Made it with fourty-five minutes to spare! Hurrah!
Disclaimer: There is no cow level. Also, I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender, but I think the lack of cows is a more important worry here.
The Jasmine Dragon was bustling with people. Crowds congealed at the doorway, spilling into the courtyard as they awaited entry to the tea shop. Aang adjusted his hat, looking up at the large building before them. He had never seen such a mass of people at one shop before. He was glad that they'd left Appa at the Earth Palace's stables. It was chaos!
Apologizing profusely, Aang began to cut through the crowd, making a beeline toward the doors. He grabbed Ty Lee's hand, pulling her through with him. People protested his intrusion, but he fought forward, and a moment later found himself inside the doors of Iroh's "small retirement business".
For a tea shop, the inside of the Jasmine Dragon was excessively loud. People chatted away, the tables crammed with happy tea enthusiasts. The smell of dozens of herbal teas intermingled, creating a heavy perfume in the air. Aang's nose twitched as he scanned the room, looking for the owner.
Waiters and waitresses shot it all directions, taking orders and delivering tea. They looked flustered, balancing half a dozen trays on their arms and hurrying to keep up with the stream of people waiting to be served. It was all Aang could do to not get trampled in the madness. He drew his straw hat further down his head, hoping no one recognized him. He'd never leave then, not with a crowd like this.
"Sir, if I could just ask you to take a place in line," a passing waiter said, grabbing Aang by the sleeve. He pointed toward a rather haphazard line trailing along one side of the shop's interior.
Aang held up his hands, shaking his head politely. "We're not customers," he quickly explained to the man. "We're looking for the owner of the shop. Would you happen to know where Iroh is?"
"He should be in the back," the waiter replied, his voice growing impatient. "I may be able to bring him out if you wish to speak with him, but please, take a spot in line."
Aang hated pulling the "I'm the Avatar" shtick, but he saw no other choice. They didn't have time to wait in line for hours. Leaning in close to the waiter, he whispered, "I'm really sorry, but I need to speak with him as soon as possible." He pulled the glove he had been using to hide the tattoos on his hand off, revealing the blue arrow plastered onto his skin.
The waiter's eyes widened, and his jaw slackened slightly. "O-oh. I see. Yes, f-follow me..." he stuttered as Aang slipped the glove back on. The man lead the way through the tea shop and through double doors at the back.
The kitchens were nearly as chaotic as the crowds outside. Brewers dodged around each other, bearing steaming pots of tea or handfuls of herbs. Despite the confusion, Aang spotted Iroh immediately. He stood at a large wooden table, overseeing the steeping of a half dozen pots of tea. His grey hair and commanding stature was unmistakable among the discord.
Aang thanked the waiter and moved into the kitchen, lithely weaving his way toward Iroh. As Aang approached, Iroh began skillfully pulling lids from pots and extracting the small devices used to hold the crushed herbs. He placed them on a small linen cloth to the side, still dripping and steaming with tea.
"Ah, welcome, Aang, Ty Lee," Iroh said with a smile, not once looking up from his work. "I have not seen either of you in quite a while."
"Some tea shop you've got here," Ty Lee noted. "Half of Ba Sing Se must be here!"
Iroh shrugged as he placed the last device on the cloth. He turned to a passing brewer, giving her a couple quick orders and pointing to the pots. He then turned back to Ty Lee with a grin. "After leading a warfaring army, this is rather calming, don't you think?"
Ty Lee chuckled, and they were led out the back of the kitchen and into a small network of hallways. It ended in a small sitting room, lavishly furnished for comfort and relaxation. A number of books littered a small coffee table beside a oushioned chair, and a couple paintings hung from the walls - including, Aang saw with amusement, the painting Sokka had drawn the last time Team Avatar had been together, only days after Ozai's fall.
The old general sighed as he lowered himself onto a large cushion on the floor. For the first time since Aang met him, he appeared old, worn. The muscles he had gained in the Fire Nation's prison cell had weakened, and his stomach had grown back. Even so, he appeared content.
Pouring himself a cup of fragrant tea from a pot he'd carried from the kitchens, Iroh breathed the fumes deeply before turning his attention back to Aang. "So, you would disturb an old tea shop manager?" he said with a twinkle in his eye.
Aang didn't hesitate to put forth his problem. Pulling the collar of his jacket down, he exposed the metal beneath and rapped it with a finger. It made a dull clink. Iroh's eyebrow rose with curiosity.
"Oh... that is some very nice metal. Where did you come by this?" he asked, leaning forward. Aang took a seat across from him, and the older man reached out to stroke the metal's smooth surface. "Very nice indeed. Pure silver, unless I'm mistaken. And highly refined."
"It..." Even now Aang found it hard to say aloud the band's function. "It takes away my bending. And my Avatar powers."
Iroh's eyes suddenly grew very hard. Slowly he sat back, and his eyes closed, white eyebrows drooping down his face. "Ill news..." he said, and his wise voice held a hint of... fear? Aang felt a shiver run down his spine.
"Can you..." Aang hesitated.
"Can I?" Iroh's eyes opened. "Remove it? No, I fear. Not without doing you much harm. Magic this powerful... I sense it would kill you. Or perhaps strip the Avatar spirit of its powers completely." Aang winced. The thought of his powers being gone forever would bring misery to his heart, but if the Avatar spirit was rendered powerless, the world would be thrown into unbalance. It wouldn't be long until it ceased to exist.
"I believe, however," Iroh continued, "that I can tell you how to remove it. In a sense"
Aang leaned forward, listening intently. His throat caught, and he had to force himself not to hold his breath. Iroh stared into his teacup, swirling the liquid thoughtfully. Just as Aang thought he might fall over from leaning too far, the old general began to speak.
"Sometime after the battle at Ba Sing Se, and not long before Zuko and I set out in search of you, reports of a group of an underground people trickled in through Ozai's various spy networks. At first, the suspicion was that the Avatar had been discovered, and the Earth Kingdom was preparing an army. In time, however, it became apparent that this was not the case." Iroh shook his head, and downed the rest of his tea in one gulp.
"As several months passed, very little information was gathered on this group. They surfaced rarely, and remained hidden in the shadows, pulling strings here and there. Small political movements, strategic murders. Compared to the Earth Kingdom, they posed little threat, and were quickly forgotten. Until Ozai was nearly murdered."
Ty Lee gasped from her cushion beside Aang. "Yes," Iroh continued with a nod, "an assassin came to kill Fire Lord Ozai, and was nearly successful. My brother was bedridden for a week. It is, perhaps, why he had a slight paranoia of assassins," Iroh mused thoughtfully. "Anyway, the man responsible was captured. We had determined that he belonged to this small underground group, but that was all we got before he... well..."
"Foamed at the mouth and died?" Aang asked with a frown, remembering the man he had fought back on the trip to Kyoshi Island.
Iroh nodded. "You've seen it then, have you? They appear to have a mechanism that lets them die on command. Very odd..."
"But you didn't learn anything that could remove my collar?" Aang asked, trying to keep the impatience out of his voice. He desperately wanted to be free of his makeshift prison.
"Ahh," Iroh held up a finger. "In due time, young Avatar. You see, Aang, it is very difficult to acquire information on a group of people that you cannot interrogate. It took a very long time, but eventually Ozai was able to wriggle a spy into their ranks. While travelling with Zuko, I received two letters from my brother concerning this spy and the information he had gathered. The first..." Trailing off, Iroh stared into space a moment. Then he struggled to his feet with a sigh and padded out of the room. Aang and Ty Lee exchanged confused glances. A moment later, Iroh returned carrying two folded sheets of paper. They were written on fancy paper used only by lords and nobles, but they were already yellowing with age. Iroh scanned them both over for a second before handing them to Aang.
"These are the letters I was sent. It may be more helpful if you read them yourself."
Aang took the crinkled papers in his hands and rested them on his lap. They were written in the flowing form of Ozai's handwriting, a style he had grown accustomed to reading after the hours spent sifting through contact letters and reports in the Fire Nation's palace. The letters weren't particularly long, and Aang read through the first quickly:
General Iroh
I am writing to inform you of the information gathered concerning the assassin's leaders. I do not wish this information to reach any eyes but yours, so burn this immediately after reading. It has been determined that the assassin was a member of a cult self-christened "The Bloodsworn". They worship a deity, though the details of their religion is unknown. The spy mentioned prophecies of a BloodQueen, and said he would report when he knew more. These cultists appear to have obtained unique power through the art of mixing firebending and an action known as bloodletting - by where the bender does harm to himself and infuses the fire with his blood. It had been documented to produce very odd effects, otherwise unattainable by or even unrelated to firebending.
I will write when more knowledge is attained.
Fire Lord Ozai
Bloodletting? Aang blinked at the letter. He had felt something strange about the firebenders, had thought they were abnormally skilled. But he hadn't seen anything particularly out of the ordinary. Of course, there was his neck brace. Aang touched his neck briefly, and decided that he didn't want to know what else this cult was capable of.
He had a dozen questions about the information, and the "Bloodsworn", rolling through his mind, but instead of asking them he said, "You didn't destroy the letter like he asked you to." He passed the first letter to Ty Lee, and propped up the second for reading.
Iroh smiled, having returned to his cushion with another steaming cup of tea. "No. I am an old man, and very forgetful." There was again a twinkle in his eye.
Aang turned to the second letter and read:
General Iroh
The following information is considered classified and is to be destroyed immediately. The spy is either dead or defected into the ranks of the Bloodsworn. I have received one additional piece of information since our last contact. The Bloodsworn appear to be working on an important project. What it is I do not know. I will attempt to extract more information through other means and contact you when needed.
Fire Lord Ozai
Aang passed the second letter to Ty Lee and rubbed his temples. His brain tried to connect pieces, to put together a bigger picture, but there was nothing to connect. It was like doing a jigsaw, but half the pieces were missing and the other half came from different puzzles. He let out a heavy sigh.
"Ozai was never able to get another spy into the Bloodsworn's ranks," Iroh muttered, answering one of the question Aang had swirling in his head. "The Bloodsworn had relocated, their new whereabouts never found."
"The old Fire Lord sure has dry writing," Ty Lee noted as she passed the letters to Iroh. The elderly general pocketed the letters and took a thoughtful sip of his tea.
"My brother was a very dry man," he chuckled.
"But what does it all mean?" Ty Lee asked. "There's got to be something happening. These Bloodsworn wouldn't attack a village without reason, right? It kind of kills their cover."
Aang nodded. "Let's lay out what we know so far," he said. He wanted to clear his head, get all his thoughts on the table and out of his over-clogged mind. "One: The Bloodsworn are a cult with some unknown religion." He counted the points on his fingers. "Two: This religion, or something related, prophesizes something called the BloodQueen. Though we have no idea what that means. Three: They have some odd form of bending using blood that allows them to do things that we've never seen before. We should probably expect anything. Four: They attempted to assassinate Ozai, meaning the death of the Fire Lord, and presumably the collapse of the Fire Nation, was in their favour. Five: They had some sort of super secret project they were working on. Six: They attacked me, and Kyoshi Island, meaning they're making some sort of move. And seven: Azula escaped the Fire Nation right before the attacks began."
"And eight," Iroh added, pointing at Aang's collar, "they have a device capable of sealing the Avatar's power."
"Right," Aang agreed. "Which means..."
"That we have more questions than we do answers?" Ty Lee asked, frowning as she swirled her cup of tea around in her hands.
Iroh nodded. "And that those answers we do have are more speculation than answers."
Aang sighed, suddenly very frustrated at his inability. This was the sort of danger the Avatar was reincarnated to tackle. Bloodletting, attacks on innocent people. He should be helping, but he was wholly and completely useless.
"I think," Iroh said after a long stretch of thoughtful silence, "that if we can track down one of these Bloodsworn, one that isn't completely loyal to his cult, he may be able to tell us how to remove the collar."
"Can we reason with Azula?" Ty Lee quipped, glancing between Iroh and Aang. "If she's joined this cult thing, she'll know how to get it off. And I might be able to talk to her... She's my friend. Or was..." A sadness washed over Ty Lee. It was an emotion so uncharacteristic of Ty Lee that it made Aang worry.
"That is a possibility," Iroh replied, but Aang could hear the doubt in his voice. They both knew that the chances of reaching Azula were slim. Her insanity had only seemed to grow over the past few years in captivity.
With a groan Iroh got up, his movements bespeaking the pains set upon the elderly. "Well," he groaned as he cracked his back. "This old man needs his beauty sleep. You're both welcome to use the guest chamber." Iroh bowed slightly, then disappeared out the small sitting room door, his shuffling footsteps fading through the hall.
Aang and Ty Lee made their lethargic way into the guest chambers, where two large, coushioned beds awaited them. Aang suddenly felt the weariness he'd been holding back since he left Kyoshi Island settle in, and it was all he could do not to flop on the bed and crash. A large washbasin occupied one corner of the room, and he used it to clean his hands and face, refreshing himself. He wished he could have a bath and wash all the dirt away, but he settled for the cold, clean water. Behind the changing barrier, he quickly changed into the silk nightrobes left out for guests, and gave a sigh of relief as he walked over to the soft bed. It was one of the most comfortable mattresses Aang had lain on. It felt as though he was sinking in a large pile of feathers as he pulled himself up on the bed.
As he moved to lay down and get some sleep, he noticed Ty Lee across the room, sitting on the end of her bed. She was staring at the floor, a distant look in her eyes. Aang could see them glisten with wetness.
"Ty Lee?" Aang said softly, leaning forward to try and catch her gaze. "Are you... alright?"
Ty Lee jumped slightly, looking up at Aang with large eyes. "Oh...!" She said, as though just remembering someone else was in the room, and quickly wiped a stray tear off her face. "Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired, you know?"
"Is it about Azula?" Aang guessed, remembering the sadness he had glimpsed earlier. The sombre look returned to the girl's face, and she nodded.
"She was a friend, you know?" Ty Lee sighed, looking at her hands. "It's just... well, I'm worried for her. Worried about what might happen to her, and worried about what she might become. Ah, but it's okay. I really am fine." She flashed Aang a joyful smile, hindered only by the shimmering still present in her eyes.
Aang had known Ty Lee for a while. At first, he remembered, she had seemed only a ditzy airhead that Azula used as a tool. But it quickly became apparent that that was her way of dealing with her problems. Ty Lee had proven one of the most caring people Aang knew, and he knew what Azula's sudden disappearance must be doing to her. He imagined what he would do if he learned that Zuko had suddenly disappeared, without warning. Aang sighed. He dearly hoped that never happened.
"We'll find her, Ty Lee," Aang said as Ty Lee began to prepare for bed. "And we'll talk with her. She has to have some reason left." From what he remembered of Zuko's recounting of his final battle with her, he wasn't totally sure of that statement. But he hoped that she did still hold some sanity. For Ty Lee's sake.
Ty Lee came around the changing barrier in her night gown and smiled. "Thanks, Aang," she said as she crawled into her own bed. "Promise me one thing?"
"Sure," Aang replied.
"If it comes down to it, don't sacrifice anyone's life to try and get through to her. Not for me. I couldn't bear having that guilt on me."
"If it comes down to it, I'll..." Aang paused. Do what, kill her? Aang still hadn't killed anyone, and he wasn't sure if he could. "I'll do what needs to be done."
Blowing the candle out - having to do it without bending felt like rubbing lemons in a wound - Aang rested his head on the pillow. Sleep came quickly, his last thoughts of warm blood on his hands as he stabbed Azula with a knife, the horror welling up inside of him.
Rays poked through the drawn curtains, tickling Zuko's eyes. Zuko groaned, rolling over in an attempt to escape the light. His head throbbed painfully, causing him to groan. Ugh, he thought, feeling dizziness surge through him as he pulled blankets up over his head. Why now, of all times?
The clang of the morning bell outside drifted into his room, its faint sound reverberating against his skull. Zuko sighed in resignation, throwing back the sheets. The motion caused his stomach to churn and his head to spin, but he ignored it. If the world wouldn't let him sleep, he would just have to trudge forward.
Pulling on the fresh robes left out at the foot of the bed, Zuko steadied himself. His legs felt weak, and sweat beaded against his brow. Nausea, a headache, and a fever. Great. If the palace's Head Mistress found out about this, she would pop a vein. Unfortunately, a Fire Lord's job was never done, and despite his desires, he couldn't spend the day curled up in bed.
Leaving the room at a slow stumble fit for a zombie, Zuko began to make his way to the kitchens. When he was younger, his mother had always fed him toast to help calm his stomach. Servants passed him, shooting him concerned looks as they bowed or curtsied. Zuko gave them reassuring smiles, though he knew it didn't help. His face was probably white as a sheet.
Turning into the kitchen, Zuko waved one of the cooks over. He didn't dare enter the kitchen for fear of infecting the entire palace with whatever bug he had. After requesting a couple slices of toast - the cook looked slightly indignant at being asked to make something so mundane - he let himself lean against the wall, his breathing slightly laboured.
Two overly-gourmet pieces of toast later, Zuko left the kitchen, setting a course for his study with a lethargic gracelessness. There was a lot of paperwork he had left unfinished. He didn't relish in the prospect of spending a day at his desk, but he supposed it was better than on his feet.
Before he reached his study, however, he was stopped in his tracks. A plump woman appeared out of nowhere and planted herself in Zuko's path, hands on her hips. She raised an eyebrow at his appearance. Eleen, the Head Mistress, did not look pleased.
"Your Highness," the Head Mistress said in her low voice. She looked Zuko up and down. "So Sheean was right. You're as sick as a dog. You should be in bed."
"I-" Zuko began, but Eleen cut him off with a "harrumph".
"Yes, I know, Your Majesty. Lots of work to do. It can wait. The Nation won't collapse if you take a day off to recuperate."
"Actually..." Zuko began to protest, but trailed off at a pointed look from Eleen. No one crossed the Head Mistress, not even the Fire Lord.
"You know I-"
Zuko's ear twitched, and instinct told him to duck. He dropped to the floor, pulling Eleen with him and ignoring his stomach's protests. Heat singed the back of his neck as he fell. Glancing up from the floor he saw what appeared to be an arrow made entirely of green fire plough into the far wall, digging deep into the stone before shattering. A deep crack formed along the wall.
Zuko pulled himself to his feet, twisting to face his assailant. A man - or so Zuko assumed by the person's stature - stood at the end of the hall, clad in all black and assuming an offensive stance. Zuko instinctively placed himself in front of Eleen, bending his knees in preparation for a fight.
"Head Mistress, go. Get help," Zuko said. Eleen dashed off just as the man shifted, fire flying from his hands. Zuko easily parried the attack with his own fire despite his weakened state. He waited, watching the man. What had that been before? Firebending? the arrow had been too sharp to be any firebending he knew. It had looked more like a blade than fire. A voice in the back of his head told him he had been unnervingly close to having his head sliced off.
Zuko's opponent made a few gestures with his hands, sending off a plume of fire that nearly filled the hall. Zuko was ready, pushing his own fire against the other's, blocking it's assault.
The attack stopped abruptly, and Zuko moved to launch an attack of his own. His arm, however, had different plans. It fell limply to his side, unresponsive to Zuko's commands. His other arm followed suit, and a moment later Zuko found himself motionless on the floor, staring up at the high palace ceiling. The world spun as his head attempted to balance itself.
"Mrrphl," Zuko tried to say, but his mouth was as cooperative as the rest of him. Nothing worked - his legs, his head. Only his eyes seemed able to move. What the hell! Zuko cursed in his mind, watching out the corner of his eyes as the man in black approached.
The man stood over his body, the look in his eyes completely blank. Zuko stared up at the firebender, anger and fear filling him.
"It is customary that we remove the living heart," the man said simply. He bent down, hovering a bloody hand over Zuko's chest. The man used the index and middle fingers of his other hand to draw a symbol with the blood, and suddenly a blade of fire sprung up, perpendicular to his palm. "This will hurt."
Pain erupted in his chest as the blade began to slice into Zuko's flesh. There was a loud shout, and the pain lessened slightly. Zuko saw the man turn, then raise his blade-hand high. He then dropped backwards. Zuko attempted to twist his body, but couldn't. Hot blood trickled down his chest. He watched as one of the guards appeared in his field of vision, staring down at him worriedly. Finally Zuko felt his body relax as people began to swarm around him. Whatever had just happened, Zuko knew he was lucky to be alive.
I apologize for the excess amounts of talking in this chapter, but it's needed to start establishing the story. Hurrah for story establishment!
I almost didn't get this chapter edited in time. It's finals time at my university, so you know what that means! That's right! It means I feel lazy as crap and have been playing waaaaay too much Final Fantasy 12. I really need to start studying for Calculus. -Pokes Calculus text book squeamishly.-
Anyway, I want you all to know I greatly appreciate you comments and reviews! They're like the icing on the cake. A delicious cake of chocolaty goodness.
... Om nom nom.