"A true character always manages

to stand out in the great moments"



There was a game on Erthea called Madara that was very popular, especially among the aristocracy, similar in some respects to the game of chess of my old world.

It was played on an eleven-by-twelve board, with two ten-sided dice and a nine-piece set, and mastering the art was considered a vital part of any noble scion's education.

The interesting thing about this game was that there were no predetermined pawns, and each player could create the piece that wanted, give it a name and deploy it at any time on the game board at the condition of assigning it to one of the categories into which the pieces were divided. Each move was distinguished by attack points, defense points, and life points and had to be placed on a square in the first two rows, called Castles, which represented the base from which the player, in the role of ruler, led his army.

Unlike chess, the ultimate goal of the game wasn't to checkmate the opponent, but the defeat of all his pawns –alternatively, a pawn could be brought to occupy the golden square placed in the center of the two Castles, the Throne Room.

Learning the rules had been child's play for me, and over the years I had taught hard lessons to all the players who had dared to challenge me, earning money and prestige.

Now it was finally time to begin the biggest and most memorable game of Madara that Erthea had ever seen.

Everything had been set up in the right way.

I had chosen the board, analyzed my opponent, and created my pawns.

All the pieces I needed were there: the Merchant, the Monsters, the Commoners, the Captain, the Wise, and the Dragon.

Now all that was left was to bring the last piece, the General, onto the field and start the game.

It had been almost six years since I had awakened in that world – six years spent weaving plots, creating alliances, and carefully planning my every single move – both those already made and those I was about to make.

I knew my opponent better than he knew himself, and I could read his soul like an open book.

Only the last piece was missing, the first domino, the one that once overturned would have started the unstoppable chain effect destined to forever change the fate not only of Erthea, but of that entire world.

And I had that card right there, closed in my fist.

A simple piece of paper.

I had never before experienced such a sensation of literally holding in my hands the instrument capable of changing the course of history.

I'd be lying if I said that I never considered giving it all up at least a couple of times in all those years.

What was the point of all that?

Did I really want to relive events like those that I had passed through in my previous life, albeit with renewed awareness?

But even the doubts were now behind my back at that point.

The truth was that the last thing that crossed my mind just before I died was the thought of what I might have done if I had known all along the consequences of the actions that had brought me down.

Now I could answer that question.

Alea iacta est.



Since I had moved to live in Daemon's house, I had noticed that something in the way I related to him had changed.

When he was a child, we often slept in the same bed, and a couple of times we even took a bath together. Now just being in the same room with him was enough to make me nervous, and if I tried to make eye contact with him, I found myself blushing and stammering like a fool.

I didn't understand what was happening to me, and I rejected out of hand the idea that I might be starting to feel something for him that went beyond our natural brotherly affection.

After all he was still a child in my eyes, even if by now anyone looking at us could have thought that we were almost the same age.

One night I had dreamed of him standing beside my bed, staring at me and holding a finger placed in the middle of my forehead, and when I woke up, I was so embarrassed that it seemed like my servant stone was vibrating to the beat of my heart.

So, to avoid repeating certain embarrassing situations, I had decided to leave, settling down in my old secret hiding place in the middle of the forest, which had been made habitable with a few tricks and a lot of work.

There I spent my time hunting, practicing swordplay and, incredible to say, studying.

Daemon had been categorical in this, giving me books and books to read and learn, and if I only tried to complain about it, I was promptly scolded like a child.

At first I protested, considering it a waste of time, but the more things I learned, the more I became aware of how much knowledge there was in the world, plenty of incredible things that I finally could learn how and as much as I wanted as a free girl.

Thanks to Daemon and his teachings, I was learning so much knowledge about mathematics, alchemy, literature, geography, and much more.

But most of all, it was philosophy that opened a new world before my eyes.

Daemon said that as a child he had been able to read many books by famous authors with unpronounceable names, such as Voltaire, Rousseau, Kant – which the Empire had long since seized and hidden, considering them dangerous, but which he had memorized and repeated for me.

Listening to him, I realized why humans didn't want anyone to read those books. In the words of those sages there were things like universal freedom, the equality of all sentient beings, but above all a criticism of the slavery to which we monsters had been forced for centuries.

So, I told myself, Daemon wasn't the only one, and there were other humans who thought what was being done to us was wrong. Maybe there was something about them after all that was worth saving.

Meanwhile winter had turned into spring, and the day I never wanted to see had finally come.

The day of farewell.

After all, I knew that sooner or later it had to end.

Even though it had been years since Daemon had stopped living in the ghetto, the pact we had made the day I took him to Ende remained unchanged, and with the arrival of his sixteenth birthday came the day when he would have to leave the province never to return had come.

Just the thought of seeing him leave forever was killing me, making me grumpy and irritable.

As if he had guessed my thoughts, he was fast to tell me that he didn't mind having to leave, and that it wasn't wise for me to go with him.

"Drufo will come with me," he had said, making me feel envious towards that cursed goat bored with life. "By now he's too used to living free to go back to the ghetto. But you can stay here if you want. I bequeath the cabin and everything I have to you. Use them as you see fit."

He spoke as if he were going to die, but from my point of view it was almost the same thing: because I knew that we would never see each other again.

What was I supposed to do with the house or the books or his bows without him?

But if on one hand I would have liked to follow him, on the other I was too attached to my companions and their misery to live free and happy, leaving them to their slavery.

I decided to take some time to reflect. For the moment I would stay in Ende, perhaps trying to help my companions as Daemon had helped us for so long, then one day I would go my own way, maybe to go in search of him.

But if it was fate for us to be apart for who knows how long, we were going to do it in the best possible way.

It hadn't been an easy winter at all. In addition to the cold, the snow and the fatigue, my companions had also faced hunger, eating even less than usual without however seeing the amount of work decrease.

But despite this, when I had proposed my idea to them, everyone had agreed to make that further small sacrifice, setting aside a bit of food to prepare both a birthday worth of this name and a dutiful farewell party for Daemon.

On the other hand, by now everyone in Ende knew what he had done, and how much he had put himself at risk in those years, not only to save me, but also and above all to protect our friends.

Finally, I had opened my eyes, realizing how much he had suffered inside for all those times when he had been forced to do what his role required of him, such as killing poor Malik or playing the part of the sadistic torturer in front of the soldiers.

Taking advantage of the coincidence that Daemon's birthday fell on the same day that all slaves were free from work once a month, my father, Lori and many others worked in secret for weeks, managing to throw together the best possible party for some slaves with almost nothing.



Then came the fateful day.

Along the main road we had set up tables with food, water, milk and even some cider; some of us, myself included, had literally gone mad to pay Borg for his help, but even though I hated that damned pig, we could make an exception for once.

Taking advantage of Daemon's absence to hunt, I slipped into the tunnel and returned to the ghetto. Once we made sure that everything was ready, we sent for him saying that there was a wounded man in Ende who needed his help.

I'm not saying he wasn't surprised when he found us all waiting to congratulate him in chorus, but over the years my little brother had become a master at keeping his emotions in check.

"You shouldn't have. It may be dangerous."

"Nonsense. Yesterday was payday. The guards must all be getting drunk at the inn. Come on little brother, today is the last day we will spend together. We must make it unforgettable."

In the end he almost seemed to enjoy himself, spending a lot of time conversing with everyone who lined up to congratulate him, thank him, and wish him good luck in the future.

"My son, whatever happens from now on, I want you to know that I am enormously proud of you. Seeing what you've become is proof that all our sacrifices have paid off."

"Thank you, father. I promise that wherever I go, I will continue to make you proud of me."

"Have you decided what you're going to do yet?"

"For the moment, grandfather Passe, I think I'll stay here around for a few more days. I must deliver my resignation to the Governor and take a proper leave of my friends at the village. Then I think I'll go West. First of all, I would like to go and see Sapi, and Connelly is also a good place to settle for people like me who would like to help the monsters."

"Please take care of Drufo too. He's a stubborn know-it-all, but I've never known a more faithful monster."

"I will do it."

"My baby! I don't want you to go away! What will I do if I can't see you anymore?"

"Don't worry, mom. I'll be fine. You have nothing to fear."

"How long has it been since you last called me mom? Let me hug you one last time! I will hug you so tight you won't be able to breathe!"

Despite the sadness I felt, I too was enjoying the day, amazed by the joy and lightheartedness that surrounding me. Never once in my life had I seen such an atmosphere fill Ende and its unfortunate inhabitants.

But everything was swept away in the space of an instant, and we were all so engrossed in the festivities that we hardly noticed anything. The gates of the ghetto suddenly opened, and a horde of militiamen under Oldrick's command burst in, weapons in hand.

While we were trying to keep Daemon hidden and give him time to run to the tunnel, another group of soldiers burst out from there, dragging a chained and terribly beaten Drufo with them.

In an instant, we were completely surrounded, with Commander Beek at the lead of his men, grinning at us with satisfaction.

"Look, what an unexpected surprise. Our beloved Sheriff hanging out with these beggars. I had to see it for myself to believe it."

"What are you doing here?"

"Perhaps you are not as loved and respected as you thought. In fact, I received a certain letter which contained many interesting things about you. Who you really were, for example, but also the truth behind the mysterious and late Mr. Haselworth, and the matter of the tunnel under your house."

"I...I'm sorry Daemon. I tried to stop them..."

"And as if that weren't enough, our anonymous but loyal subject also revealed to us what had happened to this lizard. I'm sure the Governor and his son will be very happy to have a chat with you."

"Keep Scalia out of this."

"Scalia? Since when are beasts called by name?"

"Stop that. It's between you and me."

"You're wrong, redneck. Anyone who has dealt with you will come to terms with this story. The Mayor, the brat of the general store. Even that pain in the ass Decurion. And when we finally clean up, and the management of this manure is back under my control, I assure you that these animals will know the worst moment of their lives. Because what I hate most is being teased."

"Considering how long I've been able to cheat you, I'd be pissed too."

Not only Daemon dodged Beek's punch without problems, but also that idiot was so uncoordinated in his movements that he lost his balance rolling in the mud.

"So then? Do you want to arrest me, or would you rather stay there and eat dirt?"

"You bastard. I wanted to drag you to the gallows myself, but now I think I'll settle things here and now!"

"Beek, maybe you need to calm down a bit," said Oldrick, trying to mediate, but by now his had completely lost his head.

I don't know what Daemon hoped to achieve by provoking that rabid animal in that way, but he found himself dodging one blow after another. Luckily for him, he had great agility, while on the other hand Beek was a bad fencer who handled the sword as a club.

"Don't intervene!" Oldrick ordered the other soldiers, perhaps in an attempt to bring an already dangerous situation under control.

This ballet went on for several minutes, but suddenly Daemon seemed to lose his balance, miraculously dodging yet another blow but finding himself uncovered and helpless for the next one.

"Die!"

Even today I don't know why I acted that way, nor could I imagine the consequences that my action was about to cause.

Suddenly, I found myself there between them, with more than half of Beek's sword stuck in my belly.

The last thing I heard shortly before losing consciousness and falling to the ground was absolute silence, suddenly broken by Daemon's voice yelling my name.

Perhaps not even Daemon imagined what his actions were about to unleash, made furious by seeing me lifeless at his feet.

"You bastard!" he yelled, his eyes bulging in rage, and a moment later his dagger was piercing through and through Beek's throat.

What you should call a perfect storm.

On the one hand I, who had let myself be pierced to defend a human being. On the other Daemon, who had savagely slaughtered a member of his kind to avenge a monster.

The silence that had arisen around us began to disappear, erased by ever-louder bellows, growls, and murmurs.

The militiamen looked around desperately, aware of how their leader had really done it, while someone among my companions was already collecting stones, baring claws or, in Grog's case, lifting a whole table from the ground like a club.

"Let's kill them!" shouted old Passe, starting the assault.