I had never thought that peace was destined to last long, just as I had always known that my empire, like all the others that existed in who knows how many other worlds, could only be built with blood.

After all, I knew I didn't have much time, and in my heart I had hoped that things would get started as soon as possible.

Almost four months had passed since that fateful day when it all began, and the arrival of the Demon Lord was getting closer.

It was no coincidence that from the first moment I had invested heavily in strengthening our western borders, having Grote Muren renovated and selecting the most cold-resistant monsters to send them to the Gael Pass. Because I knew that the first move against us would come from Eirinn itself.

Obviously I had read up on who I would be facing, and thanks to the reports given to me by the spies I had sent everywhere in almost all of Western Erthea, I had formed a fairly precise idea of Victor Montgomery.

Long story short, I wasn't worried in the slightest, since I understood who I was dealing with; he was the perfect spoiled hedonist, similar to many aristocrats of any kingdom, who mistook nobility for talent, constantly looking for a way to demonstrate his strength.

I had met hundreds of guys like that in my previous life, and I knew them well enough to know what to expect from them.

The same goes for Philippe, a snake with a forked tongue who used love of country as an excuse to justify his ambition, certainly competent in command but so unwise as to be predictable in his choices.

The problem however was General Lefde, of whom I couldn't get a precise idea. On the one hand I saw him as another of those veterans drunk with chivalrous honor who would never dream of contradicting their lord's orders, even if they disagreed with him, on the other I had only heard praise for his talent as a general.

As if that wasn't enough, everything was weighing on my shoulders, and for several days now I had barely found time to sleep.

In my old life, I could afford to delegate logistical and bureaucratic matters to others, but even though I was working to create a ruling class that could assist me, none of my subordinates still possessed the necessary qualities to keep up with me.

And with a war on the doorstep, my responsibilities had multiplied: studying the maps, organizing the garrisons, taking care of supplies, assigning the officers, planning the marches were all things that fell on my shoulders.

And even though I was now young again, I too had limits.

I had reached my third night spent almost completely sleepless examining paperwork and drawing up documents, I had more coffee than blood in my body, and if I had had a gun I think I would have shot the first person I met because of how tired and nervous I was.

To avoid completely collapsing I decided to take a walk.

The Castle was immersed in absolute darkness and silence, and except for the sentries, almost all of whom were more asleep than me, I didn't meet anyone until I reached the gardens.

"Scalia." I said when I saw her standing in front of the mermaid fountain. "What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I could ask you the same question."

"I had work to do, but I needed a break."

"You work too much, little brother. If you continue like this, sooner or later you will get sick."

"It's inevitable. Now that we are at war the tasks have multiplied."

"So it's really war..."

"I'm afraid so. Apparently, Victor has spent every last penny of Eirinn's coffers to recruit as many mercenaries as possible. It won't be an easy battle."

"When we agreed to follow you we knew that we would have to fight hard to gain and maintain freedom, but I sincerely hoped that peace could last a little longer."

Blissful ignorance.

As if changes, especially if so epochal, could happen without having to shed rivers of blood.

"Do you think we can win?"

"There are no certainties in war. We can only do our best, and hope that's enough. But yes, we can win. Besides, we've come too far to give up now, don't you think?"

Officially, Scalia was a soldier like the others, and she had no position within my government.

Not because I didn't think she was capable of doing her part; I didn't want anyone to accuse me of nepotism.

But now more than ever I needed her, her courage, her strength, and even her stubbornness. Even at the cost of making her risk her life on the battlefield.

"I was thinking of doing it tomorrow morning, but at this point I'd say let's take advantage of it now." I said handing her an officer's pin. «I am creating a special unit, which can move on the battlefield in full autonomy, and I would like you to command it with the rank of Captain."

"Captain!? Me!?"

"Everyone saw you fighting during the Revolution. Veterans know you, recruits admire you. Furthermore, the soldiers will fight with more conviction if they know that the daughter of the famous General Zorech is leading them. I wanted to propose this position to our father too, but as you know he no longer wants to have anything to do with war and weapons."

Indeed, I had tried in every way to convince Zorech to lend us his talent, but that obtuse and idealistic old man was evidently still tormented by nightmares of what he had seen and done during the Holy Wars.

Even for an irrelevant and marginal role like that of Governor of the Castle I had struggled quite a bit to convince him.

With Scalia, I didn't even have to insist.

"I'm not sure I'm what you need." she said, taking the pin. "But I promise I will do my best."

"I'm sure of it. But let's make one thing clear, you will still be part of the army. You may move on your own, but you must still obey my orders."

"Don't worry. I promise I won't do anything rash."

"I hope so. Because from now on I fear that the battles will get harder and harder."

A sudden movement in a nearby bush made us both jump, and a moment later I found myself being overwhelmed by some kind of small shadow that wrapped itself around me with the strength of a bear.

"Big Brother! It's been a while!"

"Sapi!?"

The last time I had received a letter from her was even before the start of the Revolution.

And even though I had already understood for some time just from what she had written to me over the years that she must have changed a lot compared to how I remembered her, for a moment it seemed to me that I was looking at a complete stranger.

The only way I could be sure it was really her was her appearance, as was natural: everyone knew that yetis looked like pre-adolescents throughout their lives, so as to remain small and robust and better tolerate the cold of the mountains in which they lived.

Same blue hair, same white fur, same small nose. And unfortunately for my bones, the same brute strength, which no one had ever taught her to control.

"But how did you get in here? What the hell are the guards up to?"

"Hello auntie. I'm happy to see you again too."

"Who did you call auntie, you kind of hairy gouge?"

There were few things Scalia hated more than someone calling out her age; of course, compared to the average age of dragons she was little more than a teenager, but that doesn't take away the fact that she was old enough to be my great-grandmother.

But clearly the new Sapi, who on the contrary, except for her character, still seemed like the little girl we had met eight years earlier, was too naive and innocent to understand it.

"So, are you going to tell me what you're doing here?"

"I have come to keep my promise. I told you that one day I would return to help you realize your dream. So when I heard what you had done I didn't think twice and came here."

And so, the first investment of my second life had finally paid off.

It was I who convinced Sapi to make use of the extraordinary brute strength of her species in the arena, in order to make her learn some fighting skills and make her even more capable of managing on the battlefield.

Now I knew that not only had that suggestion been followed perfectly, but the results had gone far beyond my wildest expectations... and my ribcage was the best proof of this.

"I'm sorry Sapi, but I'm afraid you arrived here at a very bad time. Peace is already over, and soon we will be at war again."

"But I can help you, big brother. I told you I learned to fight. I promise I'll do my part."

Exactly what I expected from her and for which I had cultivated our relationship, but it was still necessary to keep up appearances.

"If you really want to help us, then you can stay. For the moment, however, I want you to stay close to me. You will have the opportunity to prove your worth very soon."

"Daemon, you are not seriously thinking of sending this little wren into battle."

"Trust me Scalia, she knows how to fight better than you think. And she won't go into battle anyway, at least not until I say so. Right?"

"Yes, I promise. I will do everything you tell me. I'm so happy to be with you again, big brother."

In the meantime the sun had risen, so all three of us headed to the refectory.

And since Tecla had the bad habit of coming to report in the few quiet moments I had available, she appeared before us just as we were having breakfast.

"Eirinn's army has moved. They have split into two armies advancing at the same time."

"Where are they?"

"One army has taken possession of Todlen, the other seems intent on taking the Gael Pass. In command of this second army is the Earl of Hatlen, and many mercenaries are also part of it. There are also at least two hundred centaurs among them."

"Centaurs." Scalia said, barely containing the urge to spit on the ground. "If the underworld gods exist, they must have thought of an eternal punishment just for them."

"Where are our forces?" I asked

"General Adrian reached Grote Muren last night and implemented the defenses."

"The fortifications on the Gael?"

"They're finished."

With a nod, I attracted Septimus's attention, snatching him to his enormous relief from yet another sensual provocation from Giselle, who never missed an opportunity to show off her new gifts in front of him.

"Call the war council for noon. And tell my new unit to start preparing. The Free State is about to begin its first war."



People galled Gael Pass Stairway to Heaven, because it was the highest pass in the entire Khoral Range.

It was also called the Valley of the White Peak, since the snow that covered the side of Mount Gael never melted even in the heart of summer, looming menacingly over anyone who ventured into that flat and very narrow valley, carved into the rock and the ice.

At the end of three days and three nights of marching Philippe and his men had almost reached the top of the pass, establishing their camp in the heart of the last remnant of forest not far from the edges of the glacier.

Even though it was practically summer by now, the cold was frightening, penetrating every cell of your body and threatening to freeze you to death.

After a few hours of sleep, Philippe called the mercenary leaders to discuss the plan.

"The rebels have entrenched themselves three miles from here, in the heart of the glacier, and have erected wooden barriers. The Vanlian Furies will lead the way by wiping out the front line of the rebels, followed closely by the rest of the mercenaries who will inflict the final blow, opening the way for the rest of the army. At the exact moment that victory is within reach I will send a messenger to Todlen giving General Lefde and my nephew the green light to advance, and we will tighten Grote Muren in a pincer movement."

It was always the same story. Mercenaries and gregarious men did the dirty work, and regular soldiers marched victorious through the conquered regions following their lords.

Nothing could be done about it, and both Athreia and Ignes knew it well; that was the fate of those who made war in someone's service their profession.

"Hey horse, try not to kill too many of them." Ignes said at the end of the meeting. "Unlike you, we get paid for scalps."

It was not Athreia's habit to provoke or argue, so she simply promised not to "interfere with the legitimate claims of his comrades in arms" and closed the conversation.

"That guy, the General. I do not like him at all." said Medea going towards her sister "He clearly considers us just ordinary monsters."

"We are monsters, little sister. We can forget about it, but they can't."

"We fought alongside humans in the Holy Wars. The Empire considers us citizens in all respects. What else do we have to do to earn their respect?"

Athreia had learned not to ask herself such questions anymore, but Medea was so honest and noble that she simply could not understand why some humans, even after five hundred years, still failed to consider centaurs as their equals.

"What's the situation?" the older sister asked Stavros, returning from his exploration

"It's as the noble Philippe said. The rebels have set up defenses a little further west, mainly wooden palisades a couple of meters high."

"Is that all?" Medea commented. "Do they really think it takes so little to stop us?"

"On the other hand, I don't think much more can be done in a place like this. Maybe they think the ice on the ground will hinder us. They will find out the hard way that more is needed to worry our hooves."

What none of the three or anyone else in the camp knew was that, immediately after the meeting ended, Philippe had called the leader of his scouts to the command tent.

"Are you sure that Daemon is here?"

"Absolutely. My men saw him coming up the pass together with a half-breed, a young officer and some soldiers.»

"So, you know what to do. Wait for my signal."

"As you wish."



A few hours later the order to advance finally arrived and the Vanlian Furies set off, followed closely by the rest of the mercenaries.

They advanced slowly, so as not to waste their energy, and soon the rock beneath them turned into a thick layer of ice and snow.

But as Stavros had said it took more than that to scare them; their hooves were like claws, hard and rough, capable of gripping any type of terrain.

The rebels - practically all monsters - had in the meantime taken up positions, deploying spearmen and pikemen to block the enemy's advance and protect their comrades positioned behind their makeshift barricades.

Athreia and her companions had rarely seen such meager defenses, and a single assault would probably have been enough to flatten those fragile wooden lattices and overwhelm everything beyond them.

At first no one noticed that the rebel archers positioned beyond the barricades were not holding bows, but rather a kind of strange wooden and metal spears, short and stubby, ending in a hole from which a long, narrow blade emerged.

There was an instant of absolute quiet, and then the heralds blew their horns, making the mountains vibrate.

"Charge!"

Usually the mere sight of the Furies charging forward was enough to send their enemies fleeing in panic.

But evidently the rebels were not common adversaries, or perhaps they were just very well trained, and remained firm in their places, while behind their front line close to the barriers there was a continuous movement of officers who went back and forth shouting orders to maintain position.

In a few seconds the centaurs halved the distance that separated them from the enemy, gaining more and more speed as they advanced.

"Into position!"

Hearing that order, the front line stuck those strange spears beyond the barricades, pointing them straight forward as if trying to form a sharp barrier of spikes.

"Do they think this will be enough? Let's sweep them away!"

When there were a few tens of meters to go, the furies raised their weapons, preparing to strike; they would pass over the barricades and the enemies behind them like a carpet, leaving nothing but destruction in their wake.

A scream echoed like thunder in the heart of the rebel formation.

"Fire!"