The disorganized rows of tents opened into a large central area. A few men and women clustered around a communal fire pit. Nearby, a trough of dirty water sat in the open. Dust and debris fell from the air, continually being added to the cesspit.

Jiran was disgusted by the idea of drinking water from that sump. He swore to figure out a way to pull moisture from the air. He would not be subjecting himself to all of the bacteria and diseases infesting the tepid water.

A short distance from the fire pit stood a blue-metal cage. Not tall enough for a grown man to stand in, no doubt designed that way on purpose. There was just enough space for twenty or so adults to sit shoulder to shoulder.

In the cage there were two men, who looked to have been beaten, laying on the ground. Neither appeared conscious. In the far corner away from the men sat three boys around Jiran’s age.

They had the nicest clothes he had seen so far in the camp. Even caked in grime, with tears from recent abuse, it was clear their outfits were of the finest quality. Much nicer than Jiran’s threads, which he had painstakingly kept in good repair.

His guide led him to the cage, opened it, and roughly shoved Jiran inside. Without a single word of parting, he then returned in the direction they had come from.

Jiran's entire world view seemed to collapse around him as his reality settled upon his shoulders.

He stood awkwardly in the middle of the cage. Two men were lying unconscious on the ground to one side and he quickly decided he didn't want anything to do with them. He had no idea what was wrong with them or why they had been locked in the cage.

They could be murderers for all I know. Best not to interact with them until I know more.

He assumed he could figure out a way to use shaping to heal them, especially if the kids knew how they'd been hurt. He hadn't recovered all of his mana yet and wanted to double-check his injuries first.

He made his way to the only unoccupied corner of the cage and tried to settle into a meditative position.

Jiran tried to communicate with his mana but the peace of mind needed escaped him repeatedly. The failure to connect released all the negative emotions he had been suppressing, causing his body to shake uncontrollably. His breath came in ragged gasps as he hyperventilated.

The pain from his jerky ungoverned movements helped to center his wild emotional state. Eventually he came back to his senses, the panic attack having run its course.

When he reached out once more, his mana eagerly responded.

I need to finish healing myself then finish regenerating my mana, one crisis at a time Jiran, you can do this.

His previous healing had only taken care of the most immediate threats. He could acutely feel several bruises and damaged muscles that he rapidly healed with a strongly imaged shaping.

Jiran sighed in relief as the pains and aches fled from his sore body

He had another momentary panic when he failed to detect any ambient mana inside the cage. His fears were short lived as a Densoon wave crashed upon the camp, the wild energies easily penetrating the cage and brushing against his skin.

With his eyes closed and his focus directed inward, Jiran was caught completely by surprise when a voice from directly in front of him spoke.

“How are you doing that?”

The child spoke softly and with no malice. Even so, Jiran’s shock at opening his eyes to find a face not ten centimeters from his own was enough to cause him to react instinctively. Before he could think he punched the boy in the nose.

The kid reeled back from the blow, falling on his ass. The offender’s nose began to leak the smallest trickle of blood.

Jiran was instantly assaulted with guilt.

Ah crap, I must be stressed out of my mind if my first reaction to someone talking to me is to punch them. I need to apolog–

Jiran’s thoughts were cut off as his brain finally caught up with the situation enough to get a good look at the boy.

He was stunning. Long eyelashes framed eyes that were a bright and deep blue. Only brandon's memories of contacts that made the eyes shine an unnatural color could compare.

Soft pale skin covered a perfectly shaped bone structure. Bruises covered his face and blue-black circles hung below his eyes. Even the butchered bright blond hair couldn't mar his otherwise perfect features. The drop of blood that ran down his face was like a single rose in the desert.

Unable to keep surprise from his voice, Jiran spoke to his fallen peer.

“What are you doing, why would you surprise me like that?”

“You fiend!” Came a blood-curdling screech from the direction of the other two boys.

Jiran glanced their way to see both boys running in his direction. The one who had yelled was heading directly toward him, rage filled his eyes.

He was built similarly to Jiran, skinny, but well-muscled. Brown hair and brown eyes with a facial structure that reminded Jiran of Samris.

Stolen story; please report.

The other boy was similar to their fallen comrade, with dirty blonde hair and fine facial features. That's where the similarities ended as this child was huge for their age. He was a head taller than Jiran and twice as wide. His scowl mixed perfectly with the two scars that criss crossed his left cheek and eye.

The outraged smaller noble reared his fist back, in what could have been a contender for the most choreographed punch in history. Jiran barely had to move his head as the fist flew by.

Stepping past the now off-balanced boy, Jiran gently shoved him toward the other two. Unable to regain his footing in time, he collided with his companions.

The resulting tangle of limbs and curses broke the dam on Jiran's overstretched emotional state. He laughed harder than he could ever remember laughing.

Tears fell from his eyes as the enraged noble tried to stand, but tripped over the larger boy as he attempted to roll out of the jumble of flailing limbs.

By the time all three of them, blushing furiously, got to their feet, Jiran was spent. He sighed in relief from the catharsis. His wound-tight muscles loosened for the first time since he was dropped into the woods on his own.

"Apologize this instant, you Graymin pawn!" The obnoxious noble yelled at him.

Jiran was unfazed by his blustering. Not rising to the bait, he stared calmly at the noble.

Several seconds passed in tense silence before the big boy took a step toward him. Jiran's piercing green eyes bore into the boy, daring him to make a move.

Before he could take a second step, the deviously pretty boy spoke again.

"I'm sorry for interrupting you, I was just curious. I didn't mean to startle you." His voice was so soft and ephemeral that it felt like Jiran’s ears were being massaged.

A shiver ran down his spine and goosebumps ran up his arms at the intrusive sound. Jiran grit his teeth, refusing to look at the disgusting boy. Instead he kept his eyes locked on the big guy.

"I don't want to hear a word out of your mouth, pretty boy." Jiran spoke with strength and confidence, doing his best to keep the jealousy out of his tone.

All three of them instantly turned scarlet. Jiran, unused to interacting with others, was oblivious to his faux pas.

The four children continued to look at each other, none having the courage to be next to speak.

Have I seriously gotten so rusty at talking to people my age? The maids never talked to me because of my scars. The other kids in town hated me for living in the manor.

The only one I talk to is Niya. Usually, she's just asking me a thousand questions without me ever having a chance to respond.

I should at least try to salvage the situation.

"You three haven't even introduced yourselves. If you haven't the decency to start a conversation off right, then please leave me be."

That's the best they're going to get, I would honestly prefer if they left me alone. Especially the creepy one!

I just want to get out of here. Babysitting is not on my to-do list.

Hoping they would leave him be, Jiran felt his annoyance rise as the snotty noble spoke up again.

"You have the honor of speaking with Dommell Crueshaunt, son of Duke Neselex Creushaunt. Eighth in line for the Imperial seat of Havelsford."

He's so cringe! He must have rehearsed that line in the mirror a thousand times. His head is even tilted back so he can look down his nose at me. Wow, what a tool.

"Pleasure to meet you, Dommell Croissant. I'm Jiran."

Jiran spoke with a flat tone, devoid of emotion. Whatever response Dommel had been expecting, that had not been it. His displeasure was apparent as his face contorted with rage.

"It's Creushaunt, you uneducated peasant! That's Kruw-shaunt, not croissant."

Jiran was beginning to think his standard volume level was set to screech. In an attempt to shift the speaker to anyone else, Jiran swiveled his gaze to the only other person present he was willing to look at.

The boy's blush deepened again as he mumbled, "Cameron Amyntas."

Why is he blushing?

"Cameron Amyntas, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance. My name is Jiran"

Cameron failed to keep eye contact, looking shyly down at Jiran's feet.

He seems nice, of the three, he's probably the only one I'll be able to get along with. I'm supposed to say something nice to make friends, right?

"I like your scars Cameron," Once again Jiran's words provoked a response from all three children.

Cameron looked horrified and embarrassed in equal measure.

Aww even his ears are blushing? What a big softie.

Dommell's mouth fell open in shock, Jiran didn't even try to piece together whatever nonsense he was thinking.

He pointedly ignored the last boy, not bothering to glance in their direction.

With the relevant introductions complete, Jiran sat and resume his meditative posture.

With how badly the introductions had gone, he didn't think there was any reason to attempt any further salvage operations on their impressions of him.

After sitting and closing his eyes once more Jiran's hopes of being left in peace vanished once again as Dommell spoke.

"You truly are the rudest, most barbaric imbecile I've ever met. How dare you ignore us after insulting me time and again. You haven't even apologized to Oliver. I swear I'll have my father execute you once we are rescued."

"Dommell you will do no such thing. If you even think about it I'll never speak to you again!"

Once more Oliver's voice drilled into Jiran's brain. He winced, doing his best to ignore the troublesome trio.

"I'm terribly sorry about all this, we shan't bother you any longer."

Jiran heard a set of soft footfalls receding from his corner of the cage. Soon followed by a second set of heavier thuds.

Dommell's heavy angered breathing let Jiran know the boy was still standing there glaring at him. Likely thinking about sucker-punching him while his eyes were closed.

Loud stomping footfalls returned, quickly followed by Dommell's screeching. "Ow ow ow! Let go of my ear."

After Dommell was dragged away, and Jiran was finally left in peace, he took some time to calm down before resuming his mana gathering.

This could get really boring depending on how long the bandits leave me here. I wish I had the cube, that would be entertaining at least.

I still haven't had anything to drink today. There is no way I'm drinking out of that trough even if they offer it. Oh, I can just make some water. How have I never thought of that?

Taking a look around to make sure no guards were watching, Jiran began testing his newest shaping.

Cupping his palms together, he pictured the water molecules in his body. Having no trouble remembering the composition of the abundant resource, he quickly grasped the mental image and pushed mana through his hands.

The results were instant, a small pool of water bubbled up, trapped by his clasped hands. Jiran drank, happy with his success. The long hours of frustrating practice controlling his mana output had once again born fruit.

Repeating the process until he was no longer thirsty Jiran resumed his inner thoughts.

He was completely oblivious to the looks of shock on his neighbors' faces.