Chapter 29: Soldiers of Diamond

The peaceful surrender of local government facilities and the nonviolent disarmament of their guards was the best-case scenario as laid out by the revolution's leadership. The guards in Remno's smaller towns were mostly residents, born and raised where they worked.

The basic strategic principle underlying this arrangement was that in the case of foreign invasion, the local garrison would fight to buy time for the government to assemble and dispatch a rapid response force. The fear was that if the garrison were manned with troops from elsewhere, they might flee as soon as the tides turned against them. Even if they stayed and fought, morale was likely to be low. Swap them out for locals and things would be different. Knowing that they were defending their homes and loved ones, they would surely fight to the bitter end.

This system, however, had a glaring weakness when it came to defending the town against an uprising of its own people. Faced with friends and family rising up in protest against heavy taxes and famine, how many guards would draw their swords? Who would fight their own brothers and sisters to protect the monarchy that caused their suffering?

The answer was no one. Not only would they not fight, they would probably join their brethren and add their voices to the growing roar of revolution. The guards, therefore, had great strategic value. It was highly likely that they would align themselves with the revolutionaries and bolster their forces, so, ideally, the goal was to capture them unharmed. This meant that during the initial uprising, the revolters wished to prevent casualties on both sides. The last thing they wanted was a war of attrition, which would put a grassroots militia like them at a disadvantage compared to the well-supplied national army.

All things considered, a peaceful surrender was the ideal result. The leaders of the revolution had followed Graham's instructions and — technically, at least — done exactly as they'd been told.

"But the plan was designed with the assumption that heavy taxation would already have led to an impoverished and exhausted population..."

Graham slammed his elbows on his desk and ran both hands through his hair. With its prerequisites unsatisfied, the plan couldn't possibly work as intended. Heavy taxation hadn't had time to take its toll. No one had lost a loved one to starvation. No one had fallen into poverty. No one had suffered yet. Consequently, deep-seated hatred toward the monarchy failed to materialize. Currently, it was just a bunch of very loud protesters who'd barged into the government offices and camped out. Their displeasure, unmagnified by loss or bloodshed, bore little weight.

"...This is a farce," he said, slamming the pages he held onto the desk. "This is all a damn farce!"

According to the report, the atmosphere among the revolters resembled revelry more than revolution. He almost wished they would have murdered one of the royal messengers or bathed the town in the blood of the guards, but none of them had gone to such lengths. Without the fuel of anger and hatred, their passions simply didn't burn hot enough to produce the kind of bloody, destructive potential that could overthrow a monarchy. If the soldiers sent to stamp out the rebellion had a commander worth even a grain of salt, he'd laugh his head off the second he set eyes on this so-called rebel army. Then he'd stroll in and ask them to disband. With maybe a stern voice for good measure. At this rate, the fire of revolution was hardly going to consume the kingdom; it was about to be doused in its first town.

"But... there's still a chance. I can still turn this around..."

What he needed was an atrocity — an act of violence against the rebel army so utterly senseless that it would incite in the general populace hatred and outrage against the government. The thought led him to remember the incident that had taken place in the Sealence Forest, during which the Great Sage of the Empire, Mia Luna Tearmoon, had worked a literal miracle.

An experienced commander had been abstaining from open violence, at which point Princess Mia arrived at the scene and forced the army to retreat, thereby defusing tensions. Furthermore, in a display of courage unimaginable from a girl her age, she marched into the Lulu village with minimal escort and engaged in face-to-face negotiation with the chieftain. She resolved the conflict with ease, neatly tying up every loose thread that might have led to future trouble.

"There's no way she can pull something like that off again..."

His primary focus was making sure a battle occurred. Anyone who'd lost family was not going to be swayed by a few placating words. Once that happened, even the Great Sage of the Empire — with all her craft and cunning — couldn't hope to turn back the clock and have everything revert to normal. This time, there would be no miracle. He would make sure of it.

He had no intention of making the same mistake twice. To that end, he turned his attention to the Diamond Legion. Their qualities: sufficiently powerful to commit a brutal massacre, devoid of the experience necessary to accurately gauge their opponent's strength, and most importantly, hungry for glory on their maiden campaign. They were the perfect instrument.

And that's why, when Graham joined the King of Remno and his officers at their military meeting, he spoke with the confidence of a man with a plan.

"Consider please, Your Majesty, the fact that these impudent knaves respect not the king's law. Is there, then, a more fitting instrument to deliver justice than the king's sword — the Diamond Legion?"

A round of talking arose at his suggestion that quickly converged into agreement.

"That's a brilliant idea."

"Yes. Fitting indeed."

Voices of support chimed in unison.

"Will Your Majesty's renowned Diamond Legion be dispatched to its glorious maiden campaign?"

The King of Remno nodded in assent. "Let it be so. Goriall, Commander of the Diamond Legion, I hereby command you to crush these insolent fools who dare call themselves the revolutionary army!"

"Yes, Your Majesty!"

Goriall's heart soared at the king's order.

"I swear upon my honor that I shall present you with the head of every last rebel."

"Excellent. I look forward to your triumphant return. By the way, Goriall..."

"Yes, Your Majesty?"

The king waved his hand, bidding Goriall to come closer. He obliged, approaching with quiet steps and pausing for permission before leaning in.

"As I'm sure you're aware," whispered the king, "it has taken me a decade to find and train the elite soldiers that bear the Diamond Legion's banner. You and your men are my pride and joy."

"I'm honored beyond words, Your Majesty."

Goriall blinked away a tear. The amount of trust the king had in him and his men moved him deeply, and he pressed his lips together in an effort to stop them from quivering. He was halfway through a silent oath in his heart to repay the king's favor when he heard something that gave him pause.

"Indeed, you are precious..." the king continued. "Very precious. That's why, Goriall, I expect you to return victorious and with every last one of your soldiers unharmed."

"Yes, Your Maj— Huh?"

The commander did a double take, wondering if his ears had deceived him. The king's next words, however, confirmed that his ears were being perfectly honest.

"Every last one, Commander. I want them all back undamaged. I don't mind a couple scrapes and bruises, but death is out of the question, as is any injury serious enough to end their careers as soldiers."

For a long time, Goriall simply stared at the king, unsure how to respond.

Why did the king make such a demand? The reason was quite simple. Suppose, for example, that there existed a suit of armor made of diamond. It's strong and impenetrable, functionally superb. But, would you wear it into battle? Probably not, right? Because it's too damn expensive. You wouldn't want to scratch it for fear of damaging its value.

...Essentially, it's worth more sitting in a vault than being used.

Apply this logic, then, to a legion of men, each of whom possesses a largeness of frame and stature so rare that they're inherently valuable. Add to that years of specialized training, producing elite soldiers of such great value that every one of them is worth their weight in diamonds. Suppose again that this Diamond Legion is sent to quell a local uprising. Would you be willing to risk losing some of those precious men, each of whom represents thousands of gold coins?

Goriall, therefore, was faced with the impossible task of slaying all their enemies without losing a single man in the process. He thought and thought, wracking his brains for a solution... that simply didn't exist.