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"All empires, in one form or another, are forged with the fire of war, death and blood. Dagartu's empire was no exception to the rule. If the imperial chroniclers of the time were asked how Harsh the First managed to make every lord who inhabited the lands of the Continent kneel before his new emperor, they would say that with the cunning and strategy worthy of any great lord; that was true, but it was also true that the Triumvirate, the God of Three Faces, had blessed him with war machines inconceivable for the time. Many fell to what, at the time, were described as "metal-skinned monsters roaring fire and ash."— From "Reliable History of Dagartu", by the sage Shik'um of Threeislands.

The Awakening insurrection began with Empress Miraava I, at the beginning of her penultimate year of rule. During those two years they were not a major problem for the Black Crown: they acted in the shadows and were quite stealthy and discreet with their movements. In those years, the generals and soldiers who confronted them would label them as a group of criminals, raiding roads little traveled and stealing shipments from small ships in insignificant ports. But when the Triumvirate called the Lady of the Continent into their presence and her son Ashiir Amaghar sat on the throne, the Awakening intensified their attacks, raiding Imperial officers and plundering merchant ships. These acts continued for seven years, until people whom the insurgents called Decidors of Truth, began to proclaim in small towns what the Church called "filthy insults and blasphemies against the crown and the emperor."

At that time I was nothing more than a kitten, ignorant and simple. I descended from a family with a cheese-making tradition and had no greater ambition (nor chance) than to continue the trade of my father, his father and his father before him.

The day everything started for me I had woken up about two hours before the sun rose over the horizon. My body had already gotten used to getting up at that same time without the need for an alarm clock, thanks to the repetitive routine I had done every day for twenty years. He had to change the brine of the young cheeses and check that the cheeses that were ripening did not develop any kind of unwanted mold.

When I opened the door to the street, a cool breeze blew in my face, waking me up completely. I was absorbed for a few moments looking at the street of the town where we lived. In the distance he could hear the distant sounds of screams, laughter and insults coming from the market.

"Close the damn door, the cold comes in," my grandfather muttered from his bed, drowsy in his voice. I woke up and went out.

On one side of our house there was an alley; At the back, on the floor, attached to the wall of our house, there were two doors that led to the basement where the cheeses were ripened. Humidity and a low temperature were necessary to obtain a good quality cheese. My grandfather had told me that the lords of Amaghar had imperial cheesemakers who had huge underground chambers in which there were hundreds of different cheeses, whose humidity and temperature levels could be controlled with incredible precision.

I groped my way down the stone stairs. The darkness was total, and the moonlight barely shone a little beyond the top of the stairs. In front of the last step was a lamp of igneous stones. I took it and shook it a little and immediately a warm orange glow flooded the room. To my left was one of the long shelves that had cheeses stacked up. We had six in total, although not all of them had cheeses; Only the first three were full and the fourth had some.

I turned and walked to the bottom, where there was a table with wooden boxes. There was a bucket full of water and a sack of coarse-grained salt underneath. I took the cheeses out of the wooden boxes, threw the water they had into a small sewer on the ground and covered them again in salt; Then I filled the boxes with new salt water and placed the cheeses inside again, making sure that the part that I had been facing up was now completely covered in brine.

I checked that the cheeses on the shelves did not have any kind of mold and I left. I reached the stairs and waved the firestone lamp again. Immediately the stones inside lost their shine and I left it at the foot of the stairs.

When I returned to the outside, the cool breeze caressed my face again, although this time more gently. I left the alley to go back inside the house when I saw that there were several people together on the road. I was surprised, because for me it was very unusual to find more people awake at that time.

When I joined the crowd and looked in the direction they were looking. In the distance there was a reddish glow that framed the silhouette of the treetops of the Tarabi forest. Beyond that forest, to the west, was the most important port of the Castevi protectorate: Roseport.

"What's going on?"

"Is it an attack?"

"Well, unless the sun rises in the west and two hour earlier than it should, I don't think it's the sunrise".

"Everyone go back to your homes" cried a soldier who was on night watch, his voice somewhat muffled. You could tell the uproar had woken him up. "If it is something of importance we will find out in the morning".

People slowly retreated to their homes. Some others began to open their businesses. Housewives and old women whispered and the children laughed, exclaiming that "if it were an attack of the Awakening, they would send their heads to the emperor to be knighted."

I remained silent and decided to go back inside.

"What's all the fuss out there?" My grandfather asked from the bed he shared with my grandmother, a few steps away from me.

"I don't know. There is a light passing through the forest; Someone said maybe it was another attack, but I doubt it. No one would attack a port as large as Roseport. No one sane, at least".

"No one who belongs to the insurrection is sane," I heard my grandmother say, with a drowsy and exasperated tone in her voice. She probably wanted my grandfather and I to shut up and let her sleep.

"Well, they must have their motives..." I began to say, but I immediately shut my mouth, for I knew that my grandparents had no sympathy for the rebellion. Despite my attempts to avoid confrontation, they heared me and my grandfather sat up heavily in his bed.

"What did you say?" he asked with a certain roughness in his tone.

"I..."

"Fool! These monsters burn villages, sink ships with the crew still on board, and raid travelers on the roads. And all the blasphemies they shout right and left. These people are not only not sane, they are evil. And if they tried to attack Roseport, then I hope that the swords of the imperial soldiers feast on the blood of their necks".

"Puzor!" My grandmother exclaimed, "May the Three make your toungue fall off your mouth! How can you think of saying such a thing!? I also feel that what they do is barbaric, but that does not give you the right to speak in such a cruel way".

I could hear my grandfather's breathing calming down. After a while, he cleared his throat with a harsh sound and spoke again.

"You are right, Josafi, may the Three forgive me. And forgive me, for speaking thus before my wife," and he drew the white and patched curtains of the canopy of his bed; in the darkness I could see his silhouette, fallen, tired and sad "Prono... Excuse me you too. I had no right to talk to you like that... Shame on me".

"No, grandpa. Excuse me. I shouldn't have upset you that way."

We were silent for a while, both clearly uncomfortable and waiting for the other to say something.

"And," he began, "did you change the brine of the cheeses?"

When my grandpa had no idea how to continue a conversation, he would change the subject.

"Yes. And I didn't see any moldy cheese".

"Very well... Go back to your bed and get some more sleep."

I obeyed and went upstairs. The second floor of our house was where the cheeses were made and where I slept. There was the vat where the milk was emptied, a chest where the tools to make the cheese were kept, and a tower of folded cotton blankets, with which the whey was filtered. Further back, on the right side, was the bathroom, where there was only one toilet (there was nowhere to wash, as we always cleaned ourselves in the town's public baths). In front of the bathroom, was my bed, with the headboard just below a window.

I walked to my bed, sat up, and stared out the window. It had barely begun to dawn and thanks to the purple sky that dawn gives in its first moments, I could see the column of black smoke that rose above the forest.

"It was definitely an attack," I said in a quiet, almost inaudible voice to myself.

I took off my sandals and my white chlamys, remaining only in my minor cloths. I laid down on my bed, feeling the softness of the linen embrace me, and waited to fall asleep. The sight of the smoke column stayed with me until I finally closed my eyes.