"High politic is only common sense

applied to great things."

(Napoleon Bonaparte)



Riverdale was the smallest, the most isolated, the most distant of the Twenty-four Provinces that made up the Union of Patria; from there it took less time to get to Faria than to Mickarn.

The Galath range descending from the north stretched its impervious peaks into the heart of the state, propping it up with narrow valleys, steep meadows and large lakes overflowing with fish. It was therefore certainly not the ideal environment for those famous plantations that in the South and West extended as far as the eye could see beyond the horizon, and for which the Union was famous.

This obviously didn't mean that even in Riverdale there was no opportunity of obtaining wealth and prestige, or that there wasn't an aristocratic class that administered power as elsewhere.

Among all the rich stately homes that stood here and there both within the city walls and in the surrounding countryside, the most beautiful and showy of them was certainly Medici Manor.

It had been a long time since Michael had returned home, and seeing the place where he grew up aroused in him a mixture of nostalgia and melancholy.

"My boy." said an elderly lady coming to meet him as soon as he got out of the carriage. "You're finally back."

"Good morning, old Betsy." he answered with a smile

"Look how much you've grown. It seems like only yesterday that you were a rowdy child running back and forth all over the property."

"Those were different times. I confess that I miss them."

"Me too."

"Thank you for taking care of the property in my absence. I only owe it to you if this place has remained beautiful and well-kept despite everything."

"Don't worry, it's nothing big. After all, it's thanks to you that I was able to feed my children and put a roof over their heads when our business went to ruin."

"And how are your children?"

"They are healthy and happy. Now they both have their own land and are working hard to make it prosper. I can't thank you enough for making sure they gave us that loan."

"Don't worry about it. Riverdale is not Elordia, or Felisia, or Mickarn. But it's full of good willed people, and its land can bear good fruit if it is treated with love."

The old lady smiled: "I feel like I've gone back to the times of your first speeches, when you spoke to your friends in the living room."

"And you spanked me because standing on my father's desk I got it all dirty."

"You've come a long way since then. But somehow, I always knew you were destined to go far. I could see it in your eyes and feel it in your words."

"Thank you. Now I think I'll go visit my parents."

"Of course. I'm sure they'll be happy to see you."

Mr. and Mrs. Medici were waiting for their only and beloved son in the usual place, under the large oak tree on top of the hill that dominated the estate, surrounded by fruit trees, animal enclosures and greenhouses.

For the occasion Michael had brought them the gifts they loved most: blue roses from Jarvis for her, a bottle of excellent Mickarn liqueur for him.

"Father. Mother." he said, sitting down on the grass. "I'm back, finally. I'm sorry I've been gone so long. As you can imagine, in the last few years my work has increased considerably. But I want to tell you that I always think of you, and of all the teachings you have left me. I have always tried to live up to your hopes. And the dream that you had for this land, now I'm doing my best to try to make it real. Unfortunately, not everything always goes as you would like."

At that point the young man became melancholy: "Sometimes it's so difficult to get everyone to agree. But I'm not naive. I know why they decided to put this burden on me. I always tell myself that I don't want to be their puppet, but sometimes I wonder who is really pulling the reins. Maybe I should try to be more like you, dad. You have never allowed others to decide for you. You followed your ideals and beliefs to the end. The truth is, I feel lost, and I'm starting to wonder if I'll really be able to make things better."

Like a divine sign, a strange and pleasant breeze came down on the hill, making Michael's hair sway and for a moment he felt a sensation of calm pervade him, as if someone was enveloping him in a tender embrace.

"If they could see you, your parents would be so proud of you." said old Betsy, joining him on the hill

"You say? They had nothing when they started. They took this land where nothing grew, and look what they turned it into. I've had everything from day one, and yet I can't get twenty-four people who only think about themselves to get along."

"The Lord and the Lady defended their ideas and beliefs to the end, and I am sure that you are putting your heart and soul into doing the same. It's in your nature."

"Perhaps. But will I be able to do it?"

"Never give up. And whatever happens, always remember that your parents are with you at all times."

The passage along the road that ran alongside the estate of a large group of knights distracted the young man from his thoughts.

"What happens?"

"Checks have been increasing for a few days now. Looks like they've caught a spy."

"A spy? From where?"

"From the Free State."

"I assume it's locked up in prison now."

"Yes. A friend of my son told me that they are trying to interrogate her because they fear there may be others."

Michael had escaped from the capital to rest, and theoretically he shouldn't have been interested in it.

But being unable to stop thinking about work and worrying about everything and everyone was simply his nature. Also because, knowing what many of his compatriots still thought about monsters, he feared that some guards would get carried away.

So before even emptying his luggage he mounted his horse and returned to the city, reaching the prison.

The guards naturally had no intention of letting him in, at least until he pulled down the hood of his cloak, making them immediately jump to attention.

"Mr President, please excuse us! We had no idea it was you!"

"Rest, soldier. So? Where is this spy?"



The prisoner was a very young satyr, and as Michael feared the magistrate's men had not held back in their attempt to extract information from her.

But she had resisted thanks to an apparently endless threshold of pain and endurance, also maintaining a seraphic and almost impassive expression that only served to make her captors even more frustrated.

"Michael." said the magistrate as he entered the cell

"Charles, my friend."

"When did you come back?"

"This morning. Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Was it really necessary to use melted wax?"

"Sorry, you know that I don't agree with this kind of procedure either. But the mayor and the governor are breathing down my neck. Ever since the news broke that the Free State invaded Eirinn everyone has been on edge."

"Yes, I understand you. It's the same in Mickarn too."

"With what's going on, it's strange to find you here. I imagine you will be overwhelmed with things to do."

"Congress closed its doors for the midsummer celebration. I tried to convince them to prolong the works in order to better manage this crisis, but without success."

"This is madness. Half of Erthea seems on the verge of exploding, but those big wigs certainly aren't giving up their holidays."

Michael's attention then moved to a document placed on the cell table.

"And this?"

"We found it on her when we caught her."

"What language is it? I've never seen it."

"Me neither. We think it's a code, but even if she knew how to translate it, there was no way to get her to say a word. It's like trying to make a rock talk."

The young president then turned to the prisoner.

"What is this document? What's written here?"

She simply raised her gaze for a moment, staring at him with that disinterested look of hers and her eyes half-closed due to the beatings.

"You'd better talk to us, little girl. Otherwise, the matter will pass into the hands of the military police, and I assure you that they are much less understanding than us."

"Charles, please. Could you leave me a few minutes alone with her?"

His old friend and schoolmate protested a bit but in the end he obeyed, also because it was impossible not to do so when the President of the Union is asking you something.

When he and the three guards were gone, Michael loosened the chain just enough to allow the prisoner to place her hooves on the ground.

"My name is Michael. Michael Medici." so he offered her a bowl of water. "Are you thirsty?"

She looked away, though her dry lips betrayed what she refused to say.

"Can you tell me your name?"

"... Thecla..."

"Thecla, huh? It's a southern name. Do you come from the Union?"

"When you belong to our species it matters little which human nation you are born into, you are still a slave. I was born in Elordia, and spent my first seven years of life moving from plantation to plantation. Then I was bought and brought to the Empire."

"And that's why you rebelled? To be free?"

"Wouldn't you have done the same?"

This time Michael was the one who looked away.

"I have heard a lot about your leader. Daemon. He appears to be a very capable person."

"He told us we could be free and we followed him. And he kept his word. Now there is no one left to tell us what to do. We are masters of our lives."

"And yet, now he has dragged you into a war."

"It wasn't his decision. They attacked us, and we are defending ourselves. It's a message. A message addressed to you too. So, you will all know what happens to those who think of stealing the freedom we have won."

There was then a heated duel of glances between the two, in which it seemed that each was trying to read the other's mind.

"Demanding freedom is absolutely legitimate, as far as I'm concerned. My ancestors fought a long war in its name, because they felt Parn had denied it to us for too long. We believed we could be better than them, and we created a system in which no one could ever claim the title of king again, convincing ourselves that this would be enough. But every now and then I wonder if a man can really aim for complete freedom. Whether you call him master, king, or even just President, isn't it the same thing? There will always be someone above you demanding to tell you how to live your life. After all, however, if we allowed each man to behave as he saw fit, wouldn't we perhaps end up resembling the beasts of the forest? Not to mention the fact that there is hierarchy even among animals, in which the stronger commands over the weaker."

Thecla seemed confused for a moment, but her nature immediately took over again.

"You talk too difficult. The point is that now I can eat, sleep and go wherever I want. And if in order to do that I have to do what Daemon asks of me, I don't care. It's still a decision I made."

Realizing that there was no way to establish a dialogue, Michael had to give up.

However, he couldn't stop himself from making one final consideration.

"This Daemon is definitely a guy capable of touching the consciences of anyone he meets. I admit that I would like to have some of his charisma."



"What will happen to that poor girl now?"

To celebrate her pupil's return home, old Betsy had dusted off all her cooking skills by preparing his favorite dishes for him, but Michael was forcing himself to eat just so as not to displease her.

"Unfortunately Charles and the others couldn't get anything out of her, so they had no other choice. In a few days she will be taken to Mickarn and entrusted to the military police."

"She's so young. What do you think they'll do to her?"

"She's are just a courier, but the coded document that they found on her demonstrates that there is probably an effective network of Free State spies active at various levels in our country. It's a national security issue, and there's nothing I can do about it."

"But you are the President. Is there really nothing you can do?"

"My powers are actually much more limited than you might think. You could almost say that I can do nothing without the authorization of Congress or the House of Lords. And unfortunately when national security is involved the only one who has a say is the head of espionage, the Marquis Bruyne."

But it was quite clear that this was not the only thing that troubled the young head of state's thoughts.

"Unfortunately old Betsy, the situation is very serious. At first there was only a little concern, but since the Free State attacked Eirinn this has turned to fear. Both Congress and the House are divided, but the number of those pushing for action is growing every day. And I fear that soon I will no longer be able to oppose their decision."

"But what if the Empire were to react?"

"That's what I'm trying to make them understand, but it's backfiring. The most fanatical think that for this very reason it would be best to act immediately, before the Emperor decides to take matters into his own hands."

"Do you think he will do it?"

"Everything will depend on the outcome of this war. Regardless of who wins, it's pretty obvious that things won't stay calm for long. As if this Daemon could be considered an opponent like the others. I never met him in person, but reading the reports was enough to give me shivers at the mere thought of standing in front of him on the battlefield."

Only later did Michael remember that theoretically he had returned home to give himself some rest, and not to further rack his brains about the many problems that his role entailed.

And if the beef stew with peach sauce or the vegetables with honey weren't enough to calm his soul and push him to think about other things, the vanilla parfait that a young fox maid brought him at the end of the dinner almost made him feel like a child again.

"It's delicious, Maya. Thank you."

"It's always a pleasure, Mich... I mean, Master."

The girl almost fainted from her embarrassment when she involuntarily touched the young man's fingers retrieving the cup, running away all red in the face under the amused gaze of old Betsy.

"She's still a child. She gets embarrassed by even the simplest things."

"Or maybe it's you who, even after all these years, still haven't learned to read between the lines."

Every time he saw his childhood friend forced to work as a maid instead of being able to pursue her dreams Michael remembered why he had chosen that path for his life.

And unfortunately this was enough to bring back to his mind thoughts that at least for that evening he would have liked to leave outside the door.

"I almost envy this Daemon. He didn't have to deal with a mass of greedy and selfish landowners. Maybe after all it is true that sometimes the sword is the only solution to complex problems."

"Still no end in sight?"

"Riverdale is an exception, but few elsewhere jump for joy at the idea of giving up slave labor. At present the Congress is in a situation of absolute equilibrium, while in the House of Lords the slaveholders are still in the majority."

"The same old problem. Southern states are richer and more populous, so they have more political weight."

"And paradoxically the Revolution only made things more difficult. With what's happening in the Free State, the abolition of slavery is the last thing many landowners want to hear about. But what is truly ironic is that those who are doing everything to slow down the work are the same ones who rushed months ago to sign contracts with the rebels to sell them wheat and cereals. We truly live in an upside-down world."