Far to the North, the Marshal of the East led the full force of the Sun Army toward the dense forests of the Pyr Mountains. This range held many valleys, but Crystal Valley was the nearest to the Empire’s borders, separated from the central lands by a mountain ridge that pierced the clouds and spanned the continent from east to west. Narrow roads snaked across the foothills, promising doom to any who climbed with haste. As the army approached the shadow of the mountains, the terrain grew rocky and uneven, and travel slowed as the paths became more complex.

The army set camp along the road some hours’ march from Crystal Valley. They were beside a mountain pass that led into the valley, but the camp was situated on the opposite side of the pass to ensure that members of the Crystal Valley Coalition would not spot them prematurely. From this location, Sun Army scouts could cross to the valley-facing side of the mountain, observe enemy movements, and report back to camp in a matter of minutes.

Crystal Valley spread below the pass. Signs of dwelling were visible from afar; the entire colonized region of the valley was smaller than the largest of the Empire’s cities, but it was no less majestic in architecture. Glass domes and metal spires sprouted from the valley like spring blossoms, and the roads crisscrossing the valley had the networked symmetry of a spider’s web. Buildings sprawled throughout the whole valley, gathering most densely in five town-sized clusters and becoming more sparse between these points. No walls encircled or divided these hubs of civilization, and the mountain borders were a natural barrier against the outside world already. It was a pity, truly, that the creators of such beauty were now pitted against the Sun Army. Beautiful things did not long survive in times of conflict.

In addition to the main force of the army, a small team of diplomats had joined the northward campaign. It was the Marshal’s policy to offer his enemies the chance to choose surrender before condemning them to death. He opened every rebel hunt with negotiations, and thus he was known among his subordinates as a benevolent and just commander, despite also being one who struck deserving enemies by night to leave nothing alive. On this campaign, the Marshal had brought along four diplomats: two eloquent and persuasive seniors, who had successfully negotiated the surrender of enemy groups in the past, and two sharp-witted juniors who had been promoted to active status on the recommendation of the Sun Advisor herself.

One senior diplomat, one junior diplomat, and a handful of scouts selected by the two descended to the valley on a mission. While the diplomats would speak with the locals and assess the willingness of the common people to surrender, the scouts would gather intelligence on enemy strength and armaments.

A day later, the junior diplomat returned to camp with a wagon in tow. The senior diplomat and two-thirds of the scouts had contracted food poisoning while in the valley, and now they were gravely ill. Some were delirious, mumbling unintelligible words of warning and calamity, whereas others could not even wake. The affected senior and scouts were sent to the medical division at once, while the unaffected ones made their reports to the Marshal and his generals.

By the junior diplomat’s report, the poisoning happened after the junior and senior were talking to an innkeeper in one town about the looted mines. The innkeeper staunchly denied that the Coalition had done anything wrong; he had full faith in the Coalition, and he believed that any hostilities initiated by the Coalition must have been well deserved by the recipient. These unrepentant sentiments had been shared among all of the valley people interviewed that day, but the innkeeper was the first one to take action. When the diplomats ordered a meal at that inn, many of the party came down with food poisoning.

While the diplomats spoke with people, the scouts had wandered around town gathering information on the enemy strength. They reported signs of militarization: most of the people in town were able-bodied adults, with no children or elders in sight; smiths in town were constantly churning out weapons; the air reeked with the stench of blackpowder and smoke.

This news was far more condemning than the Marshal had expected.

“These people are arrogant and undeserving of mercy,” said the Marshal, “but if the leaders admit their crimes with humility, then I will consider their surrender.”

The remaining three diplomats—one senior and two juniors—were sent down the mountainside with an escort of twenty soldiers. They were tasked to meet with the Crystal Valley Coalition and negotiate terms of surrender.

Not two days later, six of the escorts returned to army camp, carrying between them eight injured escorts and a dead senior diplomat. A major rockslide had occurred during an overnight rainstorm. The escorts reported sounds of thunder and flashes of lightning during the storm, and boulders had fallen from the cliffs above. Luckily, the two junior diplomats and a dozen escorts had been outside the campsite at the time, and not everyone had been caught in the rockslide. The team divided afterward: some turned back to bring the injured to safety, while the two junior diplomats and six escorts continued downhill to initiate negotiations with the Coalition leadership.

As a former denizen of these very valleys, and later a student of the mountains above, the Marshal knew all of the ways that rockslides could be manufactured. The northern mountain and valley-dwellers had long ago discovered the use of pyrotechnics in mining operations, and weaponization of mining explosives on complex terrain required little additional effort. A few well-placed charges on an overhead cliff could easily dislodge rocks over the diplomats’ campsite, while an ongoing rainstorm would provide the perfect disguise for stray lights and sounds from a detonation.

Despite this suspicion, the Marshal did not give the order to attack.

“The diplomatic mission has not concluded,” he told the accompanying generals. “The Coalition shall give us a decisive answer. Only then shall we know that our cause is righteous.”

“They have already attacked our people thrice: looting our mines, poisoning our scouts, and crushing our diplomats under half a mountain. Their answer is clear! How much longer need we wait?” the generals argued.

Still, the Marshal would not waver. “If we attack while our people are still in the valley, they may be used as leverage. We shall wait.”

This, however, was only an excuse. Victory came at the cost of lives, and every diplomat knew the risks of venturing into enemy territory during negotiations. Two junior diplomats would not be sufficient leverage to stop the Sun Army, had the Marshal not wished to delay the conflict for other reasons. Seeing the beauty of Crystal Valley had stirred memories of a distant past that now plagued his conscience. In mountains like these, he had once lived among kin; while guarding the southern lands, he had longed for these high peaks of home. Here and now, he sought and sought again for signs of remorse among those who had threatened his nation. He sought for a reason not to attack, and yet, deep in his heart, he feared that there would be none.

Some days later, the two junior diplomats returned from the valley with word from the Coalition leadership.

“Such uncooperative council members we had never imagined!” the diplomats reported. “They gave insult to our primitive tech and absurd notions of dirt ownership. They said that our borders were so weakly guarded that looting the mines was easier than harvesting vegetables…”

“Enough. The Coalition’s decision is clear. To slight the messenger is to slight the nation he represents. The Sun Army shall not stand idly before this insult.”

The Marshal of the East was not one to cling to failed methods. The Crystal Valley Coalition had sealed their fate by wasting this chance at peaceful surrender. If the Coalition wished to exist as pests, robbing the productive and mocking the civilized, then they would be exterminated as pests. Where diplomacy had failed, force would yet prevail.

By night, the Marshal of the East, his trusted lieutenant, and a team of saboteurs took to the mountains overlooking Crystal Valley. The intelligence division had reported large gatherings of armed enemies encamped within this valley, cleverly disguised as civilians. It was a low trick, one no doubt designed to play upon the Marshal’s well-known mercy toward noncombatants. However, the Marshal refused to fall for this enemy’s deception. If the Coalition could stoop to such dishonorable means as concealing a military encampment with civilian colors, then they did not deserve the glory of open battle.

Seasons in the northern expanse were different from those in the Empire; where the southern lands had winter, spring, summer, and fall, the mountain seasons were primarily distinguished by rain: the presence or lack thereof. The approaching rainy season could lend the Sun Army a considerable advantage if used properly. The valley itself had the layout of a floodplain between the broad volcanic peaks, but the flow of the neighboring rivers had been artificially redirected to prevent flooding of the mineral mines. This had the added benefit of allowing Coalition farmers to cultivate the fertile river basin. Most significantly, the major flows of Bluegrass, Sunrise, and Starfall rivers had been directed away from Crystal Valley.

Two other Sun Army stealth teams placed explosives to redirect Sunrise River and Starfall River, while the Marshal personally led this team to the dam holding back Bluegrass River. The dam itself was an impressive construct of stone and concrete: over fifty feet high and three feet wide, it looked easily strong enough to weather a hundred years of storms without crumbling. It was well-placed with respect to natural rock formations; even if the carefully layered bricks crumbled by natural causes, the valley would not be flooded immediately. To use the force of the river, the saboteurs would need to blow a hole in a natural stone ridge and destroy one side of the river gorge, in addition to weakening the dam at strategic points.

The Marshal traced gloved fingers along the smooth brickwork, admiring the uniformity of each surface and juncture. Standing next to the dam, he felt no larger than a green beetle before the enormous stones.

“A pity that such marvels of engineering must be destroyed in an instant.” Had the Crystal Valley Coalition not opened hostilities with their border invasions, the Marshal might have spared more time to appreciate their magnificent architecture. Yet the attacks could not be left unanswered, and the Crystal Valley Coalition had already struck the first blow in this conflict. They would not get the chance to move again.

At the Marshal’s signal, the sabotage team began rigging explosives into key points around the dam and surrounding rocks. When the explosives were set, the Marshal personally inspected each device and the fuses linking them all. Satisfied at last, he turned to his team.

“The Sun Pyrotechnic Institute indeed trains its students well,” the Marshal praised the saboteurs. As he looked to the distant cities of Crystal Valley, a shadow crept across his face. “Those who repay goodwill with violence forfeit any rights to a fair fight. We, too, can use explosives to change the pattern of stone and redirect the flow of Nature.”

In this case, said Nature was the course of three rivers.

The main force of the Sun Army numbered in the high tens of thousands. At dusk, they charged into the mouth of Crystal Valley, the pounding of hooves and marching feet could be heard from even the mountain peaks. The Coalition soldiers met the Sun Army with ambushes and traps, only bringing out steel when the terrain worked to their advantage. As the Sun Army marched forth, the vanguard suffered many casualties to these cowardly tactics. However, the bold advance successfully drew several units of Coalition fighters into the open expanse of the valley.

As the sun sank upon the horizon, a whistle pierced the air over the clash of steel and the rhythmic beat of war drums. Far above the battlefield, a red arrow-propelled flare carved a brilliant line through the night, trailing sparks and smoke in its wake. A blue flare shot up as well, and a green one flashed in the darkness soon afterward. At the signal, the Marshal of the East whirled his mount about.

“Retreat!” The Sun Army turned and ran from Crystal Valley in apparent disarray. At the sight of the fleeing invasion force, the Coalition fighters cheered. The invaders had been routed; victory was theirs!

Alas, but the Coalition’s joy was short-lived. Water poured into the valley from the redirected rivers, decimating the Coalition cities where their main invasion force was supposedly encamped. Thousands drowned in the floodwaters. By the time survivors struggled to dry ground, they found that the Sun Army had completely encircled Crystal Valley.

It was only after the waters receded that the Marshal of the East toured the valley. Among all the ruined cities, his soldiers found few implements that could be called weapons—not the stores of a rising rebellion, but mere tools of daily life. The building identified as an armory held shovels instead of swords, and the alleged explosive storages held barrels of grain instead of blackpowder. As the Marshal wandered from building to building, seeking any trace of the military activity that the scouts had reported, he found nothing but the suffering of the common people.

Where were the rebel armies ten thousand strong, the well-armed invasion forces that the Sun Army had come to defeat? Among all of Crystal Valley, the Marshal found only houses and stores and workshops. Rather than soldiers in the prime of life, he saw drowned people young and old, men and women alike. He dropped to his knees before a flooded archival hall, watching sodden books float downstream alongside equally sodden scribes.

“What have we done?” Regret came too late to change the course of events. Only after Marshal’s justice had already been dispensed did he discover that his original cause was unjust; the Crystal Valley Coalition had not provoked this conflict, but it had already paid the price.