Even in an immense construction site constantly in motion like Faria had been for months, it was not easy to make three barrels of gunpowder disappear from a military depot and get away with it.

Just making few questions and investigate a little had been enough to isolate all those who for one reason or another could have been involved in the theft.

Eventually the name of a night watchman with a gambling problem had surfaced; in order to save his neck, he immediately confessed that he had accepted a lot of money to look elsewhere during a guard shift, thus allowing to finally finding out the thief.

As Adrian feared, it was a follower of the Warriors of Eirinn.

And for anyone plotting against Daemon and the Revolution, the worst thing was not having to deal with him, or with Scalia; but end up in the hands of the Shrouded.

They had only existed for a few months, but despite this, they had already gained a certain reputation among the few who knew of their existence.

It was said that their real names were a secret even between themselves, and they had one thing in common: each of them had stories behind them where the mere fact of being part of the regular army could have damaged the reputation of the Free State.

Their aim was to act in the shadows, where soldiers and common agents could not or did not want to go, and their loyalty to the cause was absolute.

After finding the thief, they took him to the basement of the town hall to find out what he and his companions had in mind, but when Adrian reached them the guy still hadn't spilled the beans despite the beatings.

"I'm sorry, my lord." said Raven, the unit commander, when Adrian entered the cell. "We've tried everything, but we can't get him to talk."

In fact, just looking at what was left of him was enough to understand that the Shrouded had used all their knowledge in an attempt to break him. But despite his broken fingers, his cracked ribs, his face now reduced to a bloody meatball, that boy continued to stare mockingly at his torturers, with the awareness of someone who felt ready to follow his own ideals until death.

Unfortunately for him, Adrian had his own way of getting a confession.

"I'll tell you how it works." he said, pulling a servant stone from his cloak. «I will ask the questions and you will answer. Otherwise, what you have experienced so far is nothing compared to what awaits you."

Then, without much ceremony, he forced the stone into one of his many wounds.

"Last chance."

"Go to hell."

"As you wish."

If it hadn't been for the fireworks, the celebrations, and that they were three floors underground, the whole city would have heard his terrifying screams.

Being burned alive, drowning without being able to swim, being crushed under a weight that suffocated you, feeling your bones breaking from the inside. Adrian seemed to know every single way a servant stone could make a living being feel pain, always stopping just short of causing irreparable consequences.

Despite everything, that boy managed to resist for almost two hours; but in the end, he had to give in.

"It's too late now..."

"Late for what? What have you planned?"

"... The usurper will die... he will taste his own medicine... he will feel the same pain as us..."

Then Adrian concluded that they planned to blow up Daemon using his own gunpowder. Now it was a question of understanding where and how they intended to do it; and since there was no doubt that the Warriors were aiming to strike Daemon right at his moment of greatest triumph, Adrian knew he couldn't waste any more time.

"Where will the attack take place?"

Again the boy tried to resist, but this time his spirit was broken much faster.

"The blood of our fallen brothers... will be repaid... by that of the usurper... and of all the traitors who sold themselves to him... and to his lies..."

Hearing these last words, even Adrian could not hide his terror.

Therefore, the Warriors of Eirinn aimed to strike not only Daemon, but also those who in one way or another supported him, and perhaps had benefited from the new order.

Performing an attack during that evening's grand ball at the palace, amidst exceptional security measures, would have been foolish, so Adrian could think of only one place where all the nobles and officials who had gone over to Daemon's side would be present that day.

"Curse! Go, quickly!"



One of the most anticipated events of that day was the staging of "The Boastful Nobleman", an opera in three acts that inaugurated the new National Theater in the heart of the city.

For many centuries all the largest theatrical performances organized by the Montgomery family for the consumption of their noble guests had been held in the palace amphitheater; the people had to make with the wooden stages and tents of traveling companies.

However, things had changed with Daemon; reiterating his belief that everyone should have equal access to culture, he had confiscated the villa of a nobleman who fled during the war and transformed it into a large indoor theater.

Here he had set up various rows of seats, five floors of boxes reserved for the nobles and in the center a large box of honor for him and his companions.

Erthea had never seen a theater of that kind before; those who had been able to attend the rehearsals of the show said that the structure was simply perfect and capable of enhancing everything, from the lights to the sound.

When Daemon and his companions arrived, almost everyone had already taken their seats, and despite an attempt to create as many seats as possible, many people, especially in the audience, had to remain standing.

Unfortunately, precisely because of the large number of people crowded inside and outside the building, it was impossible for the guards to keep everything under control, and this had allowed a small group of suspicious people to mix in with the crowd pulling a cart.

"We brought wine for the after-show party." their leader said to the soldiers who guarded access to the underground

"We weren't told anything."

"It was a last minute decision. Order of the noble Daemon. If you want, you can talk to him about it."

Just one second of hesitation from the three guards was enough for the intruders to jump on them and cut their throats.

Then, after hiding the corpses and opening the door, two of them carried the three barrels inside, while the others remained outside to keep watch.

"Here we are. This is the place."

"Are you sure?"

"This was my aunt's villa. Trust me, this is a load-bearing wall. All we have to do is blow it up, and the whole building will collapse like a house of cards."

"... But... are we really doing the right thing? I understand the nobles or the usurper, but there are also many innocent people."

"There must be no mercy for those who fraternize with the enemy by betraying their country. Whoever is up there has betrayed Eirinn, and will die for it."

Once the barrels had been positioned, all that remained was to unroll the fuse and set the powder on fire, except that suddenly they heard sound of battle coming from outside.

"Go see what happens, I'll finish here."

The wingman obeyed, returning to the entrance, just in time to see his companions engaged in a ferocious battle against three hooded individuals who were tearing them to pieces.

He immediately drew his sword and tried to throw himself into the fray, but a fourth hooded person fell on him from above, killing him immediately.

"Go, boss! We'll take care of them!"

Raven quickly ran into the basement, surprising the terrorist leader just as he was about to light the fuse.

There was a short and very violent clash between the two, which ended when the enemy, managing to remove Raven's hood, remained petrified at the sight of her face.

"But you are..." he had time to say before being beheaded.

At the same time, the situation had calmed down outside too, and as had already happened on other occasions there was no mercy for anyone. In addition to being fiercely hostile to the forces of the Free State, the Warriors of Eirinn were a complex hierarchical structure in which wingmen were unlikely to be privy to significant information; so there was no reason to take prisoners.

While his companions cleaned up the scene, Raven, agile as a cat, returned to the town hall building and reported the success of the operation to Adrian.

"Well done."

The reaction of the prisoner, or what was left of him, was very different.

"We will return. The usurper will have no peace. Eirinn... will be free..."

"Perhaps. But not today." and without another word Adrian killed him with a gunshot. "Throw this bag of manure into the sewers. They're waiting for me at the theater."



Everyone loved comedy, and the more biting it was, the more ordinary people and others enjoyed watching it.

But before then the main characters of these irreverent works were commoners, or at most from the middle class.

This was the first time that a nobleman was ridiculed; after all, the title itself made it clear what was the topic of the work.

The plot was simple, like most comedies.

A rich nobleman fell in love with a young woman of the same social class as himself, who however was madly in love with a young army officer of humble origins. After having tried in vain to win her over by flaunting virtues and personal and military successes he had never had, he went so far as to hire bandits to stage a kidnapping and save his beauty, only to be cheated by the same ones who ran away once they had received the payment. In the end, the nobleman challenged the officer to a series of tests hoping to win through deception, but all his machinations backfired until he found himself defeated, humiliated and broke. The most exhilarating moment was at the end, when his father beat him for having even lost the old family sword in gambling, then the wise governor of the city exiled him as punishment for his crimes.

"It took you a while. It must have been a pretty big nuisance."

"Nothing too complicated actually." Adrian said, silently sliding into the chair next to Daemon's. "The audience seems to be having fun."

"Not all of them, but yes."

Despite everything, in fact, many nobles were also enjoying the show, although some of them were clearly disappointed by the loud laughter of the people.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"What are you talking about?"

"About this. Teach the people that they can laugh at nobles and ridicule them."

"The greatest achievement of a State is equality. Nobility must be earned, not imposed from above. And like I said, being noble doesn't exempt you from turning out to be an idiot."

"I understand. So to avoid exposing themselves to public ridicule, the nobles will now have to demonstrate that they deserve their status."

The officer's clever monster servant Aulus said the same things in his final monologue, making fun of braggart nobles and urging the spectators to remember that sometimes a title is just a beautiful mask that hides an idiot.

"Remember, people! Will and commitment, and not titles, are the tools with which every man can build his destiny! Now, with a bow, we bid you farewell. And if our story entertained you, applaud!"

And the audience did; so loud it made the theater shake.



All the events that had taken place on that day of celebration were nothing compared to the ball that was held after sunset in the great hall of the palace.

The line of carriages waiting in front of the gates and along the avenue was so long that you couldn't see the end, and both in the hall and in the rest of the building there was a succession of bright clothes, precious jewels and refined music.

A magnificent view of the sky to the north appeared from the panoramic window, and someone was already looking out hoping to catch the first shooting star.

Scalia wasn't the only one who found it almost embarrassing to have had to dress up like some kind of fairytale princess; but nevertheless when Mary, Natuli and all the others showed up in the ballroom a kind of tragicomic mutual teasing started.

"Did you take off your glasses?" Scalia said to Mary. "Are you sure you can afford it? Everyone knows you're as blind as a bat."

"And you should be careful that someone doesn't step on your tail on the dance floor. As long as you know how to dance, of course." Natuli said

"Look who's talking. How did you dress? It looks like you're going hunting in the woods instead of going to a party."

"This is my tribe's festive dress. It is pure tanned and dyed buckskin and tarkana fur. But I don't expect a half-dragon to appreciate it."

"Do you want to fight, pointy ears?"

"You look like little girls fighting. Can't you have respect for the importance of the moment?"

"You could have this speech if you weren't dressed like that, Giselle!" Mary scolded, remarking on the way almost all the gentlemen in the room looked at her friend. "That so-called dress wouldn't be good even for an afternoon at the lake, let alone for a gala!"

"You say? Yet it seems to me that these gentlemen appreciate it very much. Not to mention the fact that you're strangely more dressed up than usual too. You even let your hair down. Are you hoping that Daemon will notice you?"

"This... this is none of your business!"

Athreia was the only one wearing the uniform, nevertheless she still felt uncomfortable and completely out of place among all those gentlemen and in such a refined situation.

Lori also looked like a fish out of water, but she was too busy admiring the huge bouquet that she held like a treasure in her hands to be distracted by emotion.

A blast of trumpets announced Daemon's arrival, and although he reiterated that he did not appreciate such displays of reverence, all the guests immediately stopped what they were doing to bow to him as he descended the steps.

"No formalities, kind guests. This is a party, so go ahead and have fun."

Tradition, however, dictated that it was the master of the house who restarted the dancing, and seeing him look around in search of a partner, all his companions - but not only them - felt faint.

But his choice shocked everyone.

"Shall we dance?"

Lori seemed unable to believe it, but in the end, she smilingly accepted the invitation, and although her dancing skills were quite poor, the way Daemon led their dance made up for his mother's clumsiness.

"You're good."

"I took a few lessons."

"I, on the other hand, am a disaster. You would definitely make a better impression by choosing someone else. Don't you see how all the girls are looking at you?"

"They would like to be in your place, mother. But tonight there will only be you for me, just as you have been there for me all these years."

Daemon had never addressed her so formally and respectfully, and Lori felt herself bursting with happiness.

One after another all the guests finally started dancing again, in some cases producing paradoxical pairings. Giselle literally kidnapped Septimus; Mary and Oldrick looked like father and daughter; Richard was so tall that he had to stoop to dance with Natuli; and Jack competed with Scalia to see who could step on the other's toes more often.

The only elegant couple were Adrian and Sylvie, since they were both used to such kind of events, showing off all their talent for dancing and gliding elegantly across the ballroom, arousing everyone's admiration.

Even old Lasik invited Athreia to a dance, giving up only after Athreia pointed out that a dance between centaurs in a closed room full of people could be a great way to end that evening with a few bruises.

Then, when there were a few minutes left until midnight, Daemon called everyone's attention again.

"A toast. To Eirinn."

"To Eirinn!"

Shortly afterwards the show finally began, and for almost an hour the sky was crossed by countless shooting stars that cut through the night like horses of light creating a show that cannot be explained with human words.

Almost everyone knew that this was just a brief moment of peace, an end-of-winter dream destined to disappear when spring arrived.

But for the moment, no one cared.

Eirinn was reborn; and she had never looked so beautiful.



After the Revolution, and especially after the fall of Faria, many reunionist groups had dissolved or had almost completely ceased their activities, because they believed they had now achieved their goal.

The Warriors of Eirinn were also on the verge of following the same path, at least until Cnut appeared on the scene.

Of course, it wasn't his real name: no father, however proud, would have ever dared to name his son after the great general who had led Eirinn's army during the Holy Wars.

After appearing out of nowhere he took control of the group, quickly surrounding himself with a group of supporters who shared his same ideas regarding the path that the Grand Duchy had taken.

Theirs was no longer a crusade for the reunification of Eirinn, but only an all-out war against what they considered a foreign occupation of their land.

Cnut certainly had great charisma, enough to make people who came from the most diverse social situations work together and get along, but if necessary, he did not hesitate to use violence in order to maintain firm control over the organization.

After all, the first thing he had done once he assumed command was to have all the old leaders killed, replacing them with his associates who would have done anything for him.

Surely, no one had ever seen his face: it was impossible to do so with all those bandages.

«I'm sorry boss, the attack failed. The Shrouded got in the way again."

"Our comrades?"

"All killed. The few who weren't caught had to leave the city. It took us a long time to infiltrate some of us into Faria, and in the end it was all for nothing."

"I assure you it doesn't end here. We will continue to fight. Eirinn will be freed from foreign rule. And the tyrant who pretends to be a friend of the people will pay with blood for all his crimes."