Flynn had seen this very same scene play out across film and book galore. He’d seen the hero triumphant against the enemy’s champion, and like any man of imagination, he’d obviously pictured himself in their place. He’d playacted the role of the conquering warrior, victorious against every force imaginable.

  He’d won over the beautiful princess, earned the keys to the kingdom and walked into his happily ever after.

  Well, there was no kingdom and certainly no princess, but at least one part of that fantasy had come to life before his very eyes. And Flynn was sorely tempted to revel in it. He had a dialogue on the tip of his tongue and everything.

  He might’ve even said it, if the damn elders hadn’t started with their clamour.

  “The champion is defeated!”

  “The champion was spared!”

  “No coloured would do so!”

  “We have acted in error! Siestemi punishes us for our foolishness!”

  Their voices echoed like foghorns within the arena, though most of what they were saying went over his head. Still, he listened, taking note of what sounded important all the while keeping an eye on the kneeling champion. It took them around half a minute before they calmed down, and then it was eerily quiet again. The champion still hadn’t moved in all that time, as if it were waiting on his command.

  He contemplated doing so before the sound of wood creaking stole away his attention. The four pillars around the arena had started to plunge into the ground like strange, fantastical elevators until the elders atop them were on the arena floor with him. They were hesitant to approach him for obvious reasons, and it was only when the curious one took the initiative to first step forwards that the others finally found their resolve.

  Together, they approached him in a small huddle of pasty-white faces. Up close, he found that they were smaller than the others he’d seen, though that might’ve just been a consequence of age.

  They inched forwards until they were stood near their champion, and then they bowed so deeply that they their upper bodies were nearly parallel with the ground. One of the elders almost stumbled forward, his balance overshooting before he caught himself.

  “Forgive us, oh wronged one, and accept our leal service hereafter.” exclaimed the four as one, their voices strained from the exertion of their obeisance.

  Flynn studied them. He wondered if they were trying to pull some kind of trick. No others of their kind were nearby, though he could sense them milling about within range of his Monster Sense but too far to do any harm. The elders and warrior themselves weren’t much of a threat, or at least, he felt that they weren’t. So, what then? Were they being genuine? It was hard to imagine the logic behind submitting themselves to a stranger, let alone one they’d captured and dragged to a gladiatorial contest, just because their champion was defeated. Maybe it was a cultural thing. It wasn’t like he hadn’t read of human equivalents, so the concept wasn’t unthinkable.

  He kept his tongue, thoughts abounding in his mind before he finally spoke again.

  "Stand up.”

  All five rose as one, though the warrior was surprisingly the slowest. It kept its gaze lowered, as if afraid to meet his eyes.

  “I want answers. Honest answers. Can you give me that?”

  “Of course, wronged one! We will do as you wish.”

  “My name’s Flynn not wronged one. Not coloured. Flynn.”

  “Of course, great and blinding Flynn. What is it that you wish to know from us?”

  He couldn’t help the small smile that threatened to overtake his lips. Great and Blinding Flynn, huh. It wasn’t bad as far as a title went. Certainly, better than the other title that it reminded him of from a campaign several months ago. His friends had stuck his character with the title of The Great Balding One, and that’d been the last time he’d made a hairless character.

  “The little chute through the mushroom.” began Flynn, his expression even once more. “That was your people’s doing?”

  A wave of sheepish worry crossed their faces, before they nodded as one. “It was, great Flynn. A thousand years of apology! We had mistaken your esteemed self for a coloured one and thus acted rashly.”

  “It was most foolish of us. Most foolish.”

  “We will gracefully accept whatever punishment you see fit!”

  “Uh, I’m not looking to punish anyone. Not yet anyway. No harm no foul and all that. Just, is our battle here over? Am I no longer your enemy?”

  “Of course! You are victorious, great Flynn! Thus, you are a friend of the people!”

  Funnily, Flynn actually believed the declaration. He wasn’t sure if it was because the little elder seemed so earnest, or if it was because of how easily he’d defeated their so-called champion, but he wasn’t in a very threatened or paranoid kind of mood. Was that arrogance? He’d said he wouldn’t underestimate them but...

  Maybe so. At least the diplomatic attempt had seemingly paid off. Maybe he might’ve had a shot at becoming a friend of the shitlings too if he’d tried a smidgen harder. Then again, probably not.

  “And about this coloured one thing? What exactly is it?”

  And was it something he needed to worry about once he was back up-top?

  The lead elder’s face immediately twisted with distaste. The little being looked like it might spit at the ground before it caught himself. Instead, it made do with a deep frown that cast its many wrinkles into deeper shadows.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “They are monsters, great Flynn!” it said through gritted teeth, its hands moving through the air in some kind of gesture that he figured might be something obscene. “Monsters beyond compare! All they know is to ravage! All they are is destruction incarnate! They do not follow Siestemi’s Law! They care not for culture! They are mindless and have troubled our people ever since we first stepped foot upon this world! They are verminous, poisonous, unthinking, unfe-”

  Flynn had to stop its shpiel before it burst a vein. He sighed.

  “So, they’re monsters?”

  “Yes, great Flynn! Monsters in every way one can imagine!”

  “And, uh, why’d you mistake me for one of them?”

  “Ah. Yes. That. A thousand apologies once again great Flynn. The cause of our mistake was due to... a lack of knowledge. We were warned that the only two-legged beings not of our own kind to intrude upon the forest would likely be a coloured invader, and, yes, you... uh... you do indeed walk on two feet, yes.”

  Flynn stared blankly at the creature. “Thanks, I’m really good at it.” he said sardonically. “So, two feet was the whole reason behind my abduction? Alright, if that's the truth then why didn’t your warriors realize that I wasn’t a coloured one when they saw me in person?”

  There was an almost sheepish embarrassment colouring the five, the warrior included, as they glanced amongst each other. Flynn figured from their bearings that their answer might well just annoy him more than the whole sequence of events that led to their meeting.

  “Well, to be true great Flynn, we do not exactly know what a coloured one looks like. We have a few descriptions in the holy texts, but, ah, you would have been our first encounter with one of their kind and, um, your eyes are very colourful after all, and your skin as well.”

  “Again, thanks, I grew them myself.” Flynn sucked in a deep breath before he exhaled heavily. That was a lot to take in for a sober teen. Like, talk about jumping the gun. And more so... “So, what you’re telling me is that this great enemy of your people, the ones you claim have attacked and harassed you for a long time... you don’t know what they look like?”

  “Yes, great Flynn.”

  Flynn blinked. That was crazily unbelievable. Were they just shit liars, or shit explainers? They hadn’t struck him as liars thus far, so was it the second then? “How is that possible?” he asked evenly.

  “It is because of the location of our tribe – the Azeithi. We live at the southernmost edges of the Great Domain, great Flynn, whilst the coloured ones come from the north. The northern domain tribes are fearsome warriors hardened by centuries of battle and they do not often allow any of the great enemy to slip past their formidable, blessed defences. On the rare occasion that the creatures do get past, the tribes of the middle domain are quick to annihilate the wretches. As such, we of the southern domain have not seen a coloured one for many, many generations.”

  Ah. It was a ‘The Wall’ kind of situation. The north endures the worst of the dangers whilst the south grows soft and drunk on peace and prosperity? Still, something about the explanation didn’t strike him as a whole answer.

  “I came from the south. Shouldn’t that have given you a clue?”

  “Yes, in hindsight we may have acted too rashly, great Flynn. We – we were simply terrified at the possibility that a coloured one had somehow wormed its way to the furthest reaches of our people’s domain. The insinuation of your presence meant much. In alarm, we erred.”

  “Okay, but if that was the case then why didn’t you try and question me after my capture? Like, wouldn’t you have wanted to know how I’d ended up south of your border?”

  “Question you, great Flynn?”

  “Yeah. For information.”

  “Great Flynn, the coloured ones do not speak. They are mindless monsters. Questioning one would earn us no knowledge save for the clarity of their growls in our minds.”

  Oh. Was that why the ones that’d captured him had looked so alarmed when he spoke?

  “Shouldn’t that have given you an idea that maybe I wasn’t a coloured one?”

  “Indeed, it should have. We... we were fearful. We believed you to be some strange new variant of coloured kind. Our histories spoke of such things taking our warriors by surprise. We wished to see you slain by our chosen champion in fair and glorious combat. It would have meant great esteem for our tribe to have slain a coloured one. Then your corpse would have been sent to the northern domain so that they may learn of your secrets.”

  Wow. That kind of brutal honesty was kind of refreshing. Not often you meet someone that just openly admits to wanting you dead and your body dissected. Then again, they had just tried to kill him. Still, he kind of liked it. Maybe.

  “What convinced you otherwise?”

  “Your mercy.” spoke the warrior softly for the first time since the end of the battle. All the elders nodded in agreement. “It is known. Coloured ones may at times be capable of ill-willed surprises, but mercy has never been one amongst them. Never. A coloured one shall never spare the life of the lawful people. Sooner will the land become the sky, and the sky become land than their kind learns of such virtue.”

  Well, that’d do it. Okay. Mercy had been a risk but one that’d paid off handsomely. Or, at least better than war with another race of weird monsters. Of course, the odds had basically been fifty-fifty whether they attempted peace or tried to slaughter him again, but he’d been happy to roll those odds, and he’d been rewarded thusly.

  “Alright. I guess I can accept your explanation. Let’s just chock this whole situation up to an extreme misunderstanding, 'kay?” he said with, in his own opinion, great beneficence.

  “Yes! Of course! A thousand gratitudes, great Flynn! We shall never forget this mercy! Indeed, once the new leadership council is assembled, I will see to it that enshrine your likeness into our texts to prevent such a grave mistake from happening ever again!”

  Oh? So, these old fogies weren’t the tribe’s leaders like he’d assumed? Well, that’s what he got for judging based off appearances. He met their offer with a warm smile and a gentle shake of his head. “Thanks, but I unfortunately won’t be around to provide a good look for the artist so that part’ll be up to you. I’d like to be shown the way back up top as soon as possible. Preferably a path that doesn’t need any kind of meat-chute this time.”

  His bag was still sitting up there after all, left behind during the capture attempt. That aside, as cozy as he’d gotten with the little fellows, he still didn’t want to linger long in their domain, surrounded by hundreds if not thousands of their kind at the mercy of their whims. Granted, if the champion was the best that they had, he could probably wipe them all out by his lonesome, but it was still a situation that he’d rather avoid.

  The elders seemed taken aback by his request, and the warrior especially. It stared at him with eyes full of great sadness, like a child being told that their favourite ice cream van had come and gone.

  “You wish to leave, great Flynn?” asked the four elders in perfect unison.

  “Yeah. I have a place I gotta be. If you could provide me with a map of the area before I go that’d be great too.” His mercy should’ve earned him that much at least.

  “I see. We shall request the map. Please give us a moment to prepare ourselves for travel, if you please.”

  “Travel? You don’t need to come with. I don’t wanna bother you. Just send word ahead if you can to have someone show me the way. Also, let them know that I’m not a murderous monster. It’d also be great if they knew that.”

  “But great Flynn, we must travel with you.”

  “What? Why?”

  It gave him an odd look, as if he were asking the stupidest question in the world. “We are your slaves, great Flynn. We must go where you go.”

  Flynn felt his heart skip a beat. His spit caught in his throat and coughed for a few seconds before he managed to gather his bearings. Quiet and full of surprise, he stared at the little beings. They stared back. He saw no sign of falsehood in their expressions. No give-away that they were just fucking with him, or that this was all part of some great scheme.

  They were being entirely, completely honest.

  “Okay. Uh. Say what now?”