Mentioned in Despatches

by SilasWhitfield

There comes a time in the life of every nation when silence becomes betrayal, and for the Fire Nation, that time has come. Political turmoil sweeps the capital city as the lower classes feel the sting of taxes designed to pay off the massive war debt. Colonel Iroh must crush the revolt at all costs, but in his wrath he skirts the thin line between justice and revenge.

2. Chapter 1: A Half-Remembered Dream

The dream was not strange. It was not vauge, or metaphorical, that was the terrifying part. It was simply a memory.

The fires were spreading. Even as he watched they leapt from one ornate roof to another, chewing over the painted wooden structures like a cobra-viper enveloping an egg with its jaw. The smoke was thick and pungent, and the screams, all too real.

A familiar face appeared at his shoulder, an old friend that he knew to be dead.

"They'll be inside the wall any minute. The men need orders." Lieutenant Zumi said.

Iroh stood before the shrine, the ghastly firelight glinting off the polished stone. He was frozen. Unable to move a muscle.

"Sir?"

Iroh's eyes flicked open.

He was lying in a huge damp spot in his bed, a warm sweat coating his skin. As soon as his heartbeat returned to normal, he swung his legs from under the covers and sat up. A breeze blew in the sliding door to the balcony which stood ajar, chilling him to the bone. He did not shiver. It was exactly what he wanted, given the circumstances. The power was only on during the day, and even then it was intermittent and unreliable. He and Asami took turns showering while the water was still hot. She snored gently where she lay, the covers pulled over her slight frame.

Iroh stood, careful not to rock the mattress, and donned his robe.

The air was brusque and chilly, about the coldest it got in this season. There were hardly any lights on, except for the flickering of a candle here and there. Similarly, hardly anyone was in the street. Not a lot of places were open nowadays. The rubble from equalist bombs was still piled up on some street corners, and the occupying UF forces were harsher than any police force the common criminals of Republic City were used to.

He felt a cold bump against his chest and reached into the robe pocket to find a cigarette case. He clicked it open, produced one, and lit it with a flick of his thumb and forefinger.

The flames from his dream were still burned into the back of his retinas. He saw shadows of them dancing along the lifeless building fronts all along the street. It had been almost a decade, but he could still remember it as clear as yesterday.

"Iroh? Is something wrong."

He turned to see Asami standing there, watching him.

"It's nothing. Go back to bed."