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It is impossible for Mondstadt to lose a war.
That's not quite true. Actually, there is a very small window of time where it was ideally possible to try to destroy the entire nation of Mondstadt (and succeed).
("Kaeya," Diluc says, "what the hell are you talking about?")
That small window of time is, specifically, the period starting from the middle of peacetime, right up to the point that the people of Mondstadt realize that they're at war.
Diluc says, "that's everyday."
(And then he says, "I should have cut you off three glasses ago.")
“That's not quite everyday,” Kaeya corrects.
The best strategy against Mondstadt is to take her down (or at least set in place an airtight irreversible domino effect to eventually topple her), before her people even begin to suspect that they're being threatened.
"Wouldn't that be the best way for any nation?" Diluc says. "Why am I still humoring you about this?"
Well, yes, that is generally a good strategy.
“But let me specify: when you go up against Mondstadt, that is the only way to win.”
(“Why?”)
You see, it's because Mondstadt's Archon is the only one of the seven that gets stronger in a war.
("What?")
Let me ask you this: from where do you think an archon's powers are derived from?
"The worship of their people?"
Technically true. Not just from their people, but from anyone that prays to them.
More specifically, it's the worship of the ideals they embody - Freedom, Contracts, or otherwise.
Why do you think Snezhenaya's Archon is so powerful? Who doesn't pray for Love?
“What the hell does that mean?”
Well, let’s look at Liyue, shall we?
The oldest of the archons, one of the original seven, arguably the strongest of them all. The ideal that Rex Lapis embodies is the principle of Contracts.
Have you ever made a pinky-promise as a child? Signed a business agreement? Told your parents that you would be back by your curfew? Each contract a person writes, etches another line of power cementing Rex Lapis’ regime.
Of course, there are as many contracts broken every second as there are many forged (an equilibrium). It’s normally not too big of an issue.
But see: what of contracts in war?
The dissolution of peace treaties, the breaching of borders, the trespassing and deceiving.
Contracts broken, broken, never fulfilled.
The, “I’ll be alright", the “I’ll see you later”, the “We’ll win for our nation”, the “I’ll come home".
Who comes home in war?
(Abruptly, Diluc stands up. He does a walkthrough to make sure there is no one else here in Angel's Share, and then bolts the doors and windows shut.)
Inazuma, the goddess of Eternity.
Now eternity is a concept that wears itself out - the only thing eternal is change, after all.
She is the mountains of Teyvat that stand for millennia, slowly crumbling at the cliffsides. She is the statues all around the land (and yes, even of her fellow Seven), forged in an image that lasts for-ever. She is the everlasting certainty of cycles, the dirt-worn paths that people walk generations after generations, the plotting of the seasons and the dates on our calendars.
(“I bet that she was rightly pissed,” Kaeya cackles, “when Barbatos took down the whole of Mount Pilos. What a sight it must have been!”)
But see: what of eternity in war?
When fire-hot steel rain down on the ground and monuments crumble, centuries-old traditions (holidays, rituals, celebrations) break in favor of survival.
Statues toppled over, hundred-year-old trees razed to the ground, landscapes that your ancestors have seen and painted all torn up to dirt.
Tell me, what of eternity then?
Sumeru? The god of Wisdom?
Now that one, is rightly interesting, because every single second that passes is a bit of history.
And wartime is more of history than anything, wouldn't you agree? Are there not seven hundred accounts of the same moment when we look for old tales of battle? Wouldn't you say we learn from the mistakes of our ancestors?
The God of Wisdom is one god that ages more powerful with time.
But see:
Have you seen the burning of a library?
Picture this: the Favonius Headquarters, the Library, going up in flames. Red and orange and yellow and blue, crackling papers and old ink and ash-dust in the air;
("Let me ask you, Master Ragnvindr," says the boy with the star in the night of his eye.
"What is the bedtime story that we tell children these days? Why did you think the Gods struck down on Khaenri'ah? Because we made something too terrible and unleashed it across Teyvat - or because we knew too much?")
The goddess of Justice from Fontaine - the lovely nation of waterwheels and wine! There isn't really a question as to how Justice fares in wartime.
The concept of justice goes rather well, hand-in-hand with contracts - laws and treaties and the like, and upholding it to the letter.
Of course we cannot speak of justice without speaking of justice towards yourself - or morality, if you will. Upholding your personal integrity!
When you're covered in the blood of someone you don't know, bent over the water on a foreign's nation soil, whose reflection do you see?
Have you walked through a village and seen torn rafters and tattered eaves? The truly innocent victims of war are the children too young to understand what's going on, the elderly too old to be able to explain it - wondering where their mothers and fathers and sons and daughters have gone, praying they will be back, and then wondering why the merchants and the supplies ever come their way (they've been blown to bits by the passing twenty miles away!)
"Have you ever asked yourself, Master Ragnvindr: if there is justice in the world, why did they cover it up?"
("Surely," Diluc says, a little desperately, "the Goddess of War-")
Murata, of Natlan, the goddess of War.
Here is a fun little paradox. Someone must have wanted a war to start a war: but who wants a war?
Yes, the goddess of War could - arguably, in peacetime, be the weakest of the Seven. (Barbatos? I'll get to him.) What is there to fight?
She must be delighted at the civil war that is erupting in Inazuma right now, or the skirmishes that Snezhenaya gets into all over Teyvat.
The preparations of war then, too, if you count them - the battle maps spread over a planning table, the knights training with arms down by the courtyard. The poor hilichurls!- raided from their settlements. Why, if they still had the power to wage a war, I'd reckon they'd do so in a heartbeat!
But ironic, isn't it? When a war starts.
Let me ask you this: how many people, do you think, are praying for a war to come?
And when war does come, how many people do you think are praying for it to go away?
Love, my dear! My darling brother.
("Drink some water," Diluc says, passing him a glass.
Kaeya takes a sip from it. He says, "Love!")
The goddess of;-
Snezhnaya. How lovely it must be over there, praying to the patron goddess of Love. And who in the world doesn't pray for love - to love, to be loved. What a wish!
They say it's one of the strongest feelings. They say it should be expressed the strongest in the heart of war!
Parents shielding their children from debris, lovers refusing to leave each other behind. Running into falling buildings for just one more survivor. Isn't the rawest emotion of being human: love?
Let me walk you forward a little bit more - or perhaps back-wards by, say, about five hundred years. The grass is darkened with who-knows-what, and it squelches with every step you take. You lift your foot, and it's tinged in red.
Your neighbor's hand is on the ground - half his head a few yards away.
Your father says; run, run, run!
And you say, you hate the world, you hate the gods, you hate every step you have to take that's running away from everything that you used to love.
Your father brings you to a new world and he abandons you in an unfamiliar land - you don't even speak the language! How can you love him?
Then see: what of love in war? Can you look over a battlefield and find any form of love in it? Ask the corpses who they used to love?
When people are killing god and gods are killing people, how can you even speak of love?
But see, let me ask you this: what of freedom in war?
("Kaeya," Diluc says, "you're drunk. Go home."
Kaeya says, "where?")
Nobody in peacetime prays for freedom. Freedom is something you can describe as, taken for granted.
Do you step out of your house everyday into your open fields and pray for freedom? Walk up the stairs to the church and beg for it? Who do you think is praying fervently for freedom right now?
But let me ask you this: who prays for freedom in war?
That was a trick question - the answer is everyone!
Barbatos is the only archon out of the seven that grows stronger and stronger as war goes on, as more and more people pray to him!
Desperate, desperate! The youngest children too young to know who they're praying to, begging to be able to breathe in a sky without smoke. Prisoners of war in shackles, infantry chained to armor, people huddling with strangers they know they will die with, all praying to be free! Generals, warmongers, trapped by circumstance, even the archons of our land who are sworn by blood oath-
(Diluc slams a glass on the table, and the countertop rattles.)
The god of freedom in wartime - who isn't calling his name?
Even in a land without an god - who isn't calling his name?
Outside the window, the crickets chirp, the lyre-strings stall.
"I'm terrified of Barbatos!" The boy laughs, the lone star glinting in the night in his eye. "He never loses a war!"
"He's terrifying, and yet I feel so sorry for him! He's either heartless, or heartbroken! Listening to all our prayers and striking us down!"
(Imagine this: there are thousands of people calling your name, begging for mercy, pleading for your ideals, begging you to save them. It's their prayers echoing in your head, and it's their yearning that gives you power. You are stronger, stronger - strongest you've ever been! Because so many people are praying to you for freedom.)
(But who, in war, prays for freedom more: the victor or the loser?)
(You draw your bow.)
"Either heartbroken or heartless," Kaeya says. "Truly a formidable god. So that is why, my brother, a war against Mondstadt can only be won before the people realize they're in one. Otherwise, once Barbatos is here,
Celestia
Mondstadt is pretty much set as the victor!"
Khaenri'ah is a godless land - we don't have a god to pray to, and we don't pray to any god.
That's not quite true, because all of us have prayed (desperate, desperate!) to one.
Let me ask you this: what do you think Barbatos did, five hundred years ago, when every single person in Khaenri'ah was praying to him for freedom?