Avatar: The Last Airbender Created By: Michael Dante DiMartino, Bryan Konietzko
Avatar: The Last Airbender Owned By: Nickelodeon, a subsidiary of Viacom
All original content and characters © Acastus
Based in part on a scene from Caligula, screenplay by Gore Vidal, and Patton by Francis Ford Coppola and Edmund H. North


Chapter LVII – The Triumph

The storyteller had withdrawn. With the conclusion of the terrible battle and the loss of their great hero, the interest of Trimazu's audience had rapidly waned. Many now slept soundly at their tables, while others engaged in low conversations with their partners or friends. Even Chen Ho had drowsed while still sitting up, a talent often mastered by the nobility.

The Fire Nation prince and his uncle, however, maintained close attention despite their exhaustion. The former, like a child at bedtime, wanted to hear the end of the story. The triumph of Mequon and the infamous duel that followed were subjects of intense and timeless interest. The latter cared only to escape the detection that had seemed so unavoidable at certain points earlier in the evening.

Iroh had noted the audience's subdued reaction to Nikon's death. Perhaps this was out of indifference or emotional fatigue after many hours of gore laden battle description. Their heart strings may simply have been played out. Iroh, prepared for the moment after having shamed himself earlier over the death of his cousin, mirrored the audience's indifference and betrayed no outward sign that he cared for the man whose life had just ended.

Inside, the memory of storming into the Corona to find his friend's lifeless body burned more than any other conjured that evening. Only at that moment so long ago, when the world had frozen and his mind had burst into flame, could he truly say he had felt hatred. Anger he had felt many times, but not hatred. Standing over Nikon's crushed body, he had discovered hatred within him. Hatred for Tien Shin, for the enemy, for the war… for himself.

Those feelings had long since abated. He had had thirty years to consider them. Now there was only the grief, the loss, and the bitter wisdom that hadn't prevented the loss of his son years later under the gates of Ba Sing Se.

He offered a brief prayer in his mind as the Storyteller took the stage once more, perhaps for the final time that evening.

"I loved you, my friend, and I have missed you terribly…not a day passes that I don't remember you and wonder what our lives might have been like without war. Wait for me in the Spirit World… I have one great responsibility left… one more duty for this soldier to perform, but then will I come to see you, Xian, my beloved Lu Ten and all our friends who have passed since. Our family will be together again, I promise."

He opened his eyes to see that Gao had taken up his position once more, his thin frame still erect, his white hair still in perfect place, looking much better than his audience. He bowed low to the master of the house and made the customary motion to ask for permission to continue.

The moment stretched and Gao received no reply. Trimazu was busy. At some point during the last hour servants had brought the obese merchant sack after sack of dispatches. He currently had two scrolls in his hands and was reading both, his eyes darting quickly back and forth between them. Scrolls and tablets littered the table around him. He scribbled notes and instructions using a large quill pen as he went. A larger scroll tube with red stoppers caught Iroh's attention, but he could not make out the markings.

"Trimazu!" Governor Lin finally exclaimed, expelling the name through gritted teeth, "Answer him!"

The fat man looked up, a look of surprise on his face. He swept the room with his gaze and was apparently unclear where all the people had come from and what they were doing there.

A servant appeared at his shoulder.

"The Planter's Moon Feast, your Hugeness, the storyteller begs permission to continue," he quickly supplied in a hushed tone.

"Oh, yes!" the fat man exclaimed, realization dawning on his rounded face, "Of course, of course! Continue my talented friend!"

Gao bowed low.

"Unbelievable," Tao Lin observed, "that you actually stoop to conduct… business transactions at a high feast, Trimazu, especially when you're the host. I mean, really, have you no manners at all?"

"None worth keeping, Governor, I promise you!" Trimazu admitted, his voice reverting to its customary volume, "Besides, I don't know what your problem is, I do it all the time!"

Chen Ho raised a lid and took his shot.

"You can't have manners when you do whatever you want whenever you want, you feckless toad. Manners by definition is the art of restraint, a subject of which you are entirely ignorant."

"Yes, yes!" Trimazu agreed jocularly, "I do enjoy freedom you'll never have, my friend, 'tis but too true! Now, if you two are quite finished with your rude and barbaric interruptions, we can let Gao finish the story."

"By all means," Ho agreed, "at this point I'd set fire to the house to be excused from this ridiculous farce."

"That too can be arranged! I feel like I need to build a bigger one anyway!" he replied with glee before clapping twice, "All right, Gao, let's finish up now!"

Gao bowed once as the audience again fell quiet. He scanned the room to see who was awake for the coda of such a long tale. High Feast celebrations at the most opulent households frequently went until dawn the next morning, but many fell asleep before the festivities concluded. He was pleased to see more than half were awake.

"As you command, Master Trimazu," the storyteller boomed, filling the chamber with his resonant voice, "for now, in parallel to the earlier part of our tale, we will elide the Fire Nation party's return to their homeland, for very little of note happened, and instead pick up the thread of our story on the day of Iroh's victory celebration. Here it is worth a brief description of this rare and special event, awarded only to those generals whose victories are deemed worthy of preservation in the annals of time."

Gao paused and made an extravagant gesture to emphasize what came next.

"For over a thousand years Fire Nation conquerors returning home from the wars have enjoyed the honor of a triumph, a tumultuous parade. In the procession one will see trumpeters, musicians and strange animals from the conquered territories, together with carts laden with treasure and captured armaments. The conqueror rides in a triumphal chariot, dazed prisoners walking in chains before him. Often his children or close friends, clothed in white, would ride beside him or on the trace horses. So it was with General Iroh and his friends on their return from Mequon, bloody, but victorious…"


The Golden Road led directly from Showa Field to the Temple of the Sun, the seat of the Fire Nation War College. Eleven miles long, perfectly straight and two hundred and twenty feet wide, the Golden Road was the site of all formal processions in the Capital. From coronations to royal weddings, funerals, religious celebrations and triumphs, this was the very center of the Fire Nation from which most of the civilized world was now governed.

Today the street was lined with what seemed the entire population of the capital. Though winter had arrived, Fate had smiled on the procession and provided excellent weather. Tens of thousands of citizens, commoners, warriors and nobility alike, lined the Golden Road from one end to the other.

Many spectators waved standards emblazoned with the symbol of the Fire Nation; others showed likenesses of the Fire Lord and his victorious son. Some held banners with messages for loved ones returning home. Unlike many events in recent years no coercion or even encouragement had been needed to prompt the populace to participate. A victory this large had not been seen in in decades and the people celebrated in earnest what they hoped was the beginning of the end of the war.

A significant portion of the army had returned home to participate and indeed the parade stretched for almost the entire length of the Golden Road. The procession began with the Fire Sages from the Temple of the Sun who blessed the proceedings before they began. They were followed by enormous, colorful representations of the dragons that symbolized each of the Four Corners of the World. Fireworks exploded in cavalcades of rapid snaps and pops behind the paper dragons as they trundled down the Golden Road.

Then marched the victorious Army of the Great Divide. Tien Shin had led with Second Corps, followed by Chieng and Gan with a pair of newly commissioned tank trains, for Corona, Constellation and Firestorm had been left to protect Mequon. Behind them had motored just enough tanks to suggest their importance to the campaign. The machines and the crews manning them, however, had never left the homeland. They were decorations as much as the paper dragons and ceremonial floats.

Next came Iroh's First Corps, driving before them huge numbers of Earth Kingdom prisoners in chains and vast amounts of spoils taken from the Nasu and the remains of the Army of the Granite Mountains. Most impressively, General Nifong's armor was mounted on a special covered float and surrounded by piles of captured arms. Some spectators yelled insults at the defeated general's remains. Others saluted or bowed their heads in respect.

Last of all rode General Iroh, hero of the Fire Nation, basking in the glory of the greatest military victory in a generation. The chariot was enormous, made of precious ebony, painted bright red, finished in gold and trimmed in bright steel. The machine was drawn by four exceptionally rare and beautiful horses. There was only a handful in the whole Fire Nation. All were owned by the state and used only on such momentous occasions as these.

As tradition dictated, he wore a red cloak bordered in a broad stripe of gold. In his hand he held the red baton of command. He stood tall and proud in his chariot as the woman he loved had bade him, but inside he desperately wanted it just to be over. Pushing aside his feelings, he waved and smiled as the procession advanced towards its termination at the Temple of the Sun.

The citizens shouted his name in endless repetition and many tossed wreaths of orchids and carnations at him. The air was filled with the petals of lotus blossoms and roses thrown by spectators from the second and third stories of the buildings that lined the road. Those who had lost family members in the campaign held up the urns containing the remains of their loved ones and shouted thanks for returning them home.

Beside him in the chariot rode a beautiful young woman dressed in a simple white tunic. She held a golden crown over his head symbolizing the victory that had been won. Iroh only recognized her as Leng, Nikon's surviving tank driver, after the event began. He wanted to speak with her, for he knew she was one of the few who shared his grief, but he had no opportunity before the parade began and it is was not customary for the conqueror to have conversation with his attendant.

The parade route took two hours to traverse. His outward countenance remained intact, but he could not stop thinking about the friends he had left behind.

At one point midway through the procession an old man in rags burst through the wall of guards that lined the street. He hobbled on arthritic legs, but nevertheless managed to approach the victorious general before he was caught. Iroh stopped the chariot.

The vagabond knelt on one knee, spread his arms wide in a gesture of obeisance and addressed the hero of the Fire Nation.

"Hail, General Iroh!" he warned in a quavering voice, "For your sake and the Fire Nation's, my lord, do not go in the Temple!

Two guards appeared who instantly thrust the old man to the ground.

"Enough of that you old badger mole!" scolded one, "You're lucky we don't run you through for approaching his Highness like this!"

"No," Iroh reprieved with an indulgent wave of his hand, "it's all right, but why do you say this old man? What's in the Temple for me to fear?"

The old man, his hands now bound behind him, looked up with devastated eyes, "Your doom, General… and hers."

This brought Iroh up short. He looked at the man again, but saw no likeness of the Ainu people in him. The young general hesitated.

"All right you, get up!" the soldier began again, roughly yanking the old man to his feet and shuffling him away.

His heart suddenly cold and tight, he tapped the reigns and the chariot moved forward once more. The press hadn't noticed the delay and the procession went on as it had before.

He wondered at Rhiannon's vision described to him at Mequon.

Is today the day?

Finally, when Iroh thought it would never end, the Temple of the Sun came into sight. As he approached the steep set of stairs leading up to the temple the crowd began to quiet.

There on the steps stood Field Marshal Jeong Jeong and an honor guard ready to escort him to the War College. On his left stood, to his instant displeasure, Tien Shin and the Commander of the Guard, Yotaku Macro. Chieng and Gan, resplendent in their dress uniforms, stood on his right. Alone among all participants Tien Shin wore weapons, the twin, blue enameled tessen he wore at his sides, deadly though they were, were unique in that they were considered decorations and therefore permissible inside the temple.

The chariot came to a stop and the spectators fell silent in anticipation. He surveyed the crowd once with a sweeping motion of his head before stepping onto the street. Leng picked up the edge of Iroh's cloak as he passed and made sure it did not trip him. She stepped forward on the chariot's runner, placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and whispered in his ear.

"Ye have won the greatest of glory, General, worshipped and loved by all, but remember this," she reminded him quietly, "that thou art mortal and someday ye will return to the dust from which ye came."

Iroh looked at the serious girl who had just delivered the famous warning given to every recipient of the Fire Nation's supreme honor.

"Yes," he replied in a subdued voice, "If I have learned anything… it is that."

He looked up the wide, white steps that ran steeply to the foot of the temple.

Xian, dear cousin, you should stand in my place… and Nikon, my friend, you were a better warrior and a better friend than I will ever be…

He began his ascension and soon met the party that awaited him. Jeong Jeong saluted him sharply and bowed low, Macro and his attendants instantly following his lead.

"Hail, Prince Iroh! Your homecoming is a joyous event, indeed."

"Greetings, Field Marshal."

"Let me be the first to salute you as General and welcome you as a brother to the War College of the Fire Nation."

They took each other by the right elbow in personal greeting.

"I am honored."

"Your actions have brought you honor. I'm sorry for the loss of your cousin. Prince Xian was loved by the people and respected even among our bitterest enemies."

"I thank you. He was the noblest of us all. Are they prepared for us inside?"

"Yes, the Fire Lord and the Cabinet are assembled in anticipation of your arrival."

"And how is the Fire Lord's mood today?" inserted Tien Shin.

Jeong Jeong paused and adopting a guarded expression scanned the skies, "Like the weather."

Looking about him, the elder Prince replied, "Excellent – the weather's good today."

The Field Marshal nodded once and replied darkly, "Changeable."

"No matter," the elder prince replied with a wide smile, "This is a day of celebration and I have news that will no doubt interest the Fire Lord."

Iroh and Gan shared a brief glance at the sinister statement.

Turning his icy stare away from Tien Shin, Jeong Jeong once again addressed Iroh, "I welcome you as a brother in arms, General Iroh, but you may come to regret your elevation. Since you departed for the Earth Kingdom, eleven of our fellow officers have been executed for treason – including Master Chen and General Ho."

"I am sorry to hear of this, Field Marshal. We cannot afford to waste such talent if we hope to win."

"They were all good men."

"If they were all good men, Field Marshal," Tien Shin questioned with a knowing smirk, "how could our beloved Fire Lord find them guilty?"

Jeong Jeong looked at Iroh's step brother with undisguised disdain.

"You have a gift for logic, Prince."

Iroh wondered how long it would be before Jeong Jeong himself was accused. Tien Shin's expression left little doubt it would not be long.

The Field Marshal turned back to Iroh.

"Let us proceed, General, the Fire Lord awaits you."

They marched up the steps and the crowd began to cheer again. The crowd would not disperse until he entered the Temple of the Sun itself, for this was a rare and wondrous event. The arched, double doors of the Temple were made of pure gold and stretched three stories tall. Only the Fire Lord and the elected members of the College were allowed to pass them and only upon the declaration of war or upon the conclusion of peace.

The only exception to this strict rule was that during the celebration of a triumph the party of the conqueror would be allowed to pass the doors where inside the Fire Lord, the Cabinet and the War College waited to receive him. The last time the doors had been opened was sixteen years before, and tradition dictated that the conqueror was escorted, if possible, by the last victor to win the honor.

They reached the top of the stairs. The golden doors loomed up before them. Huge fire pots blazed on either side.

The crowd had gone silent again. They waited for the signal as did Iroh and his party. Moments later a huge gong peeled loudly from inside the temple.

Iroh spread his legs wide, drew his breath to regulate his chi and swiftly released five separate streams of hot orange flame at the door. The ornate locking mechanism on its frame received the streams of fire. Slowly, but with gathering speed, the intricate keys, circlips and cylinders began to move and spin. Iroh's river of flame went out just as the lock snapped open.

The great gold doors swung open noiselessly on rhodium hinges. The press erupted with cheering and screaming. Fireworks exploded throughout the capital.

He turned his head to glance at Chieng, her hair a shining stream of midnight in the bright sun, and was rewarded with the most brilliant and loving smile he had ever seen. For a brief moment, he was happy, the happiest man alive.

General Iroh entered the Temple of the Sun in triumph as his father and grandfather had before him.


A/N: Would you believe this is the scene that started the whole story? This was the first image in my mind before I even had a plot. Iroh, returning home from the wars in triumph, his armor burnished and bright in the noonday sun, riding his chariot in glory through the streets of the capital to be received with honor by the Fire Lord…sadder, but wiser on his way to becoming man we knew and loved in the show…