'What did I get myself into…?'

Thought Azeal as he was led away by Roland and Harold. He could not fathom how different the customs and traditions are compared to his world…

'Well when I put it like that, then I guess it does make sense. I … I was just not ready for it.'

As they walked, Harold put his hand on Azeal's shoulder and said,

"This is a great honor for me and my house to have you as an ally. In your time of need, we will be there for you, and we hope you will be there for us in our time as well."

With a beaming smile, he gestured forward towards an enormous pavilion.

"Yes, it is an honor. Hopefully, we won't have to ever deal with a darkest hour…" Replied Azeal nervously,

"We can only dream, Azeal. We can only dream… Now on to a more important topic", Having entered the pavilion he noticed that it was filled with maps and parchments of various distinctions. Looking around the messy interior, a table with snacks and three chairs surrounding it caught his attention. Unlike the rest of the room, where everything was clustered together, the table seemed like an island in the midst of an ocean of paper and furniture. As if an invisible barrier kept everything a good distance away from it.

As Azeal walked towards this eccentric scene, he worried he would have to kneel on the ground due to his size in comparison to the small chairs. Yet, the closer he got, the more he noticed a massive and opulent chair behind the clutter of things.

'I wonder how they got a chair my size so quickly?'

Rubbing a hand on the chair, he felt how smooth the hard wood felt under his large hands. Tracing the swirls carved into the chair, he lost himself in how long it would take to create something so intricate.

"I see you enjoy such luxury; we used a few logs of Mahgol wood from the border of the Forest Elves of Retuali to create such a beauty."

Commented Roland, mistaking his intrigue in the chair for a sense of fashion rather than how it was made.

"Ah Yes, it is indeed quite something" Not knowing what to say Azeal choose to speak as neutrally as possible. He had a rule of thumb he tended to follow when he was caught daydreaming. One was to try to sound intelligent. The Second was to be as neutral as possible, lest he causes an unintended issue. In this situation, he learned anything he says or does has a significant impact, so he was determined to find out a bit more of this world, so he doesn't make another major mistake.

Azeal did not know who these people truly were; for all he knew, they could be rebels on the run lying to him the entire time. Or they could be a well-respected group that will make his entire life easier.

"Azeal," Called out Harold breaking him out of his reverie. As he looked towards him, he noticed Harold's solemn face. Straightening his back, he knew something important was going to be said, so he prepared to make this conversation go on as long as possible to learn more about their customs.

"We have taken it upon us to help you; I do not know who you escaped from or where, but the fact remains that you are a Raug…"

Unable to stop himself, Azeal blurted out, "How does my race affect how others perceive me? Should they not judge me by the content of my heart rather than the color of my skin or … or how different I look?", falling into his modern sensibility.

Calmly Roland spoke with mirth,

"Of course, in an ideal world, you will be judged by your actions and your intentions, but this is not one. You will be seen as a political tool, to be used until you are worthless and then discarded. Or you will face fear from those who do not understand you. It is the way things are done in the Seven Duchies. Don't get me wrong, there are many pure-hearted people in power, but they are the vast minority."

Picking up where Roland stopped, Harold continued,

"That brings us to why we are here now. If you are discovered to be a free Raug, then political hell will rain down upon us. With every stronger faction attempting to force you into their service. Willingly or not. So, I suggest that we find a way to conceal your form from the outside world. If they do not know, then they are not able to truly verify that you are actually a Raug; they will not be able to act solely on unfounded rumors."

"What are you suggesting, Harold?" Replied Azeal a bit hesitantly,

"Well, luckily for us both, during my younger days, I cleared out a few magical dungeons…"

Cutting him off, Azeal's eye's widened with anticipation, "Did you say dungeons? As in full of monsters and treasure?"

Laughing at the reaction, Harold looked at Azeal knowingly,

"Oh, how wonderful it must feel to be young. Yes, there will be many monsters, but it is not what they make it out to be. What you hear is mostly propaganda from the Adventurer's Guild to attract promising recruits. Although dungeons are aplenty, and they are full to the brim in monsters, most only give a few treasures. After killing a floor leader, the treasure is completely unimbued by a Mana signature. The issue is that if you enter with a group of five, it is as likely for one person to receive all the treasures with his mana signature as it is likely for all five of them to receive treasures; once a weapon or armor is imbued, it is worthless to anyone other than the person who connected with it. Now back to what I was saying. As I adventured, I met a group of warriors who choose to give up their true Identity to become chivalrous knights during a dungeon clearing. After working with them for multiple battles, they had given me one of their helms as a sign of respect. With it, we will be able to sell the lie of you being one of them. Any reading will give what you want others to see. The only issue with it is…"

Looking a bit uncertain Harold continues by clearing his throat "The issue is that it is cursed."

Furrowing his eyebrows in an unarticulated question, Azeal waited for him to finish explaining.

After a few seconds with nobody saying anything, Harold looked a bit tense,

"Its… Its cursed so…" He still couldn't get a definitive answer from the Raug,

Azeal finally got that he was supposed to discern something from 'it is cursed,' asked,

"What is supposed to do? Turn me into a Goblin? Grow an extra arm? Lose a leg?"

"No, why would something like that even exist? No, when someone tells you something is cursed, then it means that it is almost impossible to take it off once you put it on except on very specific situations. With this, you can only take it off from midnight until sunrise. Look I know that it does not sound appealing, but it is necessary."

"Oh, that's it? That doesn't sound bad. Does it have any other effects?"

Azeal thought that the price being paid was looking absolutely wonderful for the day when he could just take it off in the night. In his opinion, it was not that bad of an effect. He thought that it would have a deforming effect or maybe take away his emotions. Thankfully, the only result was that it was semi-permanent.

He was already imagining himself as an amazing knight. Standing at the edge of a cliff as the wind blew his cape around.

'I am going to look amazing!

"Umm, no… no other effect that I know of. Then again, the Knights of Chivas were quite a secretive group."

Getting up Harold walked to a large chest in the far-right corner. A blue mist started to appear around his hand. He pressed it on a sign of two dragons chasing each other in a circle. After a few seconds, an audible click can be heard within the tent. Opening the chest, Azeal saw what completely amazed him. Instead of seeing anything within, there was a black void that seemed impossible to see through.

'It's a Storage Chest! That must cost a fortune!'

Putting his hand in, Harold closed his eyes. Taking his time, he finally opened them with a smile. Pulling his hand out, a decorative helm that would cover his entire head appeared in his hands.

Harold walked back to Azeal and held out the helm for him to take. Grabbing it, he looked at its decorative carvings with awe.

"Here you go. It is better in your hands than mine. The last thing I can give you is a weapon. Can't have you dying anytime soon." Bursting out in laughter, he sat down in his seat as Azeal looked at him awkwardly, finally tittering to not look out of place.

After eating a light snack, to Azeal that was everything on the table, they walked out of the tent in a happy mood. The entire time Azeal was working his hardest to build enough courage to ask Harold to teach him how to use a great-sword. Who better to teach him than a general of an army.

"One last thing, Harold. I was hoping that we can spar to increase my proficiency with my favored weapon, the great sword."

"Of course, it would be delightful to test my skills against yours. Let us not forget to get you armed. Come, we will see what you are made of."

They walked towards the edge of the camp where they stationed a temporary armory. Told to wait, Azeal stood on the outside as the Harold entered with one of the soldiers stationed there. After a few minutes, they walked out with a massive sword almost seven feet long. Dragging it behind him, Harold pulled the pummel up towards Azeal, indicating that he should take it.

"Although this might not fit you right, it will do for now. Lets us go a bit farther to test your mettle."

Once they walked far enough, Harold stood in a serious but well-practiced stance, giving Azeal the honor of the first attack.

'Don't embarrass yourself! Don't embarrass yourself!', he repeated to himself like a mantra.

Hardening his nerves, Azeal took two steps forward with the sword dragged behind him. Suddenly he lost himself in an unknown feeling; a primal instinct he never noticed. A vast ocean deep in his soul, a connection to those before him. He roared a petrifying battle cry.

"OORAH!!!"

As he got into range, he swung over his head with as much force as he could muster. His only goal... to defeat his opponent.