where are we, Father?"

"I'm going to introduce you to your future brothers. You'll love them."

But he only has two families, he thought. His mother, big brother, then his uncle's wife and daughter, the one who teaches him how to stitch using a sewing machine.

They walked inside. Efran averted his eyes as a girl approached them. Her clothes are too revealing, as if half naked. Black tight strips of clothes only hid the lower part of her heavy chest, v-shaped down to her stomach and to the sacred part, with thighs freely showing off their white skins. Her soft fingers touched his father's chest, lips were too close to his ears.

"Were you here for me, Sir?" she moaned, and his father smiled.

"No. We're here for my future brothers," Efran interrupted with furrowing brows, cold sweaty fingers clenching father's hand.

"Sorry, lovely, my son was right."

"No problem." The girl passed through them and went to a table to chat. Efran saw the man's hand stealing touch with her bare skin. He felt shivers through his spine. This place was scary.

They continued to walk until a group of men clad in legionnaire's black uniforms waved hands to them. "Here, brother!"

They sat on the chair. One of the five men reached for a mug for his father and for him. "Are you a boy, kid?"

"Of course," he answered cluelessly.

The man picked the pitcher of beer and poured it into his mug. "Then prove it."

Efran knitted his forehead. "What's the gender do with the beer?"

They all looked at each other, then laughed, including his father. "My son is a smart one, isn't he?"

After her father introduced him to them, they reminisce about the memories of their training, the first mission, the traumatic life-death scenarios that have become a laughingstock, and until they talked about women.

"You know the beautiful Haley who said she has no interest in men? I went straight to her bed, did some dirty talk to test her, and she's the one who jumped on me!"

Everyone laughed, even his father, except for him. They were repeating the female's name in the story, partnered by insulting nicknames and laughs. Whore, pretender, and generalizing that all women were like her. Boasting how handsome they were, no one could ever escape their sizzling muscles. Women need men like them to give pleasure in their life, whether they like it or not.

"That's just Haley. I fished a very religious girl! Remember Gezan? She turned away her Jembahal just to spend the night with me! She knew I was married and had a daughter!"

"You guys are weak, can only do one at a time," another man interrupted, and raised his fingers. "Five at a time. And my wife didn't catch me even though she was also inside the party!"

"No way! That's too amazing!"

What are they talking about in front of a kid? Efran barely kept up with their stories. Too many questions flooded his mind, questioning the values he learned as he grew up. These were against the morals he was raised by his mother. A married man or woman shouldn't be entertaining another. That's a sinful way to live.

"How about you, Fritz?" The man called his father by surname, "You didn't update us about Elizabeth."

Elizabeth. Efran's heart went wild as he heard the name and sank it into his mind. His face began to pale, his eyes can't barely move away from his mug, spitting caffeine bubbles in its mouth. Who is Elizabeth?

His father shook his head. "No, no, no. I don't do such a thing. I'm a loyal man."

"Don't trick us, brother. Soldiers were only loyal to countries and the Kings, not to their wives. We're human and that's our basic needs. We need a replacement when we're far from our loved ones. Being a soldier simply means being a womanizer. Life's short, we could die just tomorrow lonely."

Efran caught the secret glance of his father at him and back to his friend. Those gestures made the man's cheeks shiver in sweat, forming an awkward laugh. "Of course, your father's an exemption, right, guys?"

"Yes. Don't worry, Efran, your father is a good man. He'll never cheat on your mother."

Efran shoved his face to his father, an arm wrapped around him to pat his back. He believed in him. He believed he would never hurt his mother. Someday, he will also be a soldier like his father and not like his so-called future brothers.

But he was wrong.

~

"You're taking–argh! Too long! Don't waste our faith given to you!" Gio groaned in pain, still holding to the ground to heat up the rocks surrounding the dark fortress. The Mzerlish wrinkled lips began to pale, eyebrows crushing to each other.

Efran controlled his breath–long inhales and firm sighs while focusing his senses around the underground. The thick roots were easy to distinguish–just like the branches. But the rocks felt too tight, covering the territory of his senses. He imagined himself crawling through the funnel. The more he pushed, the more it narrowed until his body couldn't fit any further. Yet, he tried his best to shove his head, breaking the walls that were trying to uninvite him, even if it cost claustrophobia. It was frustrating, suffocating, and tiring, but it was a do-or-die.

It reminded him of his father. These soldiers were his brothers, who died in an unexpected war, and he just happened to forge an identification paper to sneak inside the encounter. He wondered what his father would do when he saw his cold body wearing his uniform. How would his mother react? Would the news wave through his neighbors? Throughout the whole town? Will he be kind of a big deal? How many tears would fall in his coffin? And which of his loved ones has authentic tears?

What's the three doing outside, by the way? Were they in danger too?

Wait, am I really going to die right now? They were already buried six feet on the ground, anyway.

He pushed himself more, more, and more. Begin to search in a spiral direction from him to his above, side, low, above again but farther, side, low, repeat, farther, repeat, repeat, repeat–

"I found it! Five meters down on your ground, Gio!"

"Out of the way!" Gio screamed, and the soldiers scattered away from him. Efran jumped out from the carriage and ran to the walls. The ground began to quake, the rumbling sound echoed around as the floor under him cracked until it shattered like glass, creating a small diameter of hole enough for about three people, and Gio let himself fall into.

The soldiers jumped below to follow, as well as Efran, readying his fingers to attach strings into the fibers for retraining the bandit. But his eyes widened at what he saw—a young girl—kneeling inside the small space, eyes fully shut as if praying, or rather, preying.

She's just a kid who was supposed to be a high school freshman. How could she have such power? Not only that. How could a kid be involved in a traumatic event like this?

When she opened her eyes, it widened in shock, and gasped hopelessly. Roots quickly tried to pull her away, but it withered as Gio extended his molten rocks to this range.

Everyone surrounded her like a defenseless rat praying her way home. Her fumbled hands wrapped in her chest and stuttered a whisper, "P-Papa. P-Please..." She gazed around the blades that were pointing at her, and the last one she laid her eyes on was to Efran, "...help me."

"You killed my men!"

An axe flew over the air, and blood splattered on their uniforms as the blade sank into her forehead. She was looking at Efran when she begged for help. She was looking at Efran when an axe tore into her head. She was looking at Efran as she helplessly fell to the ground.

Cold sweats ran over Efran's face. Wide eyes were shaken in disbelief. She's just a kid. She doesn't deserve any of this.

She was just a kid.

The Forge Priest
Efran Fritz

Mvcabusas | The Invisible King