Napoleon of Another World!

Chapter 2 - A New World

"Daemon! Wake up!"

A soft yet imperious voice threw me violently into the real world. I opened my eyes wide to see the thatched vaulted ceiling above me.

"I'll be right there!" I jumped off that uncomfortable bed, washed myself with two handfuls of cold water, replaced the patched shirt with the uniform, and in a few moments I was downstairs.

Scalia and Zorech were already sitting at the table eating their meager breakfast of biscuits, watered down milk and, just for my father, hot cider.

"Finally." protested my sister angrily flicking her tail "Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry, Scalia. I was fast asleep and so..."

"Enough with excuses. You are over ten years old. It's time you learned to be more responsible. I'm not asking for much. It would be enough if you woke up without having to call you three or four times."

"Come on, Scalia, don't be so harsh." Zorech said, scratching the horn at the base of his chin. "He studied until late last night after all."

"You too, father?"

This was my new family. My father, a five-hundred-year-old dragon with clipped wings, a lizard-like snout, and a body covered in blue and gray scales, and his dark-skinned, half-blood daughter.

And me? I was a human, as Faucheur –the only name I could think of for my funeral patron, since he refused to reveal his true identity to me- had predicted.

My name? Daemon.

It had been two months since my awakening in this world; or rather, from when the memories of my past life awoken in me. Because from what I was able to understand I had been living with these monsters since the day of my birth.

And when I say monsters, I don't mean it in a derogatory manner. That was what everyone called them: monsters.

It had taken me a while to assimilate my past memories with the current ones my new body had been collecting; in this way, my newly awakened conscience was able to quickly metabolize the language, culture and alphabet of that world, to the point that now reading, speaking, and understanding the local idiom came naturally to me... again.

"Hurry up and get some breakfast now, Daemon. It's late, and you have to go to school."

"Yes, father." I swallowed a couple of apples and a glass of milk. Then, I picked up the briefcase resting on a bench, and, wishing a good day to my relatives, I went out.

Although the rain had washed away the stench and brightened the sky, the Ende ghetto was still the same open-air sewer as ever. Four wooden walls served as a fence on a raised embankment and bordered the small and sea of run-down huts grouped into four blocks and divided by two streets that, joined in the center, formed a small square. The Empire's famous attention to detail and geometric order appeared even in the way it housed its slaves.

Because that's what the monsters were: slaves.

Every creature with distorted or animalistic features and a bit of self-consciousness was called a monster by humans. With very few exceptions, they were the workforce on whose blood, sweat, and bone the Saedonian Empire had built its greatness.

Which begged the question: why should monsters take care of an orphan of the same species that treat them like animals? Especially at the cost of great risk to themselves and even greater sacrifices?

The answer was as simple as obvious: empathy.

First, a newborn is always innocent of the crimes committed by its species. Furthermore, abandoning a newborn in such a remote place a stone's throw from the border meant condemning him to death. At least, that's what I assumed they might have thought, because rummaging through my childhood memories I couldn't find a single time they had answered my questions on the subject when I had asked.