Some say that every work of fiction is an autobiography and every character in a book is the author. But this book is not about me. It is not an autobiography. This book is exactly the opposite. Drakon is about them. The others. The ones we call barbarians. Our enemies. The Drakons. The ones St. George and our millennial-old knights, princes and saints were sent to slain. The evil ones. The ones who are born and raised to hate us. The ones we as educated, liberal people fear, despise or disapprove of. Our worst nightmares. Definitely not the refugees or simply the people of a different race. I am talking about the barbarians. Those that come for blood.
It is inspired by a question I had, and it tries to expand on that question: What would you do if you were born on their side by chance?
You are in that small percentage of lucky humans who are educated and well-off compared to billions of others in the third world, and you have time to read books, even from dubious first-time, self-published authors, and you have a set of values compatible with the civilized world.
But what if you were born on the wrong side? The fanatics, the blinded, the ones sworn to terror and death, raised to fight and hate? What if you were doused from a tender age in stories —very carefully crafted stories— that teach you to hate? Do you have any chance? Is every barbarian doomed? Or does the human spirit stand a chance against hatred? And at what price does someone redeem that chance?
Drakon is the story of the barbarian Da-Ren. The book starts with his words:
“I am here to redeem the lives of my wife and daughter. I brought the offering.”