In the silent hours before dawn, Alchemist General and his elite squadron of fifty soldiers rode toward the southward expansion unit’s last known coordinates. Past scouts had observed several farming communities in this region. These were peaceful towns too small to warrant an Imperial City Guard presence, and too strategically unimportant to have a garrison for the Imperial Outlands Patrol. Their only defense was the inter-town Silver Militia, but a local fighting force should be nothing before the might of the Sun Army. Underestimating the threat posed by the Militia, the Alchemist had only dispatched three mediocre units to take these towns.

That problem would soon be rectified with the arrival of the Alchemist’s elite troops.

The reinforcements followed the main road to an open plain at the base of a large hill. The single surviving unit commander met the reinforcements there, leading the Alchemist and company to the foot of the hill. The Sun Army unit had built three parallel rows of barricades, each fifty paces closer to the hill than the last. The innermost structure, which was entirely studded with arrows, sat at the border between flat ground and the first incline. These temporary barricades were now unmanned, but person-shaped straw bundles that had been propped up behind the walls to give the appearance of troops. The actual troops had retreated to the main camp, a thirty-minute march to the north.

The Alchemist’s company left their horses within the shelter of the outermost barricade, safely outside of arrow range. Each was clad in metal plate armor, but only the Alchemist and a third of the elite soldiers wore full plate; the rest wore thick woolen uniforms with partial armor strapped to their torsos and limbs. On foot, the company made their way toward the second row, then the innermost one. From here, the Silver Militia’s armaments were plain to view.

Midway up the hill, the Silver Militia fort sat over a main road that was easily wide enough for three wagons to pass side-by-side. A metal gate blocked off the road, while wooden fences extended in either direction from the edges of the fort. Both fence and fort were sturdily constructed from wood, and rows of wooden spikes had been laid out on the road before the gate to deter charging soldiers. Archers were stationed atop the fort, and more were visible in the faint gleam of metal armor between wooden fence slats. The whole fort had the grey tone of weathered wood; it must have been built years ago, yet it still served its purpose well.

The Silver Militia archers at the top of the fort wore varying patterns of mismatched cloth, leather, and metal armor. Their weapons ranged from wooden sticks to pitchforks to real swords and bows. Every one wore a shiny silver breastplate with a decorative painting in the center. The Alchemist did not spot a single Imperial Army sigil among the lot. These were not soldiers trained for war and expansion, but simple farmers and villagers intent on guarding their homes from the likes of bandits. Even so, the Silver Militia had repelled the Sun Army’s attempts to advance with hails of arrows and rocks, aided considerably by the higher ground.

The horizon had just begun to brighten with the oncoming sunrise when a cry rose from the fort. The Alchemist and company had been spotted.

A young Swordsman climbed over the edge of the Silver Militia’s fence. He leapt to the ground, drawing a one-sided steel blade from a sheath at his back. The Swordsman had leather armor and hair dark as a crow’s wing, while his silver breastplate was painted with the deep blue silhouette of a diving kite. The Swordsman raised his shiny weapon in a challenge.

“Mighty rebels, why do you hide so far away? Scared of joining your commanders in the next life?”

The Swordsman’s mocking voice rang through the valley as he descended along the main road. He was almost within range of the Alchemist’s own enhanced longbow; in a few moments, the Alchemist could take out the Silver Militiaman with a single arrow.

“I don’t believe it. The mighty Sun Army, trembling in fear of us simple countryfolk,” the Swordsman laughed, sauntering down the slope.

Beside the Alchemist, an elite archer lined up a shot.

“Give the order, sir, and that rascal is dead,” the archer said.

“No arrows. We take this one alive,” the Alchemist ordered. Protests rippled through the ranks of elite troops, but he held up his hand for silence. “Uphill terrain does not favor a siege. Slay the bravest, and no one will dare face us openly; we may shoot at them for weeks without progress. We must draw the enemy away from their defenses. Capture the leaders, and this battle will be over before nightfall.”

The Swordsman approached more, saying, “Is there no one who dares face me? Tell that Sun King of yours to come fight. He’ll taste my steel too!”

The Alchemist’s fists clenched. Another elite soldier stepped to the Alchemist’s side, longsword in hand.

“That brat insults our King. Let me teach him a lesson.”

The Alchemist, who had been contemplating the same, nodded approval.

The soldier leapt over the barricade, charging uphill. Seeing this, the Swordsman broke into a downhill sprint, sword and armor shining like a silverfish. They clashed at the halfway point with the pure ring of steel against steel, and the crossing blades caught flashes of sunlight as each struck at the other.

The Swordsman was fast where the soldier had pure strength, and his formless fighting style fared surprisingly well against the soldier’s trained Imperial Basic technique. The Swordsman dodged and weaved around the soldier’s heavy blows, while the soldier relied upon his heavy iron plate armor to deflect many of the Swordsman’s attacks. The soldier’s frustration eventually overrode his training, and the Swordsman landed a fatal blow through a gap in the soldier’s armor. He took the soldier’s longsword from the body and raised it aloft.

The Swordsman turned a slow circle, one blade in each hand, and a cheer erupted from the fort. He threw the soldier’s longsword to the ground, where it stuck upright in the loose hillside soil. The Alchemist’s elite soldiers grumbled and pressed against the barricade, eager to charge at their leader’s command.

“Hold your ground. Do not charge until my signal,” the Alchemist ordered. He handed his longbow and quiver to a trusted lieutenant. Then, clambering over the barricade himself, the Alchemist strode uphill unto battle.

Up close, the Swordsman looked young—at perhaps a third of the Alchemist’s age, he was barely even a grown man, yet this youth had lent him the speed and agility to defeat the last soldier. The Alchemist slid into the same attack pattern that the soldier had used: a flurry of slashes culminating in a sharp lunge. Recognition flashed across the Swordsman’s face, followed quickly by smugness. The Swordsman dodged and sprung back, countering with a stab aimed for the gap between the Alchemist’s breastplate and shoulder pauldron.

The Alchemist met steel with steel, smiling faintly. Even though the Swordsman was clearly unfamiliar with Imperial combat styles, he had discovered nearly the same counter-strike that Empire soldiers were taught to use against armored enemies using the Alchemist’s chosen attack. Breaking the lock between their swords, the Alchemist spun and slashed at an exposed leg. The Swordsman leapt and struck downward, taking full advantage of the slope.

The Alchemist dodged this blow, and the Swordsman’s momentum carried him past to lower ground. As he passed, the Alchemist struck at his sword arm. Metal slashed through flesh. The Swordsman retreated several steps, transferring his weapon to the uninjured arm.

They clashed once more, but this time the Alchemist used a more advanced strategy: a barrage of feints designed to exhaust an agile opponent. The Swordsman dodged each blow, but by a narrower margin than before. He had begun to tire. Seeing this weakness, the Alchemist broke their engagement for a moment and raised his sword aloft.

The blade burst into a pillar of flame. Alarm flashed across the Swordsman’s face.

The Alchemist closed the distance between them. He knocked aside the Swordsman’s defense with a vicious blow. Red-hot steel nicked flesh twice, once below the silver breastplate and once across the unguarded lower back.

The Swordsman nearly lost his footing on the slope. He stabbed outward, but fighting uphill no longer afforded him the advantage of longer reach. The lunge missed. The Alchemist stepped in close, and the flat of his blade branded the Swordsman’s forearm.

The Swordsman’s weapon flew from his grasp, and a wisp of flame curled up from his sleeve. Fear flashed through dark eyes that were only half an arm’s length from the Alchemist’s own.

The Alchemist punched the Swordsman in the chest with his non-sword hand. Thunder crashed, and a great light filled the valley.

When the light at last faded and the smoke cleared, the Swordsman lay motionless upon the ground, five paces away from his last location. Smoke rose from his charred sleeve. The blue bird painted on his armor had blackened from the impact, and streaks of soot radiated outward from it across the once-bright metal. The Alchemist stood unscathed, his heavy red cloak swaying in a slow wind. One hand glowed a faint orange with wisps of flame, and the other held his sword away and to the side. Flattened grass surrounded him in a fifteen-foot circle.

The Alchemist raised his flame-encased blade at the fort in a salute. The Silver Militia replied with an arrow, which the Alchemist cut in half lengthwise.

Dozens of militiamen clambered over the fort fences now, eager to avenge their defeated comrade, heedless of their superiors’ dismayed calls for retreat.

“Charge!” The Alchemist General leveled his flaming sword at the enemy fort. Elite Sun Army troops burst forth from the barricade, eager for battle. Each one carried a large wooden plank, salvaged from the barricade, as a shield against the arrows raining down from the fort.

Soldiers and militiamen clashed with the ring of steel, and the fort archers ceased their attack to avoid hitting their own men. The battle devolved to a pure contest of short-range weapons. As per the Alchemist’s orders, the soldiers aimed for non-lethal blows whenever possible. Soon, wounded or unconscious militiamen littered the ground. The soldiers bound these militiamen as prisoners. The Alchemist looked around. The prisoners were all young, ranging from mere boys to youths only a decade into adulthood, yet the faces peering out from the fort were lined with the wear of age and years.

The Alchemist sheathed his sword, and the flame extinguished with an angry hiss as hot metal met the vacuum-seal of oil within the sheath. Retrieving his longbow from the lieutenant, the Alchemist strode up to the fort gates. Not far behind, his soldiers dragged the defeated militiamen before the fort gates, using the militiamen as insurance against arrows.

“Surrender and none shall be harmed,” the Alchemist said. He brought an arrow to the bowstring, but he pointed it at the nearest prisoner instead of aiming for the faces in the fort: a threat instead of an overt attack. “Resist, and your sons perish today.”

The faces atop the fort drew back. A hushed argument filtered down to the Alchemist and his troops. Though the words were too soft to identify, the intent was clear.

Atop the fort, one militiaman dropped his weapon to the ground below. Then two, ten, twenty threw down their weapons in surrender. The metal gates swung open before the Alchemist’s troops, and they rushed in to further disarm the enemy.

Some militiamen fled into the distance on foot or horseback, but the Alchemist instructed his soldiers to let them be. With new prisoners to guard, the elite squadron was in no shape to pursue enemy fighters in unfamiliar terrain.

The Alchemist took the Sun King’s flag from his standard-bearer and thrust it upright in the ground. The circle of the sun and the infinite horizon were picked out in silver thread against a field of black, while the emblem of the flame glowed a rich scarlet. The flag waved solemnly in the breeze, shimmering under the red-gold light of morning.