Author's note
Round 4 of the pro-bending tournament
Spades
Prompt: (quote) "Pride and excess bring disaster for man" - Xun Zi
Words (excluding author's note): 1035
He had worked hard. He got to know the product. He built up a relationship with the farmers who grew the best: the perfect shade of green, nice thick leaves, not a single slug-weevil hiding in the entire crop.
And then, after he made the grueling trek to bring them to the city, where there were people who had come to rely on him for all their cabbage needs, what happened? Some crazy bald headed kid and his tearaway friends knocked over his cart, left his precious cabbages bruised and rolling in the dust. And then it happened again. And again. Wherever he went. Persecution, that's what it was.
Oh, sure. Everyone said the bald headed kid was the Avatar. That he had defeated the Fire Lord, ended the long war. And yes, that was a good thing. But it also meant he was still out there somewhere.
His wife insisted he was being silly. Bad luck. Coincidence. It could happen to anyone. Why would the Avatar have a thing against cabbages?
That did give him pause. Looked at that way, it did sound unlikely. Particularly since the boy was an air nomad, and weren't they supposed to be vegetarians? The Avatar should, if anything, be decidedly pro-cabbage.
It worried him. What if the Avatar were an instrument of a higher power? Had he done something to deserve this? His father had always said "Pride and excess bring disaster for man." It shamed him to admit it, but he was a prideful man. He had always made sure that when people thought of him they thought "Now there's a man who knows his cabbages." He should take more care to recall that cabbages were the great work of Nature. That he was merely the means of their delivery.
Still, a humble man could take certain precautions. There was no reason to court further disaster by moving his cabbages around in an unsafe manner.
"Hey, pal. What's in the cart?"
He looked up from his map. The repairs to Omashu since the war had got him completely turned around, and he was trying to figure his way to the food market. The man who had interrupted his train of thought was standing in a nearby doorway. The sign over the door proclaimed it to be a Goldsmith's shop. The man looked like he could be the proprietor.
"Cabbages," he told the man.
The man raised his eyebrows. "Really? All that for cabbages?"
He was about to answer hotly that cabbages were very important, but he looked at the cart he was driving. It occurred to him that he had possibly got a little carried away.
It had started innocently enough with a friendly conversation (over cabbage brandy) with the smith from his home town. If only, he had said, there was some way of making a cart that would keep his cabbages safer.
"There's a wrecked Fire Nation tank, north of town. Bet they'd be plenty safe in that," the smith had laughed. The two men had stared at each other for a moment. Then they had rushed out to the site of the wreckage and had started tearing it down for parts.
It had started with just making the structure stronger: metal plating on the sides, a bit of extra ballast on the bottom to make it harder to tip over. But that made it a bit heavy for the original wheels and axles, so those got replaced next. By that point, it seemed like it would start being a bit of a burden for his poor old ostrich-horse. Another trip back to the wreck and they had looted engine parts to make the cart self-driving. At which point, it had struck the pair that they might as well give the cargo the proper protection of a fully enclosed, lockable boot.
Perhaps as the man said, it was a bit much for a load of cabbages.
The goldsmith came out of his shop. "My cousin's trying to get a contract with the mint, and he asked me to go in on a partnership. But we need to show that we can provide secure transport. Mind if I take a closer look at your cart? It looks like just the thing."
"I suppose that would be all right." He went back to his map, and tried to ignore the thumping and muttering going on behind him.
After a time, the goldsmith came back around to the front. "Something like this would be perfect. I gotta ask, where did you buy it?"
"Well, I'm afraid it was something of a custom job. There isn't really any more like it."
"I'll give you two strings of silver pieces for the cart."
His jaw dropped for a moment, but then his haggling instincts kicked in. "Five strings."
The goldsmith shook his head. "Three strings."
"Three and a half."
The other man's eyes glinted in appreciation. "Done."
While they waited for the goldsmith's apprentice to bring out the money, he asked "Do you want me to throw in the cabbages?"
"What would I do with that many cabbages?"
He considered the question. "Soup?"
The man shook his head. "Gives me the wind," he said as he started unloading the cabbages from the back of the cart.
The apprentice brought out the money. Then the goldsmith and his apprentice clambered onto the cart. He gave them some hints on the finer points of handling the engine, and they chugged into the alley and out of sight. He stowed the money away carefully, and stood looking after them, somewhat stunned at the turn of events.
"Hey, you," came a voice behind him. He turned around to see a member of the city guard. The guardsman pointed irately at the crates piled up at the side of the road. "Are these your cabbages?"
He looked at them. They'd fetch maybe two strings of copper pieces for the whole lot. He thought of the money hidden up his sleeve. He looked at the guardsman. "Why no, officer. I've never seen them before in my life."