"There is no revolution without popular fury.

There is no popular fury without victims."



When a population rises up, usually those who want nothing to do with the matter take their things and run away without even looking back.

And if the rebels are those same individuals whom you treated like beasts of burden until the day before, the last thing you want is to risk falling into their hands just to stay and defend a piece of field or a shop.

So it didn't surprise me too much when we found most of the houses and farms abandoned during our march to Dundee.

Raiders and bandits had already set to work, but I took care to arrest anyone we caught looting houses or attacking fleeing caravans, promising everyone we met and who more often than not threw themselves at our feet begging for mercy that we did not intend to harm innocent people.

Word of this behavior, as well as that of who was leading the riot, seemed to spread quickly, and by the time we got within sight of the walls of Dundee many people had already stopped fleeing, preferring rather to wait and see how the situation would have evolved.

I knew Rutte was a man of judgment who would never risk entrusting the lives of his fellow citizens to the laughable walls of Dundee or to those half-soldiers of the city watch.

What I still wasn't entirely sure of was how Septimus and his men would react. I personally knew most of them, and with a few exceptions, I knew that they didn't want to be killed to defend an Empire in which none of them really believed after all; provided, of course, that we give them something better to believe in and fight for.

Initially ignoring Dundee, whose gates the mayor had already opened to demonstrate the absence of any inclination to resist just as I had foreseen, I ordered to proceed immediately towards the fort, which instead we found in full warfare and ready to defend itself.

Obviously, all those soldiers (starting with Septimus) were speechless when they saw me appear before them in the midst of all those monsters, but I knew that my presence or mere words would not be enough to convince them to give me their weapons.

A dramatic gesture was necessary. Luckily, I was a pro with dramatic gestures.

"Daemon, what are you doing?" exclaimed Scalia seeing me advance towards the fort with my arms folded behind my back and my gaze fixed in front of me. "They'll kill you!"

At once, I ordered my few archers to lay down their weapons, stopping halfway between the walls and my front line and looking long into the eyes of the soldiers on the ramparts.

I felt as if I was back at Laffrey in front of the fifth regiment lined up and ready to shoot me.

"You recognize me, right? We do not want to harm you! You are not our enemies!"

There was no response, though I could see the hesitation in each of their eyes.

"If you want to kill me, go ahead!" I said spreading my arms. "Do it now and everything will end! If not, get off there and let's talk! You have my word that none of us will lift a finger!"

Carel, a young recruit just over fourteen years old, literally fainted from the stress, at which point Septimus decided to order his soldiers to lay down their weapons.

"Now I'll go downstairs and let's talk! But if only one of them takes a step..."

"You have my word that nothing will happen!"

Soon the gates of the fortress opened slightly, and Septimus went outside accompanied by a subordinate with a white flag.

"What's going on, Daemon?"

"It couldn't last Septimus, and you knew it."

"Why are you with them? They're just slaves."

"You too were ready to defend them when they were in danger. I'll explain you everything, but not now. There's no time. You surely know what happened to the ghetto. The punitive expedition will be here soon, and we can't face them with work tools and forge aprons. We need the weapons from the fort."

"And you really think I'll give them to you? I am a Decurion of the Imperial Army. Technically I should give the order to kill you myself."

"You would only get to die needlessly, and your men with you."

"It doesn't matter. I took an oath."

"Is it the same oath as your commander, who fled as a coward leaving you here to die? Don't look at me like that, I know he has already escaped. We stopped him and his escort less than a mile from here, trying to cross the bridge. Now you are in charge. The lives of those men are in your hands."

Septimus was discovering firsthand that deciding to throw away one's life in the name of honor is simple, but to do the same with the soldiers under your command is completely different.

I decided to push further.

"You have seen the true face of the Empire just like me. Do you really want to die for the same people who vexed these poor monsters to the point of pushing them to say enough? Or that they jailed and killed our friends during that stupid hunt? We grew up together – you know you can trust me. I assure you we do not want to shed innocent blood."

It was evident that his soldier's pride prevented him from doing what he intimately wanted. One last push was needed.

"A group of my comrades have already entered Dundee. They didn't hurt anyone. We are now rounding up all the inhabitants of the region who have not yet fled. Come with me. And if you still decide to oppose us after you've heard what I have to say, we'll let you walk away unharmed, with as many weapons as you can carry. You are also free to go north and reunite with the rest of the legion if you wish. I swear."

Septimus accepted my proposal almost immediately, with the sole condition that except for a small group all the other rebels would remain outside the walls.

As he walked away, I could hear him ordering his standard-bearer to give instructions for everyone to start shouldering as many weapons as possible for the journey to the Castle. But I knew very well that said trip would never take place.



Eirinn had not suffered the same devastation of the Empire or other parts of Erthea during the Holy Wars, so it was only natural that many of us did not share the Empire's fanaticism and brutality with monsters.

We certainly didn't consider them our equals, but at the same time we also didn't see them as objects to be used and thrown away at will.

Sure, many of us had slaves, but with a few exceptions nearly all did what they could to treat them as decently as possible, giving them food, a warm bed to sleep on, and demanding of them only what they were physically able to do.

As for me, since I was a child, I had never worried too much about the fate of monsters, believing that I already had enough problems in my life to have to take care of others' as well.

Growing up, however, I realized how selfish my way of thinking had been, and that if I considered myself unfortunate only because of having a drunk and abusive father that was nothing compared to the misery in which the slaves were forced to live in the ghettos.

The last terrible winter had finally made me open my eyes and my heart, especially when Daemon and Septimus had told me that while we had little to eat because of the barn fire, those poor fellows had often been forced to work for days without eating.

So, as soon as I took full control of the shop, I started doing what I could to help them, ordering food and warm clothes from my suppliers, paying them with spices and other fine goods, and trying to make up for the losses in the process by raising the prices for my usual clients.

Somehow, I had managed to avoid making a loss, and when Septimus told me that the monsters were happy to finally be able to eat something decent and protect themselves from the cold, I admit that it warmed my heart.

But evidently all my efforts weren't enough, or perhaps more simply those slaves had finally decided to say enough.

What I never could have imagined was finding Daemon leading the revolt. Everything I thought I knew about him had crumbled, but I admit that seeing him like this, in the fullness of his proverbial charisma, easily holding that heterogeneous mass of very angry slaves in his grip only increased my admiration for him.

While I was still trying to understand everything that was happening on that crazy day, a small goblin armed with a stick burst into the shop, breaking down the door that I had bolted for safety and starting to gobble everything he could.

Forgetting who I was dealing with, I took the broom and tried to drive him away as if I had dealt with a troublesome mouse, with the result that he almost pounced on me too.

Daemon saved me once again, appearing in the shop together with a little girl with the tail and horns of a dragon when I was already preparing for the worst.

"I was clear, Pythus. No looting or assaults." And without saying anything further, he pierced him from side to side when he tried to counterattack.

"I don't think anyone will miss him," the dragon-girl cynically observed. "He was just a slimy savage."

"Mary, are you alright?"

"Yes, don't worry. He didn't do anything to me."

"I am sorry. My orders for him were to stay outside the walls, but he must have sneaked in. I'm sorry for the fruit too."

"Oh, don't worry..."

"You can be rest assured that my other companions are not like him. I'll order some of them to surveil the shop, so you won't even have to fear the looters."

While Daemon still seemed like the rough but considerate gentleman I'd always known, I could see anger, not to mention hatred, in his mate's eyes.

And I must honestly say that I felt the same about her, especially for how surly and disrespectfully she spoke to Daemon: how did she dare to speak with him as if they were relatives?

Of course, I still didn't know that she was really his sister (stepsister at least), but I immediately understood that we weren't going to get along.

Daemon had just introduced us when a huge female minotaur came through the shop door warning everyone that there was serious trouble at the mayor's inn and that Giselle was in danger.

I instinctively followed them to the Black Deer, where we found Giselle held hostage with a dagger by one of the few militiamen who had not yet fled.

His name was Vig, and he was one of the worst tormentors I'd ever known, as well as a lecherous pervert always looking for a girl to conquer with her goatish ways. Everyone like him had fled as soon as news of the revolt started spreading to not risk ending up in the hands of their victims, but he had gotten so drunk that day that he collapsed asleep under the table in the inn, finding out what was happening only after the hangover was over.

"Now stop it soldier!" said Captain Oldrick, who was also present together with Septimus, Mayor Rutte, and a couple of monsters. He shouted, "There is no reason to go any further with this madness!"

"I want nothing to do with these beasts! I want five hundred goldies and a pass to cross the bridge!"

"You're not going anywhere, you maniac!" yelled the old kobold, pointing to his eye patch. "I still have to show you how grateful I am for this!"

"Shut up you stupid animal, or I swear I'll gouge out your other eye too!"

"Don't be stupid," Rutte said with a gloomy look, not at all apparently worried about what was happening to his daughter. "Keep a cool head and everything will be fine."

"Shut up old man! It's none of your business!"

"I wasn't talking to you."

"I'm sorry father. But I've had far too much patience with this idiot."

"Wha..."

There was a kind of hiss, like something being pulled out, and a moment later Vig collapsed to the ground, paralyzed, drooling and his eyes almost bulging.

But that was nothing compared to the astonishment most of us felt when we noticed a kind of sharp point sticking out from behind Giselle's skirt.

"Giselle, what the..."

"I think this play went on too long."

At that point, my best friend's whole body seemed to tear apart, and a sort of dark armor similar to the shell of an insect appeared in various places from under her skin, especially on her arms and legs. Four membranous wings appeared behind her back tore through her blouse, and much of her skirt was literally torn apart by the appearance of a large, hairy yellow and black abdomen ending in a long stinger. Finally, a pair of feelers sprouted on top of her head.

"Finally! I was sick of that rubbery wrapper!"

It almost looked as if Septumus' jaw was going to drop at any moment, and judging by the bulge below his belt it was clear that our friend's transformation into a sort of perturbing, almost double-chested queen bee had aroused inappropriate thoughts in him.

"Giselle, but you're a..."

"A beauty? A force of nature?"

"A monster!?"

"I wish you didn't say it in that tone."

"Giselle isn't exactly a monster," Daemon said. "She is a half-human."

"Don't tell me you always knew," she said, maliciously grinning like when we were kids.

"I grew up around monsters. Of course, I know one, however disguised."

We later learned that many years before Mr. Rutte had come upon a half-dead runaway slave while returning from a trip to the Union, taking her home with him and keeping her for a long time hidden in the attic of his house after nursing her.

Eventually they fell in love and Giselle was born, though the struggle of giving birth to a half-human had been too much for her mother, who died soon after her birth.

It also turned out that the species to which Giselle's mother belonged had developed the ability to hide its true appearance behind a casing that simulated human skin in all respects, which however could no longer be rebuilt once destroyed.

"So? Do you want to stand there and stare at me a little longer or would you rather move your hands? Get this garbage off me before I inject him with another dose of poison."

"Rough and wild and stubborn. You are just like your mother."

As Oldrick and Septimus were carrying Vig away, a huge but friendly-looking ogre entered the inn.

"Daemon, everything's ready."



According to Daemon, the people of Dundee used to gather in the central square just to witness public executions.

Once the gallows had been transformed into a stage, we had gathered not only the villagers, but also everyone we could find from around the region.

It was clear that they were afraid of us, and that many of them had obeyed us by following us to the village only because Daemon had requested that mixed groups made with monsters, guards, and legionnaires conduct the roundups.

In the end there were a lot more people than I expected. Everyone's eyes were obviously on Daemon, who stood like a giant among the dwarves at center stage with the mayor, Decurion Septimus, Captain Oldrick, and a few other respectable citizens behind him.

Daemon nodded, and silence immediately fell among the crowd.

"My friends, inhabitants of Dundee. I don't need to introduce myself, as you all know me. You should have figured it out by now. I lied to you. About many things. But if I did it wasn't because I was ashamed of who I am or where I come from. The truth is that I am an orphan. These monsters, which many of you have always considered nothing more than soulless, wild beasts, found me abandoned in the forest when I was just a newborn. They could have ignored me, or even eaten me. Instead, they adopted me. They made enormous sacrifices in order to raise me, so that one day I could have everything they could never hope for. I have lived among them, and I have seen what they are forced into. I dried their tears and cried with them every time one of their companions did not return to his shack in the evening, just because someone had thought that his life was less worth than a piece of gold, a pitch bucket or a piece of coal. But whatever your thoughts, or whatever you know or think you know, I assure you that we are not here to avenge ourselves or to repay something with blood. We are here because we believe that every sentient being who walks this Earth is as worthy to live equally among others. Every single individual – whether human, monster or demy human –has the right to freely dispose of his life, and to answer for the abuse he could make of his freedom before a law in front of which everyone must be equal. That same freedom and that same law that were also taken away from you, trampled on by a government that claims to dictate your lives in the same way it disposes of those of slaves. A government which, after not being able to prevent our land from being reduced to starvation, has not only done nothing to help us, but has even turned out to be a nest of snakes which have not thought twice about speculating about our misfortunes. Well, I say that when he who should first provide for the well-being of those entrusted to his care proves himself unworthy of the trust accorded him and of the role he plays, the people not only have the right but also the duty to raise their heads and shout their anger loudly! All those who do not trust my words, do not believe in the goodness of what we want to build, or simply cannot get rid of their prejudices can leave unharmed, with everything they will be able to take with them. Not one of them will be touched. Those who share our struggle but are afraid of risking their lives themselves have nothing to fear, because we will fight for them too, and they will still have the opportunity to contribute to the cause. However, if you too believe that it is right to hope for something more, if you too think that there may be another way, then I ask you to stand by our side and help us build a better world – a world in which no one will have the power to dispose of life or death over others. In which each of us, from the humblest peasant to the most illustrious landowner, from the once-slave monster to the greatest of kings, will have the inalienable right to liberty, property, equality before law and state, and to be found innocent until proven guilty by a jury of his peers. The blood of those who will give their lives to defend this world in the wars that will surely be unleashed against us in an attempt to extinguish the fire of our awakened souls will be the water of life that will germinate the seeds of a new age. Even in death, the martyrs of our struggle will have the consolation that their sacrifice will not have been in vain, that those they leave behind will become children of us all, and that their memory will live on forever. The decision is up to you."

In the entire time Daemon had spoken, not a single voice had risen, and we had all found ourselves listening to him in silence, as if hypnotized. It was like hearing the voice of a God, an otherworldly being whose words could convince you that white was black.

We all knew the power of his charisma, but never before had we been faced with something so incredible.

The first to come forward was his friend Septimus, who took a step after ripping the imperial coat of arms from his blue legionnaire's tunic.

"I'm with you Daemon!"

"Me too!" said that obnoxious four-eyed girl with the baby face from the crowd.

"Count on me! – And on me too! – Death to the Governor! – Long live freedom!"

A moment later the square exploded in a deafening roar, with thousands of people who all together loudly invoked my little brother's name.

"I cannot believe it," Jack said. "Tell me it's all true."

"You are not dreaming, stallion," Giselle laughed. "Who would have thought? The puny little Daemon."

It was true. The impossible had finally happened.

Likely most of them still didn't understand that from that moment on they would live and fight side by side with the same creatures that until the day before they had looked down on and treated like servants, but at that moment they didn't care.

Daemon called me and I handed him the pole on which we had tied a rag banner made by Bonbi and the other women of the ghetto on the model he suggested.

An outline as blue as the sky and a heart as red as the blood spilled by our friends, divided by a white rectangle.

Finally, in the center, three golden bees, identical and beautiful.

Why bees?

Because according to Daemon they were beautiful animals, who worked all together for the good of their people, without looking at the differences.

Just as we would had to do if we wanted to survive.

Our flag.

The symbol of our freedom.

"The Revolution has begun!"