Rise CHAPTER 9 - I Hope He’s Not A Peedoofile (Patreon)

Jiran awoke with a start as Micah entered the shop. First Father’s light had not yet graced the sky with its presence.

Jiran noticed the dinner Niyah must have brought him the previous night sitting on a wooden plate beside him.

Without hesitation, he dug into the salted meat and vegetables. He watched Micah make his way to the four lamps spread throughout the shop, lighting each one and bringing a flickering glow to the quiet room.

Jiran felt the density from his meal rapidly drain into his injury, causing him to grimace in annoyance.

"Good morning, Jiran." Micah’s smile was the one you gave a child before you told them the bad news.

"Good morning, Uncle. How did it go last night? Oh, and thank you for the meal and for letting me sleep here."

"Well, we're going to need to get this all out eventually, I might as well get on with it."

"That man is our new lord. His name is Feylon Samris. When you check your status, you’ll see the name change.

“He gave me a lot of new work. I'll be traveling frequently over the coming seasons. Niya will be taking over the shop while I'm gone."

"Does that mean you don't need my help here anymore?" Jiran failed to keep the disappointment from his voice.

"Nothing like that, Jiran. Let me finish.

“Lord Samris needs staff for his manor. He's chosen to hire you. He did not inform me of the duties he's expecting from you, but I feel he has good intentions where you're concerned, so try not to be nervous.

“You need to understand, Lord Samris is no ordinary noble."

Micah looked over his shoulders conspiratorially before continuing in a whisper. "I believe he may be related to one of the emperors."

After letting that bomb drop, Micah leaned back and gave Jiran a few moments to let all the new information sink in.

"Could I refuse? Should I refuse?" Jiran wondered aloud.

"You can try, Jiran. I would at least hear what he has to say first. This could be a great opportunity for you. Think it over. Now, tell me what happened during your tiering?" Micah’s expression turned deadly serious after asking.

Jiran cringed and took a deep breath to collect his thoughts.

"During the ritual, something went wrong. Halfway through, all the mana was sucked out of my body and I passed out. I woke up nearly dead.

But I figured out how to fix myself. It's just a really slow process,” He added quickly, not wanting Micah to get the wrong idea.

Jiran’s breathing hitched, his heart rate accelerated, and his palms grew sweaty at the memories of his parents. Afraid that if he didn't talk about it now, he might never find the courage, his next words came out in a rush.

"I fell asleep when Dad got home, and when I woke up the next morning, Mom was there with a knife. She was ready to kill me. Dad stopped her though. Then they left for work.

“I was able to recover enough to move after that. Then some priests came with Mom right as I was running away, but they didn't see me."

With his story out Jiran flopped against the wall like a wet noodle. He sat with his eyes closed and palms resting against his forehead until his breathing and heart came back under control.

Curious as to why Micah had been so silent, Jiran snuck a peak at the huge man.

Micah was livid.

Jiran remembered how upset Micah was the time a full barrel had fallen from their cart and spilled onto the street. That incident had only elicited a curse of annoyance. His current reaction was on an entirely different level.

Fury oozed off the man, his brow was furrowed and his teeth clenched in a snarl of hate. Jiran would have soiled himself if the huge man’s animosity had been leveled at him.

Micah took deep breaths and clenched his fists over and over as he paced back and forth inside the shop.

Finally, he gathered himself enough to speak.

"I see." Was all he said before grabbing his lantern and heading toward the door.

"You stay here for now, Jiran. I'll be back," then he opened the heavy door and walked into the rapidly brightening morning.

Hot damn that man is so cool. He actually said ‘I’ll be back.’ What a BAMF.

Jiran was surprised when tears began to trickle down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes furiously while trying to understand the rampaging emotions coursing through his chest.

Uncle is here for me. He cares about me. I’m not alone.

Thanks, Micah, love you too.

A short time later, Jiran got up to begin his usual daily tasks in the shop. However just as he began to move, a knock came at the door. The last sight Jiran expected to see when he opened the door was the golden eyes of Lord Feylon.

Frozen in shock, he could only stare up at the handsome man.

The awkward silence between them was shattered when Lord Feylon spoke in his brain-warping whisper.

“We will have to work on your manners, if this is how you greet a guest first thing in the morning.”

Jiran felt his face burn with embarrassment as he hastily bowed to the man.

“My apologies, Lord Feylon!” Jiran croaked.

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“Please come in, My Lord,” he stammered, trying to get his voice back under control.

“Take a moment to calm yourself, Jiran.” Lord Feylon spoke as he entered the shop.

“This is precisely why nobility announce themselves prior to a visit. It does not do to shock one’s constituents unduly,” he announced by rote in a strange accent as if he were speaking the memorized words of another.

“Please rise, Jiran. I hardly wish to have a conversation with the top of your head.” Jiran sighed in resignation before standing tall.

If I’m not going to be punished for my mistake, then it hardly makes sense to keep being so flustered.

Lord Feylon was younger than Jiran thought. He appeared around twenty-five by Earth standards.

So he’s around twenty-four seasons old, around four Madra years.

Light tan skin was framed by immaculately trimmed close-cropped black hair and mustache. His most prominent feature was the unsettling golden eyes that would make him impossible to miss in any crowd.

What surprised Jiran the most however was the relaxed expression of mirth on his face.

Why does he look so happy to see me? Don’t tell me he’s into kids?!

Please don’t be into that, please don’t be into that!

“There we are, much better now, young Jiran,” He lightly cleared his throat before continuing.

“Now, as your uncle Micah no doubt disclosed, I wish to hire you to work at my manor. Your duties will remain much the same, deliveries and shopping in town on my behalf.

“This offer includes room and board as an expectation. I hardly desire to track you down every time I have a request. Your pay will be at the imperial standard for a squire, to be received upon your coming of age. Are these terms acceptable?”

I don’t have to worry about where I’m going to be sleeping? A comfortable bed and good meals? Yeah, sign me up!

Imperial standard, how much is that?

Wait, more importantly, why me?

Jiran went to bow again but a firm hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“None of that now, just speak your mind, child.”

“Yes, My Lord. I have two questions before accepting; What is the imperial standard for a squire, and why me?”

“Excellent questions. It will never behoove you to enter into a contract without fully understanding the ramifications. Any fool who does not question their servitude will find themselves forevermore bound.” He once again spoke as if reciting someone else's words.

"Your pay will include fully covered living expenses as well as ten gold per season. The far more important question is not so simply answered.

“To be blunt, Jiran, you are Unique. I intend to study your circumstances. Part of your duties will involve answering questions and being subject to non-invasive tests."

Jiran had barely heard the second answer.

Ten gold per season! That's more than the entire village makes.

Oh, wait, what was that about tests? Non-invasive at least, so he's not going to cut me up and study me under a microscope at least.

But once he gets his answers, will he cut me up and bury me in the yard?

"If I may, My Lord, I do have one final question," With a nod from Samris, Jiran continued.

"I don't know anything about being a squire. Are there any oaths I have to take? Or any guarantees of service for a set amount of time?"

Samris smiled at him like a proud older brother.

"Very astute, young Jiran. To not be blinded by greed and see the potential dangers is unexpected for a child of your age.

“Worry not, your service and safety are guaranteed until you come of age after your third birthing celebration. This I swear on Emperor Dominus’s name.

A subtle electrical charge in the air caused Jiran’s hair to rise on end as Samris swore under the emperor’s name.

What the fuck was that? Did the emperor just hear that from thousands of kilometers away?!

“As for any oaths, I will not require them from you at this time. Perhaps, if you chose, you may return to my service after your term in the Imperial Army."

"Then, I gladly accept, My Lord! I will do my best to not disappoint you." Jiran bowed deeply.

"Excellent, please gather your things and head to the manor. There are several rooms on the first floor. Choose one that suits you then await my return.”

"Yes, My Lord" Jiran responded before hastily cleaning up the area he had slept in. He then grabbed his few belongings and headed to the manor at the edge of town.

The two-story building was nothing like the rest of the town. Along the perimeter of the mansion was a sturdy rock wall with a stone gate. The walls of the three-story mansion were made of what looked like a mix of marble and plaster, which gave the building a bright-white regal presence.

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Upon entering, Jiran realized the mana-infused walls of the building blocked all sound from the outside world. Not hearing the birds and insects was disconcerting and the entire building smelled musty so he began opening every window he came across.

He took his time exploring the sparsely furnished first floor with its hard-tiled floors and white walls before picking out a room furthest from the stairs and kitchen. He liked the large glass window in the room giving him a great view of the fields leading to the nearby forest.

He gasped in shock when he opened a pair of large double-doors that led to an expansive library stocked with books.

Before he could dive into the myriad of books, he heard the sounds of people talking through one of the open windows. He headed in the direction of the voices to find five girls his age and an older woman he recognized from the market.

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"Good morning," He waved in their direction.

They all stopped talking at once and looked his way with wary expressions. The woman didn't take long to respond.

"Good morning, Jiran. Did you come to make a delivery? Is the Lord inside?"

Jiran felt happy immediately due to her pleasant tone and gentle smile.

I wonder why she’s not scared of me. The girls certainly are.

"No ma'am I was hired to work here as a squire. Do you need help carrying all those supplies inside?" While he talked Jiran moved to help them with their belongings that had been piled into a cart.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you, Jiran.”

“My name is Sharaal. My family collects eggs from the ridges in the cove,” The reminder of her name was met with a polite smile.

“Thank you for the help. We were instructed to bring a load of foodstuffs next. Please excuse us,” The girls were eager to be away from Jiran while Sharaal pulled the cart.

Jiran waved then found a spot behind the garden to sit and think.

I feel like a completely different person with these memories floating around in my skull. I have no idea what to do about it though. Does it even matter? If there’s something I don’t like about myself I’ll just change it one day at a time!

What I should really be concerned with is these stats I see every time I blink. The empire has no real technology, yet I have an automatically updating status screen printed onto the inside of my eyelids. There is so much I don’t understand about mana. There must be a connection there.

I wonder if there have been any changes to my status since yesterday.

NAME   Jiran of Feylon

RACE   Human

AGE   7

WEIGHT  25.59 kg

STATUS  Mild brain damage

TIER   1

GROWTH  0.06%

MANA   0.00

CONCENTRATION 1

STRENGTH  10

AGILITY  10

ENDURANCE  10

DURABILITY  10

WISDOM  10

INTELLIGENCE 10

SKILLS  MOLDING lvl 0

TECHNIQUES N/A

OTHER  UNIQUE - Fo$%si%^(

New name, cool. Don’t want to think about that status, moving on!

Minor change in growth. So my body is absorbing a little density from the meals I’m eating, but certainly not much.

I think I prefer the old error status. Is this confirmation of what Samris was saying? That I’m Unique somehow? What does that mean? Supposedly only things recognized by ‘the voice of Madra’ show up on your status, so whatever that is, it must be important.

Not much I can do without figuring out my mana problem. Maybe Samris knows. He seemed to have at least some knowledge about my condition.

I don't think I want to tell him about my memories though. Certainly not until I know he can be trusted. He's a weird dude, with his whispering and uptight manner. Maybe that's just a noble thing?

What else do I need to work on? Some general knowledge about magic would be awesome, thinking about the things I've seen, it's almost like mana can override reality, but there are obviously a lot of limitations.

I wonder if Samris will let me read all the books in that library. I hope so, I have so many questions.

Ahh, I'm so excited to start experimenting! I definitely need to prioritize getting my mana back. I want to try out Molding so bad!

No reason I can’t start right away.

Jiran spent the rest of his free time slowly breathing in and taking control of the ambient density. He found converting it to mana became easier with practice. However, holding that mana for more than a few seconds before it was swallowed remained an elusive dream.

When the girls returned, Jiran reluctantly stopped his practice to help them unload the food and cleaning supplies. Sharaal’s demanding shouts as they stocked the cellar reminded Jiran of a mother hen clucking after its chicks.

She prepared a late breakfast and after eating Samris finally returned. All seven of them lined up in the foyer, under Sharaal's guidance. When Samris entered the room they bowed and spoke in unison.

"Welcome home, Master," Jiran cringed at their terrible coordination.

Samris showed no signs he noticed or even cared. He simply walked by them and up the stairs. He beckoned for Jiran to follow him and they ascended together in silence.

Samris led him to a room at the back of the manor. It was some kind of office with a large dark wooden desk and several chairs. Jiran noted how much nicer the furniture was on the second floor, the rugs were thicker, and the walls even had pleasant paintings of alien scenery.

Samris motioned Jiran to a plush chair while he took out a wooden case.

He pulled out a foot-long, thin paintbrush from the case and then circled the room drawing sharp intersecting lines on the walls in a complicated pattern that Jiran didn't recognize.

A short time passed before Samris looked over his work, nodded in satisfaction, and then stored his brush in the desk that took up half the room. With a snap of his fingers, a wave of mana washed out from him. Upon reaching the walls, all the markings he had painted came to life with a soft, pulsing, green glow.

"There, now we may begin," said the new master of Jiran’s destiny.