Rise CHAPTER 8 - That was… Impressive

How did I never notice how destitute the pier is?

The area consisted of a loose collection of shacks with a single warehouse, which doubled as a fish processing plant. Jiran wanted to feel that the buildings were in fine shape. They had no holes in the walls or roofs.

His memories from Brandon stubbornly disagreed. Misshapen walls and rough discolored patches on the roof tiles led the mind toward thoughts of a typical slum in a small village.

Elder Boolek is usually in the warehouse or on one of the village’s two boats. If he’s out today, I’m screwed.

After crossing his fingers, Jiran moved in the direction of the largest building at the water's edge.

When he arrived at the warehouse, he breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Boolek inside.

https://imgur.com/4ekHaCt 

Jiran’s good mood evaporated after he took his first step into the building.

“What do you think you’re doing, worm-bait! Get your filthy, cursed body out of my warehouse!” The elder bellowed at him.

The high volume and rage-infused voice stopped Jiran in his tracks. Unused to being yelled at with such hate, Jiran’s body reacted on instinct as he scrambled the single step back to stand outside once more.

Elder Boolek, seeing Jiran leaving, turned back to his table full of fish guts. He resumed his work, not paying the boy another thought.

Gathering his courage over a couple of breaths, Jiran spoke loudly enough that he would be heard.

“Excuse me Elder Boolek I have a—”

Boolek, in a flash, crossed the distance between them. He was wider than he was tall, packed with rippling muscles and oozing hostility.

The man put his finger right in Jiran’s face and screamed.

“Not another word! I don’t want you here worm-bait. Nobody wants you here. Every family has lost children to the densoons and your denless face is a reminder of that.

“A reminder I. Don’t. Want. To. See! Now get lost before I feed you to the Shrelks.”

Before the elder could turn around a pulse of energy rippled out from Jiran. It smashed into Boolek but instead of blowing him away, the imposing man was brought to his knees as if a massive weight had slammed down onto his shoulders.

He only resisted for a second before falling the rest of the way, his face smashed into the floor.

Jiran was completely baffled. Looking around for the cause of the pressure he noticed the other three workers in the warehouse were, likewise, pressed into the floor and unable to move.

Looking over his shoulder he saw several other villagers around the pier in a similar predicament.

Only Jiran was left unscathed. He could feel the intense waves of power even as they ignored him completely.

The intense tingling coming from his hand finally caught his attention. Elder Boolek’s yelling and subsequent trip to the floor had distracted him from the sensations. Opening his clenched fist, Jiran saw the coin from the mysterious man still resting in his palm. It now gave off a faint golden glow.

Huh. That's impressive. I didn’t know it was possible to cram so much mana into such a tiny coin. My instincts were spot on. That guy is insanely powerful.

His control is impeccable too. The weight needed to hold grumpy old Schwarzenegger down is significantly higher than for the skinny dude in the corner. How would you even begin to design a spell that can affect each person individually without accidentally killing anyone?

Wow.

Jiran’s fangirling ended when the whisper of a familiar voice reached his ear.

“The message, boy. Do not forget your task.”

Snapping shut his gaping jaw, Jiran collected himself and looked down at the elder. He almost lost his composure again when he saw Boolek’s face. With bulging eyes and a wide mouth working in an attempt to speak, he looked just like the fish on his butchering table.

“Elder Boolek, you have been summoned to the lords’ manor with all haste.”

Pretty sure the current demonstration is all the convincing he’s going to need.

He then quickly bowed and dashed away from the scene.

Jiran couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he ran toward the path leading back to the village.

He noticed the coin no longer stuck to his palm, so he pocketed it as his thoughts ran wild.

That was easily the most absurd thing I’ve ever seen. Just how powerful is that guy? Will I be able to do something like that eventually? I feel like a schoolgirl with a crush!

Uncle Micah wasn’t joking when he said I need to become more powerful before joining the army. If I ran into someone like that trying to kill me, I wouldn’t stand a chance.

Jiran found a comfortable rock halfway up the slope and gazed out at the Murinth Ocean until he regained his calm. First Father had set and First Mother was soon to join him, leaving the sky awash in greens with small wisps of fading purple.

He hopped back to his feet with renewed energy and set off to find Micah with thoughts of a comfortable place to sleep dominating his desires.

Jiran started his search at the shop. He knew this time of day was usually spent preparing for tomorrow's deliveries.

Sure enough, Micah was busy cleaning out the empty barrels collected from the villagers throughout the day.

He steadily cleaned leftover bits of food and dirt from each barrel before cataloging them, then stacking them neatly near the door.

Jiran didn't hesitate to join him. He took up his usual place cleaning the debris out, while his uncle shifted to stacking and paperwork. They worked in comfortable silence, taking solace in the familiar activity.

His uncle spoke first after only briefly inspecting Jiran’s new scars.

“Good to have you back, Jiran,” He said no more as he held eye contact.

“It’s good to be back uncle, it’s been a… hard day. Before anything else though I should tell you about the noble that came by today.

“He had me direct all the elders to the manor. He said he had something to talk with you about too, but made it sound like he wanted you to come by after he was done with them.”

Micah scowled, deep in thought. Jiran gave him time to think, the numerous implications of a noble in their village were beyond Jiran’s understanding.

“Anything else?” His uncle asked him.

“He’s very powerful, far stronger than Skandor. He has a strange way of talking that gets into your head. When he talked to Niya and me, she couldn’t even respond.

“I don’t think he means any harm though. He infused this coin with mana that saved me from a beating by Elder Boolek.”

“You look like you have something else to say, out with it.”

“Could I sleep here tonight? I’m not sure I should go home for a while with everything that happened today.”

“Oh? So something did happen. Something to do with your mother, no doubt.”

“Yeah,” Jiran replied noncommittally.

“Yes, Jiran. You can stay here until I figure things out with your father. You have to understand that those denless scars aren't a simple matter,” He sighed deeply before continuing.

“It’s common to kill a child who fails the tiering or can’t survive the desnoons lest they turn feral and become a dangerous beast. Not a soul alive likes to talk about it, but that’s the truth.

“I saw enough of the truth in the army to know you don’t look to be in danger of going feral. But others won’t know that. They will only see your scars and assume the worst.

“Oh.” Jiran breathlessly responded while barely holding back tears at the clear concern and care written on his uncle's features.

Noticing Jiran’s emotional state, Micah wrapped his giant arms around the boy, crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay, Jiran. We’re going to figure things out, as a family. One day at a time. Alright?”

Jiran could only nod in agreement, not trusting his own voice. Micah helped him clear a space in the corner and set down an old beast hide for Jiran to sleep on.

“I’ll send Niya by shortly with some supper. Maybe you should try and get some sleep. You look dead on your feet.” With nothing more to say, Micah bade him goodnight and stepped out into the rapidly cooling air.

Micah’s Perspective

Micah trudged down the streets of their cozy little village which was about to change, hopefully for the better.

Hard to believe it’s been twenty seasons since the village had a name, three whole years without a magistrate to administer punishments upon us.

Micah took a moment to reminisce about their previous lord. He had been drafted for the unending war in the north and killed shortly after making it to the front line, losing the village its name and status.

This new lord will have nearly unilateral control over our lives, able to dispense justice as he sees fit.

There are Imperial laws that even a city magistrate should not break, but a remote village like ours will have almost no way of enforcing any such breaches.

With Jiran’s testimony that this man is much stronger than Skandor, the situation will be truly hopeless if he turns out to be a vile lordling.

Micah let out a sigh and prayed to the Fathers his fears were unfounded.

An unusual sight greeted him as the manor came into view. All four elders stood outside the gate of the largest building in the village. They gesticulated to each other while raised voices shouted in frustration. Micah noticed each held a slip of paper in their hands.

As he got close enough to overhear, the elders lowered their voices. Elder Mireg was the first to address him. She spoke as he bowed in greeting.

“Micah, I suppose you’ve been summoned as well? Best keep your expectations in check. I’ve not been treated so rudely in ages! Not that ones such as ourselves should expect a great lord to show us even the most basic of formalities,” she said the last bit with a sneer.

Elder Donnas, with his smooth voice and demeanor cut in before Mireg could make more of a scene.

“Now Mireg, we can hardly fault our new lord without understanding his circumstances. He took the time to write to each of us individually, after all. That does show he has the desire to treat us with some respect, even if it may be a bit unusual.

“It does us no good to alienate his lordship before we have time to get to know each other. Surely you can see the benefit in allowing him such a small impasse in etiquette.”

“Hmph, keep your ass-kissing to yourself, Donnas. I’ll not be treated so rudely and forget it. First impressions are the cornerstone of any relationship and if this lord wishes to forgo any sense of decency, then he can just stay shut up in his manor for all I care.”

With that Mireg stomped off into the deepening darkness.

Micah, not wishing to be caught up in any more drama bid the remaining elders a goodnight and moved toward the front door of the manor.

Before he could even knock, the front door swung open. A tall, slim young man, with bright glowing golden eyes, and a perfectly trimmed black mustache, stood in the entry.

Without a word of greeting, the man crooked a finger, beckoning Micah inside.

Confused, but with no desire to make a scene or upset their new lord, Micah followed him into the mansion. Micah was led to a small room on the first floor with two comfortable couches facing each other.

The golden-eyed man promptly took a seat and motioned Micah to occupy the opposing couch. A table stood between them with a letter on it. The man motioned toward the letter, his invitation clear.

“Good evening Micah of Sommersville. My name is Feylon Samris. As you have no doubt surmised, I will henceforth be the presiding magistrate of this province. From this day, until the day of my death, to be known as the town of Feylon.

“Effective immediately I will be expanding your duties to include package delivery from Feylon to the five nearest towns as well as the city of Femiir. Your pay will be at the imperial standard, I expect a minimum of three consignments per season. You may procure staff with the expectation that regardless of actual delivery needs, your pay will reflect this minimum.

“Please vocalize any questions or concerns you may have and I shall follow up with you tomorrow. Your first season's pay shall be provided at that time, as well as a signing bonus for two additional personnel.

“Under the Emperors’ guidance, may we all thrive.”

https://imgur.com/LedXfVP

Micah was stunned. The imperial standard implied he would be paid as if he were a courier for one of the great imperial families or their subsidiaries. This was not an opportunity one could find no matter how far or wide they searched. He folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

“Do you have anything you need delivered immediately, my grace? I would like two days to coordinate with the rest of the townspeople and hire guards.”

Samris nodded but remained silent.

“By your leave then, My Lord,'' Micah said as he stood and bowed. When he came up from his bow, Samris had another letter held out to him.

After unfolding and reading the short letter, sweat broke out across Micah’s entire body.

“Tell me everything about your nephew, Jiran.”