《Of Things Man Made: A Friend Among Foes》 Episode 1: Camp Keldarn ¡°Please!¡± A shrill voice cried out in the distance. Welsh had barely laid down when the plea hit his ears, causing his adrenaline to immediately surge. He swung open the door to the sounds of desperate whimpering. He looked to the left. Then sharply to the right. It wasn¡¯t uncommon¡ªjust one of many distressing noises that carried through the camp. These cries, however, were familiar, and the distant screams made Welsh¡¯s nerves rattle with frustration. He hurried between the decaying log buildings of the camp. Like the other camps of the empire, Camp Keldarn was enclosed beneath a large purple dome that shimmered high above. But in its own way, this camp was different. Above the dome, the sky was perpetually dark and streaked with flashes of yellow and red lightning. This gave the dome a much darker, blood-red hue compared to the others. As Welsh drew closer to the noise, he noticed they were high-pitched and gravelly, occasionally breaking into sharp squeals followed by pitiful whimpering. He huffed in frustration, his blood pumping fiercely throughout his body. He had recognized the source of the sounds¡ªsomeone was using Lonnek as a ball again. Lonnek was a lesser who worked the grounds of Camp Keldarn¡ªa pathetic little creature, even by lesser standards. Small and round, he barely stood two feet tall, with stubby arms and legs. This made him the perfect target for Rotundran soldiers and elites. In their downtime, they would regularly hunt him down and play ¡°Lonnek Ball¡± at his expense. Unfortunately, there was little he could do to defend himself from those who wanted to kick him around the camp, but he did have one thing going for him¡­ He was Welsh¡¯s friend. Often, those harassing Lonnek would walk away when Welsh approached, but he could now make out Lonnek¡¯s assailants, and Welsh realized this situation wouldn¡¯t be so simple. Standing in a triangle, a Rotundran elite and two soldiers were kicking the poor lesser back and forth. Lonnek¡¯s greatest gift was his ability to take a beating, but just because his body could absorb a kick didn¡¯t mean it didn¡¯t hurt just as much as it would for any other creature. ¡°Argh!¡± Lonnek wheezed as one of the soldiers punted him. He sailed clear over the head of his intended target and toward Welsh. Welsh lifted his hand into the air, catching Lonnek as gently as he could. ¡°Don¡¯t you have anything better to do, Ro¡¯Noke?¡± Welsh asked, setting Lonnek down close to his side. Ro¡¯Noke laughed and turned to face Welsh. Like many of the other elites, Ro¡¯Noke was a ruthless and vicious beast. He had a grotesque appearance, with a ghoul-like face and leathery green skin. His legs were relatively short, but his arms were long and muscular, nearly dragging the ground when he walked. ¡°Well, if it isn¡¯t Welsh,¡± Ro¡¯Noke said, pressing his knuckles into the ground to make a quick turn. ¡°We were just having a bit of fun, weren''t we?¡± he added, directing his attention to the lesser. Lonnek, still stumbling from his most recent beating, remained quiet. ¡°Leave him be. I¡¯m sure Keldarn could use you somewhere else,¡± Welsh said, splitting his attention among the three Rotundrans. The two Rotundran soldiers, unwilling to test their strength against the elite, stepped aside submissively. Ro¡¯Noke, however, had no intention of backing down so easily. ¡°Your sympathy for these weak and feeble creatures will get you killed, Welsh,¡± Ro¡¯Noke said. ¡°Just like me, you were born to be an elite. You have an empire of entertainment at the tip of your claw. You can play with what you want. You can eat what you want. You can kill what you want.¡± He leaned back on his small legs and stretched his arms out wide in a display of power. Unimpressed, Welsh watched Ro¡¯Noke with contempt. ¡°Kill anything I want, huh?¡± Welsh took a large step forward. ¡°Maybe I should start with you.¡± Ro¡¯Noke immediately looked to his two companions, trying to gauge their reaction to the threat. Rotundran soldiers were strong, but they were smaller, less skilled, and less gifted than their elite counterparts. Occasionally, a soldier would be brought up from the soldier rank¡ªor rarely, from the lesser rank¡ªbut it didn¡¯t happen often. Having been born a lesser himself, Welsh was an exception to this rule. He had a reputation the soldiers didn¡¯t want to put to the test. Seeing that he would get no help from his allies, Ro¡¯Noke laughed, clearly uncomfortable. ¡°Welsh,¡± he began, flexing the muscles throughout his long, limber arms. ¡°I would squeeze you so hard, your bird beak would pop off.¡± Welsh answered immediately. ¡°I¡¯m not so sure you could,¡± he muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s find out.¡± Ro¡¯Noke shook his head, still sporting a condescending smile. ¡°I don¡¯t have time for you, Welsh. Like you said, Overseer Keldarn probably needs me.¡± He turned and walked away, stepping between the two soldiers behind him. They fell in step behind their comrade, and Welsh could hear Ro¡¯Noke scold them for their lack of initiative. Lonnek had mostly regained his composure and sat down next to Welsh in the dark, ashy mulch. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. ¡°Thank you again, Welsh. How many times is this now?¡± Welsh sighed. ¡°Too many to count. Are you hurt?¡± Lonnek shook his tiny head. ¡°No. No, I¡¯m okay. You just kind of get used to it. It¡¯s just a matter of time until one of these beasts kills me.¡± ¡°Not as long as I¡¯m around,¡± Welsh said reassuringly. Lonnek smiled. His chubby cheeks balled up on each side of his small face, but the smile soon faded. ¡°Hey, Welsh,¡± he began, ¡°Why are you so different from the others?¡± Welsh had spent most of his life pondering this question. It wasn¡¯t just his looks that set him apart. His temperament and treatment of others simply didn¡¯t match Rotundran doctrine. For one, he was a beetle eater, with a diet primarily focused on insects, and did not feed on the flesh of humans. But this alone didn¡¯t explain it. Other beetle eaters were among the ranks of the cruel and sadistic. Perhaps it was his mistreatment as a youngling that had given him something the others lacked: empathy. Welsh had always considered himself different from many of the other Rotundran Elites. As a youngling, he had been teased relentlessly for his appearance. While most Rotundran members had skin in various shades of green, Welsh¡¯s body was covered in rock-hard scales that shimmered with every color of the rainbow. Additionally, where most reptilians had a snout or a mouth, the lower half of Welsh¡¯s face was concealed behind a large, yellow beak. Welsh reached to his face and gently touched his beak. He used to hate it. While his multicolored scales certainly set him apart from other reptilians, it was his beak that truly made him stand out. It was well known that birds had once covered the planet and soared through the skies, but they hadn¡¯t been seen in centuries. He could vividly remember other young reptilians calling him names- his free hand clenching in frustration- and even threatening him. Fortunately, Welsh hadn¡¯t heard those insults in years. He may have been considered an oddity or a weakling in his youth, but not anymore. His once-meager yellow beak had grown into a lethal weapon, capable of severing limbs and impaling foes with ease. Welsh looked down at Lonnek who still waited for an answer. An answer he didn¡¯t have. He came from humble beginnings, but now, he lived among the Elites of the Rotundra. His living quarters were a rather large log cabin, which, by now, consisted primarily of wooden logs that had begun to rot. At times, he would run the tips of his claws over the darkened areas of the structure, only to watch the wood crumble into tiny particles, resembling dirt. He would then snort in disdain and shake his head. Why were the Rotundra, the most powerful organization in the world, so content to watch everything decay around them? Regardless, he wasn¡¯t well liked. Unlike many of the others, he had no taste for blood or brutality. As he wandered the grounds of Camp Keldarn, fellow Rotundran Elites would pass him, their minds filled with slurs and insults¡ªbut few dared to say them to his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± Welsh responded. ¡°If you figure it out, will you please tell me?¡± Lonnek chuckled, his voice cracking with high-pitched gasps. ¡°Sure. I¡¯ll do that.¡± Just as Lonnek finished his sentence, the duo heard tiny footsteps tapping through the rich, black earth. They both turned in unison to see a tiny Rotundran elite heading their way. ¡°Great,¡± Welsh said, keeping his eyes locked on the creature. ¡°It¡¯s Soralees.¡± Soralees wasn¡¯t your normal elite. Where many elites were large, muscular beasts, Soralees was neither of those things. He was a tiny little creature, not much taller than lessers like Lonnek. However, there was a reason he was an elite. Size had nothing to do with what made him such a dangerous foe. Unlike the others, he didn¡¯t rely on his strength. Instead, he used blinding speed and razor-sharp claws to deal his damage. Only a few creatures in the empire could rival his dexterity. In addition to being obscenely fast, he had the unique ability to squeal at a pitch that would render most creatures completely incapacitated. It was during these intermittent squeals that he would dart in and out of close range, ripping and shredding his opponents piece by piece. ¡°Welsh,¡± Soralees said quietly, nearly in a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re wanted by the Overseer. He has a job for you.¡± Soralees¡¯ voice was deceptively quiet. His beady eyes, which bulged from the sides of his head, twitched and shivered whenever he spoke, a side effect of his powerful voice. He struggled to maintain the volume needed to carry on a conversation. Welsh regularly took small groups of human slaves on expeditions to gather timber. From the blackened earth, disfigured trees grew randomly throughout the camp. These trees¡ªcalled deadrot¡ªwere at the center of Camp Keldarn¡¯s economic well-being. They had multiple trunks that sprang from the ground, leading to limbs that were devoid of leaves year-round. Like the earth around them, the deadrot trees were black and appeared perpetually in a state of dying. After thinking for a moment about his instructions, Welsh nodded and asked Soralees if the chopping site was close. The elite shook his head. ¡°Not so much,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s in The Orchard.¡± Lonnek gasped, whipping his head up to see Welsh¡¯s reaction. Welsh did nothing. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked in the direction of the slaves¡¯ barracks. ¡°And why are we venturing back into the orchard?¡± he asked. ¡°I hear it has been overrun by Korvis. Have they been dealt with?¡± ¡°No,¡± Soralees replied bluntly. Welsh clenched his fists in frustration but mostly maintained his outward composure. There were many dangers lurking in the world, even for Elites like himself. Groups like the Kil¡¯torie had become more daring as of late, especially in the tunnels throughout the southeast quadrant of the empire. In his quadrant, however, the Korvis were among the gravest threats. Unlike the Kil¡¯torie, who were intelligent and cultured, the Korvis were primitive and savage. While most reptilians fed on humans, there were others who fed on beetles or special forms of vegetation. The Korvis were neither of these things. They were cannibals who fed on other reptilians. They were mostly small and weak, but they were relentless and would gladly sacrifice dozens of their tribe to take down one large elite: it would feed their tribe for months. Korvis attacks were rare, but there had been reports of sightings around the orchard. It was a threat that shouldn¡¯t be dismissed out of hand. ¡°Why is the Overseer so interested in deadrot from the Orchard? There¡¯s other timber that needs to be harvested¡ªtimber that doesn¡¯t involve potentially fighting your way through a Korvis horde.¡± Soralees turned and began walking away. He was always short on words, not wanting to maintain the focus needed for a reasonable volume. ¡°Ask him yourself,¡± Soralees muttered quietly as he returned in his previous direction. Lonnek, who had remained quiet throughout the conversation, looked at Welsh with concern. ¡°It¡¯s been a few months since Tonnik went missing. We may be firmly within their hunting window. Are you going to go?¡± Welsh crossed his arms, still watching Soralees creep away. ¡°Orders are orders,¡± he said before looking down at his friend. ¡°So, of course I am.¡± He paused for a moment, then added, ¡°And you¡¯re coming with me.¡± Lonnek was startled. ¡°I am?!¡± ¡°I need you. You can sense the Korvis can¡¯t you?¡± Welsh reasoned. ¡°Besides, would you rather stay here with Ro¡¯Noke and the others?¡± Lonnek sighed, paused to weigh his options, then responded, ¡°...I¡¯ll go prepare,¡± he said grudgingly. Episode 2: The Overseers Hall Welsh stood still, gazing solemnly at the most elaborate building in the camp. It was a long, wooden structure adorned with carvings along the trusses, representing the king of Keldarn¡¯s camp, to whom he was loyal. Welsh reached back and rubbed his neck in an attempt to relieve stress. There was a good reason to fear the Overseer; he was among the most powerful beings in the world. Welsh would need to choose his words wisely. He ran through his options in his head. Why would the Overseer be sending him into the Orchard? The fact that the Rotundra didn¡¯t do much to protect those subservient to them was well documented, but they weren¡¯t wasteful. There had to be a reason he was being sent¡ªone that Welsh couldn¡¯t quite wrap his head around. After a moment¡¯s thought, he forced his right foot forward and approached the door. Before opening it, he paused, leaning close to listen. Footsteps were clearly making their way toward the door. Welsh took a large step back to make room. The metal hinges were rusted and produced a nasty hiss as the door opened inward. A roaring fire pit in the center of the hall emitted smothering heat that rolled out of the room and into the evening air. The creature who exited was not who Welsh had expected. A tall, slender, snake-like female came through the door and immediately noticed Welsh¡¯s presence. She stopped. ¡°Hmmm.¡± She cocked her head to the side in curiosity. ¡°Large yellow beak. Glimmering, multi-hued scales... You must be Welsh.¡± While it may have taken her a moment to discover his identity, he had no such trouble. She was well known throughout the empire. ¡°Overseer Lyssindra. It¡¯s an honor,¡± Welsh stammered, trying to sound as formal as possible. Lyssindra smiled, her eyes narrowing. ¡°I¡¯ve heard about you. It¡¯s quite the rarity to see a lesser youngling rise to elite status. How does it feel? The power. The respect. I would imagine you take great pleasure in your new position.¡± Welsh had never spoken to her before. It was unusual to see an Overseer from another camp roaming around. He noticed she had the unique ability to sound as if she were telling the truth and lying at the same time. ¡°Sure,¡± he said, knowing that was the answer she was looking for. ¡°It certainly has its perks.¡± Lyssindra stepped around him and walked down the steps of the porch they stood on. She took a deep breath before sending her slithering tongue from her mouth. It flicked and waved in the air in front of her before returning. ¡°Yes. I¡¯m sure it does. It¡¯s a shame my business with Keldarn concluded so soon. I¡¯ve always enjoyed the scent of this camp. The deadrot mixes well with the sweat and blood of humans,¡± she said before turning to leave. Welsh watched her disappear up the path behind one of the distant log cabins. He couldn¡¯t help but wonder why she was there. Was it related to why the Overseer had summoned him? Did she have something to do with why he was being asked to venture into the orchard? It didn¡¯t matter, he thought. No use speculating on matters he couldn¡¯t control. He finally turned and opened the door, stepping into the Overseer¡¯s hall. Inside, a wooden floor was lined with pew-like benches leading to the end of the hall, where a raised platform hosted an elaborate chair. It was covered in silks and filled with the soft feathers of animals that hadn¡¯t been seen in hundreds of years. Keldarn stood at the edge of his platform, just before his chair. He looked down on him with glowing yellow eyes. Keldarn was a sand-brown creature who, for the most part, stood with the posture of a human. He had horns sprouting from random places along his body, and his thick hide made it appear almost as if he were wearing plated armor. The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. ¡°Welsh! You¡¯ve finally made it,¡± he said, seemingly excited to see him. The Overseer was an interesting character. His outward persona could fool those who didn¡¯t know him. He seemed welcoming, even friendly at times, but this couldn¡¯t have been further from the truth. Keldarn¡¯s interests were the same as the other Overseers: he would do whatever it took to please the King, even if it meant sacrificing those loyal to him. Being a Rotundran elite had always been a test of morality for Welsh. On one hand, he lived a relatively comfortable life, as most elites did. On the other, he had committed some rather horrendous acts while following the orders of his Overseer. He had to remind himself that he, too, had been the victim of mistreatment and that he had worked hard to make it this far. Sometimes, this helped him sleep at night. ¡°Overseer Keldarn. You sent for me?¡± he asked, trying to sound courteous. ¡°Yes,¡± Keldarn replied, hopping down from his stage. ¡°I¡¯m looking for a brave soul. I imagine you saw Overseer Lyssindra leaving my hall.¡± ¡°I did,¡± Welsh said bluntly. Keldarn strode deliberately toward Welsh, stopping inches from him. Keldarn¡¯s eyes always glowed with a translucent yellow color, but when he stood close, the truth of his eyes revealed itself. Behind the yellow hue, where most creatures would find the white of their eyes, Keldarn¡¯s sclera was perpetually covered in scarlet red blood. ¡°Overseer Lyssindra has requested a favor from our camp. She needs deadrot and has specifically requested timber from the Orchard,¡± Keldarn said, his gaze locked on Welsh. ¡°This is a difficult job. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the rumors.¡± Welsh nodded. ¡°I have,¡± he said ambiguously, not wanting to overstep by sharing too much information. Keldarn¡¯s eyes squinted, causing the glow between his eyelids to intensify. ¡°The Orchard now seems to be part of the Korvis¡¯ hunting grounds, and we are in need of deadrot from that region.¡± Curiosity made the question Welsh had been mulling over press itself against his beak. He wanted to ask why. Why was the deadrot from that region so important? Typically, when the Korvis changed their hunting practices, the harvesting locations were shifted. He didn¡¯t ask. ¡°And you need me to take a group of choppers into the Orchard?¡± Welsh responded. Keldarn smiled, likely happy the elite didn¡¯t ask questions. Not that it would have mattered. ¡°Exactly. We need an elite capable of harvesting the deadrot while dealing with the potential threat of the Korvis. Do you think you¡¯re up to the task?¡± Welsh knew the question was rhetorical. He didn¡¯t have a choice. In his head, he considered the threat. He had never personally dealt with the Korvis before, but he had heard the stories. He knew how tenacious they could be. ¡°How many deadrot trees will we be harvesting?¡± Welsh asked, knowing the length of the trip would ultimately dictate the odds of a Korvis attack. Welsh was taken aback. A typical deadrot harvest was eight to ten logs. Why was this trip so special? If they were only after one log, it had to mean the harvest was for reasons beyond their typical uses. ¡°One, my Lord?¡± Welsh asked, confused. Keldarn turned and began walking away, explaining as he made his way back to his chair. ¡°Yes. One deadrot from the Orchard. That¡¯s all we need.¡± Welsh paused for a moment, hoping the Overseer would give him a reason why, but it didn¡¯t come. ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Welsh replied submissively. ¡°I¡¯ll gather a small group of choppers and leave for the Orchard at first light tomorrow.¡± Keldarn nodded in acknowledgement but then added, ¡°You will not travel alone. I want you to take Soralees with you.¡± It was customary for elites to travel alone with their slaves. Most considered traveling with another elite an insult. Not only did different elites discipline their slaves differently, but it also insinuated that the elite wasn¡¯t capable of handling the job alone. Traveling with Soralees presented a host of potential problems. For one, he, like many other Rotundran elites, was cruel and relentless in his treatment of slaves. Welsh would need to bite his tongue when witnessing the mistreatment of slaves. Additionally, Soralees was considered the ¡°lead chopper¡± and would serve essentially as a spy, more than willing to report the events exactly as they happened back to the Overseer. However, Soralees¡¯ addition to the expedition certainly improved Welsh¡¯s odds of survival. The Korvis had little interest in attacking Soralees. His small stature offered very little in the way of meat, and killing him would be a difficult task. This didn¡¯t even take into account the fact that Soralees'' screech was perfect for dispersing hordes of reptilians. Welsh would tolerate it. As for how Soralees would take it, he wasn¡¯t so sure. Keldarn had a way of focusing his gaze so that you knew when he was being serious, and this was one of those times. ¡°Each of you will take two choppers and head past the Ruined Fields into the Orchard. Once there, harvest the first deadrot you find and return,¡± he said. With that, Welsh bowed his head and turned to walk out the door. Episode 3: The Weight of the Past You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. Episode 4: The Predator Among Them The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Episode 5: Soralees Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.