Dinner that night was a far larger affair than Jeb had been expecting. In retrospect, though, it made sense. His family had always taken the chance to celebrate, and his return was apparently a reason. Jeb understood that, objectively speaking, it was somewhat exciting that their kidnapped child had returned. It just didn’t feel that major to him.
As dinner finished, he helped clean up and reset the kitchen for the morning. Jeb was washing the table when he felt a hand grasp his shoulder.
“Jeb,” his grandfather said, “now that you have had some time to view the wider world, I think that it might be best for you to hear a little more of the family’s history.”
Jeb looked up from his washing, noting that many of his aunts and uncles had returned to the kitchen.
“Do you know how you are related to me?” his Aunt Esther asked.
Jeb shook his head. He had never really thought about it, but the exact blood ties that bound each member of his family had never come up before.
“The two of us are not related by blood,” she said. “The same is true for most of your extended family. What binds us together is not a shared parentage, but choices we have made.”
She gestured at his grandfather, who took the cue and began to speak.
“As you know, I am your father’s father,” his grandfather said, instantly quashing the fear that had started to rise in Jeb. “What you may not know, however, is that I have not always lived here, and I have not always been a Farm Overseer.”
Jeb nodded. “I had assumed,” he said, drawing surprised looks from the rest of the family, “Farm Overseer would obviously be a High Tier Class.”
His grandfather chuckled. “It is, but that is not what I was getting at. Before I was a Farmer, I lived in the Capital. Or, at least, I lived there when I wasn’t at the borders of the Republic.”
His grandfather took a deep breath, as though whatever he was about to say was almost too painful to let out. “Before I was a Farmer, I was a member of the Republican Army. At the age of twenty four, I was already nearly at the peak of Tier Nine. However, I realized that I could not continue the way that I had been. The last few battles I fought-” he stopped, clearly struggling to force any more words out.
With a rueful laugh, he continued, “well, I won’t trouble your nightmares with what I saw. Suffice to say that what I saw killed the part of me that had always believed in the glory of fighting and killing for the Republic. I moved to an empty spot of land as far from the Capital and border as I could. Working the land without any Skills to aid me was difficult, I will not deny that. When I finally broke through the Tier Barrier, I was offered a choice.”
“Tonight doesn’t need to be completely maudlin,” one of his uncles said, cutting his grandfather’s story short. “You’ve covered the important parts of the story for Jeb.” Turning to Jeb, he recounted, “most of us have left our past lives behind, whether that meant Adventuring, the Army, crime, or anything else. That is a major reason that the Censusmaster dislikes the family so much.”
His Aunt Esther took up the role of speaker. “We are all sorry for not better preparing you for life outside of the farm. As painful as the memories are for us to recount, it was unfair of us to let you see the broader Republic without any preparation. The only defense I can offer is that we thought we had more time.”
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“I’m not entirely sure I understand what you’re apologizing for,” Jeb said hesitantly. Seeing the shock return to his family’s faces, he quickly added, “not that life has been perfect since leaving, but my life really hasn’t been that difficult. I joined the Academy as soon as I got to the Capital, and they told me that I didn’t need to worry about the debt that the Censusmaster had saddled me with. After that, I spent most of my time within the walls of the Academy, learning different Magics.”
His mother came over and wrapped him in a warm hug. “I’m happy to hear that,” she said, tears in her voice. “The world is often a dark and painful place. That you have managed to avoid it so far is more than I could have hoped for.”
“Be that as it may,” his grandfather said, retaking control over the conversation, “we have already failed to prepare you once. Understandable as our motivations may have been, it would be inexcusable for us to neglect your education a second time.” Looking around, he noticed that everyone seemed exhausted. Just the little that they had said and shared seemed to have been almost more than any of them could handle.
“We can cover that in the morning, though,” his grandfather relented. “I’m sure that everyone would appreciate the time to consider what information you think it most vital for Jeb to learn. I’m sure that the Academy will eventually notice Jeb’s absence, and it is not hard to assume that they will think to search here.”
Jeb interrupted his grandfather, something he never would have imagined doing before his time away from home. “Grandfather, I’m going back to the Academy. The next term starts in a few days.”
The air in the room grew suddenly tense. Just for a moment, Jeb saw a hardness in his grandfather’s eyes that he had never seen before. It was clear that, whatever his role in the army was, it was not one which was insulated from carnage.
“Why would you do that?” his grandfather asked, each word landing like a stone.
Jeb cocked his head, unsure why it was an issue. “I’m enrolled in the Academy,” he explained. “As grateful as I am to be back home, and as much as I plan to return often, there is so much that I cannot learn here. Next term I will be learning more about Ritual Magic. The Brewery I’ve started needs me to continue Brewing. I have friends that would be worried about my absence.”
“How will you return?” his mother asked.
“The same way that I arrived here,” Jeb said, “I will teleport back to my lute. Actually,” he began to think aloud, “the bees are close enough to the Capital that I might just be able to teleport to them.”
He shrugged the idea off, “no, until I have time to explore I feel like it’s best to teleport to something that I know is within the Academy.”
“You can teleport?” an aunt Jeb didn’t recognize asked.
“Yeah!” Jeb said excitedly, tracing diagrams in the air. “So there’s a Ritual which-”
His grandfather cut him off. “If you are certain that you wish to return to the Capital, that is your right. How much time do you have before you must return?”
“Four days,” Jeb said. “I’m not entirely sure of the time difference between our two locations, so I want to make sure to get there with time to spare.”
“Well, then,” his grandfather said, dismissing the group, “everyone consider what wisdom you feel it most essential to give Jeb in the four days that he has left with us.” The crowd dispersed, everyone returning to their rooms to sleep. Jeb started to walk up the stairs before pausing, unsure whether he still had a bed to sleep in.
“Your room is as you left it,” his mother said with a sad smile.
Jeb nodded and headed upstairs. He laid down in his bed and tried to quiet his thoughts. The room felt completely familiar, as he had expected from the bed he spent almost his entire life in. Something felt different though.
As he tossed and turned, Jeb realized that it was him who had changed. The indentation that his body had left in the bed was a slightly different shape than what he was now. The sounds of nature outside, faint though they were, sounded almost deafening compared to the complete silence of the Academy dormitories. Even the texture of his bedding was different, pressing on his skin in a way that reminded Jeb of his body. Trying to fall asleep, he did his best to tune out the comments from his body. When the sun started to cast rays into his bedroom, he gave up on the idea of sleep and went downstairs. One day without sleep wasn’t going to harm him too much.