"I must sound really pathetic, don't I?" Michael sighed as soon as everyone else had left. "The so-called Supreme Commander of the Union at the mercy of his underlings."

"You seemed very resolute a moment ago in accepting my terms."

"But none of this would have happened if I had been strong enough to hold my country in my hand. But I chose to go along with that bunch of greedy profiteers, and it would have been my people who would have paid the price if it had been anyone else in your place."

Daemon stared at him, almost smiling, then opened a drawer in his desk and took out a very familiar-looking package.

"If I thought you were pathetic, I wouldn't have had this created. Why don't you take a look?"

That incomprehensible sequence of scribbles that Michael still remembered six months later finally made sense, starting with the title of the document.

"You had a report made on me? For what reason?"

"Because I knew perfectly well that sooner or later our paths would cross, and I wanted to be prepared. Besides, to be honest, I was intrigued from the first time I heard about you."

Michael soon realized that in addition to biographical information, some of it of a very personal and confidential nature, the document was also full of personal considerations of the person who had drafted it. And there was one word that appeared often: talent.

"There's more than you can imagine. You've probably noticed that I'm very good at recognizing a person's qualities, and I've found more of them in you than in almost all the living beings of this world."

"Honestly, I can't believe it."

"I have known another person with your surname, in a place far away from here. And even if you have never heard of him, you can be sure that his actions changed the world he lived in forever. When you come into the world as a Medici, you are destined to do extraordinary things, and you are no exception. But sometimes, you have to force your hand to get what you want."

Michael didn't know what to think; on the one hand he felt uncomfortable with the way Daemon seemed to be able to see into his soul, on the other he felt as if he were captured by his irresistible charisma, like all the others who had come before him.

"What do you want from me?"

"The same thing I want from all the people who dream of changing this world. That you continue to pursue the goals you have set for yourself, even if it means going against everything and everyone to achieve them. And you have my word I will lend you a hand whenever you need it."

The coffee poured into the cups was filling the room with a fine aroma. Michael let that pleasant scent soothe his nerves and relax his mind, putting his thoughts in order.

"The first time we met, you spoke of a threat that would weigh on our world."

Daemon said nothing initially, then turned his attention to the large map of Erthea hanging behind him, the most accurate one Michael had ever seen.

"What would you do if I told you that in just under three years, a colossal invasion force would arrive from across the sea to conquer this continent?"

Anyone else would have laughed, but Michael was too smart not to notice how seriously Daemon meant those words.

"A new Dark Lord?"

"Or something worse."

"How do you know?"

"I don't blame you for not believing me. I wouldn't believe it myself. After all, the Circle's own teachings say there are no lands other than Erthea."

"Suppose I believe you. What do you expect me to do?"

"Just what I said. Do what you said you would. Erthea is absolutely unprepared for what is coming to us. There is only one way our world can survive: we must change it. Whatever has reduced Erthea to this state must disappear."

"So that's what the Revolution is for?"

"Whatever happens, the old order that governed our world is destined to disappear. We can create a new one and fight to defend it, or we can wait for someone else to do it for us, with no guarantee that what comes next will be better. And I have never allowed anyone else to decide my fate."

Daemon then poured some water into a goblet, offering it to Michael and looking him straight in the eyes: "Perhaps the danger I speak of will never happen. I myself have begun to doubt its existence. However, that doesn't mean that we should not strive to change this unjust and rotten world. Do you want to help me build a better world?"



For a long time, no one would know what Daemon and Medici had talked about in the privacy of that tent.

The fact is that after half an hour the two of them walked out side-by-side, shaking hands like brothers.

"I don't know if what you told me is true," Michael said before mounting his horse. "But I want this world to change as much as you do."

"We will change it together, my friend. You can count on it."

"See you soon, Mr. Prime Minister."

"See you soon, Mr. President."

Aria had felt a nagging sense of unease throughout the entire meeting, and when Daemon asked her to leave him alone with Medici, she felt even worse.

Before the meeting, she and Daemon had discussed at length, agreeing on avoiding being too harsh with their peace requests and establishing a red line not to cross.

So, to avoid embarrassment, and taking into account that the emperor had appointed Daemon as supreme commander, Aria had agreed to let him lead the way.

But her pride was bleeding profusely. When had there ever been a Grand Duke of Eirinn who remained silent during a diplomatic meeting while his Prime Minister called the shots, relegating what was theoretically still his lord to a cameo role?

Perhaps that was also an unmistakable sign that times were changing, and in that place and on that day the first chapter of a new era in Erthea's history had begun.

Aria, however, did not intend to be a spectator in this epochal change; if the world was destined to change, she would do everything in her power to be part of this change, rather than passively undergo it.

"We've wasted far too much time," Daemon said when they were alone in the tent again. "Let's prepare to demobilize. We'll wait until Medici and his troops have withdrawn, then we'll discharge the conscripts while keeping the army to a minimum. It'll take every manpower we can get to get the country back on its feet after this disaster. Orestes and Basil will take the legions back to Rhodes."

"Let's get one thing straight. I have left you in charge this time, obeying the emperor's orders. But from this moment on, I am no longer a General of the Empire. Therefore, I expect you to never forget which of us is the Grand Duke."

"And I expect you to never forget who put you on that throne. We need each other, so there is no reason to fight among ourselves."



Scalia watched absently as the paradoxical spectacle unfolded before her eyes.

It really seemed like another world, and everyone was celebrating the victory they had just achieved as if the old rivalries, centuries of slavery and hatred between different species had never existed.

Jack was having a drinking contest with some legionnaires, Richard was teaching a couple of cadets how to hold the shield in the Patria way, and Septimus was exchanging anecdotes with an old friend from their training days over a bowl of stew.

Perhaps not even Daemon, whose mind was capable of conceiving even the impossible, would have ever imagined that one day something like this could happen.

She herself still struggled to understand what she had done in battle.

When she had seen their forces in difficulty, and that human girl with the attitude of a hero on the verge of being overwhelmed by the enemies, instinct had acted for her, and before she knew it, she had found herself in the heart of the clash.

In a way, she was amazed at how well she had fought. The many months of training with Isabela had completely transformed her, making her a warrior worthy of the name.

Now she knew that all she had to do was remove the sacred armor and she could use her dragon abilities to a degree she could never have hoped to achieve without that training, and she wished her father had been there to see the result of all that work.

"Enjoying your evening?"

There was a time when Daemon would never have been able to get to her side without eluding her acute hearing, but between the noise, the music, and of course her own mood, Scalia was too distracted to notice his arrival.

"I haven't thanked you for what you did."

"You mean you're not angry? I acted without thinking, and without waiting for your orders."

"You did what you thought you had to do, and thanks to you, we won. Sure, I was afraid for a moment that something would happen to you, but it didn't take me long to realize that you're more than capable of taking care of yourself now. Just don't let me get scared like that again in the future."

They both got lost for a while, watching the party that was going on all around them.

"Do you really think this can last?"

Daemon reached into his pocket and pulled out a candy cane. For many years, candy canes had been the only sweet treat Scalia had ever been able to indulge in, and while eating them brought back not-so-happy thoughts, it was a habit she couldn't shake.

"Do you remember when it all began? Even then, many said that it would be impossible for humans and monsters to live together as equals. We have proven that this was not the case. Because absolutism, racism and hatred only lead to ruin, while freedom, equality and fraternity are the seeds from which the best fruits grow. It is not the race we belong to that determines who we are, but the ideals that move our lives. Before, the Revolution was just an idea, but from today, it is reality. Today we have created a new world, little sister. A world that can no longer be destroyed. And when everyone sees how important, how innovative, how beautiful our ideas are, you will see that they will not think twice about embracing them."



As his fellow citizens – and also his detractors – liked to say, Joseph Bentham, Second Count of Marton was a man with many virtues, but he had two vices that he cultivated with enviable dedication: smoking and chocolate.

Every morning at ten o'clock, and every afternoon at tea time, he indulged in the pleasure of a Torian cigar, and wherever he went he always had three or four hazelnut chocolates hidden in his waistcoat pocket. And everyone wondered how he managed to preserve such an attractive appearance despite everything, and despite also being a good eater, resulting in his being the object of the attentions of many young girls.

Even though he was not yet forty, they still called him the Old Fox of Hadowald, because for as long as people could remember he had shown himself capable of making arguments that seemed to defy his real age.

It was jokingly said that a Prime Minister of Connelly never died in office, because it took little to fall out of favor with the Prince and be removed.

After a rather dull adolescence spent between luxury and indolence, at sixteen, the Count suddenly decided to enter politics, and two years later, he was already Prime Minister of the Principality.

The only one who seemed to have become accustomed to his extravagant and in some ways mysterious personality was Barnaba, his faithful butler, who remained at his side even when, following his appointment, he left the family estate to move into the apartments of the Palace.

His Majesty had so much confidence in him that on his deathbed he appointed him head of the Council of Regency that would administer the nation until his only daughter, Princess Elizabeth, came of age, a task that the Count had carried out faithfully and attentively.

To everyone now he was only the Count of Marton, or even the Storm-Knight, for the euphemistically impetuous way in which he had managed Connelly's foreign policy over the years.

He was so busy that for several months he had hardly had time to leave his study; therefore, it was up to the Marquis of Montesol, Minister of Foreign Affairs and also a member of the Council of Regency, to be his eyes and ears around Erthea most of the time.

"So, it finally happened?" said the Count, setting down his cup of tea and lighting his cigar

"Yes, my Lord. The Empire has officially recognized the Free State of Eirinn. Grand Duchess Montgomery and Prime Minister Haselworth traveled to Maligrad and formally swore an oath on the Stone Tablets, establishing an alliance between the new nation and the Empire. They arrived in the palace courtyard on the back of a wyvern."

"A powerful scene. Perfect for bringing to one's senses anyone who might have been thinking of getting strange ideas."

"Exactly. Despite the loss of an important province, Emperor Ademar's position has strengthened considerably. The trade agreements signed with the Union and the Free State have been welcomed by both the plebs and the nobility, and there are rumors that both the Emperor and President Medici are on the verge of announcing major political reforms."

"The Union and the Empire turning an armistice into a true peace after nearly fifty years of tension and a total war narrowly avoided. Would you ever have believed it?"

"You seem to be enjoying it. Yet I don't think it's good news for you. You've spent years creating an anti-imperial alliance with the Union. Now it will be more difficult to fuel tensions between the two nations. Not to mention that the end of the Cold War could push the emperor to try to reconquer the Tagrea region."

"I am aware of that, my friend. But I cannot help but see the irony of the whole affair, and the undeniable genius of those who managed to accomplish such a feat."

"What do we do now? This is a very delicate moment for Connelly. We cannot afford to have any more enemies."

The Count rose from his chair and went to the window, his eyes settling on a young girl who was peacefully reading a book at the edge of the pond.

She had strange, almost exotic features, the round face of a child, large, blue eyes, and thick, long black hair, as thin as a spider's web, gathered in a chiffon that left her white neck uncovered.

There was a woman with equally exotic, but stronger features, standing at her side, as silent and still as a statue, and just looking at her inspired fear. Her hair was also black, but it fell in a long ponytail that almost touched the ground, and she had two long, thin horns that jutted back from above her ears. Hanging from her belt was a curious sword, enclosed in a black lacquered scabbard and with the hilt wrapped in golden silk cords.

"Perhaps the time has come for us to meet this Daemon Haselworth."

"From the way you say it, it sounds like you are more eager than ever to meet him."

"Oh, my friend. You have no idea how long I have dreamed of shaking his hand."