In front of Mog was a large yet simple dining room. In it, there was a marble table with a spread of food on it. What surprised Mog is that the food on the table was the same food served to the Fidelis siblings. The only differences were that, instead of soft white bread, they were given the tougher full-grain ray bread, and instead of fine silverware, they had bronze and wooden ones. Still, even this was considered a luxury in Lamaria. This was already comparable to the breakfast of some rich people.

Several people sat around the table. The first one he noticed was a cute young human girl around 12. She had long red hair tied to a braid, ruddy skin, and wore only her underwear, covering her very flat chest and slave mark. From the vestiges of sweat on her toned and athletic body, it appeared that she was doing some sort of high-intensity work not long ago, which would explain her current lack of attire.¹Yes, people actually worked in their underwear in ancient times. Egyptian women of lower classes might have even been barechested.

Although she looked a bit exhausted, it did not hide her beautiful yet serious hazel eyes. Her face was slightly squarish, her nose was pointy, her brows slightly thick, and her slightly parched lips were full. On her body and face, she had multiple shallow scars that looked like knife wounds. However, on a closer inspection, some of the scars looked newer, while some looked faded as if the body was healing them.

She looked at Cispia with a smile, but when she saw Mog, she frowned slightly while trying to determine who he is.

The second person sitting next to the table was an old half beast-kin of the Fox tribe, having grayish-brown fox ears and tail. He was rather plain-looking and old, looking at least 50 with some wrinkles on his bearded face. His brown pair of withered and tired eyes were sharp and deep, many thoughts and calculations crossing them while he mumbled incoherently and gestured with his finger.

He wore a brown silk tunic and a green linen robe over it, depicting his role as a Wiseman and scholar in the house. On his right hand's index finger, he also had a ring with a magic crystal embedded inside, implying that he was also probably a mage. He also had a bronze medal with a fire insignia on it, signifying that he was a freedman from the Fidelis family.

For humans and orcs, without considering premature death before the age of 5 or unnatural death causes, the average life expectancy of normal wildmen and countryside men was short, at around 40-45 years. The average life expectancy of normal people in the Lamarian empire was usually around 55-60 years due to access to good sanitation and magic from the temples. Aristocrats might even live well into their 70s and 80s thanks to better food, better healthcare, and magical potions supplementing their health. Powerful warriors with aura and mages could live even longer, even up to 150-200 years. As for demigods? Their lifespan varied greatly but had a minimum of 250 years of lifespan. Rumor has it that extremely powerful demigods could even live thousands of years.

Dwarves, elves, and halflings have higher lifespans, while goblinoids have shorter ones. The beastkin have a varied lifespan, depending on their race, although it is usually the same as humans. Halves of two races usually live around the average of both races. Greater lifespans usually lead to a lower fertility rate.

The man, appearing like he was in his 50s and a slave, was considered old, yet not venerable. He completely ignored Mog coming in, still stuck with his thoughts.

The third person sitting next to the table was a female orc in her mid-30s. She had green skin, longish ears, and two tusks growing from her slightly protruding lower jaw. Her black raven hair was cut short into a bob cut. Her nose was slightly stubby, and her golden eyes had a strangely gentle glow in them, unlike most orcs. Unlike other female orcs Mog saw, she only had a bit of muscle on her, uncharacteristic to most orcs, but had large breasts hidden under her Strophium²Ancient roman bra, which was characteristic to orcish women. She wore an inexpensive brown tunic made from wool, but it did not reflect on her real status, as Mog could tell that she was a gardener from some of the leaves and dirt still stuck on her clothes and hair.

When she saw Cispia, she gently nodded, but when she saw Mog, her eyes suddenly had a dangerous glow in them, as if locking on prey. This sent a chill through Mog's spine.³Remeber Latagu's comment?

The fourth person sitting next to the table was a mountain of a man in his early 20s. The man looked strong and buff and had a clean-shaven head and face. His arms, chest, and legs were exceptionally hairy, almost like that of a gorilla. Coupled with his fierce-looking face with his exceptionally thick brown eyebrows and fierce brown eyes, he definitely looked like a warrior. Grotesque scars marked his body, making him look even more fearsome. Luckily, his fierceness was not directed at Mog or anyone else in the room for that matter, but on the poor food on the table that was gorged down his throat at an alarming rate. Mog noticed that the man's shirt and arms had soot stains on them, hinting at his profession.

The final person was a half-elf woman that sat next to the burly man. She looked in her early twenties, had a lithe and athletic build, and wore only her bra and underwear. Just like the first girl, she looked sweaty and slightly exhausted. The woman's breasts were on the smaller side of the scale, even slightly smaller than Cispia's. She had half-shaved emerald hair reaching to her earlobe and a small knife scar over her left emerald eye, adding a wild charm to her otherwise flawless face.

Currently, she appeared to be... Cheering the large man to eat more while shouting, "Go, go, go, go!"

Mog couldn't help but comment, "What a lively bunch..."

Cispia rubbed her nose bridge, "Yeah..."

After taking a deep breath, she said in a slightly loud voice, "Guys, may I have your attention, please."

However, except for the young girl and the orc woman, the rest were still doing their thing.

Cispia's expression fell as she said in a louder voice, "Guys! May I have your attention, please!"

The old half beastkin seemed to have heard Cispia this time as he looked at her in askance. However, the half-elf and the mountain of human muscle were still ignoring her.

Cispia's expression turned fierce as she finally shouted, "FOR FUCK SAKES FAEVYRE, SHUT UP! AND STOP GORGING YOURSELF, BORSO!"

Finally, after her outburst, the half-elf and the human stopped what they were doing and stared in her direction.

The half-elf called Faevyre clicked her tongue while mumbling, "Party pooper..."

On the other hand, the huge man, who appeared like he could punch an actual bear to death, turned meek and said with a lowered head, "Borso sorry..."

Cispia let out a small sigh and introduced, "Guys, I would like you to meet the mistress's new slave, Mog. Mog here will have the same privilege as us, being a high-grade slave. Mog, introduce yourself."

Mog wasn't used to introducing himself, so he shyly rubbed the back of his head while saying awkwardly, "Hello, I'm Mog. I'm a 10-year-old and an ex-pickpocket. I don't have relatives in the Lamarian empire, so nice to meet you all, and I hope we can get along well."

The 12-year old girl in underwear had a flash of understanding in her eyes as she smiled at Mog, "Nice to meet you, Mog. I'm Livia Fidelis, the mistress's handmaiden. While Cispia is more of a warrior, I am more of an agile rogue. Let's get along well."

The old half beastkin was about to introduce himself next, but the orc woman cut in line, "Hi, cutie! I'm Mazoga, the manor's main artisan and gardener and a slave of the manor. If you run into any trouble regarding the garden or furniture, come find me! Also, if you want to do this and that, I don't mind teaching you..."⁴Lol, sorry, I had to.

Faevyre cut in before the old man could enter a sentence, "For fuck sakes, Mazoga! The moment you see an orc boy of half-decent looks, you always try and gobble him up! Bloody hell... Ignore the pedophile. I'm Faevyre, the manor's specialized rogue and trainer. You said you were an ex-pickpocket, right? We will get along just fine, you and I. I'm married to this handsome hunk, Borso. Borso and I are both Lamarian Citizens and C-rank professionals working for the Fidelis family under contract. Borso, dear, say hello to Mog."

Borso rubbed his bald and scarred scalp as he said meekly, "Hello, me Borso. Borso is the blacksmith of the manor. Borso makes good weapons and armor. Borso also smashes things."

While Mog made a questioning expression on his third-person speech, Faevyre said, "Borso is a bit dim, but he has a golden heart, so ignore his way of speech." She then hugged Borso's arm lovingly and kissed his cheek, "Isn't that right, dear?"

Borso blushed while rubbing his bald head even harder.

The old man finally couldn't take it anymore and said impatiently,  "Ahem... I'm Erno, the manor's tutor, a freedman of the Fidelis family, and a fifth circle mage. I am in charge of teaching young master Aulus and young miss Consentia about the ways of magic. I am also an adept scholar, so if you have any intellectual questions or wish to learn new things, do seek me out. I will be most of the day in the study room."

Mog widened his eyes in shock! - A fifth circle mage?! That's a B-rank adventurer! Why is he eating here with us? Even as a freedman, he should be worthy enough to eat together with the mistress and master!

Although he wanted to ask more, he held his question back. He would ask Cispia when they were alone later.

Cispia said to Mog, "There are also four more high-ranking servants in the manor. The first one is the head cook, Thrakkare. The second one is the head of the guards, Sir Agrippa. The third and fourth ones are young master Aulus's personal bodyguards, Drusus and Lars. Thrakkare already ate and is currently in the kitchen, preparing lunch. Sir Agrippa never eats together with us and prefers eating together with the soldiers. As for Drusus and Lars, I believe you have already met since they were guarding the young master last night. They also prefer eating in the barracks."

Mog remembered the two guards that came with Aulus and Consentia into the auction house. They were probably Drusus and Lars. 

She then made a gesture and said, "Come, Mog, you will sit next to Livia and me."

Mog nodded and followed her. Cispia sat next to Livia, and Mog sat next to her. They then started to eat. The utensils he had were a bronze knife and a wooden spoon. Although he wasn't used to using a knife to eat, it didn't take a genius to use one either. He greatly enjoyed eating the food, as it was much better than what he ate on the streets.

In a twisted way, being a slave was a lucky stroke.

While they were eating, Mog couldn't help but ask, "Hey, Livia, why are you and Faevyre only wearing underwear? Did you train?"

Livia, who was eating some bread with moretum, nodded her head, swallowed, and answered, "Yeah, Faevyre is training me as a rogue. If you have the aptitude and time, you can join us."

Faevyre chimed in, "Yeah, Mog. You can join us! Even if you accidentally get wounded, you have access to healing magic, and if you become scarred, you can use the mistress's special ointment to remove the scars. Look at Livia. Her scars are healing nice and well."

Mog looked at Livia and nodded. He already noticed it before. He said to both of them, "When I have the time, I will make sure to join you when training."

Cispia looked at him and said, "Before that, you will need to get the mistress's permission. Right now, you are to start your warrior training. You will train with Sir Agrippa and me until you reach a satisfactory level. Only then will you have the luxury to train as a rogue."

Mog nodded and asked curiously, "Wait, so how does your schedule work? When do you train, and when do you serve the mistress?"

Before Cispia could answer, Livia said, "We have an arrangement. I train in the mornings with Faevyre, while Cispia trains at noon with Sir Agrippa. When we don't train, we either serve the lady or study with sir Erno."

Mog nodded in understanding and continued eating. While he ate, Faevyre asked a surprising question, "So, tell me, Mog, how did you get caught?"

Mog was confused by the sudden question, "What?"

Faevyre leaned forward on the table, and with a grin, she asked, "How did they catch you pickpocketing? Did you accidentally slip and fall? Did you pickpocket the wrong guy at the wrong time? Did they somehow identify you and apprehend you on sight? Don't tell me you sold yourself to slavery."

The others stopped eating and listened. Even Borso slowed down his gusto. They were curious about how this new companion of theirs got caught.

Mog made a bitter face and shook his head, "Until yesterday, I was a Lamarian citizen like you. I was indeed a pickpocket, but I wasn't caught in the conventional sense. Last night, two strangers came to my house and knocked me out, selling me to the dark auction. From there, I had the luck of being bought by the mistress."

Faevyre - "Woh, woh, woh, woh! Hold on second! You were kidnapped inside the city confines, as a citizen, and was sold to the dark auction? That hell-hole? First of all, how the hell did they pull that off? You were a citizen, right? Even though the dark auction is sketchy at best, they would never sell a citizen! They know the implications of doing so. If someone comes and checks that you are a citizen, and a magic test confirms it, the emperor himself might make a move to demolish it! I know sure as fuck that they wouldn't dare pull shit like that off without an assurance."

Erno gravely nodded, "What miss Faevyre says is correct. I suspect that your captors did all this while believing you will die without telling anyone, and even if you told your new owner your suspicions, nobody would believe you. Did you hear your captors say anything? Do you have a clue what gave them the confidence to pull it off?"

Mog tried to remember, rubbing the area where he was hit last night, "It was a bit foggy, but I remember some of it. They said something about replacing me with another freedman. They also said something about city planning and my refusal to move from my home..."

Everyone's eyes went wide open. As Lamarians, that was incredibly disturbing to hear.

Faevyre narrowed her eyes, "Was your house one of those old houses designated for evacuation-rebuilding with an insula?"

Mog widened his eyes, "How did you know that?"

Faevyre sighed and said, "You mentioned identity theft, moving out, and city planning. Add one plus two, and you get a property sting. City planning cant make a dime out of an existing building, but it can make a decent profit if it is designated for demolishing. It just so happens that, because you were a poor half-blood, nobody would stand for you if you happened to be replaced by another poor child. The racial discrimination of Lamaria at its finest. So, because you just got bought by one of the 8 great families of Lamaria as a high-ranking slave..."

Erno continued her sentence with a thoughtful voice - "And if what you say is true..."

Borso, who had previously been meek and shy, did a one-eighty and completed his sentence with a dangerous glint in his eyes, his voice deep and menacing, "Then heads will roll!"