This story explores the history of the great Admiral Zhao through his eyes. There will be plenty more chapters. Promise!
Disclaimer: I do not own anything in the cartoon Avatar: The Last Airbender
Diary of a Megalomaniac
Chapter 1
The ceiling collapsed and the sunshine burst through like a beam of reflected light. Tiny flecks of illuminated dust floated through the beam, visible for the first time in a long while. It had been many years since this shack had been buried beneath the Earth, the victim of an Earth Nation attack, the old island retreat of the illustrious Admiral Zhao.
Tightly woven rope fell through the breach, forcing the minute floating dust to scatter suddenly, for the intruder had arrived. Sliding down the long rope was the golden eyed, bushy haired, scar faced Prince Zuko. It had been his plan for some time to tie up loose ends and the history of Admiral Zhao was one knot that needed fastening. And so the honourable Prince Zuko, dressed in a black and red robe, commenced his search for that thing, that item that would give him clues to Zhao's mysterious past.
The clutter in this ancient place was immense. Scroll upon scroll upon ink upon boxes and bottles and mouldy bread; the litter was disgraceful and the stench unbearable. Zuko began rifling through the scrolls and the boxes, searching, thinking, wondering. And then he spotted a desk with piles of scrolls upon it. He lit up his index finger and made his way towards the desk, a strange feeling coming over him, like how a child in the darkness feels, all alone, the sense that something bad is about to jump out and grab you. But these scrolls, this discarded pile; perhaps they were his light in the darkness.
"No…no…no", Zuko ranted as the scrolls shifted and scrunched beneath his fingers. "No…no…no…AH!! Where is it, Zhao? Where did you hide your secrets"?
Zuko felt the anger boil up inside him, old hatred resurfaced like a ghostly ship. Zhao's arrogant snigger wrestled with his brain from beyond the grave. This momentary lapse in sanity, however, altered when Zuko spotted a small bin filled with yet more scrolls, bound in the finest gold string. Zuko snatched up the bin and noticed that each scroll had a special symbol which Zuko, fortunately, recognised. Good old Uncle Iroh forced Zuko to study ancient fire nation calligraphy during his search for the Avatar, and it had appeared Uncle's wisdom had come good again. Each symbol represented a number and so Zuko simply, but steadily, pulled scroll number one out of the bin as carefully as a fine glass statuette. He stripped the scroll of it's fine gold string and unrolled the scroll. Zuko closed his eyes and with a slow intake of breathe and with a slow discharge of breathe he began to read the ancient scripture.
This is the manuscript of Admiral Zhao. My entire career has been documented here. My conquests, my victories; if you're reading this you know more about my death than I do.
The furthest back I can remember that actually holds any importance is my first lesson with General Jeong Jeong. Before that day I had the utmost respect for the man. He was a great commander, a great firebender, but that day I realized he is nothing but a retched fool, a stain on the great Fire Nation.
What an incredible oaf that man truly is. I recall our first excursion. I thought that he would finally trust me enough to permit the use of fire, I had, after all, excelled whilst training in the Fire Nation Academy. I could not believe it when asked me to stand on the top of a grassy hill to breathe. "Widen your stance", he told me, "focus on your breathing". I already knew how to breathe, I'd be doing it since birth. I wanted to know how to destroy an entire army in one blast like he did in his famous victory at Aspho Plain, but it appeared the fool was completely unwilling.
In the days and weeks to come, I continued to resent the fool. What he was teaching me was nothing new. He said I lacked discipline, that I must learn discipline in order learn the art. But fire itself is undisciplined, my style is an extension of fire, I am the flame. But he did not want to hear such things. The closed minded buffoon still grasped onto the old ways, the ways of the dragon, the pathetic ways. Only a pathetic man would cling to such pathetic ways and this is what I will forever think of Jeong Jeong, he will always be a pathetic old fart.
3 years passed. I must admit that the old man was not without his uses. The fact I trained under him meant that I would be able to enter any unit I wanted. I would probably be promoted faster than the good Prince Iroh; and my assumption proved to be truth. He did try to teach some advanced techniques, but all was completely useless. Most of the time I trained myself. For an entire year, we would only practise at night, he said it would help me when fighting in my enemies element. Such a fool he was. Jeong Jeong was merely an obstacle in the path of my ultimate goal.
Zuko was overjoyed. A great big puzzle piece had landed right in his lap, a fiery puzzle piece. And so Zuko set that scroll aside, unrolled the scroll marked: two, and began to read…
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