The White Flame (An Avatar Story) Book 2: Warfare

by Aegis Whiteflame

The Rats and the Hornets are gone, but the streets of Citadel never change. Only its players. The Fire Nation's Siege of Ba Sing Se intensifies with every passing day, and the survivors of Citadel's latest turf war, now drafted into the Fire Nation, are on death row to see the worst of what war has to offer.

21. Combined Efforts

Fluke

One day, I wanted to think, I would be able to come to terms with my continued survival through hell. That day, however, was not going to be the one.

"Well congratulations then," the man had said. "I'm his son, colonel Lu Ten, and you three are some lucky sons of bitches."

I could have collapsed right there, finally understanding that the mission was done. We'd made it. I let out a sigh, feeling the strength in my legs fading as I decided I would have liked nothing more right then to just lie down and fall asleep.

That resignation had seemingly gone unnoticed as the man in front of me, colonel Lu Ten, son of Prince Iroh of the Fire Nation, called out to his men, "Get these men on the transport! We're headed back to camp! 72nd company, 24th company, hold this passage! I'll be sending the 19th battalion to establish a permanent position here, but you'll keep watch here until then!

"Yes sir!" I heard called out from the crowd, followed by another, "Yes sir!"

"Yes sir!'

"Yes sir!"

Three soldiers, likely not belonging to the companies set to stay here, approached Gan, Gunji, and me, and escorted us to our waiting transport-a Fire Nation truck that towed behind it a recognizable pile of debris–our tank.

It was considerably worse for wear by the look of it, the floor penetrated through, the roof collapsing in on itself, the starboard side daring to crumple, and the rear already torn off. It was far from a pretty sight, and a wonder to all of us how we'd survived being inside of that crushed beneath a falling mountain as we were.

"Don't worry," one of the soldiers said. "Grease monkeys back at camp'll get her fixed right up."

"That?" I asked in disbelief, looking at the wreck.

"Yeah," the soldier shrugged dismissively. "I've seen worse."

I scoffed at the thought as the soldier helped me aboard the transport truck where others were already gathering to head back to the Dragon's camp–our original target. Gunji and Gan were ushered aboard close behind me as well, not doing too well themselves, but admittedly in a much better state than our vehicle.

The officer, Lu Ten, was the last one to board, taking off his helmet to slam it against the side of the truck, yelling loud enough for the entire battalion to hear, "92nd! Move out!"

Soon enough, we were moving once again, and it was impossible to not think for just a small moment that we were back in our tank, but thank the spirits, we weren't. There was no cramped metal coffin, no boulders raining down around us. Just a treaded truck riding over the debris of a skirmish we'd just barely made it out of.

"Doing alright?" I asked towards Gan and Gunji, addressing neither one in particular.

"Yeah," Gunji said while Gan, near totally out of it, leaning back against the truck's half wall, just gave me an exhausted thumbs up. "Hard to believe it's over," Gunji said, almost as a chuckle.

I would have ordinarily bid him not to jinx things, but I saw the strewn out corpses of the Earth Kingdom forces here. They were down for the count for now. The way out was clear. We were done here.

"You did alright, kid," Gan said to Gunji from where he sat, eyes shut to block the light of the setting sun. "You too, Fluke. Damn good shooting."

"Damn good driving," I countered. Gan scoffed.

"And thanks, Gunji," I added, figuring I best not leave it out. The fact we were alive was testament alone to the reality that he'd done his job, and that without him, we'd be dead. He'd stepped up when it'd mattered most, and we were alive thanks to him. We were alive thanks to each other.

"So you boys say you've got a message?" the colonel, Lu Ten asked, looking towards us now.

We all looked towards him, and I felt my heart jump. It wasn't on me. Is it still in the tank? Did it get destroyed?

I looked at Gunji. He looked blankly back at me, then at Gan, who, fortunately, reached into his belt and retrieved the message, not resealed, decoded, bearing the translation right on it, clear as day having been read by us with little to no effort to hide the fact. We were too exhausted to bullshit the man. Gan handed it straight over who accepted it with a single hand, and chuckled the moment he moved to open it.

He looked back at us, smart enough to know we were likely in deep shit, but too exhausted to care. However, rather than chew us out, he merely smiled, chuckled, and asked, "Should I assume this was meant for my father's eyes only?"

I struggled for a moment to overcome my memory lapse and recall that the officer's father in question was the man we'd come for–General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. I nodded, figuring it best I be the one to do so as I'd been the one who'd unsealed it in the first place.

"It was encoded," he said, looking again at the message. "But it seems that didn't matter to you."

"It wasn't very well-encoded," I said.

Colonel Lu Ten chuckled, and proceeded to read through the translation that Gunji and I had come up with, etched on the bac; seemingly also violating the sender's instructions. On top of that, the other soldiers next to him, now removing their helmets to allow the wind to beat against their face, leaned over to read as well.

How the hell are they getting away with this? I wondered. I would have thought it a lack of discipline, but I saw the way they'd heard and listened to their commander's instructions without hesitation. They were relaxed, but they were loyal, and it was like nothing I'd observed so far in the Fire Nation, except perhaps with Danev and those of the 114th.

"Huh," Lu Ten said. "So Deming finally got his division back together, and now he wants to force my father's hand." He looked back up at me, as though expecting me to be the one to explain.

"I uhh-"

Lu Ten chuckled. "Relax. You don't need to provide an explanation for him. He's always been a pain in the ass."

I chuckled in return, admittedly surprised by the lack of formality coming from him for somebody of his rank, adding on top of that his blatant disrespect for a fellow officer.

"Well," he added, closing the message. "Doubt my father will be happy, but it doesn't seem he's being left much of a choice."

I struggled to find what to say, or if I should even say anything. Lu Ten decided not to add anything on the subject and so I considered the matter settled as we rode along, finally leaving the mountain range behind us, myself glad to put it behind me.

The mountains behind us, I finally allowed myself to remove my helmet, a bucket of sweat seemingly stored within. The breeze that washed over me as soon as it was off was the greatest I'd felt since departing from the 64th's campsite, if not even better.

The sun set during our journey, the way ahead lit by the lanterns of our trucks and armored convoy alone. The formation we maintained was tight, nothing like the 62nd's journey here, scattered in anticipation of disaster. That formation had been intended to survive through the worst. This was meant to beat back the worst. No vehicle in our column was not within sight of another at a given time. All soldiers were packed on transports, none being forced to walk on foot while the rest sped ahead. I wondered what regular casualty rates here were, and how many dozens lower they were than our own.

Then there was the culture, at least what I was capable of noticing at a first glance. The soldiers in the truck with us gambled throughout the ride, offering to deal us in, and even doing so with Gan before he lost on his first hand and nobody agreed to deal him in again after. They did still, however, split what rations they still had with us. It was the first morsel I'd eaten since morning, and unlike most things given to me by the others, there was no expectation of return. It simply tasted good.

When we began to approach the Dragon's Host, however, it couldn't have been more obvious, and that was meant in the best sense of it.

We were met by outriders first, mounted cavalry who demanded, "Identify yourselves!"

The colonel himself stood up from where he was seated and said, "92nd Company, 21st Battalion!"

Upon noticing the man speaking, the rider immediately saluted, and proceeded after to place a hand to his fist and bow. "Colonel Lu Ten!" The head of them said. "Sir!" The other riders who'd met us followed suit, bowing respectfully as Lu Ten returned the favor, and sat back down, allowing the truck to move once again.

From there, the second sign we were approaching camp was the camp itself. It seemed at first that what I was witnessing was a blazing inferno burning across the land, a pyre from which the earth itself was combusting, but it wasn't that.

"Is that?" I heard Gunji said, standing up to look over the truck's cockpit. It was.

The light we saw was that of a thousand fires burning, controlled, contained, lanterns, bonfires, braziers, cooking sites, all with order, all with purpose, stretching to the horizon and back.

"Welcome to the Dragon's Host," colonel Lu Ten said. And quite a welcome it was.

I imagined that it was directly into the battalion's staging area that we were riding. We were met right away by soldiers emerging from their tents to announce, "92nd's riding in!" Whether they were eating around spits, gambling within their tents, or even sleeping in some cases, Fire Nation soldiers emerged to greet us on our return, letting out a cheer of jubilation upon sight of their Colonel and his triumphant return

"Captain Zale will get you sorted for the night," Lu Ten turned to the three of us from the 62nd to say. "You'll get a hot meal and a soft mat tonight. I'll see you in the morning!"

With that, he stood and casually stepped off our still moving truck, landing on his feet amongst dozens of soldiers who awaited him, a celebrity in every sense of the word by the look of him.

I turned back to look at fan and Gunji, wondering if what I was seeing was real, and by the look in their torch-lit faces, it was. What the hell is going on here?

Other soldiers too began to leave the transport in similar fashion, greeted with equal enthusiasm and joy, all conquering heroes in their own right.

"I'm Zale" a soldier behind us said, turning our attention back to look at him, somewhere in his mid 20s, but no less seasoned by the look of him. "I take it you're looking for something that isn't standard issue rations and a helmet for a pillow tonight?"

The three of us nodded all at once together.

How it was that a stew was already cooking by the time we arrived to the mess tent was beyond me, but I was beyond questioning things. Three bowls were poured for us upon our entry, and no meal has ever tasted quite so good. Hot broth, rice, venison meat, and boiled vegetables all thrown together with a side portion of actually soft bread and a slice of cheese was the meal that awaited us. I'd never felt like a glutton before. Growing up in Citadel didn't provide many opportunities for that. But for the first time in living memory, after the three of us had gotten away with asking for a second serving, I felt fat.

Fat.

I'd only seen fat people before in the context of children from the inner city during public events, or officers when they passed through the slums. And one simply good meal was all it took to bring me to feel that exact way.

I understood the appeal.

Captain Zale reappeared in the mess tent by the time we were done, in varying states of recovery from our meal and gluttony, Gan face first on the table, Gunji lying on the ground, and me clutching my stomach.

"Enjoyed yourselves, I imagine?"

I gave a weak thumbs up.

The captain chuckled. "We got a tent set up for you. There's no curfew, but you're expected to be up by sunup." By sunup. Sure as hell a step up from two hours prior. "Command'll want to speak to you."

Though it wasn't said with malice, I couldn't help but worry for a moment that it had something to do with our violation of orders to have the message seen by Iroh's eyes only.

"Relax," the captain said, seeming to notice. "You're not in trouble."

It was a reassurance if ever there was one.

There was no need for a watch that night, though Gan added the mistake of trying to assign it to himself at first before being reminded. There was no danger. We were in friendly territory, safe, away from the front, but still, even as I lay down, I felt the ground thumping beneath as it had when buried underground just earlier today. But the artillery was over, no longer falling atop us. There was more yet to come, of course, but for now, we were safe.

I slept well that night. Relative to most others at least.

I was up before sunup, and not alone, Gan already awake before me. "No wake up whistle," he observed, seeing as how we hadn't been forced from our sleeping rolls by the shrill whistle of our command ensuring we were up well before the sun.

"Not yet," I said. "Sun's still down."

"It's fucking unreal."

"Nice camp," I said with a shrug as I pushed myself up to a sitting position.

"Not that," Gan said, correcting me. "Yesterday. No fucking way we should be alive."

"We've been through worse?" I suggested.

"No, we haven't."

I chuckled. "No," I agreed. "We haven't."

"I just want to know how yesterday of all days, he pulls it together." It was clear that the 'he' of his sentence was referring to Gunji, who still lay asleep.

"Grace under pressure?"

"Because nothing before was pressure enough?"

I shrugged, not knowing what to say other than, "Best not to look a gift ostrich-horse in the mouth, I guess." He understood my meaning. We were alive. We made it. Why question why and how, but only that we were. We didn't need to spoil the moment by wondering if Gunji would come through again in the future.

"One more tally I guess, huh?" Gan said.

"Guess so."

"Speaking of, you mark your helmet?"

I looked down at it, next to my sleeping roll. It still bore only fourteen marks on it. "Shit," I said. "Almost forgot."

Before I could reach over for my own knife in my belt on the ground, Gan offered me his by the hilt. I took it, and got to work. I carved in the fifteenth, remembering how he and sixteen had fallen practically alongside one another with my first attack, and how sixteen's had been crushed beneath the weight of our tank as we drove. I cringed at the thought. It was a shit way to go. I couldn't help but feel sorry for him.

"Think general Iroh's gonna have us take part in the battle?" he asked. It was a reasonable question. We were separated from the rest of our unit. Hell, the rest of our unit was probably dead, and the next contender for us to be a part of was on the other side of an Earth Kingdom fortification that needed destroying. We weren't linking up with them any time soon.

"Maybe?" I said.

"Haven't met the general yet, but his son doesn't seem like the type to throw us right back out there, yeah?"

"Don't think so, no." I hadn't thought about that.

"You disappointed?"

Am I? I considered it as I carved in seventeen and eighteen, also killed together, the rubble of seventeen's rocky debris crashing down on his ally as caused by me. I thought about their deaths now, and knew that to volunteer myself for this coming battle again would mean only more of it. However, to a degree, something about it did feel rather off that we'd only be hearing about it once things were already said and done, especially after coming all this way. "I don't know," I said. "Feels weird just handing it off to another."

"Especially after coming all this way."

"So you agree?" I asked while looking up at Gan after carving the nineteenth tally into my helmet, an earthbender I'd caught in a wall of flame, burning him alive until he wasn't anymore.

"Sort of. Guess we'll see what the general has to say, huh?"

The twentieth, the final earthbender I'd killed yesterday, I was stuck on. I remembered there being one more, but it lapsed my mind. Then I remembered, killed the very last as he'd attempted to force us off of the cliffside, and'd succeeded. Soon enough, it finished being carved on my helmet by me when a horn sounded. It was quiet at first, enough so that I wasn't positive at first that it wasn't a beast of burden from outside. Then, however, the horn came again, still soft, albeit somewhat louder. And then one last time, it came again, loud, but not nearly as loud as it would've felt without the past two, intended to ease the camp awake rather than shock, though still enough to get our deepest sleepers such as Gunji stirring from their slumber.

I handed Gan back his knife as Gunji pushed himself up. "Guess we will," I said.

There was no immediate summons for us, and so we, for the time being, joined the 92nd for their morning meals, doled out in orderly fashion. In being served, the quartermaster eyed the three of us with a curious glance, and asked as he served Gan, "Replacements?"

"No, sir," Gan answered.

"Transfers then," the quartermaster corrected himself assuredly as he served my bowl.

"Nah," another soldier beside us chimed in. "Boys from the 64th that came in yesterday."

"Through the mountains?" the quartermaster asked, looking over to the soldier who'd spoken with a look of shock, as though he'd heard of it but just hadn't known it was us behind it.

"Mhm. Fucking psychos."

"Shiiit," the quartermaster said. "You two, get back here." Figuring he was referring to Gan and me, we retreated back towards the counter with our bowls, not at all objecting when he dished out an extra spoonful of what looked to be oats, barley, and even a flavoring that tasted sugary. Sugar. I could hardly remember the last time I'd tasted sugar, likely at some point or another when I was a kid and Mishi'd let me pick something out from the back of his shop. Spirits how I'd missed it. Breakfast couldn't be described as anything less than a joy then, perfectly concluded when we were nice and satisfied by the arrival of the man who seemed our representative in the 92nd's camp-the same Captain Zale.

"Enjoying yourselves?" the soldier asked, immediately receiving three satisfied smiles and/or thumbs up from the three of us.

The captain chuckled. "Good then, because things are getting serious now. Colonel Lu Ten and General Iroh wish to speak to you."

We all looked up at him, figuring something had to have been wrong with that latest statement. Alone, a colonel wanting to see simple privates such as us was a stretch, but understandable given the introduction we'd had to this particular colonel Lu Ten just yesterday. His father however, General Iroh, commander of the siege of Ba Sing Se, heir apparent of the Fire Nation, wanting to see us, however. That was less believable.

"You mean colonel Lu Ten wants to see us, right?" Gan asked.

"Both do," the Captain clarified. "Like I said, you're not in trouble, but you're likely their only shot of understanding what the hell the 64th is up to." I had a damn good idea of what that was–sending the 114th and 122nd into the meatgrinder without regard because he'd learned long ago there would be nobody to hold him accountable for throwing slumdogs away like trash. If there were a consequence free way of accomplishing an objective without regard for casualties, they were it. "So as soon as you three are done here, then-"

"We're done now," I interrupted, standing, realizing only then that I was speaking for both Gan and Gunji without either of them having signaled they were done. Their bowls nearly empty, however, it seemed that I hadn't been too far out of line at least and so they submitted quickly enough, standing as well to follow the Captain.

As opposed to last night, the camp's neighboring the 92nd were no longer unoccupied.

"72nd and 24th got back in this morning," Captain Zale said upon noticing where my attention was. "Relieved by the 19th."

"That was quick," Gan observed.

"No point wasting time, ey? Boys on the field've seen enough anyway. Their relief was long overdue."

"Deming would've just left us there 'till he remembered we existed," Gunji muttered under his breath.

"Three weeks after deploying us," I added, the exact case hardly any different from what Danev and the rest of the 114th and 122nd in the 59th Battalion had suffered through.

If Captain Zale noticed the vocal insubordination, he said nothing about it. From what I'd gathered thus far, we were hardly the only ones here to hold General Deming in low regard, but I imagine the soldiers here had their own reasons.

We walked through the rest of the battalion's campsite and further too then, deeper south. I imagined it was quite a walk that awaited us, or at least would have been were we not led to an ostrich-horse-back carriage. A truck certainly would have been a logistical waste for just the four of us. Even riding, however, the journey was not a short one. I tried to count the different companies', battalions', and divisions' camps we passed. I reckoned that from what I saw alone as we drove, as well as what I knew was left of the siege camp, there were at least double the number of soldiers here compared to the 64th.

"Spirits," I muttered as we drove.

"Hrm?" Gunji muttered.

"Gotta be like forty thousand soldiers here," I said under my breath.

"Thirty-eight thousand actually," Captain Zale chimed in, hearing anyway. "But forty thousand at maximum strength, so not far off. Good counting."

I'm still good with numbers at least, I thought to myself with a degree of pride in an old skill picked up back in Citadel.

After due time, we reached the camp of the Dragon of the West himself, made all the more noticeable by the way security picked up there. The security in question was not simply more soldiers, but a breed of them that I hadn't seen before, wearing armor unlike anything that ever patrolled the streets of Citadel or the campgrounds of the 64th. Standing guard by the command tent were soldiers adorned in crimson armor with golden streaks. They were armored all the way down, not a part of them seemingly uncovered by mail or plate. They were bulky too, strong in built,almost nonhuman, but that in itself nowhere near as interesting as the helmets atop their heads. In a sense, they were similar to my own, but there was no removable faceplate, the helmet itself all encompassing, and bearing above two eye slits, a third, open. What the hell? I wondered to myself as I couldn't help but stare as Captain Zale led us past them.

"Thos are-?" I started asking.

"Royal guard," Captain Zale finished.

"And that third eye shit?"

"Don't really know," he confessed. "Helmets've looked like that long as I can remember."

We were led past the first flap of the tent, and then it became clear to us that the time for jokes and side conversation had ended. It was a cut off zone, occupied by four other royal guards, another tent flap directly ahead of us, with chatter beyond. I recognized at least one voice. We were here.

"Wait right here," Captain Zale said, his voice suddenly lower and more professional.

We obeyed his order as he proceeded without us beyond, leaving us alone with the four triclops. I forced myself not to look at them, curious though I was to try and spy what I could see beyond that third slit. More likely than not, it would have just been forehead and hair, but it still begged the question, why the third eye? I had no idea if it was me alone thinking it. We were all silent, staring directly ahead, and I supposed that the lack of direct eye contact was all the proof I needed that we were all thinking about the same thing. I forced myself to turn my attention on other things–namely what I could hear coming from beyond the tent flap.

There wasn't much to hear.

Only about a half minute after Captain Zale had entered, the tent flap opened again to reveal him, saying, "Come on in."

The Dragon of the West. I first heard of his name just a little under a year ago, when news of the siege first reached Citadel. I'd never heard of him before then. All I heard was that he was son of Fire Lord Azulon, whose name I had already known. All I heard was that he had brought the war to the Earth Kingdom's doorstep, their very capital. All I heard was that he would be the one to end this war.

Ever since that first day of hearing his name, however, I'd heard it spoken constantly since. I heard it in passing conversation on the streets, I heard it spoken by commanders and instructors in the Citadel academy, and I heard it every day when in the 64th's siege camp, hearing it enough times that the name had started to lose value. I knew he existed, I knew he was our reason for being here, but I'd stopped bothering to put a face to the name. All the same, it was not just by circumstance that I knew the man in there to be him the moment I saw him. Though I'd never tried to picture what he looked like, a single glance was all it took to tell me, Yes. This is exactly what he would look like.

He was a well built man, standing behind a table that contained a folded over map lest we see anything we weren't meant to, and wore the armor that befit his rank. His sight was on us the moment we entered, as was that of Lu Ten, a welcome enough addition, but not nearly enough to take the man who though old, has spent his years fighting, and looked appropriately the part.

"Bow," Captain Zale hissed.

Fuck, right. I wasn't alone in my hesitation, but took the signal to heart immediately, and so bowed alongside Gan and Gunji who now did the same upon being ordered to do so. We rose in a complete and utter lack of unison, one at a time according to what we thought was proper and long enough, then prompted by the one before to rise as well. We were quite the sight to behold, I could already tell, and the amused grin on Lu Ten's face did little ease my nerves.

"So you are the soldiers that General Deming has been kind enough to send to my way."

It was not a question, but that didn't quite stop Gan from respond after some hesitation, "Yes sir," perhaps for lack of anything better to say. He took the role of speaker for himself, which was perfectly fine by Gunji and I as far as we were concerned, not about to brave speaking up first to the Dragon of the West.

"I am surprised you made it this far. I've sent scouts out before, but none who have made it, much less past the mountains."

Now even Gan wasn't sure what to respond with. We remained in proper posture, watching, thankful that it was Lu Ten to speak next, saying, "They were the only ones of their unit who made it. With the Aikou range in our possession, I sent scouts out to try and find sign of them. Nothing."

"So an entire platoon sent out to bring word of the 64th's plans to us, and only a single tank, not even fully manned, makes it," the general observed, narrowing his eyes. He doubts our story. "I'm sure my men would love to know the secret of how you pulled it off." He thinks we could be lying, sent by the Earth Kingdom to plant misinformation. It was a fair concern to have. I myself questioned how the hell we survived this far, and had I not known the hell we had to fight through to get here, I would have suspected the same thing.

Gan didn't say anything. He was conscious enough to notice that same suspicion, and it had him on edge to be accused of something, even if blatantly false. All the same, it was an accusation from the most powerful man for hundreds of miles if not thousands. I, on the other hand, had experience dealing with accusations, most of them true. I figured dispelling a false one wouldn't be as much a challenge.

"We got lucky, sir," I said, regretting it immediately after. The hell kind of explanation is that?

"Luck," the general mused. "In my experience, people make their own luck."

"They did, father," Lu Ten chimed in. "Earth Kingdom gave them a hell of a chase, but we buried them with artillery."

"We'd be dead if they hadn't," Gan said with a renewed confidence that no doubt came from Lu Ten's apparent support. "We owe him our lives."

A bit melodramatic, I thought to myself. Although not at all wrong.

The general allowed himself a soft smile. That's something. "Well, my son vouches for you, and so I believe there is no reason for me to doubt the words of what you have brought me." He set the message down on the table, still marked by our decoding. "I imagine you already know what it says within."

Though the general was facing Gan, he didn't speak up. He was waiting for either Gunji or me to do so. He wasn't going to take the fall for something that'd been my choice. I didn't blame him in the slightest. It was self-preservation. He already put his life on the line to save us in the field. I wouldn't ask him to so clearly present his neck for execution by taking the fall here. All the same though, in the silence, I could see the beginning of words beginning to form on the tip of his tongue, but I stepped in before he could.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said. "That was me." There was no gain in incriminating Gunji alongside myself. One culprit was already enough. I considered explaining myself in saying that I'd done so for want to know what we were putting our lives on the line for, but decided against it. It wasn't a soldier's place to question why he fought, only to do it. The general, however, was no idiot.

"You wanted to know what was so important for you to be sent on a suicide mission."

I nodded, shamefully.

The general let out a brief exhale of air, seemingly something of a half chuckle. "I don't need to explain to you what this says then. Your general plans on attacking the Earth Kingdom position separating our camps, and he's forcing my hand for support. I cannot allow my general to waste his forces on a doomed attack from a single front, so he will get his way, and have our support. Following the battle, you will be returned to the 62nd from where you come."

"Sir," Gan chimed in. "With all due respect, there is no 62nd anymore."

That attracted a curious glance. Lu Ten spoke up first, as though fearing he may have misinterpreted the details we'd told him yesterday. "The platoon you arrived with was from the 62nd, a full armored company, was it not?"

"Not anymore, sir," Gan answered. "We were all that was left. The rest of us were reassigned to the 240th."

"The rest of you?" Lu Ten asked.

Before Gan could answer, the general spoke up as well to ask, "At what fighting capacity was the 62nd?"

"Before our reassignment, forty-three percent, sir. Our platoon was all that was left when we were deployed to reach you."

The reaction we received was what one would expect to see upon hearing that over half of an entire tank company had been wasted on absolute bullshit. And as they knew, we were the only ones of our platoon to make it. Save us, the 62nd was gone.

"Of course he would do that," Lu Ten muttered under his breath.

"Hmm," the general agreed, shaking his head in what appeared to be shame. He looked back up at us. "What are your names?"

That was a dangerous question. We had a number of charges that could be levied against us that included disobeying orders, breaching confidentiality, and general insubordination in the way we were speaking of our CO. It was Lu Ten, however, who assured us in saying, "Relax. You're not in trouble."

Gan would speak up first, saying his name, and Gunji quickly followed.

"Those aren't particularly Fire Nation names," General Iroh observed.

"No, sir," Gan said. "We're from Citadel. Slumkids, sir."

And something about that caught the general's attention, enough so to even give him pause. It was pause enough that Lu Ten would be next to speak. "Ah," he said. "I heard the 29th had picked up some slumdog strays. Guess that's you. And your name?" He turned to face me.

"Fluke," I answered.

Something shifted in the general then. If there was pause before, there was dead set attention now. The name was strange, granted, but not something worth that reaction, right? The hell's up with him? I thought to myself, obviously not saying anything, my attention however on him, and the way his eyes were set on me, inquiring. I wasn't sure whether to return the look, having no idea of just what in spirits' name was going on. Fortunately, I didn't have to wait long for an answer on what to do came to be as he regained his composure first, straightening himself before returning to his usual serious demeanor, swiftly enough that I wondered if there had been a particularly out of place reaction in the first place.

"A man without honor like Deming does not deserve soldiers like you. Perhaps you would consider a transfer when the battle is said and done."

Is he serious? Such was the reaction from the others too, equally surprised, enough for even Gunji to speak up now, asking, "You're serious?"

The general returned a soft smile. "Deming will not be in a position to disagree." He's serious. The realization was now beginning to sweep in. We could get away from the 64th, from Deming, from the hell he'd put us through. But the others? They would have to come with us to. We'd find a way to force them. For that though, they had to survive past the battle…

"You will not be expected to join in the coming battle. Your men have been through enough already. When all is said and done, however,"

"Sir," I chimed in, interrupting him unintentionally boldly. "If I may?"

That same curious look in his eyes. "You may speak," he said.

"Sir, knowing our commander, he intends to put the other conscripts from Citadel on the frontlines-the 114th and 122nd. If some place could be found for me, I'd like to see this through?" I phrased it as a question. Of course I would. I couldn't make demands, but after coming this way for the sake of Danev and the others, I couldn't stop here and sit out the rest. Even if I would be on the complete other side of the battle, I had to be there. I had to help.

"Sir," Gan chimed in. "I would like to go too, if it could be arranged?"

That, naturally, put the pressure on Gunji, without it being our intention to do so. He was nervous. He could have said nothing and neither of us were in a position to blame him, especially after he'd been critical to our survival less than a day ago. He had no orders, no responsibility, but still did, whether by pressure, obligation, or devotion, he spoke last, saying, "And me too, sir."

The general's expression shifted, no longer just an intrigued gaze, but something else, almost…pride? It was hard to say.

"Very well," General Iroh said. "The 64th is set to march tomorrow morning. And so we'll do the same."

So the three of us had volunteered to serve in a fight we could easily have avoided without a care in the world. But we couldn't, not with our people still out there. We had to see this through.

Danev

The 29th deployed early that morning, woken by the shrill whistle of our command, and we knew that the time had come. We were in for a march.

Hardly a week had passed since our last battle with the Earth Kingdom-their assault of the trenches and our resulting counterattack, but already, we were on the field again, marching towards battle.

We knew what was going to happen; it'd been drilled into our heads at least ten times over by now in one briefing after another. The Earth Kingdom position was unlike the trench line we'd assaulted and taken over a week back. They'd had time there and been a thorn in the Fire Nation's side for months. They were dug in. Walls, killzones, turret emplacements, the works. It wasn't quite a castle, but a fortress all the same.

"Why not just use artillery on 'em?" Mykezia had asked at some point during one of the briefings.

"They're close enough to target accurately," Chejuh agreed, having recovered enough from his wounds alongside Murao to be here alongside the rest of us. "Why bother with a direct assault?"

"Because, private," Lieutenant Aozon said, evidently not the most pleased in having his briefing interrupted by questions. "Scouting reports indicate that beneath the fortress is a series of tunnels, connected even to those they've been using to attack us since we've arrived. If we level the fortress, they'll only flee underground."

"But wouldn't they just flee underground anyway if they start to lose the battle?" Mahung had asked.

Indeed, they would, which was where the 'fun' part of our job came in. Initial engagement would be simple, of course, as it often was. Half of our division would be engaging the enemy while the 58th and 17th brigades would hold their positions on our front line lest the Earth Kingdom choose it as the perfect moment to launch a counteroffensive and force us away from our hard-fought territory. Such meant that the 42nd brigade and ours, the 29th, would be the ones to engage the enemy.

We would greatly outnumber the enemy. That was beyond question. The estimate was that there were between 500 and 750 Earth Kingdom defenders holed up. Between the 42nd and 29th, we had roughly ten thousand. However, the over ten to one odds were not a guarantee of success, especially when it came to attacking a fortified position. We were hoping that was where The Dragon's Host would come into play and take some attention away from us, putting it on the Earth Kingdom's northern front instead. We had no way of knowing if the 62nd had made it there, if Fluke had made it there, but I had to believe he had.

I hadn't had the chance to see him off. He'd left for his briefing, and the following morning, poof. The 62nd had already lost enough men out there in the field for me to believe it would be a cakewalk. There would be hell to get through on the way there, and I hoped for his sake as well as mine that he'd pulled through, because either Fluke had made it and we'd have a fighting chance for it, or he hadn't, and we would be equally as screwed.

Because even if we did make it past the Earth Kingdom's killing field, there was the matter of the fortress itself. As Aozon had said, to rain down fire atop it wouldn't be enough, and so while the 42nd would rain down artillery upon them, the 29th would advance, with the 59th battalion, meaning us, at its head. Our job was simple. Simple as in, not easy, but clear. We would breach their walls, clear the surface, then head into the tunnels, and clear the rest. At some point or another, the 42nd held in reserve would send its infantry to assist, but it was unclear how many of the 29th would still be alive by then.

It was a grim state of affairs to be sure, and so now, encamped somewhere in the Fuyuan region between the 64th's position and the enemy, there was no other choice but to accept tomorrow, and find a way to kill the time before then, and so we drank, and we gambled.

"Fuck it," Tosa exclaimed, slamming his pouch of coin down on the table. "All in!"

"You are so full of shit!" Mykezia scoffed before hiccuping, spilling some of her drink on the table.

Being sent first to the front had some perks. Chief among them was that we were passing through the lines of soldiers who wouldn't be going anywhere and would thus take pity on us. Some fed us, some gave us their old surplus equipment, and some even gave us coin. That was nothing, however, compared to the booze.

"Am I?" Tosa asked, holding his hands at his side, one occupied by a mug of the strange wine.

He's so full of shit, I confirmed in my head from where I sat beside him at the table that Mano had been kind enough to create from the ground for us, within the tent large enough to hold a platoon's worth of men, though it held far more than that now. It wasn't our fault that the man the booze had been handed off to had been a Dragon platoon man. It'd just meant, however, that we were now the ones responsible for hosting the rest of the 114th company. There must have been no less than 150 men gathered within the tent and spilling outside of it. It was more a party than a warcamp, and far from professional, but neither the platoon commanders nor Captain Yuzeh were near enough to stop us.

"I'm calling," Mykezia said. "Show em."

Tosa's expression shifted, realizing his bluff had been called. "Damnit," he muttered under his breath as he turned his cards over, revealing what was, in fact, utter garbage. "Almost had you that time."

"You're shit at bluffing," chimed in Shozi as he showed his own deck, not bad, but likely not enough compared to Mykezia's. I'd already folded near the beginning of this hand, leaving only one more.

"How 'bout you?" Mykezia turned to ask Raosem of bat platoon, also called "Downhill," one of the first soldiers I'd met here.

He showed his deck, not quite up to par, and so lost that which he had gambled, but did so with a smile, clearly just glad for the games and the drink in his hand. The same did not go for Tosa, however, who'd just lost everything he'd come in with.

"Damnit!" he exclaimed, albeit not angrily, just more frustrated than anything. "He took another drink from his mug, finishing it, already teetering on the line of tipsiness, without even a month's pay to comfort him.

"Nobody told you to go all in," Mykezia chided.

Perhaps as staff sergeant, I should have done something about this, but the state of affairs now certainly was an improvement from the last few days after realizing what we were marching into. I considered my only job now to be to make sure nobody drank too much. As such, when Tosa left his seat, having been dealt out, and moved to pour himself another drink the keg, I stopped him where he rose with a hand around his wrist, and reminded him, "Two drink limit."

It was easy to get away with my authoritarianism when I made up bullshit reasons, the primary one here being that we needed to leave enough for the rest. Obviously, while that was a kind sentiment, my chief concern was in ensuring that nobody woke tomorrow with a hangover that would prevent them from being able to fight and defend themself. I imagine that most who knew we were well aware of my true motives, but still, nobody, Tosa included, made any complaint, and they obeyed the conditions I'd set.

So, he set down his mug, and mockingly bowed as he abandoned the table, leaving the spot open for yet another. I considered calling over Mano, but upon observing that he was already trying to sneak in as much sleep as he could over from his cot, I decided against it. I debated on who to summon next, but Mykezia beat me to it, calling, "Ele! Get over here!"

Ele, another soldier from Bat platoon, was one of the few other women in the company, far more timid and reserved compared to her Dragon platoon counterpart. The sound of her name perked her ears from where she stood at the far corner of the tent, talking to some other Bat platoon soldiers. She turned to see who it was calling her name, turned back to the others, excused herself, and stalked over to the table where Mykezia pulled out a seat for her, and motioned her to sit with gentlemanly grace.

It was only with Ele that Mykezia bothered to put on a face of chivalry. Some questioned if it was a form of sisterly solidarity or perhaps an underlying interest that went further supported by existing rumors Mykezia was playing for the other team. I half expected those rumors only existed, however, as a coping mechanism designed to explain why their own attempts to court her had ended with varying degrees of injury, both physical and emotional. From the way Mykezia looked at her, however, perhaps there was some truth to the claims, and nobody would have put it past her, but all the same, it was none of my business.

Mykezia finished collecting the cards from the corners of the table and handed the deck my way. It was mine to deal. Raosem fetched a filled cup of booze for her Bat Platoon comrade while I did so.

We were playing again soon enough. My hand was a wash once again. I folded.

"You could at least try to bluff," Mykezia said with disappointment as she saw me lay my cards down again. It was true, I could have tried, but I knew where my strength lay, and it wasn't in words, at least not those made to deceive. That's always been Fluke's forte. I imagined he could have had this entire room cleared by morning if nobody stopped him before then. Hell, he'd managed to milk two warring gangs dry for years. This would have been child's play by comparison.

We learned quickly enough that Ele was unfamiliar with the rules of the game, having only joined our table out of a fear of saying no.

She had been run bankrupt rather quickly without many options left her for how to wager herself in. Some from the crowd boldly suggested she put herself up for wager, but those calls were quickly dismissed by a single glare from Mykezia, reinforcing just why it was no soldier of the company had yet to see what was under her armor. Those calls were quickly put to rest, but a number of the more respectful benefactors of the crowd, or perhaps just those hoping to play the long game, staked her in.

Following two games of practice however, alongside a momentary exception in my 2-drink max rule, Ele was in the game, and she was unstoppable. Perhaps it was by the merit of there being two girls at the table or that the stakes were becoming progressively higher with even bystanders making bets with one another and staking the players in, but one way or another, the game had attracted one hell of a crowd.

I forced myself to be bolder now, partially on account of the crowd. I considered trying to excuse myself at one point or another, but was disallowed from doing so, the only way out being to go broke, which Raosem did soon enough. The atmosphere had become a lot more jubilant around our table now as calls for who should take his palace filled the tent. The calls were broken up, however, by the entry of somebody who was less expected and, needless to say, boded of ill to come.

While the arrival of Rulaan was not at all a negative, the fact remained that he was a platoon commander, now here standing witness to a good majority of the men under his command engaging in drinking, gambling, and other activities that were exactly becoming of soldiers.

The tent was quiet. We knew those stripes on his uniform were nothing to be trifled with. Those of us in the 114th had seen the worst of what could become of soldiers who broke protocol. When the silence would be broken, however, it would be none other than for Rulaan to ask, "I went back to Elephant platoon's camp and found it empty. Here I thought the Earth Kingdom had snuck the night on us." The silence persisted, nervous, waiting. We knew Rulaan and knew that if there was anybody to be punished by, it would be him, but all the same, it was a commanding officer staring us down. Punishment would not come however. "But turns out they're just having fun without me."

The silence that persisted was the exact opposite of the silence that came before. Instead of it being a silence resulting from fear and expectation, this was quite the opposite, emerging from hesitation and confusion. It did not last long, however.

"Deal me in," he said as he approached the table. So, we had found our new player, and the crowd found its life once again. Pats on the back awaited him as he took his seat alongside warnings of Mykezia. The rest of us at the table stood to salute before he sat out of drilled-in instinct before he casual dismissed our bravado with a single wave of his hand.

The games resumed and as it turned out, an officer such as Rulaan was a more than welcome addition. If the crowd before hadn't been enough of a pressure to up the stakes, then seeing what Rulaan was putting on the line certainly was just so I could try and match his wagers.

A lieutenant's paygrade wasn't so. Significantly higher than that of a staff sergeant such as myself, but it was still difference enough that every hand had me eye to eye with bankruptcy. I was on my guard once again, placing my bets carefully as our persistence at the table was rewarded with additional exceptions to the alcohol limit, marking me and Mykezia's third and Ele's fourth. It would have been the perfect time to take advantage of her poor judgment and wipe her clean of all she had to wager, but she was passed out face first on the table before such a moment came.

Mykezia took the cue as that for her to leave as well, dragging the poor girl up from her seat.

"She gonna be alright?" Lieutenant Rulaan asked, honestly concerned unlike the rest of the company who were too busy laughing at the sight, a few coming forward to offer assistance and, naturally be declined by Mykezia.

"She'll be fine," Mykezia grunted, now hurling the other girl over her shoulders. "I'll get her back to Bat."

"Go easy on her," a call from the crowd came alongside a number of cat calls.

"Leave her in one piece!" That only elicited more laughter, and this time even from Mykezia who perhaps had enough booze in her as well to overlook them.

"Should probably be heading back to Elephant," Lieutenant Rulaan said. "Before the soldiers under my command start to think their CO went AWOL."

"Oh don't worry, sir!" Came the voice of Erain of Elephant Platoon from the crowd. "If it's any consolation, we're all here."

More laughter, but his decision was final, and perhaps partially too on account too that the money in his possession was beginning to appear more and more like a lowly private's pay, now in my possession too on account of some smart gambles and sudden proficiency in bluffing that I imagined had arisen somewhere from the charisma granted me by my third cup of alcohol.

Regardless of my good fortune, however, I determined that it was a fitting enough point for me to leave as well. I'd had my fun, there were already other coming in to try their luck at the table, and if my handle on time was anything close to accurate, which it may not have been on account of the alcohol in my system, it was getting late. We were set to reach the enemy by noon tomorrow, and there was a good chance, knowing them, that they knew we were coming.

I stood up to leave, but my attempt at making an exit was matched by a new arrival—possibly the last person I'd been expecting, and certainly the last person I'd been wanting to come—Lieutenant Aozon.

And so the tent was quiet again, but unlike before, there wasn't quite the same hope of reconciliation or mercy. This was Aozon we were talking about, and about the only thing that could save us here was Rulaan, who, by his mercy, spoke up first to say, "Ah! Aozon! Glad you could join us!" By that simple phrase alone, what was an illegal festival of pre-battle debauchery and unprofessionalism was elevated to an officer-approved get-together.

His look, understandably, was one of complete confusion. Rulaan, having already done all that was needed to safeguard us as Aozon was conscious enough of his position to know Rulaan's authority surpassed his own, made his exit, patting Aozon on the shoulder as he left, but only after handing him what was left of his coin. "I'm staking him in!" He called out, and so it would be done.

Before leaving the tent flaps behind him, there was a single look from the friendly lieutenant, and a knowing smile. I understood immediately what this meant. My eyes drifted to Aozon's belt, and there it was, no different from when I'd lost it roughly a half year ago—Riu's dagger. My dagger.

And I'm getting it back.

I immediately halted my process of standing, and sat back down

I doubt many would have willingly approached to sit at that same table with Aozon, but fortunately, two up and comers had already taken a seat before they could know who they'd be playing with. One such was Holan of Elephant platoon, deathly afraid of all figures of authority, Aozon especially. He had just barely come to learn he could trust lieutenant Rulaan, but now going toe to toe with Aozon was doing him no favors. Still, he didn't stand to leave, likely too afraid to even move right then. The other was Homun of Bat company, attentive, insightful, and sure to be a tough man to beat, but I would manage. I'd do whatever it took to get to Aozon.

"Who's dealing?" the lieutenant dared to ask in the otherwise silent room. Nobody at the table dared to speak.

"Guess that means me," I said. And so we played.

I hadn't expected Aozon to join. His dissatisfaction with us was clear in that moment, but Rulaan had stood between him and us. For him to actually consent to play though, perhaps thinking this some way of his to earn our respect, was unexpected, and though perhaps unwelcome to most, was perfectly fine by me.

I took the deck, and nodded towards Chuta of Bat Company. He understood his cue, and immediately fetched a cup for the lieutenant.

He took a drink of it as I dealt, and was clearly displeased, likely not of the quality he'd come to expect from his command tents. But this was no command tent, these were no officers. These were the soldiers who fought for them, who saw battle, who saw death, and this was our tent. I looked over my deck and smiled. He would not be in charge tonight.

Though he would put up a good fight.

Roughly an hour later, the seats beside Aozon and I had changed hands at least a half dozen times over, and the tide of fortune had switched between us just as many times, but still, we remained. If I'd thought that the presence of two girls at the table had been cause for attention, then the battle now between an officer and a subordinate was the main attraction. At least, it was for those who were still here and hadn't left or put themselves to sleep upon Aozon's arrival

The tide of fortune lay with me now. Aozon was on his last legs, the cards in my possession had the makings of a winning hand, and I saw no lustful desire in Aozon's eyes, his hand likely nothing special, easily beat. If there was going to be a time to act, to finish things, then it was now.

"Fuck it," I said, getting his attention.

I set my cards face down on the table, and pushed my bounty forward, not everything, but just enough that he couldn't match it, estimated to be around the monthly pay of at least five different soldiers.

It took only a momentary inspection of his side of the table for Aozon to come to that same conclusion. "I can't match that," he said matter-of-factly, met with a few bold jeers from a couple of soldiers within the crowd, deep enough in however that they couldn't be picked out if so the lieutenant had pleased. But I disagreed.

"Yes you can," I corrected him. "My knife."

The lack of recognition on his face was an insult, as though he didn't immediately recall what he had taken from me, of how I had come into Citadel with it when taken by the Fire Nation, of how it was rightfully mine. He pulled it from its scabbard to raise it as though to inspect that it was I was talking about, curious, but then all at once, he remembered, and grinned. He was beginning to understand the purpose of this all.

"You mean my knife," he said in an attempt to correct me. "Not yours."

"Maybe," I said. "But maybe not. You can match with that."

"This is Fire Nation forged," he said. He's about to make a bullshit excuse about why he can't wager it, I reckoned, my eyebrows furrowing and teeth beginning to grit inside my mouth. Fucking coward. Instead of any such things, however, he just ran his finger along the blade, looked back up at me, and said, "It's worth far more than what you're offering there."

Fine, I thought to myself. It was to go big or go home anyway. I pushed all else forward, the sum total of all that I had made here tonight, and was accompanied by varying "oohs" and "ahs" from the crowd as I put it all on the table, but the lieutenant remained unconvinced.

"I don't know," he said, crossing his arms. "Still doesn't seem enough."

"What do you want?" I asked as little more than an annoyed grunt.

The lieutenant's smile returned quickly enough. "I hear you have a nice little portrait on you of a lady friend back from Citadel?"

How the hell did he hear that? There were murmurs across the crowd. Of course, I thought. Word gets around one way or another. I sighed. "You want me to wager that?"

"I would like to see it first, of course."

Of course you would. A few other voices from the crowd pointed towards an equal desire amongst them to see as well. At least it's something of an excited audience, I thought to myself as I retrieved the folded parchment from my utility belt, still altogether annoyed about Fluke's lack of reaction towards it. Man has no taste.

Aozon held out his hand for it. Where ordinarily I wouldn't have trusted it, he was surrounded by three dozen soldiers who I knew placed their loyalty and faith in me before him. Except, perhaps, of those directly in Dragon platoon, but at that point, it was sheer obligation and military hierarchy more than anything. In this room though, I knew whose back they had.

"Well I'll be," the lieutenant chuckled. "They weren't kidding. Now that is a proper Fire Nation lady. No idea what she's doing with the likes of you, but love is love, I guess." He handed the paper back, and I took it from him before he could smudge his fingerprints on it more than he already had.

"So that'll do then?" I asked.

"I'd say so," the lieutenant said. "I wouldn't mind waking up to that in my tent every morning."

Well you'll be kept waiting. If I wasn't dedicated to winning before, then I was then the moment I set the portrait down on my pile, and he set his knife, scabbard and all, on his.

The bet was set, the terms agreed, and the game was on. He was dealing. He placed the card in the center, to my benefit, and from the look on his eyes, not to the lieutenant. There was nothing more to bet or raise, and so we moved on. Another card was added, neither anything good for me, nor against me, but I was confident where I stood. It seemed that it inspired some hope in Aozon, but not enough. He was totally and utterly reliant on what would come next and last. And so it came, and I didn't need to see his hand to know that I had already won. And from the look on his eyes, he had come to a similar realization. Good, I thought. Sweat.

I took the initiative, and set my cards down, face up, and regarding the same realization I had come to, the room came to as well, and so jubilation followed. It was hardly the best of all hands, but it was good. Damn good, and sure as hell not about to be beat. The look on Aozon's face was of utter dismay, and so he moved to set his cards down as well and admit defeat before we were interrupted. A horn. Not one of battle or marching, but one we all knew. Lights out. Too little, too late.

We turned back to Aozon, but he was standing, his hand face down on the table. "Where the fuck do you think you're going?" I asked.

"Fun's over," he said. "It's lights out now. All of you! Back to your platoons! We've got a big day tomorrow!"

Some soldiers began to shuffle, the order coming from an officer, but others remained nailed in place while Aozon retrieved his "winnings," including even the knife. My knife.

"Bullshit!" I said. "There's time! Show your hand!"

"The night is over, staff sergeant," he said as he made for the exit, the soldiers blocking his way having no choice but to stand aside.

"Show it!"

"Staff sergeant Danev!" he exclaimed, turning to face me. "You're lucky I don't have all of you court-martialed for insubordination, dereliction of duty, drinking, and gambling of Fire Nation payroll and property!" Is he fucking kidding? "All of you!" he said again, even louder before. "Back to your platoons before I have you in the stockades for breaking curfew! Now!"

Nobody left was bold enough to block his way as he exited, but instead followed along after him to return to their places as well.

No shortage of faces turned to look at me, somewhere mixed between pity, sympathy, and even anger. It was clear what I felt, the frustration on my face plain as day as he managed to get away with it. Again.

I sighed, finally lowering my shoulders as the rest of the tent cleared out, leaving only those of us from Dragon platoon who were still awake. I snatched Oreke's portrait back from the table, folding it quickly to store it back in my belt, not about to risk losing track of it. Not after this. I didn't bother taking the money. It'd never been for myself anyway. It was all just for this, for Aozon, and that son of a bitch had managed to make off with what was mine again. The others could come back in to get their coin whenever they pleased. I wouldn't stop them. It was over.

I would get that knife back. I had no idea when or how, but I would. I forced myself to calm down as I knew that it would need to wait. It was curfew, and we marched on the morrow, and between the enemy in here and the enemy out there, tomorrow was reserved for only one of them, and they were of the variety I would need to be ready for. Impossible a task though it seemed, I would force myself to forget about Aozon for the night as I finally settled into my cot and those few remaining of Dragon did the same.

Tomorrow would be reserved for the first of my enemies. And after that, well, I would figure something out. Aozon could wait. The Earth Kingdom came first, and I had to be ready, because spirits knew they were.