Chapter 3: The Sun Shines Bright in my Fire Nation Home

They had only been able to recover a few bodies before the Earth Kingdom forces began pressing in on them in earnest, alert of a strange breakdown in their enemy's leadership. There would be no time for the traditional funeral rites; the bodies had all been placed on a hastily constructed pyre, ready for cremation. The service was going to be short. The Fire chaplain stepped forward.

Those assembled watched as the chaplain circled the pyre, touching each corpse in turn, reciting the men's names and those of their immediate family.

"Deshi, son of Chang and An. Heng, son of Lee and Kuan. Kuzon, son of Heng and Yun. Brother of Ha Kyung. Chao, son of Chow and Xia He. Husband of Tien-Mu. Father of Mushi." That last man had been slightly older than the others.

The chaplain continued walking around the pyre, eventually coming to General Iroh's son. He glanced at the general, hesitantly, and found him staring blankly at the ground. Since his son's death, the general had been heard to say two words: "I'm tired." The chaplain continued.

"Lu Ten," he said as he laid hands on the body, "son of Iroh and-"

At the sound of his son's name, General Iroh looked up for the first time since the ceremony had began. His ears were deaf to the chaplain's words. He took notice only of the funeral pyre, and slowly he became aware that every body on the pyre was that of his son.

Father, a voice whispered in his ear. Iroh began to tremble.

"And now," the chaplain continued, "we lay these souls to rest." Two firebenders stepped forward, ready to light the pyre.

Father.

"No!" Iroh ran forward, knocking the pyre over. He picked up one of the bodies, cradling it in his arms. "Don't burn my son!" he sobbed. "Don't burn my son, you savages!"

"General Iroh," a soldier began, but was silenced by the chaplain.

The general's body was wracked by sobs, and a tear trickled down his cheek and into the face of the corpse. Iroh blinked.

This was not his son at all.

Still cradling the corpse, he looked at the assembled men. There was no need for words from any of them; he saw everything he needed to know in their eyes.

"Colonel," he said, barely audible.

"Yes, General Iroh?" said the colonel, no discernible emotion in his voice.

"Send word to the other divisions. We are going home."


"General Iroh," said the colonel, looking across the tent to the general, "I beg you to reconsider!"

Iroh said nothing.

"Truly, the recent casualties have been lamentable, but it is utter folly to return home now, when we are so close to our goal!"

Iroh remained silent for a long time. Then, he took out a letter and placed it on the table. On the paper was a portrait of the general's son.

"We used to play war, you know," said Iroh. "When he was a little boy. It was his favorite game. All he ever wanted to do, growing up, was to join the army and serve the Fire Nation. And, when the time came, I thought that was what I was helping him to do. But I was only playing war with him again." Iroh looked the colonel in the eye. "That's all any of us are doing, colonel: playing war. This is all a game! Only this game has cost my son his life."

"General, what you're saying is madness! I realize you're upset, but-"

Iroh slammed his fist on the table. "Madness? This war is madness! How many more soldiers are going to die for my grandfather's stupid game? How many citizens? How many mothers will have to be told that their son will never be coming home again? It's over, colonel. At least for me."

"General Iroh, please, think about this! Have some tea and consider what you're doing!" The colonel places the teapot and two cups on the table. Iroh took one look at the tea set, and smashed it without hesitation.

"You think, colonel. The men are tired. I am tired. You are tired as well, though you will not admit it. The myth of the world being illuminated by the conquest of the Fire Nation is crumbling. We are going home."