Long Feng

The King's council had assembled.

Well, mostly assembled.

The two most critical seats at either end of the table had yet to go unfilled: that of the Grand Secretariat, and that of the King, the former no doubt briefing the latter as best as he could hope to do.

Perhaps I should've been concerned, but I wasn't. I'd covered my tracks, ensured no ties back to me.

I'll be fine, I told myself, doing what I could to calm my breathing. It would be in bad faith for the King to bring in a truthseer to a small council meeting, such a move bound to outrage all those in attendance in addition to myself.

Seated at the same table where I was were Boping, the King's spiritual advisor, a quiet man who I anticipated no difficulty from, an actual pious man filling the seat at a time when the realm needed it least, a stark contrast to every man who had filled that role before, more concerned with lining their pockets and building political influence than maintaining our ties to the spirits. Well, here was a man who put his temporal duties above his earthly, and still were we on the brink of collapse. I might've preferred a hypocrite and a schemer above this nonexistent man who wasn't even a player. But perhaps he can still be a piece.

Next to me was Duanmu, head of the Royal Guard, presently sitting in for General How whose activities in the outer ring saw him unable to attend to duties in the royal palace. In a way I almost envied him, if only because being in his position would mean not needing to deal with this puppet so deep in Honang's puppet that he likely couldn't see the light of day. With the way things were going in the outer ring, a position on the council of 5 was all but certain, which would mean hell for me as Duanmu was already doing everything he could to see the Dai Li replaced as principal security in the upper district. The events of 3 days ago would definitely create some argument about how that was to proceed.

Then there was Teo Qun's seat, another missing its proper occupant. It was no surprise to anybody that Quin was not in attendance given his condition, the latest reports from his household having indicated a turn for the worse. It was no surprise. What was a surprise was who was in his seat in his place–Fahan, a personal assistant whose mere present was an insult to the class, caliber, and refinement of all those who do, ever have, and ever will sit at this table.

At the very least, that was the protest I had given. I'd needed to keep up appearances, of course, especially when it was Honang who had put forward the idea of having Fahan sit in Qun's seat in the first place. He was not of noble birth, had no significant titles, no bloodline, he should have been as far as anyone from a place so close to the King. However, he was most knowledgeable of Qun's affairs, and, by extension, the treasury of the Earth Kingdom. But, more importantly, he was Honang's puppet. At least, so Honang believed.

I was doing everything I could not to turn my eyes every few seconds towards Fahan to see how he was behaving. Was he looking back towards me? Was he uncomfortable? Suspicious of something? Did he recognize me? Did he remember events beyond those that were expected of him? His arrest, his-

Relax, I interrupted my thoughts, forcing myself to breathe again. Worrying about this was the one thing that would give me away to a truthseer if there was indeed one. I had to trust the handiwork of my Dai Li. Every other trial had passed with flying colors so far; I had to believe this field test would be no different.

One hell of a field test though.

The council chamber door opened, and in walked Honang. He was alone, the king not yet in sight as was tradition. His seat was the last to be filled on any occasion, and it was unbecoming of the king to be left waiting for his councilmen, much less to come in with his councilmen. No, there would be a wait. It could be anywhere between a few seconds to even hours, but I highly doubted Honang had been delayed by simple idleness, no. The King was outside those doors, informed by Honang to take his time to enter. But I knew the king, young lad as he was. We wouldn't be left waiting for long.

And sure enough, it was near only half a minute later once Honang had finally taken his seat that the doors opened again, a guardsman standing to either side, enabling Kuei's entrance into the council chamber.

We all rose as the herald shouted his name and titles in perfect timing for the boy king to take his seat, and for us, his loyal; obedient servants, to follow. Fahan was slow to follow, a half second or two behind the rest, but he caught on soon enough in time to follow the king.

And as always, the first words would be his.

"I would like to thank you all for attending," the king spoke. "I call this emergency session in response to the attack that occurred during the Spring Festival."

It was hard to forget, the words now spoken by Honang a pale comparison to how I was sure we all remembered the event.

It followed a similar enough pattern to other spring festivals: hand-crafted floats being paraded across the circumference of the middle city, albeit a bit closer to the center in the name of security concerns, but notwithstanding, a sight to behold from all upper and middle citizens. It was a protracted affair, one destined to last the whole of the day, the parade making a number of rounds in matching with the zodiac year. Being the year of the rabbit as it was, such would mean rotations around the middle city, a different performance for each passing, floats displaying off the wealth of the crown: trinkets, toys for children, foreign imports, but most importantly, food, all to be disseminated across attends on the final round, giving the people more than reason enough to stay to the end. It was more food than the crown could spare.

Fortunately, for some more than others, that parade would not make it to the fourth round.

It was midway through the 3rd round, somewhere in the Liuxiayu district, that an explosion sounded. From where I was seated alongside the rest of the king's cohort, we could only make out the shockwave, the plume of smoke, and the clatter of royal guardsmen rushing to intervene.

But it would be too little too late. By the time they had arrived, a cadre of royal guardsmen were slain, and the brigands, bandits, terrorists, whatever Honang settled on calling them, had made off with the contents of two floats, one of which being the breadbasket of the crown.

It did not take long from there for the king to be ushered back to his palace and for the festivities to be concluded, a near week of frantic orders, investigation, and attempts at discerning what'd happened having passed before bringing us here. And seeing as how I wasn't in chains, I could only assume things had worked out in my interests. For the most part, as there were still questions to be had.

"My guardsmen slain," Duanmu spoke up, interrupting Honang as he recited the details we all knew too well. "Protecting the king's life and wealth. And where the hell was the Dai Li during all of this?" He had turned in his chair to face me, eyes like daggers, albeit blunted.

"At their assigned posts," I answered. "It was the king's wishes, and the grand secretariat's relayed orders, that the Dai Li presence be minimal so as to keep our citizens at ease."

"Yet you still were asked to maintain the presence of plain clothed operators within the crowd," Honang said. "Where were they in all of this?"

"In the crowd as ordered of them," I answered. "Their instructions were to maintain an eye on the state of security, delivering reports to me throughout the event of royal guardsmen shirking their responsibilities, taking leave of the parade route in downtime to gamble, drink-"

"Slander!" Duanmu shouted. 'And frivolous at that. Perhaps if your agents had maintained as close an eye on the king's bounty as on their own allies, such a disaster never would have befallen-"

"Enough!" was the voice of Kuei, a pathetic shout, but the weight of it being spoken from our liege lord enough to put the matter to rest. "What happened represents a failing on both your parts, not only one. Long Feng, I should hope that your agents are up to the task of getting to the bottom of what happened, and bringing those responsible to justice."

"My agents have been at work night and day, your grace," I affirmed. "Latest reports indicate they are approaching a resolution. I anticipate hearing back from them soon."

"Good," the king said.

But now it was Honang's turn to speak. "There is, however, the matter of what was lost." He turned to Qun's stand in, "Fahan,"

The boy's head raised at the mention of his name.

"I trust you have the numbers of that which was lost, correct?"

Fahan nodded. "I do, my lord. Enough so that the losses will not be easily recovered with the limited food coming into the city. With recovery of what was stolen a far off hope, we will struggle to fill the gap."

I could see Honang gritting his teeth, and not at the mere implication of starvation. Rather, said food was ammunition he had against me, a winning card he'd placed in my pocket without me realizing in the hopes of outing me as serving my own interests. But that card was gone now. However, Honang's efforts to use it against me, not so much.

"I believe paying closer attention to our stores is in order then," Honang said. "It's worth asking then, Long Feng, where you were able to source the needed resources from."

"I," Boping started. "I do not see the relevance of this. What does it matter where the food was sourced from?"

Honang answered, "I simply wish to know if we can rely on similar sources in the future."

It was all I could do not to smile. You know very well where the food came from, I thought, and as much as I would have liked to play the role of the cultural minister who put his own personal funds aside for the king's service, I was not supposed to have such funds in the first place. And, as such, I would play a route Honang would not be anticipating–relying on his supposed puppet.

"The credit falls to Fahan," I said. "In treasurer's Qun's ailing condition, his record-keeping had not been entirely accurate, and as I hoped to find what was needed for the festival, I enlisted Fahan's aid in finding what might've been missed.

That much caught Honang by surprise. It was a lie, clear as day. Well, at least of Honang who knew enough otherwise about where the food came from, and lucky him, well, his primary accomplice was the man I had tried to use as an alibi.

I had considered for a time if it was worth expending Fahan as a resource, but that would be overstating his use to Honang. He was a tool, not a confidant. One that might've gotten used in the future, perhaps, but it was unlikely. Fahan's place to Honang was a peek-through-the-blinds into the treasury's affairs. I had no intention of allowing Honang any more a hand in our coffers than he already did, and so a declaration of such that only he would understand was as good of a use of Fahan as I could think of, and the last message he would be delivering to his old master.

So for now, thinking himself still possessing the advantage, Honang widened his eyes, an expectant smugness behind them. "Fahan?" he asked, awaiting clarification, but in reality, awaiting the report that I'd been lining my own pockets.

Honang, sadly, was a stoic man, and so I could only imagine his anger upon hearing Fahan speak, "It is…not my desire to speak poorly of Qun, but Long Feng is correct. I helped to organize our reports and filings and we found some resources slipping beneath the cracks of paperwork that Long Feng was able to put to use to meet his grace's demands."

But still, in lieu of a visceral reaction, I did at least get a pause from Honang. A rather satisfying one at that. "I…so-"

"I agree with Boping," Earth King Kuei spoke up. "I don't much see the point of this. Is our time not better spent determining what it is that transpired and how it can be avoided in the future? Duanmu, I would hear of what the reports from your guardsmen indicate."

And so as Duanmu began to speak, Honang settled back into his seat, and his eyes settled first on Fahan, as though begging for some visual cue as to what the hell his ally was doing. But there was no return look from Fahan, no recognition of arrangement past or present. My Dai Li had seen to that.

And though Honang had no way of knowing such a thing, one thing was clear to me–my involvement. And so it was on me now that his eyes settled, brows ever so slightly furrowed, my mouth just in so slight a grin, an exercise in subtlety between the two of us now as I quietly pronounced my victory. And only the first of many.

The details of Duanmu's recount drifted past and over me, speaking of details of an attack on which I required no further information. Perhaps it would be expected for me, head of the Dai Li, to be more concerned in security matters, but such a thought implied Duanmu and the reports of his guardsmen had anything to tell me that I didn't already know. From who had committed the attacks to where they had fled and stored their reward as well as to the contents of the report that would be delivered to this room in a half minute's time, the outcome of this meeting had been determined from the moment those explosive charges my agents had planted had gone off at 1437 in the Liuxiayu district.

A knock came at the door, and the king's voice promptly permitted entry to the guardsman who entered.

"A message for Long Feng," the guardsmen said. "He says he has a report on the Liuxiayu district attack."

"Let him in," the king demanded. "I'm sure we will all be very interested in what he has to say."

And so Honang's sight went from the door where my agent entered, now back to me. 'What is this?' his eyes seemed to ask, but I had no intention on spoiling the surprise.

Behind my agent, the doors closed, the man's head turning to me, a silent question answered by a simple nod. There would be no surprise in the contents of the reports, as it was their words that I myself had written in the close of the hour following the attack, at the same moment that my plainclothes agents had secured the king's food stores, the men I had paid to launch the attack had made off with their compensation of measly trinkets, and enough scapegoats from the lower district had been apprehended and secured. And so the report delivered exactly what it was that I needed, and what was expected from the Dai Li: justice, recovery, and the promise of future action.

For Boping, it was ignorant relief. For the King, satisfaction. Duanmu, bitterness. But for Honang, that was months of work squandered. A plot to abuse my role as cultural minister to divert my attention, a mission to paint me a self-serving lickspittle, and a hope to put the role of the Dai Li in question, and a long term aim to see the influence of the Earth Kingdom's treasury put in his grasp, all lost in the span of a single small council meeting.

And so like Duanmu's recounts of the day's attacks, I let the praise and satisfaction of the table, some sincere and some veiling a deep dissatisfaction, wash over me. I was concerned with none but the look in Honang's eyes.

Because for me, that was everything. Honang had played his first move against me, one of many more I was sure, but I had stood my ground. So I returned his look with a message of my own.

I'm not going anywhere.

And so the meeting carried on as matters turned, and I did what I could to not let myself glow to brightly from this victory as the topic turned to other matters as Duanmu said, "Now, about the recent military reports from the Outer Ring…"

Danev

It was no easy thing to look over the dead, to see the faces of men who just days ago I was playing cards against, drinking with, fighting alongside; friends, family, now lost to me, now lost to the world.

But somebody was needing to identify the dead; those whom could be recovered at least. I tried not to think about those on the other side of the river, whose remains wouldn't see home, or however much they had for home, until war's end, if even then.

I much preferred working with the living, few and scattered though they were, but with Murao gone, the 114th needed somebody by their side.

More had lived than I had expected, a grim admission.

Hell, I was still in disbelief that I'd somehow survived. I'd risen out of that Foxhole with the full belief that I wouldn't live to see morning, but now the sun was setting on the day after, and I was around to see it, as was the 114th.

It was some small consolation in light of those we'd lost, but it would have to do.

I tightened the bandage around what was left Cheno's leg, wondering if and when he would realize, assuming he already hadn't, that he would never walk again.

I pulled my hand away, and felt his wrap around my wrist. I hadn't known he was awake, but nothing in his face told me he wasn't the least bit aware of what was going on, and yet the look he gave me was one of determination, one of thanks.

The odds were I would never see this man again, I realized. I could hope, of course, but with this man now taking his one-way ticket away from the front and me finding my feet dig in deeper with every day, I couldn't bring myself to think of 'after,' if such a thing existed.

I clamped my hand around Chenu's shoulder. He nodded to me, and I nodded back, sending him off as the medics hauled his stretcher away to pack onto a convoy alongside hundreds if not thousands others who were lucky enough to see this war's end with still their lives.

No, I thought, correcting myself and the foolish notion.

It's never so simple. Only the dead have seen the end of war.

"You should be resting," I heard a voice behind me say. "That, or up next in the queue."

I thought I recognized the voice, but I had to turn to make sure before raising my hand halfway to my brow in salute before correcting myself and dropping to a knee to kneel.

"Your grace," I said.

"Spirits' sake," Lu Ten sighed, almost laughing. "Is that necessary?"

It wasn't the first time he'd made that complaint, but I'd heard story enough of the consequences of not treating royalty with due reverence. What royalty that was, which individuals, and even of what nation I scant remembered, but I wasn't taking any chances.

And besides, after what Lu Ten had done for us, me and the 114th, if there was anything at least he'd earned, it was me kneeling before him.

But still, his words were enough to incite me to rise, and so I met the young prince eye to eye as I stood.

"Sir," I said in response to his prior question. "Some of the boys still need me."

"And your boys need you. You won't do them much good if you pass out from blood loss. Gotta get that bandage replaced, damnit."

I looked down where Lu Ten was looking–the bandage wrapped around my abdomen in response to a cut I'd taken during the battle that I'd only noticed near half an hour after the last Earth Kingdom soldier had laid down his arms. Whether it was from a sword, axe, arrow, or hell, rock hurled at hundreds of miles per hour, I couldn't say, only that it'd stung, and did still sting, like a bitch.

I sighed, acknowledging the commander's point.

It was almost frustrating. That would make this the second time in the last twenty four hours that Lu Ten had saved my hide. I wondered if it was getting as frustrating for him as it was for me.

I tried not to dwell on it as he near escorted me to a vacant medic's tent and bid the nurse present to replace my bandages and inspect my stitches.

I doubted they would hold up under closer inspection. I'd done them myself, after all, and stitching together flesh was never my specialty. It was Murao's. And he was gone now. Him, Shozi, and so many others.

I could hardly feel the pain of my sutures being torn out and replaced with new ones relative to the knot I felt building in my stomach at the mere thought of those I'd failed to save.

And how many others would be dead too if he hadn't come at the last minute?

It was everything I could do to avert my eyes away from Lu Ten as he thanked the nurse who behind her mask likely still had yet to lift her jaw off from the ground upon being visited by the Fire Nation's golden child.

It almost hurt to be in his company. It wasn't that I resented him. Far from it. It wasn't that I was angry he'd 'taken the victory from me.' I wasn't a glory hound. I knew I'd be dead if it wasn't for him. Hell, if it was anything, it was that I had yet to thank him, and yet would have time longer to thank him as he turned to leave the tent now upon seeing my wounds tended too, likely having gotten away with it too had I not in a split second of irrational decision-making, called out, "Lu Ten?"

He stopped.

And he turned.

"Sergeant?" he asked, his eyes on mind.

What the hell am I doing? I wondered, debating if I should dismiss the thought entirely. But I was already here, I had already called him back. The time for retraction was over. Whether I liked it or not, I was saying what was on my mind.

"May I," I started. "May I speak to you for a moment?"

He was almost disappointed, it seemed, to hear me ask that, yet still he answered. "You don't need to ask for permission to speak your mind," he said. "Not from me."

I nodded. "I just…I wanted to thank you. At the battle, I, I got in over my head. I thought, maybe, that I could turn things around, that I could help turn the tide, and, somehow, save my men too. The last thing that…that Rulaan told me was that I had to choose between my duty and those I swore to protect, and…and I thought I could do both. But when the time came, and we were trapped between the Earth Kingdom's waves in the basin of the Taiga, we would've been dead if you haven't come. If it wasn't for luck, if it wasn't for you being there, I would have sentenced all of my men to death because of a whim that I could make a difference. So, I just, I wanted to thank you.."

And his eyes were on me. I had no idea in the slightest what I was to make of what lay behind the hazel of his eyes as they studied me. And then they softened, and he spoke, his steps now bringing him not further away, but back into the tent where I was. And he spoke.

"When we got word of the Earth Kingdom counter-attack, saw the emergency flares hit the sky, a full retreat was ordered. I gave the order for 2 battalions to immediately mobilize to provide relief and help with the retreat. My father belayed those orders, and I knew it was not born of cruelty or lack of care, but because he wasn't ready to lose more men to a blunder we'd made than was necessary. He forbade over a thousand men from joining the fight, but hadn't thought to forbid me and my 2 personal guards. I entered the fight with only the two of them hoping to find anybody who was still ready to fight, who was prepared to potentially sacrifice everything to give our boys north of the Taiga a fighting chance. I found none until I found you and the hundreds of men who, by your example, were driven to action.

"The mistake you claim you made, I made too, but it's only a mistake if you allow it to be one. When you lead men, there's no way of knowing until the day is done whether you made the right choice or not."

Lu Ten hadn't, I hadn't, and Rulaan hadn't, I understood. I knew Lu Ten was right, that in the end, it was all guesswork, but risks like that which I'd taken, I knew the chance of success was slim, but I'd chosen that for which the consequences if it'd failed would've been far worse than surrender. Why?

I shook my head. "But some risks, and the price of failure, is it not the right thing to accept when you're beaten? To live to fight on? Rulaan, he looked out for his men above all, understood the realities of our situation past the slim chance we had. I know that it somehow worked out, but, if it hadn't?"

"You want to know who was right."

"I want to know if I did the wrong thing."

And there was a pause, but thankfully not long after, an answer.

"The Fire Nation would tell you that you performed an admirable service, and that you should never accept surrender from the enemy, that there is more honor in dying for your nation than surrendering to another. I would tell you that Rulaan did what was best for his men, and that there is more honor in protecting those you love than killing what you hate."

I closed my eyes and nodded my head. It was the answer I had known was right, though not what I had expected to hear from a prince of said nation. But one way or another, I knew when I heard it that it was true. "He's a good commander."

Lu Ten nodded. "He was."

It was impossible not to notice his use of the past tense. I looked up, and he recognized the question behind my gaze.

"He saw things differently. He believes he failed his men, his nation."

"He sells himself short," I said, still wondering where this was going, and how this brought the position of my captain into question.

"I told him just as much in more words than that," Lu Ten said. "He resigned from his position as captain this morning."

What?!

I stood up, shooting a lightning shock of pain through the wound in my abdomen up across my body, half from the injury, half from the shock of what Lu Ten had just said. It couldn't be true. I refused to believe that it was true, but my refusal did little to suppress that gut instinct that told me it was. But that couldn't be the end of it. I wouldn't let it.

"No," I said. "Fuck that, I'll talk to him."

"You're welcome to do so," Lu Ten said. "But I don't know what your words will accomplish that an order from his commander and crown prince wouldn't. Even threw a threat of court martial his way, how desperate I was."

And then his expression hardened. "Every man has a point where he breaks, Danev. We all find it some day, and for some, it manifests differently. Suicide, a psych ward, mutiny, it comes in many ways. Rulaan, he told me he was tired of sending men to their deaths, and would rather help men find their place. He's requested relocation to serve as personnel officer."

"And you allowed that?" I asked, almost still astonished by what I was being told, of Rulaan's dismissal of a direct order. But there was no deceit behind Lu Ten's words. He didn't answer that, and I knew he didn't need to anyway."

I look down at the floor, struggling for whatever word I could say next, one question pouring into my mind after another, but the same one more common than all others.

We were a company cut down to nearly half of our manpower, without our commanding officer. I didn't need to be a genius to know the fate of such military units, but still, the question was one that I had to ask. I had to know for a certainty.

"So what…what will happen to the 114th?"

Lu Ten breathed in, and breathed out. "Much as I like you, I didn't come here just to make sure you were getting your wound looked at. The 114th will not be receiving reinforcements, will not be seeing replacements, and will not be reintegrated into the 119th battalion under Lieutenant Colonel Shazo."

I closed my eyes. I had figured as much. We had lost too many to simply come back together, receive reinforcements. We would be dissolved, our forces scattered to new units to fill in the ranks of companies who'd been hit less than us. Its men may have survived the battle, but the 114th had not. It was all I could do to keep myself listening as Lu Ten continued to speak.

And to think I had nearly missed what he'd said next. Though I'd almost wished I hadn't.

"The 114th company is to be reorganized into the 114th Separate Operational Detachment. And you will serve as its commander, taking orders directly from brigade command. From me."

I looked up. I couldn't have heard that right. I hadn't heard that right. Had I?

"What?" I asked.

"You will serve as its commander," Lu Ten echoed. "And you will accept this post. I don't like having my orders rejected twice in the same day."

I was at a lost for words, whatever did come out doing so just barely.

"I," I started. "We just talked about why what I did was the wrong thing, why Rulaan is a better commander."

"We did," Lu Ten agreed. "And then I realized that what I need isn't a commander. I need a leader. I need somebody who inspires, somebody whose understanding of leadership isn't from an academy, university, or boot camp. I need somebody who knows his men, and who is willing to make a mistake rather than refuse to act and make none at all. I have enough infantry companies. I need something more than that."

And that was to be me?

He held out a hand, and I knew he was waiting for my answer, for me to take it.

A lot went through those mind in those critical moments that felt like an eternity, still battling with the fact that when I returned to the 114th's encampment tonight, Rulaan wouldn't be there, nor would half of our company. What came in tandem with those thoughts was a blur, and at the end of it all, I couldn't even say with certainty what conclusion my mind had reached if any at all.

Perhaps my mind hadn't, but that would only make it the second time in the last day that I had acted before I had made up my mind. And it was only when I had already clasped Lu Ten's hand and shook it that I understood.

I knew what I had to be.

And so my decision was made.

Long Feng

It was dark, the room was quiet, but I could feel her there.

Her legs were in a maze of others, longer, stricter, unmoving, unflinching at the cold breeze that swept across the dining room, her legs one of two as opposed to four, of skin, flesh, and bone rather than wood.

I felt Joo Dee, across the table.

I traced the feeling of her upwards, from where her sandaled feet connected to the stone ground, up her legs to her knees, and above those, her waist, focusing, concentrating on that which I seek–her heartbeat.

My eyes were closed, but I could feel her gaze lingering on me. She was just as curious as I was. She had offered me the opportunity to close the distance between the two of us, perhaps as a way of making it easier for me, but loathe as I was to deny an opportunity to get closer to her, I couldn't.

Such ease of access would not be a tool at my disposal when the time came for it.

And so I focused, the words of her statement still in my mind, wondering if they were in hers too, or if perhaps she was hoping to disguise a potential lie by focusing her mind elsewhere. It wouldn't matter. The mind can hide secrets, but the heart cannot, and so I reached deeper, searching for it.

And I felt its thump.

And then felt it again.

Jackpot.

I reached deeper, almost a hand hoping to clutch said heart and hold onto it, and when I did, I felt it, one faint thump after another, But there was something. The beats were too few and far in between, the rhythm too soft, too faint, and I realized that the heart I felt wasn't that of Joo Dee who sat across the table from me, but of the unborn child that sat in her belly. A child that wasn't mine, but belonged to another man. A man who, if still alive by some miracle I forced myself not to wish against, was fighting for his country, for his wife and child at the heart of this city, at the heart of his mind. A wife and child, who no matter the mental anguish I forced upon myself in shame, I still wished to be mine.

But I forced myself to focus, to reach higher to find a heart that, like the child within her, belonged to another man. I felt its pulse, quicker than what it'd been moments ago. I felt her chest rise and fall in an effort to control her breathing and slow her heart, but it could only do so much to cover the truth of the lie.

And so forcing myself to turn my attention to lighter matters, I smiled, and spoke.

"You're lying," I said. "You did not steal from the royal palace on your first visit to the upper ring."

"Am I?" she asked, a smile too on her face as though that could convince me.

The frightening part was, that smile always had tended to be enough to make me believe in anything.

"You are," I affirmed, my grin never flinching, knowing that I had caught her completely

She tilted her head and that wonderful wicked smile of hers grew. "About which part?"

I let my mind actually wonder for a moment, on whether the lie was the whole of the situation, the nature of the theft, who had accompanied her, or what she had stolen.

When I came to no answer after a few seconds, I raised my defense. "It doesn't work like that," I said, chuckling. "I can tell that you're lying, not magically reveal the truth."

"Kind of underwhelming then, don't you think?"

"I think you might have a bit of a romantic view of what we're capable of."

To that, Joo Dee shrugged. "Easy for a nonbender to do that, I suppose."

Then there was a pause, a small lull enough for me to momentarily consider her words, and I truth I imagined must have been simple reality for no shortage of nonbenders. My abilities with the elements, perhaps to the surprise of many, was not one I exploited often. Fighting had never been my focus as it was for others like me. My pursuits had laid elsewhere, but even then I knew that in a straight fight with a nonbender, I could crush their skull as quickly as blink, a reality I took often for granted, but perhaps never quite went unforgotten by those who were at our mercy.

It was a strange thought, and one I didn't wish to pursue, so I asked instead, hoping to divert away from that subject, "So come on. Tell me the truth."

"Why should I?" Joo Dee grinned.

"Because I caught you lying, now come on."

"So when you catch a suspect lying in your line of work, they're immediately obliged to tell the truth because…what, you won the game?"

I could have tried, if I truly wanted, to put on an exasperated expression, and hoped that might prove enough to turn her sympathies towards me. But Joo Dee was smarter than that, and knew me too well. As such, it wasn't by my attempt at falsified anger that Joo Dee took mercy on me and gave me an answer, only her grace.

The smile never left her face, but I could feel her surrender, having nothing to lose, as she slowly shrugged and proclaimed, "Very well."

So I continued to pick at the remains of dinner as she spoke, regaling me in a story that, to one such as I, head of the Dai Li, Ba Sing Se's secret police, should have been a stain beyond repair–of the most miniscule of thefts in the royal palace conducted by a woman who thought her chances at employment so slim she'd vowed to at least come out of the palace with something she could use to pay for supper. Instead, she'd come out with a job and a future.

As well as a tapestry she had somehow folded and hid within her dress without being noticed. How she had done that, much less returned it the following day and put it back in place without being noticed was a mystery to me, but there was no lie in her words. Though, granted, at a certain point in the conversation, I had stopped searching for lies and simply allowed myself to enjoy the atmosphere of that room, something I was more than willing to trade some marginal practice for.

As the minutes became an hour, and an hour too beyond that as they tended to when we got deep enough in conversation, we found our conversation never lacking, progressing into more games of truths or lies, elations over the success of certain court intrigue plots, but, over time, more serious matters.

It'd been my own fault for mentioning what the small council had discussed.

I'd wanted to share my joy at Honang's defeat, but that'd only led into her asking of what more was discussed, and me mentioning the news from the outer ring. I'd tried to put a positive spin to it too, how it was the first real Earth Kingdom victory in months since the wall fell, had pushed the Fire Nation past the Taiga, and, much more, been coordinated by Hondu of all generals, my own man on the outside, still alive, and still doing his service to his nation.

But of course, her mind had been elsewhere. I knew what she was thinking. She didn't need to ask.

"There," I started. "There was no mention of Fihen."

"I see," Joo Dee said in response to the lack of news regarding her husband. The lack of news did not satisfy her. I would have liked to take it, for her sake, as no news equating good news, but in her shoes I doubt I would have been any more content with that.

There was a pause, and not the type that was a comforting sign of one's familiarity with another that the silence never felt awkward or uncomfortable. It hurt.

"If anything had happened," I continued. "I would no. My informants and the command staff there know to bring news about him to me so you would know. I'm sure they would let me if anything had happened."

Still, silence.

"You don't need to worry, Joo Dee."

And again, more silence.

I wanted to stand, to close the distance between my end of the table and hers, to place a hand atop her own and tell her everything would be alright.

But that wasn't for me to do. That was for a man 2 city districts and 3 walls away who may not even be alive. And I was allowing that to stop me, on a slim chance he was still alive, and would be here when the fighting ended, if ever it did, to hold that same hand and be there for her.

And who's here for her now? I was, and yet there wasn't a damned thing I could do.

All I could do was change the subject.

"Come on," I said, trying my damndest to smile. "Another round. I could use the practice."

"I need to take some time off," she said.

Maybe I hadn't heard right. No, I had. More likely, I simply had not wanted to believe it, hadn't wanted to actually reach out to gauge its authenticity.

So, I laughed and smiled. "I don't need to use earthbending to figure that one out," I said. "You never take time off."

"I'm not playing," she said, her voice still somber, having not yet recovered from the previous line of conversation. "I know it's bad timing; I'm sorry, but Fihen's father, he's…he's not doing too well, needs somebody to look after them, and, with my pregnancy, it's getting closer, and when Fihen is back, he'll-"

"Joo Dee," I interrupted her, forcing myself to speak, swallowing down every inch of apprehension I was feeling, the reluctance to let her step away from me for even a moment.

But there were some things that weren't for me to hold on to.

"You don't…you don't…of course you can take some time. Nobody's earned it more than you."

"I could still work from there. I would come back some days of the week, work here, and you can have paperwork sent to me to go through-"

As if it was paperwork I needed you for.

"-I would-"

"Joo Dee," I interrupted her again. "You don't need to worry. We'll be fine. If you need the time, take it."

Her eyes softened.

"You're sure?" she asked.

"I am," I lied.

And she smiled.

That was the thing about doing the right thing. Perhaps you had that reassurance that you hadn't made a mistake, that last recourse to fall back on reminding you that what you did was right, just, whatever.

But that never did make it feel any better.

Even as she placed a hand on my shoulder on the way out, it did nothing past that single moment, did nothing for the knot in my stomach.

What the hell good is it, I wondered. Doing the right thing when you still end up losing?

But I stuck by my decision, even as she left for the night and I bid her farewell for the day. She would come in to work on the morrow, and the day after, but soon there would come the day when she didn't, and it would have been by my blessing.

And then there was too the knowledge that perhaps there was something I could have said that could have changed things, the knowledge that there was some combination of words that could have convinced her to stay, here with me where I could have helped her, been there for, especially knowing what I did.

Knowing that she had lied when she had mentioned Fihen's eventual return home, herself never believing the words.

Damnit.

Aegis

A week had passed since the battle of the Taiga.

And we still had nothing to show for it.

The casualties had come back numbering over a thousand, hundreds dead and hundreds more too injured to return to the line of duty, and that was only counting those who had returned to our side of the Taiga. For those caught on the other side, where the Earth Kingdom now bolstered their defense, one could only guess.

I still was trying to determine how I felt. Was it defeated? Was it frustration, annoyance at the inconvenience? Maybe, but whenever I dwelt on it, there was another sensation too. It was anger to be sure, but not one that came from the knowledge of how much we had lost in the span of a single night, but rather, from something else.

"We should've been there," I said without realizing I was talking.

Zek was sat atop the tank with me, the both of us awaiting the inevitable return of Boss who was off receiving orders, and Hizo who was restocking the Shanzi with needed spare parts courtesy of Gordez. As such, close enough to hear me, he would respond with a sight and a "Spirits, Aegis. This again?"

I'd made the same complaint before, and heard the same exasperated comment from Zek. Normally it was enough to shut me up, but not this time. This time I would actually manage to formulate my thoughts enough to proceed.

"We're being misused as scouting units. We have strength, armor, and firepower. We should be working as breakthrough units, push past Earth Kingdom lines, tear them apart to let infantry move through,-"

"Then who conducts reconnaissance?"

"We have cavalry for that."

"Cavalry that got pulled award from recon because riders were wide open to precision fire?"

"So we trade in armored for that at the cost of our spearhead?"

Zek simply shook his head and ceased the argument there. I didn't feel any victory upon him pulling away from the debate. It wasn't a verbal exchange and its victory that I needed.

I needed something to change. And fast.

Hizo was first to return with the spare mechanical equipment that Gordez had sent our way: some tools, spare nuts, bolts, an oil can, the very basics of supplies that'd run its course over the Shanzi's service record and required replacements.

Of course, with the new materiel in hand, Hizo had naturally put Zek and I to work on Shanzi. Be it some loose armor plates, a misaligned tread, or the tightening of engine parts, Zek and I soon found ourselves discussing anything else than military politics to help the time pass quicker.

But of course, not one of us wasn't thankful for Boss's return, hours later near the brink of sundown for what relief it brought. One way or another.

"Can Hizo spare you boys for a moment?" Boss's voice had come from the Shanzi's top side hatch, startling both Zek and myself.

Obviously, we'd given affirmation as to the positive, and so we're prompt given a hand out of Shanzi, met with the sight of our commanding officer beside Hizo, who had his nose in a book I was guessing he was wagering to see how deep in he could get before Zek and I realized we were the only ones toiling away on Shanzi while he took advantage of the break.

We refrained from saying anything of course. We dared not give him the satisfaction. Besides, we were curious enough about what word Boss had brought back from command.

While I'd been with Boss's crew for the last few months, I could hardly have made the claim that I'd been around long enough to have fully understood the customs of this crew with few exceptions. As such, it was something of a surprise to me when Boss announced, "the lot of you, line up."

Hizo left his book aside and Zek scoffed as the two of them fell into a line beside Shanzi's chassis, and I followed in shortly behind, not about to be left behind from whatever the hell it was.

"Dragging along Gordez too for the fanfare?" Zek asked with a smirk on his face as he fell into place and I beside him.

"Sorry Zek, maybe next time," Boss answered, eliciting a groan from the man he responded to.

It was at this point that from behind himself, Boss produced a small box, and much as I would have liked to have the time to guess what was within, he was quick to alleviate all suspense.

"In recognition of the services of the 44th armored company-"

"Most notably that of the crew of the Shanzi," Hizo interjected.

Boss continued, "91st Brigade command has seen fit to reward all servicemen responsible for the assistance provided to our infantry."

Boss stepped towards the man furthest to his right, Hizo, approaching him and opening the box. Within I could make out differently-colored epaulets I recognized as those worn by Fire Nation soldiers.

We're being promoted, I realized.

"Hizo," Boss said. "For your services, you have been promoted to the rank of corporal, your pay grade now upgraded to E-4 to take effect beginning next pay cycle." On Hizo's arm, now outstretched, Boss equipped his epaulet, then pulled away.

"Sir!" Hizo said, stiffening into a salute as Boss returned the favor.

Wait, I found myself beginning to think as Boss made his way now to Zek.

"Zek," Boss said, already beginning the same routine. "For your services, you have been promoted to the rank of corporal, your pay grade now upgraded to E-4 to take effect beginning next pay cycle." On Zek's arm, now outstretched, Boss equipped his epaulet, and pulled away.

"Sir!" Zek said, stiffening into a salute as Boss returned the favor, a carbon copy of the prior interaction.

I don't get it.

And so came my turn. In spite of my confusion, I stood at attention.

"Aegis," Boss said. "For your services, you have been promoted to the rank of specialist, your pay grade now upgraded to E-4 to take effect beginning next pay cycle." As the others had done, and upon the nod from Boss, I raised my arm for the epaulet to be donned on me, hardly up my sleeve before a voice, rather, two, had emerged from my left.

"Are you kidding me?" Hizo said.

"Oh, come on. Bullshit!" Zek added.

I don't get it.

"Quiet," Boss ordered.

"Oh come on," Zek said. "He's been here half the time that we have, was a private as of yesterday. I've been stuck a private first class for the last year and he jumps up to my exact same pay grade."

"Oh what do you expect, Zek?" Hizo said. "He's a firebender. 'Course he's gonna get preferential treatment. Not his fault."

"Hey, nobody's blaming the kid. But come on, Aegis. You got something to say about this?"

I did. It likely wouldn't have been what they were anticipating because as the two had bickered about fairness of pay raises and Boss had failed to silence them, my mind had been on something else entirely for the last couple of minutes.

"We're getting paid?"

"Oh, spirits," I heard Hizo groan off to my side while Zek had burst into laughter, their complaints about the proverbial nepotism I was benefitting under immediately dismissed.

Even Boss appeared perplexed by this, not one to ask questions, but simply stating as though it should've been common knowledge to me, "You have a biweekly payment sent home for. Were you not aware of this?"

Payment? I thought. Being sent home? I had assumed that by merit of being conscripted, and, well, without a home, that was the last thing I could expect. I would have answered Boss accordingly but he seemed to remember my circumstances at that moment and stopped himself, saying instead, "Personnel should have it for you. I'll check in with them later, make sure you've got everything."

Make sure that I've got everything?

"You think-," I began to ask, wondering if perhaps Boss believed there was some malpractice going on with the Citadel recruitment office, but he stopped me there.

"Maybe," he cut me off. "I'll look into it, but we'll have it sorted for you."

"Your ass really think we were doing this shit for free?" Hizo asked, now turning back to me.

I shrugged. "Thought I was at least."

"So your suicidal ass wasn't just eager to get into the fight at the hope of more pay," Zek observed. "Fucking hell; I'm even more scared of you now."

"Still some bullshit preferential treatment," Hizo interjected.

I smirked. "Well if it's such a big deal for you, I can resign from the crew. I'm sure you'll find yourselves a more capable firebender in no time."

Hizo smiled. "Fair point."

"Good," Boss interrupted. "Because we're going to need him. All of you for that matter. We have new orders. The 37th and 163rd are taking our place on the border of the Taiga. The 217th is being sent to secure our western flank while we at the 91st, we're going east."

"East?" Hizo interrupted. "Isn't that just more rivers and the lake?"

"Laogai, yes."

"We just securing it to prevent a crossing?" I asked, unable to see for the moment how exactly this deployment was worthwhile. Or is it just a matter of cycling the brigades to put the 37th and 163rd, mostly spared of last week's fighting, on the front in case they need to weather another Earth Kingdom attack?

"Only so much they can tell us now," Boss said. "We'll know more when we're there, but we have ordered to stockpile on extra fuel."

Zek, Hizo, and I exchanged looks. As tankers, we all knew what this meant in our own ways. The last time I'd been told to stockpile on fuel, it'd been with Gan and Gunji when we'd near circled the entire city to bridge the gap with the rest of the Dragon's Host. I had no idea what was going on now, but the Fire Nation was putting something together.

And we were going to be at the head of it.

I smiled.

Good, I thought. About time we hit back.

Long Feng

It was customary that when one met with the Earth King in a form that was not a public petition, they were to be given the full benefit of privacy and security in their conversation, with perhaps the only exception being the eyes and ears of the Dai Li.

Over time, however, said customs had become more and more lax, those who awaited meetings with the king gradually being moved from a private lounge over time to simply a small nook that wasn't on the immediate approach to the throne.

Normally, perhaps, it would be a good distance enough away that a sense of privacy would be maintained, only one in every few words heard except by the acute listener, but by merit of the raised volume in which the king and Honang now spoke, I could hear every word, and I was revelling in it.

"I don't understand, Honang," the Earth Kingdom began. "It was by your recommendation in the first place that I raised Fahan to occupy Teo Qun's seat in his absence. Now you insist he be removed from office?"

"Your grace," Honang answered, by this point having now finally understood the degree to which the young boy Fahan, once his puppet within the nation's treasury for him to control, was in my grasp. "When I made that suggestion, I had intended it as a temporary solution as we lay in wait in anticipation of what would befall our beloved treasurer, may he now find peace. But with his passing, it is expected of you to place a prominent individual in this seat.

A fact the Earth King no doubt knew. A fact at that, I imagined, that Honang himself had assured the Earth King was excusable to ignore in such a time of crisis as we now faced.

"Was it not you yourself who claimed that Fahan was the best suited for such a position, low birth regardless? You yourself told me, grand secretariat, that now was the time more than ever in our kingdom's history that securing our financials in good hands was of the utmost importance."

"And I stand by that, but-"

"Then until such a time as I have reason to doubt Fahan's capabilities or find one better suited with or more experience than him, he will remain.

"Your grace,-"

"Enough! There are other matters to attend to."

What I would have given to be able to see the look on Honang's face. Unfortunately for myself, however, stood where I was awaiting summons, the most I could get was to hear the still silence that'd followed Honang's dismissal until such a time that he had gathered enough of himself to speak, and so did.

"Yes, your grace."

I pitied that Honang had been given the time to compose himself enough to not simply burst in rage in front of the king, and so too did I pity the fact that such composure too had allowed him to maintain an air of stoicity as he walked away towards the exit, towards where I waited.

I needn't say anything or do anything. My mere presence was enough, my audience to come after his, my words freshest in the king's ears, that created the smallest of breaks in his facade. It was a simple twitch of his face, a turn of his head towards me before turning it back again. There was defeat in there, of course, but more amusing to me, there was anger, there was rage, and spirits did I enjoy the hell out of it.

Honang didn't say a word to me. I was almost disappointed for a moment, but my thoughts over that were promptly dismissed by my summoning by the king. When he had summoned both Honang and myself to meet with him today, a part of me had feared a confrontation, that perhaps Honang had levied some accusation against me over my activities as though his own hands were free of malfeasance.

Fortunately, such had not been the case. My tracks were clear, and the purpose of this meeting rather simple in nature: tying up the loose ends of the small council meeting.

With Honang, this had been the request for the grand secretariat to arrange the full transfer of the treasury and its duties to Fahan, and for me, I could only assume matters of security.

And sure enough, as soon as I had knelt and been asked to rise, the king's first words were what I had anticipated. Or at the very least, along those lines.

"I wanted to thank you again, Long Feng, for your actions in the wake of the horrific attack on the Spring festival. Your quick interjection put to rest a potential future threat for the time being, and saved the city from an economic setback beyond what we already face. For this, you have my thanks."

"It was only my duty, you grace."

"Yes, and I am afraid I must call on you to attend to your duties again. I believe that, before the attack we suffered, I had been misguided in my belief that to uphold to a sense of normalcy was of the utmost importance. The enemy is at our gates and our own citizens are in open revolt. Honang has already convinced me to raise royal security in the inner district."

Of course he had, I thought to myself with a grimace. Duanmu was deeper in Honang's pocket than his own handkerchief, and so if Honang had come out with anything today, it was a tighter grasp on the inner district. Much as I would have liked the sight of Dai Li agents where Duanmu's pompous guards stood, it was never truly within the realm of possibility. Not yet at least."

"A wise decision," I said. "The royal palace and the inner district require a firm hand in these trying times, and the royal guard are second only to the Dai Li."

"Hmm," the king pondered. "I am glad you believe so too. As for your Dai Li, I am afraid that your duties as cultural minister may, for the time being, not be required. It is clear to me that the dissent within our city is no longer simply limited to the anarchy in the lower city, but in the middle city as well poses a danger. I require your services in quelling this before it can gain in traction and threaten our survival."

A suggestion of Honang's? I wondered. Was he so desperate to have my focus outside of the inner city that he was willing to actually allow me to wield the Dai Li, or was this the king's own initiative? I was sure I would find out in time, but at the very least, one thing was clear–Honang's gambit had failed, and that was what mattered.

"I am at your service, your grace," I said. "If this is what the king asks of me, then I assure you, I will keep your city safe."

Kuei nodded. "See to it that you do, Long Feng. If there are additional resources that you require to aid in your task, speak, and they will be made available to you."

It was all I could do to sustain my grin.

"Of course, your grace."

And he nodded again. So it was settled there that months of Honang's efforts to undermine my role as head of the Dai Li, secure the treasury, and frame me of embezzlement had all collapsed before his eyes.

I left the throne room that day a man reborn, one reminded of his place in this court, but so too his responsibility to it, its city, and its nation. There were those such as Honang who saw chaos as only a ladder, and though it was to an extent, one can only climb the mess of disorder for so long until they themselves are part of the pile.

And I was intent on cleaning that pile. Today was not merely a victory for myself, but for the Earth Kingdom. As I reached my office minutes later, I within a minute had a map of Ba Sing Se's middle city laid out on my desk and asking for a cup of tea that would at least keep me awake for the next few hours, the excitement in my heart, in knowing that I could finally begin moving forward, sobered only by the lack of answer that awaited my request.

It was then that I recalled I had returned to an empty office, my excitement my own to bask in, the light of it slowly fading, though never quite gone.

Right, I recalled. Yesterday had been her last day.

I bit my lip as I let out a soft breath, coming to terms again with reality, stepping out of my office into the waiting area where her desk lay. By it, most remained as it had been yesterday minus a few personal effects she must have decided she would prefer to travel with than leave here: a vase gifted to her by me for her 34th name day, a mug she had told me she's made herself while first learning how to work with clay, an ugly little thing, but rather charming, and a portrait of her husband, now where it belonged with both her and his parents.

And then I looked back at my desk, atop it now, all else swept aside and onto the ground, only a map of Ba Sing Se, and a reminder of what was really important. Not my personal feelings, not the love and lust I should have banished from my mind years ago, and not a vain effort to find self-worth, but the very fate of this city, this kingdom.

"Alright," I breathed out and said to myself. "Let's get to work."