After giving a long-winded explanation of his situation to the two guards, he somehow convinced them to drag him towards the General; whoever that is. Yet, the entire time they pulled him by his shoulders, they were grunting and huffing in strain.

'Ahh! They are making me look bad! I am not that heavy! Everyone is staring at us!'

Hanging his head in embarrassment, they moved closer to the center of the campsite. More and more guards wearing the same armor started to follow them. Each murmuring with varying levels of emotion. Of them all, a single person with similar armor but with two golden lines running vertically down his right pauldron, signifying a higher station, showed the most. Shock and what he could only consider as fear appeared prominently on the man's face.

'He is as pale as a ghost! I hope he is okay…'

As he continued his inner thoughts, the guards pulling him came to a sudden stop. Forced out of his reverie so abruptly, he looked up to assess his surroundings. To he absolute joy, in front of him was a table filled with Food!

'There is so much on the table! They must have prepared this for me! How generous! I must thank this 'General' person.'

After a few seconds of staring intently at the food laid out, he finally noticed five people were standing around the table. The first standing away from the table, with what seemed to be a chef's attire and hat was a feline beastkin that looked similar to a sphinx cat.

At the head of the table, on the other side, was a man who seemed to be in his fifties. With dark brown hair filled with stripes of gray and a full beard, he carried himself in a dignified demeanor. He gripped the pommel of his sword, with a darkened face, as he stared back at me.

To his right was an old wizen man that seemed like he would topple over at any second now; dead. The old man leaned heavily on a large staff that was exceptionally decorated and most importantly long. To his right was a voluptuous woman with wild dark brown hair. With a sharp chin and a perky nose, she looked cute rather than beautiful. For some reason, he felt like he had seen her already, but he could not remember where for the life of him. She wore a long robe of red and white colors and a cloak of black. On the other side of the table, on the first man's left was an actual Cat-Women!

Well, more like a tiger than a cat really…

Standing the tallest between them all at the table, she had a considerable frown. It seemed as if he had interrupted something important.

But, that did not matter. What did was that they were all on guard. The tension was palpable!

'I need to diffuse this situation. Can't let them keep thinking I am a demon!'

Clearing his throat, he took a deep breath,

"Everyone needs to calm down… I am not a demon! I just... look like… one?" Laughing uncertainly, he tried to shrug his shoulders, though it was quite difficult in his position.

'Damn! That came out wrong! Now they definitely think I am a Demon!'

As he continued laughing, he noticed the man at the head of the table began to look around towards his left.

"Wait a minute!" Startling everyone in the vicinity, he finally remembered where he saw the brown-haired woman, he pushed away from the guards and stood. Not fully used to his body, his legs wobbled.

'It's the Pyromaniac! She kept throwing those fireballs at me!'

Pointing at her with certainty, he exclaimed,

"I know you!"

Taking a step forward, an enormous grin spread across his face,

"You're the lady that kept throwing those fireballs at me!"

That statement caused a whole string of movements from the guards behind him and the man at the head of the table. The ringing of swords being unsheathed was heard all over the camp, while the man in front stepped forward and got into a well-practiced and very aggressive stance. But, the Raug had different plans altogether.

'She knows Magic! Fire Magic!'

Falling to his left knee, at a kneeling position, his eyes began to shine with hope and expectation.

After what seemed to be the longest few seconds they all lived through, he finally exclaimed,

"Can… Can you teach me!"

Looking caught off guard, the lady exclaimed in surprise,

"What?"

But before she could continue, the man at the head of the table interrupted with a voice full of authority,

"No," said the man.

Looking at him with a crushed hope, he started to complain,

"Why not? She should pay me back for throwing Fireball after Fireball at me when I had just woken up."

Sighing he looked towards the Pyromaniac and frowned while she seemed to try to become as small as possible,

"She cannot because it is not allowed. We do not have the authority to teach you standardized magic. Only the Mages Guild and The Academy have that right."

"Standardized magic? What is that supposed to mean?" Asked the Raug,

Surprised at the lack of knowledge, Harold looks towards Roland with an eyebrow raised. Getting confirmation from his old friend in the form of a nod, he continued,

"Well, this will take time. Aifen! Get our Friend a chair. Please, will you join us for dinner?"

Laughing boisterously, he exclaims,

"I thought you would never ask!"

----------------------------------------

After the awkward situation, the man at the head of the table introduced himself and everyone else. He turned out to be the 'General' person that wanted to talk to me. While his actual name was Harold, although everyone called him the 'General.' The two ladies at the table where his daughters, Lana and Sarah; Sarah being the Pyromaniac.

The old wizen man was introduced as a master healer named Roland. And lastly was the feline beastkin, his name was Aifen, and his profession was a chef.

After introducing them all, he looked at the Raug with expectation, waiting for him to introduce himself. After multiple seconds of silence passed, the 'General' sighed and articulated his question,

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"We have introduced ourselves, it is custom to introduce yourself … if … if you have a name." Finally noticing that maybe this Raug was not given a name, he berated himself. A battle slave with a name was either an extremely experienced veteran or simply an unmatched warrior of great potential. For a Raug battle slave, a name meant that he was mighty and had achieved significant victories in battle. Of the fifty-five Raug in the Battle of Venral, only three were named. They were the commander and his two lieutenants.

If they had to deal with a named Raug, the situation would devolve faster if they were not extremely careful not to offend him. Their survival depended on it.

As the General had this series of disturbing thoughts, the Raug noticed that he could not remember his name.

'God damn it! What was my name!?'

Due to his soul being shattered before, a lot of essential memories had been lost. Most of them dealt with the names and faces of people he knew. He could remember that he had friends, that his mother had a name, and that he had a sister, but no matter how hard he tried, the names just would not come, or how they looked. The only thing that remained were things of little importance. Things like what a pencil is, who Michael Jackson was, and how to make ice-cream.

As he kept thinking of his name a screen appeared in front of him. To his host, it looked like he was looking far away; reminiscing of different times.

'Ding'

System –

Do you wish for a random name befitting of the current you?

Yes-

No-

Pressing 'Yes' without a second thought, a name was generated for him. One that made sense for a Raug in his current situation.

…

…

First Name Generated – Azeal

…

Lack of ties to living or past Raug detected –

…

…

New Family name Generated – Neralum -

Final Name – Azeal Neralum of the Neralum Clan – First of his kind -

Smiling at his luck and the goddess's blessing, he turned towards the others and said,

"My name is Azeal… Azeal Neralum of the Neralum Clan – First of my kind."

After giving his name, Azeal began stuffing himself with food. Due to his lack of attentiveness, he did not notice the shock that was apparent in Harold's and Roland's face.

A named Raug… free of his bonds… and he somehow ended up in their camp.

Sometimes, Harold just hated his bad luck.

_

After eating the entrée, Azeal looked towards the General expectantly. Knowing that business should not be brought up before it, yet none of them spoke once until the main course was over.

Clearing his throat, Azeal said,

"So… Standardized magic?"

Noticing the Raug's impatience, Harold chose to break the table manners; he was taught as a noble of the Seven Duchies, of not speaking until all courses are finished to satisfy him,

"Standardized magic is a form of magic that has been measured and experimented on to make a set of abilities taught only by the Mages Guild and The Academy. You see, before we made magic more measured, everyone could throw out the same spell and get a vast variety of results from a change in strength, speed, or even magnitude. This made mages very unreliable if they were not masters in a specific spell. So, to correct this fatal flaw, a large group of master mages from every school of magic came together and created a system to measure the amount of mana used for every spell they knew. Making it not only stronger but faster and much more controllable."

'Guess there is no auto – help. Got to do everything manually. How inconvenient! I did not get a cheat, at the very least they could make me a master mana manipulator from the very beginning like those fantasy stories!'

Breaking out of his inner thoughts, he says,

"How can I join 'The Academy' or become a member of the Mages Guild?"

'At least I can still get someone to teach me. Even if it might not be in the direct future.'

But, as he imagined life at a magic academy, he noticed that everyone else looked at him with pitying faces.

"What's wrong?"

"You see…" Elongating his words, the General did not meet his eye as he continued to speak, "They do not accept slaves or freed slaves into their institutions…"

In the beginning, Azeal did not get why it concerned him. He was never a slave to be freed, yet after a few seconds his eyes began to widen as what he had just heard finally sunk in,

He, as a Raug, was the only one from his entire race that was free. If he did not play it this way, he would be taken and forced to tell them were the clan of freed Raug existed; even if he was the only one a part of it. The slavers would have his head… Feeling distraught, Azeal excused himself from the table. After a large amount of food was eaten, he had the strength to finally walk without great difficulty. Leading himself towards his tent, his mind was a storm of thoughts and crushed hopes.

'No… No magic?'

Other than a second chance of having a family, magic was the only other reason he had accepted the goddess's proposal. But now, he would almost never be able to find a teacher. As he entered his tent, he walked into the darkness. All the candles were off, yet he could still see the bed and the rest of the furniture without issue. Not noticing he could see, even with the absence of light, he sat down on his bed.

After hours of this depressed mood, he finally broke out.

'The 'General' never said that I couldn't learn. If I can't find someone to teach me, then I am going to teach myself.'

Finally hardening his resolve, Azeal fell asleep in a better mood.