Lonnek dipped his head in despair. “He’s sending Soralees? You know he sometimes screeches in my ear just to torment me, right?”

  Welsh sighed and rolled his eyes. “Relax. He’ll do nothing of the sort while I’m around.”

  Welsh looked around his quarters. His cabin was modest and was mostly bare apart from a bed and a small wooden table, but it was a castle compared to the meager living quarters most lessers called home.

  This had been the case growing up. More often than not, Welsh and his mother slept in random rooms found throughout the tunnels that ran below camp Keldarn. The tunnels themselves weren’t exactly safe, but they were secluded and isolated from the Rotundran soldiers who would harass them. Additionally, the tunnels were home to large beetles that could sometimes be found rummaging about: perfect for a bug-loving reptile.

  This was Welsh’s life until his mother became sick and died. Her death forced Welsh from the tunnels and into the camp where he had to learn how to fight.

  He had learned well.

  Lonnek inhaled deeply and sighed, his chubby cheeks shaking as he exhaled, “Did the Overseer say anything else about the expedition? Like how many trees we are expected to harvest?”

  Welsh, seeing the perfect opportunity to mess with his friend, hung his head in shame. “Yeah,” he said. “He did, unfortunately.. Listen, Lonnek, I’m sorry I got you involved in this.”

  He could see the look of terror building in Lonnek’s eyes as he seemingly shrunk back against the wall.

  Welsh continued, “…He has asked us to harvest thirty deadrot trunks.”

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  Lonnek exploded, “Thirty!?! That will take forever!” He wheezed as he spoke. “The Korvis will find us for sure!”

  Welsh laughed, “Relax. We are only harvesting one.”

  Lonnek reached up, placing his tiny hands against his face. “Oh, good.” He was relieved but confused. “…But only one? They’re sending two elites and a host of slaves to harvest only one tree?”

  Welsh nodded, “Trust me. I’m just as confused as you are.”

  Lonnek stood from the corner of the room, shook violently as if he were trying to dry off, and walked over to the door, “Should I gather the slaves at first light?” He asked.

  Welsh shook his head, “No,” he replied curtly, “Soralees will need to be involved. Just wait for us at the barracks.”

  Lonnek turned slowly toward the door with a look that suggested he had forgotten that Soralees would be accompanying them. He then walked out the door and into the night.

  Silence engulfed the room. It was a sound Welsh was used to. He looked around to his meager surroundings. Aside from his bed and a small table in the center of the room, only a few empty cupboards, shelves, and cabinets took up any space.

  Most Rotundran soldiers cared little for material possessions. Some collected trinkets, and a few had even started wearing clothes, but it was far from the norm. Many saw clothing, especially armor, as a form of weakness— if you’re hide wasn’t strong enough, you didn’t deserve to win a fight.

  However, the cabins and other living quarters found throughout the camps weren’t always this bare. At one point, a typically “house” would have had a variety of electronic devices found throughout, though no one alive today really knew what they had been used for. The Four Kings had deemed these devices a threat to the empire, calling them “detrimental” to Rotundran advancement. As a result, they were rounded up and destroyed.

  This happened before Welsh’s time, but nonetheless, the inhabitants remembered. Because of this, those who did have an interest in items- trinkets, mementos, heirlooms, etc., often kept them hidden out of fear of losing them.

  Welsh was no different. He stood from his chair and walked across the room to an old cabinet. It was old, with two doors and intricately carved wooden knobs. He pulled open the right door then slid out a board that served as the bottom revealing a small hidden compartment that he had carved out himself. Inside was Welsh’s only and most prized possession: an ornament handed down to him from his mother.

  The ornament was only a couple of inches long and was, oddly enough, in the shape of a human. It was silver and covered in a dingy tarnish. The human depicted had long hair that fell in waves across its shoulders and it wore a long flowing gown that stopped at the ankles, revealing only its feet. Additionally, it had large, feather-covered wings that spread out gloriously from its back.

  Most impressive of all though, was a small, marble-size gem held in the human’s hands which were cupped out in front of it. This gem glowed bright purple and had random waves of white that would streak and swirl within it.

  Welsh lifted it from the cabinet, and for a moment, he could almost hear his mother’s voice, see her kind eyes watching over him. He ran a claw gently over the surface. It was a practice he did every night before drifting off to sleep. Tomorrow would be difficult.

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