Brandon must have also lived by the ocean. The first impression Jiran felt from Brandon’s memories was of how destitute the pier looked.

The area consisted of a loose collection of shacks with a single warehouse which doubled as a fish processing plant. Jiran felt the buildings were in fine shape with no holes in the walls or roofs. His memories from Brandon stubbornly disagreed.

Not willing to risk excruciating pain, Jiran chose to let the thought go without searching Brandon’s memories for any further details.

Elder Boolek could usually be found in the warehouse or out on one of the village's two fishing boats. When Jiran arrived at the warehouse he was relieved to see Boolek inside. Waiting for the elder to come in from fishing could have taken the rest of the day.

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 himself 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 Den-less 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 into his shoulders pressing him down.

He only lasted a second before falling the rest of the way, his face smashing 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 unable to move.

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

Only Jiran was left completely unscathed by the waves of power coming from his own body.

The tingling coming from his hand finally caught his attention, the intense situation having masked the slight feeling in his palm. Opening his clenched fist, Jiran saw the coin from the mysterious man still resting in his palm. It now gave off a faint soothing light.

Huh. That's impressive. How did he manage to cram so much mana into this tiny coin? Double glad I gave him the royal treatment, he is clearly not someone to mess with.

His control is impeccable, the weight needed to hold Schwarzenegger here 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 like this without killing anyone? Wow.

Jiran’s moment of fan-girling 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. Eyes bulging and mouth working in an attempt to speak, he looked just like the fish on his butchering table.

As quickly as he could Jiran delivered his message to the prone man. “Elder Boolek, you have been summoned to the lords’ manor with all haste”

He then quickly bowed to exactly the requirement for an elder and dashed away from the scene.

Jiran couldn’t help but let out a giggle as he dashed toward the path leading back to the village. The coin no longer stuck to his palm, Jiran pocketed it as his thoughts ran wild.

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

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 his Uncle. Thoughts of a comfortable place to sleep dominated his desires.

Jiran started his search at the shop. He knew this time of day was usually spent preparing for tomorrow's deliveries. Micah was busy cleaning out the empty barrels, which he had spent the afternoon collecting from around the village.

He steadily cleaned left over 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, while his uncle shifted to stacking and paperwork. Both worked in comfortable silence, taking solace in the familiar activity. Their smooth workflow remained uninterrupted until the task was complete.

His uncle spoke first “Good to have you back, Jiran.”

He said no more as he held eye contact, after only briefly inspecting Jiran’s new appearance.

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“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 far 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 I, she couldn’t even respond. I don’t think he means any harm though, he gave me this coin with some kind of mana in it that saved me from Elder Boolek.”

Jiran flashed the coin to Micah, who’s eyes went wide with shock at seeing the silver metal. He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone else had noticed, then snatched the coin from Jiran’s hand.

After shutting the shop door Micah went to a far corner and gently kicked a section of the wall, which came loose and revealed a small compartment. Reaching in, his uncle grabbed a tiny sack, slipped the valuable coin inside, then handed the sack to Jiran.

“I didn’t plan on showing you this for a while. I’ve been putting two percent of our profits aside for when you leave the village in two cycles. Do not under any circumstances show that coin to anyone, it's far more valuable than you know. Did anyone else see it?”

“Just Elder Mireg.”

“Good, that old bat is many things, but she’s no thief.” Micah held out his hand which prompted Jiran to return the small pouch of coins, which promptly disappeared back into the secret cubby.

“Anything else I should know about before meeting this noble?”

“I don’t think so uncle, but, 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.” Came Jiran’s noncommittal reply.

“Yes Jiran, you can stay here as long as you want. Do you need me to talk to your father? I’m sure whatever the issue is, the three of us can work it out together.”

“I’d like that, Uncle Micah.” Jiran replied, barely holding in his tears at the clear concern and care written on the man'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 with his delicate and emotional state. 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 perspective

Micah trudged down the streets of their cozy little village which was about to change, hopefully for the better. There had not been a resident at the lords’ manor for over three full years. Nearly twenty seasons since their village had a name.

Their previous lord had been drafted for a war in the north and killed before even making it to the front line. Losing the village its name and status.

The new lord would have nearly unilateral control over their lives, able to dispense justice as they saw fit. There were Imperial laws which even a city magistrate could not break without consequence. A remote village like theirs would have almost no way of enforcing any such breaches.

With Jiran’s testimony that this man was much stronger than Skandor, the situation would be truly hopeless if he was just another 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 sight. Four elders stood outside the gate of the largest building in the village. They gesticulated to each other, voices raised, frustration colored their features. Each held a slip of paper in their hands.

As Micah got close enough to overhear the elders lowered their voices. Elder Mireg was the first to address him, she spoke as he bowed to them 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 of evening without another look in their direction.

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 beckoned Micah inside, then turned and walked into the manor.

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 was clear. Not wanting to waste any more time than necessary Micah began to read.

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.

Micah was shocked, 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 up 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.”

Micah received a nod in return, which he assumed meant his question had been heard and would be answered tomorrow.

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

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

Tell me everything about your nephew, Jiran.