Even if it didn't have to deal with the rugged peaks of Khoral or the blizzards that lasted for days, Eastern Eirinn was also put to the test by winter every year.

The snow may not have fallen as heavy and thick as in the west, but the cold temperatures were not much different from Dundee or Basterwick.

Even before the snows began, many people had started to fear for their fate due to the disastrous situation in which the Grand Duchy was after the war.

Instead, everything had been carried out with absolute precision and preparation. The Free State army had been very careful not to damage the fields and farms, but the mercenaries in the service of the Grand Duchy who had raided before running away had not been as careful and generous.

The situation in the capital was naturally the most delicate. Even though the attack did not last long, the damage was extensive, especially in the areas closest to the city walls. Not to mention Gaia's Spear, which had wiped out entire fields with a single blow.

In all of this, once the occupying army had taken office, it went to look at the public accounts and found nothing but empty coffers and terrible debts.

Simply put, Eirinn was a nation on the brink of bankruptcy.

Anyone would have taken what little was left and abandoned the nation to its fate.

But not Daemon Haselworth.

From the day he established his new provisional government, he had been very clear in reaffirming his willingness to do whatever it took to get Eirinn back on its feet and save its people from disaster.

First, however, there was need of money. A lot of money.

To find them, Daemon had given birth to an idea as simple as it was revolutionary, the union of all moneylenders and family banks of the Grand Duchy and the Free State into the National Bank.

Daemon, in addition to taking on all the debts contracted by Victor to finance the war, had then asked for a large loan, going so far as to guarantee it with his cabin in the mountains of Dundee and his shares in the mines of the West.

And the bank had been more than happy to grant it to him, thus allowing rivers of money to pour into the national coffers.

"I hope you are aware that from now on you are probably the most indebted person in this world." Mary had said when, as temporary director, she had to countersign the loan deed. "Compared to you, Emperor Ademar would be considered a practically solvent debtor."

With that money, the first step was to purchase more than enough wheat and cereals from the Union to get through the winter.

Immediately afterwards it was the turn of public works, employing citizens who no longer had a home or a job to repair the most serious damage and prepare new sowings as quickly as possible, also resorting to the terrace system which in the West augured for the next spring a sensational harvest.

Faria was a beautiful city, but outside its walls, Eirinn was certainly not a model of virtue and good management, quite the opposite.

The next step was therefore the improvement of the already existing vital structures and the start of new construction sites of collective interest such as bridges, roads and exchange stations, as well as the creation of a completely new postal system based on the model of the one already active for months in the Free State.

All this had improved the general situation enormously, and even though everyone knew they were living in a situation of suspended peace, in which everything could change at any moment, hope had returned to Eirinn.

And the more life flourished, the more work increased, also because in the meantime it was also necessary to take care of the Free State, which in turn had suffered quite a bit from the consequences of almost three months of war.

This had forced Daemon to divide his collaborators between the two provinces, personally remaining in Faria to manage the reconstruction and sending most of his companions back to the Castle.

And as was often the case, it fell to Septimus to act as liaison.

Almost every day the two met early in the morning in the Grand Duke's study, from which Daemon now only left to visit some construction site or activity around the region.

"Yes, everything seems fine." he said, signing the document that his friend had submitted to him. "I will give the authorization. Tell Grog he can start digging. I'm expecting the new mine tunnel to open by next spring."

"It will be done." Septimus replied, and then vainly tried to hide a yawn

"Tired?"

"Yesterday I followed Athreia on an inspection of the centaur village. We returned when it was almost dark."

"It doesn't surprise me. That place is already difficult to reach in summer, let alone in the middle of winter. How's the situation?"

"Pretty good. All the houses have been rebuilt, and they have enough grains and vegetables. Lasik told me to give you this."

Whereupon Septimus placed a juris, a simple ash staff covered with symbols, on the desk. In centaur culture, giving one was a sincere and unconditional demonstration of respect and friendship, a sort of sacred bond that no one could hope to break.

"Thank him for me."

"Of course I will. But now I'd better go. There is still a lot to do at the Castle."

"I'll come with you. I just need a break."

Daemon then accompanied Septimus out of the office; but instead of the entrance, the two friends went to the garden, in front of a small marble arch. When Septimus touched one of the arcane symbols carved into the stone, the entire artifact was surrounded with light, opening a magical door beyond which the profile of the Castle could be seen.

"It seems still incredible, right?" smiled Septimus. "A magic portal between Faria and the Castle. I guess it was very convenient back when East and West Eirinn were one nation."

"According to what Lady Valera says, it has existed since time immemorial. Then when the West was handed over to the Empire it was deactivated and forgotten."

"Natural. Since reactivating it requires the joint efforts of two magicians acting at the same time, this prevented both nations from using it without each other's knowledge."

"By the way, when you talk to Oldrick, remind him that Mary is still waiting for the cost report on the repairs to Grote Muren. The new budget must be approved by the end of the month."

"I will. We have to meet tonight. It's Giselle's birthday, and she's throwing a party at the inn."

"Can you really find the time to go?"

"If I don't go she'll punch me. She was already angry enough when I told her you wouldn't be there."

"Tell her I'm sorry. I'll make it up to her at the Star Festival next week. You'll be there, I imagine."

"Do I have to ask? I've dreamed of seeing it since I was a child. We're making arrangements for everyone to come."

"I'm glad to hear it. It will be a memorable event, and I want everyone to have fun there."

Daemon also yawned at that point, but in his case it was enough to look at the circles under his eyes to understand how exhausted he must have been.

"You should rest."

"I would like to, but there is still too much to do. Two countries, double responsibilities. After all, it's also our fault that Eirinn had to face so many problems."

"And to think that there was a time when you were the one who held me down."

"As soon as I can I will try to loosen my grip a little. The Star Festival celebrations will certainly be an excellent opportunity to relax."

"I really hope so. After all, if you have a stroke you won't be helping anyone."

"I'll remember it. See you soon my friend."

"See you next week."

After Septimus had crossed the threshold and the portal had closed, Daemon retraced his steps. On the way back to the office, he passed the training ground, where Scalia and Isabela were engaged in their usual morning duel.

Those two were like a couple of cats always busy hissing in each other's faces, but even if they would never admit it, over the months they had come to respect each other almost like sisters.

"You've improved a lot. It doesn't even look like you're wearing holy armor anymore."

"I had a great teacher, and I can't wait to show her that I've gotten better than her."

"You still have a long way to go for that, little dragon. Right now you're just a puppy trying to breathe fire to impress the adults."

Daemon remained for a few minutes watching them amusedly as they beat themselves with wooden swords like little girls on the playground, then returned to his office and his many commitments; however he could not devote himself to it for long, since shortly afterwards Alfred came to announce the arrival of a new guest.



It was almost incredible that with everything he had to do, Daemon managed to find time to take care of things that were less important at first sight, but which still seemed to be close to his heart.

Marcel Grandier was a brilliant young playwright who had cut his teeth starting practically from scratch; the people loved his irreverent and burlesque works, but his tendency to ridicule everyone had not earned him many admirers in courts and palaces.

So for years he had been forced to live almost like a prisoner within the cultural circle created over the years by the old Berthold, who provided him with protection from the many enemies he had made among the wrong people.

When he had met him shortly after the conquest of Faria, Daemon had not only renewed his promise of protection, but had actually encouraged him to stage his first real theatrical work, abandoning the dialogues or short skits he used to make.

Being granted total creative freedom, Marcel had been happy to take up the challenge, creating in just over a month a three-act comedy that Daemon had called the funniest he had ever seen.

Now all that remained was to stage it, and that was what the young author had come to talk about.

"Grandier, welcome." Daemon said, welcoming him warmly. «Please, have a seat. I was eagerly awaiting your visit."

"Sorry to have come to disturb you, I know you are very busy."

"Nonsense, I always have time for you and your art. Please, tell me. I hope the rehearsals go well, the premiere is almost here."

"All fine. However, watching the actors perform, I thought of some changes to make to the script, and I wanted to show them to you."

"Why on earth? I told you, you're allowed to write whatever you want. The only thing I ask you is to respect the memory of the Grand Duke and avoid ridiculing him."

"For heaven's sake, I would never dream of doing it. But still... how can I say... let's say that my pen had even fewer inhibitory brakes than usual..."

Daemon took the document and gave it a quick read; and even he had a hard time holding back his laughter.

"It's perfect. You absolutely have to stage it. I give you permission."

"Are you sure about that? I mean, you've gained a lot of admirers since you've been here, and I wouldn't want anyone to feel...well, unflattered..."

"If someone were to feel dragged out or called into question by your comedy it would mean that you have hit the mark, and that person would have something to feel embarrassed about. Trust me; comedy is the best representation of reality. Vices and virtues shown without masks nor hypocrisy."

Daemon had a way of seeing things that left anyone who met him speechless.

For him everything was a useful means to nourish the Revolution of which he had now become the symbol, and teaching its principles to people was as important as defending it from its enemies.

And Marcel, like many others, felt proud to be able to contribute to the cause, because before now no one had ever cared so much about the happiness and well-being of the people.

"Will you be able to assimilate the changes in so few days?"

"We will work day and night if necessary. The actors are the best I've ever worked with."

"I'm sure of it." Daemon replied looking at his watch. "But now I'm afraid I have to leave you. My presence is required elsewhere."

"Naturally. Thanks again for your time. I promise you that with the staging of this comedy, the Star Festival will become absolutely unforgettable."

Daemon then picked up his overcoat and went down to the entrance square, boarding the carriage that was already waiting for him. Indeed, he used to say how he hated walking around in that glittering catafalque, but Alfred always replied that as acting Grand Duke it was his duty to appear a certain way.

"To the Banlieu."



Just beyond the west door there was a large cluster of old warehouses once used to store salt, but left for years in a state of total abandonment.

During the battle, a mortar shot that was less precise than the others had hit them and set them on fire; and when they managed to put out the fire, there was nothing left of them.

While everyone was still trying to understand what to do with all that space, Daemon had come up with one of his strange ideas and had announced a sort of competition among the citizens, allowing anyone to present their own redevelopment project.

Everyone saw Jannik Fayol as a visionary, a dreamer whose ideas seemed to be based very little on logic and much on imagination, and who for this reason had never managed to make a name for himself among the engineers or architects serving the Montgomery Family.

However, this did not prevent Daemon, after just two minutes of conversation, from entrusting him with the redevelopment project of the warehouses, where he could finally implement his idea for a new production process.

In no time at all, that area infested with weeds and neglect had transformed into a sort of small city within the city, an independent reality surrounded by its own wall with everything one may need, from the market to the spa.

Everyone lived and worked inside, as the complex was also equipped with large apartments where the workers lived together with their families.

The beating heart of the structure – which Daemon had wanted to call Banlieu – were the three enormous interconnected stone warehouses, inside which no less than three thousand workers worked tirelessly, each of them with their own specific task and place.

And since the work was divided into shifts that covered the whole day, production activity practically never stopped.

The efficiency and differentiation of tasks were so well organized that it was possible to produce a wide range of very different products at the same time. From clothes to tools to weapons, there was almost nothing that couldn't be produced in the Banlieu.

Daemon tried to visit the complex on every possible occasion, marveling at how that powerful yet delicate industrial machine only improved after each visit.

"I'm truly speechless." he said as Jannik accompanied him on a tour of the facility. "I didn't think it was possible that you could accomplish something like this in such a short time."

"None of this would have been possible without you. Nobody wanted to listen to me when I tried to propose this new way of understanding the production process. You not only believed in me, but thanks to your support, I was able to demonstrate to everyone the validity of my theory. And I will be eternally grateful to you for this."

"There was a time when I was reluctant to give credit to projects that seemed too silly or too imaginative to me, and I regretted it. I won't make the same mistake again. Now I no longer judge the idea itself, but rather the person who claims to be able to make it real. And when I looked into your eyes, I saw the look of a person who was ready to put everything on the line to prove he was right. This was enough to convince me to trust you, and now I know that it was a wise choice."

"I hear that you intend to apply my production model to the factories you have built in the Free State."

"It is an efficient model, especially if, as in our case, we are dealing with low-skilled workers."

"Certainly. By dividing the production process into various phases linked together, artisans capable of creating a product from start to finish are no longer necessary. Provided that a constant connection between the various departments is guaranteed, now it is enough for a worker to learn to master a single phase."

"This naturally partially lowers the quality, but on the other hand speeds up production. Furthermore, the low level of mobility and large spaces allow more goods to be produced in one place. My most sincere compliments, Fayol. Really."

"Thank you."

While they were inspecting the area where the wooden parts of the muskets were produced, a woman fell to the ground not far from them.

"Are you sick?" Daemon asked

"Fear not, my lord. It's nothing. Now I'll get back to work."

But all you had to do was look at her to understand that she wasn't well at all.

"This woman is clearly ill. She should be at home."

"We've told her several times, but she insists on staying at work." Jannik tried to justify himself

"Please my lord, don't send me away. I need to work."

"You are burning with fever. You risk getting worse if you don't rest."

"My husband died in Mistvale, my eldest son is still recovering from being wounded in Alois. I was left alone to look after my two youngest daughters. If I don't work, they can't eat."

Whereupon Daemon took a handful of coins from his purse and placed them in the woman's hand.

"My Lord..."

"A week's pay, plus what you need to buy medicines. Now go home and rest."

The gesture obviously did not escape the attention of the other workers, who couldn't believe their eyes just like the woman.

"The Free State is not Eirinn or the Empire. There is no one here who orders you to die for a piece of bread. Each of you can give a lot for your country, but it would be crazy to expect too much from yourself. So don't be afraid to say you feel bad. The local doctor is at your disposal, and will be ready to exempt you from work if he deems it to be in your and the factory's interests. For those who will be forced to take sick leave we are setting up a fund that can cover their expenses until they are able to work again. Because remember that if one of you is too sick to keep up, the entire business suffers."

Reinvigorated in their spirit, everyone then went back to work, while the woman was taken into custody by a couple of guards who accompanied her home.

"I really don't know how you always have a solution for everything. It's as if there was nothing capable of worrying you."

"I wish I had been like this on other occasions too. Shall we continue the tour?"