Long Feng
Year of the Rabbit, Second Moon, third week, 2030.
It was not a report I was eager to read through again, but it was one I would need to. Over, and over, and over if I could even hope to start putting the pieces back together.
It was not a quiet morning in the Summer District. Hadn't been for a full week now ever since the Fire Nation had resumed its artillery.
On the first day, it passed mostly soundlessly. Ba Sing Se had a diameter of approximately two-hundred kilometers. If a normal city could have gotten away with experiencing a riot on one side and a quiet night on the other, then Ba Sing Se of all places could see one half of the city being subjected to incessant artillery fire with the other soundly asleep.
None save the soldiers atop the wall and those within the outer ring would have had any knowledge of what was even happening, but at around 2100, the wind had begun to shift. Many believed they were only hearing the thunder drums of a distant yet encroaching storm, and in fact celebrated at the fact that it seemed to be coming directly from the Fire Nation's direction, meaning it would hit them first with its full force before ever reaching us.
Such beliefs would not last.
It was the middle of the dry season, there was no lightning to accompany the thunder, and come morning, it was still there, as strong as it'd been before.
Some lingering believers chose to believe the storm had gathered strength and hovered directly above Fire Nation lines as though some form of divinely-wrought retribution against our besiegers. When the first of the refugees from the Fanfunc and Yilincun areas of the outer ring had begun to pour in, however, that notion began to shift.
They came from the towns Waixi and Xinghun at first, nearest the outer wall, scattered groups of people who'd come to temporarily get out of town until the storm of fire passed, taking up residence with family members and friends.
The artillery hadn't stopped however. After a second day, a third day, a fourth day, the number of refugees had begun to grow. To a worrying degree. Grand Secretariat Honang, in his infinite wisdom, had decided to allow the king to be appraised as to the situation, and so when a royal decree had come to allow all refugees within the inner city, there could be no fighting them. It was a slow trickle, growing by the day, but on the fifth day, that had changed.
It was at 0500, before the sun had even risen, that some eighteen thousand refugees from Xinghun, Waixi, and even Dangso had found themselves at our gate. They had walked through the entire night, and more were coming still.
When asked what'd happened to these towns, to Dangso, far enough inland it should not have been in immediate jeopardy, there was only one answer–they were gone.
The Dragon of the West had failed to bring death to our walls, and so instead, he now would send it over our walls, and just that he was doing.
So much artillery would be fired that the wind itself in our area had shifted, towards us now, and so even from the outskirts of the lower city, one could hear the pound of each artillery shell as it came down atop our wall, atop our fields, atop our very own towns. People were doubtful, people were afraid, and people were angry. One such as I could easily quell those first two, but anger, when directed the wrong direction, could become dangerous, and so it did.
It would not take long for blame to shift to us. Those who had fled, those within the outer city districts, they could hardly bring their anger to the Fire Nation bombing their city, a world of fire and smoke away, but they could, however, bring it to us, and so they did.
Demands for us to repel the Fire Nation from our walls, which would no doubt result in tens of thousands of our men being lost in such a maneuver; calls for us to begin reconstruction and resettlement, which would result in an equal tens of thousands of our men being lost to artillery fire that showed no sign of stop. So with their Kingdom unable to do anything, these refugees within the inner ring's lower districts, the place was ripe with instability.
We never should have allowed them into ours walls, I knew, but the moment that Kuei had become aware of tens of his thousands of people seeking support, it was already over. There was nothing that could have been done to dissuade him.
Not yet.
But nonetheless, they were here now, and they were nowhere near happy with their predicament. All the meanwhile too, they had sought refuge in a district currently under martial law, which generally should never have been permitted, but by royal decree, it had been bypassed. As such, there they were, new tens of thousands of refugees in districts of the city occupied by soldiers who, as far as they believed, should have been on the walls battling the Fire Nation, but instead were here, corralling them like livestock.
I supposed then that the events that the report in my hands spoke of were inevitable at the end of the day, but that hardly made it any easier to read through.
It was in a summer district tavern known as the Winking Butterfly, late enough in the evening that an afternoon shift patrol of soldiers had decided to take a detour before returning to base. Against protocol, of course, but we were busy enough enforcing the military mandate to figure out how to enforce disciplinary standards on said enforcers. Perhaps the tavern had one they'd eyed during patrol and wanted to visit after their shift was up, maybe it was one they found on the way back, I couldn't no, nor would we get the chance to know.
What we did know was everything that'd followed the moment they walked through those doors, about three dozen pairs of curious eyes instantly drawn towards them.
The two soldiers, Foleng and Pulo, couldn't find any unoccupied tables nor a free pair of stools beside each other at the bar, and so had asked a patron to move aside a seat. The patron, identified as Lishuo Baang, had declined at first. When Foleng placed his police club on the bar however, and repeated his request, the patron's tone had changed, and so he moved aside.
The soldiers would indeed pay for their drinks at the start, according to the tavern's night tender, Gyari, and so would not arouse much attention directed at themselves until around 2145. This wasn't to say they hadn't made a nuisance of themselves prior to that, however. According to the numerous patrons who'd been overhearing them, topics of conversation had shifted from simple joy to be done with the working day to joking about lower district conditions, and following that even, mocking relief over not being in the outer ring, joking about how "they spent so much time trying to get away from the inner city and here they come crawling back, tails between their legs; goes to show how well that worked." It wasn't the type of conversation, needless to say, that made one friends.
Either they were drunk enough or they pockets had run dry enough, or perhaps some combination of the two, that they decided it would be a good idea to try and get out of paying their tab.
"Ah come on," Foleng had said. "I think there's gotta be some flexibility for defenders of the Earth Kingdom and protectors of Ba Sing Se."
Gyari would not have time to respond before the appeal elicited a scoff from a man to the other side of the pair of soldiers. Gyari had insisted that she would have given in to the soldiers' request, though I suspected that she was simply saying that to avoid any trouble with fellow representatives of the crown. It didn't matter whether she meant it or not, however. She was here as a witness, not as a suspect. That title would fall to the man who had scoffed, a man named Ruhe, no surname to accompany his first.
"Problem?" Pulo asked, the two soldiers now turning to face Ruhe.
"Something so funny?" Foleng asked.
According to Gyari, the man's face had hardened then as he faced down the two soldiers, as though deliberating whether to say more or not, but had shrugged and decided to only say, "No. Nothing funny at all?"
"And what the hell's that supposed to mean?" Foleng asked.
They were looking to elicit a response from Ruhe, and so in questioning him further, they had accomplished just that. And so he spoke.
"Well," Ruhe ended up deciding to speak, no longer feeling that same desire to hold himself back. If only he could have. "I suppose it is a bit funny that you two're calling yourselves our protectors while real soldiers are out there fighting. And you're here demanding free drinks for doing jack shit."
"You think we haven't done our time on the wall? Protecting your drunken ass?"
"Yeah," Ruhe had said, setting down his drink on the counter. "When were you two last up on the wall? Four, five months ago? Before the Fire Nation attacked?"
The boy Ruhe hadn't been far off. Not in the slightest, in fact, as that exact unit of troops currently acting as the lower district's garrison hadn't been deployed to the wall in three months, since before the Dragon's previous attack. Any claim they made as so-called defenders were derived from piggybacking off of the sacrifices of those who had seen combat, who did currently face the brunt of a Fire Nation artillery barrage. As for these men, themselves, they'd done no such thing, and they knew that much. As such, it was inevitable that they would react strongly. Their faces hardened, their postures tensed, and the boy in all his wisdom took that as his sign to continue.
"You sit here on your asses, drink our ale, steal our food to send inland, arrest our mayor for trying to help us, leave our people in the outer ring to die, and then call yourselves 'protectors.' Yeah. I guess something is funny."
By that point, a confrontation was in the works. That wasn't to say it was still unavoidable. Much could have been done, but would anybody want to stand in the way of a fight they'd been anticipating for a near month now? No. Both occupiers and citizens alike had been watching this fuse burn for so long now to see what would happen, and they were not about to quell it. In fact, with the amount of attention turning this way too, it seemed a good deal were preparing themselves to join in on what was no doubt about to ensue.
The soldiers had stood up from their seats at this point. Lishuo Baang, the same patron they'd threatened into moving before, moved to intervene now, placing a hand on Foleng's shoulder to try and hold him at bay, but was shoved off. The soldiers having risen, Ruhe did so too, now standing face to face with the soldiers as others around the tavern did the same. From how it was described, the entire watering hole had gone quiet but for those who come to be the match to set off this powder keg of a city.
"Is there something you want to say, boy?" Pulo had asked. "I don't exactly see you volunteering to serve yourself."
"My parents were from Xinghun," the boy had responded with. "I was looking for a place for them to stay while they waited in the queue to be allowed into the city by your soldiers. They were shelled by the Fire Nation."
"And you blame us," Foleng had said before scoffing shortly after. "Incredible. I don't know who's the bigger idiot. You, or your parents for not getting the hell out of town when the first shells started falling."
Accounts were mixed on who had thrown the first punch. But one way or another, it wasn't long until Ruhe found himself on the ground, and half of the Winking Butterfly's patron population were rushing to his defense.
And so, the soldiers had defended themselves as well.
By the end of it all, four civilians were dead, six injured, one Earth Kingdom soldier injured, and one dead.
Both sides were calling for blood, the Earth Kingdom garrison demanding there be consequences for killing one of their comrades, and the citizenry of the Summer district proclaiming that they cannot simply be cut down without consequence by their own army.
And now, those of us charged with garrisoning the lower districts were tasked with picking up the pieces.
"Certainly your agents are capable of tracking down a single assailant of aggravated assault!" general Hondu said.
We were meeting on neutral ground today. No offices, no desks, only an empty throne room at 0517 in the morning.
"They are," I assured him. "My agents are already looking for the man, and they'll find him."
"So why haven't they already?"
"Ruhe was escorted out in the midst of a violent clash by those sympathetic to his actions. They'll be trying to keep him safe, but my agents will find wherever he's hiding, I can assure you."
"They better! Summer District is refusing to sleep tonight! People are leaving their homes, cheering the man's name, and now even demanding the release of Magistrate Pusuwan. Even the damned Flower, Yellow, and Yang Fu Districts are calling his name now. Man isn't even their damned magistrate!"
"The people are searching for something to turn their attention to. They're angry right now. Clamping down will only further encourage them." The comment was made deliberately. I was well aware of how the general's men were responding to the protests already. Road blocks, mass arrests, crowd control, it was only further angering the population, to the point that there were, at this very moment, thousands of people gathering on the streets with reports of violent clashes as well. If we were to meet the senseless rage with our own then the situation would only worsen, obviously.
"So are you suggesting we do nothing then?" the general asked.
"There is little that can be done at this point to prevent the violence, actually," I said. "The smallfolk are out in force across the streets, and are quickly devolving into rioting. Surely you must have noticed that the violence is targeted, besieging army barracks, attacking food distribution centers, and even going so far as to blockade the gate to the inner city, preventing entry into the outer city as well as escape."
"It's too organized," Hondu observed.
"I agree. This was planned ahead of time. A general of what to do, at least. They were just waiting for a signal to begin. An excuse."
"So who's 'they?'" the general asked, beginning to see the bigger picture. "You think our magistrate put a few contingencies in place in case he was ever taken into custody?"
"I suspect the same thing." We knew he was lying after all, about no shortage of things. Of harboring dissidents, assisting in insurgent planning, and even dedicating his own troops to ensuring there would be success. There wasn't much doubt that he was a leading factor in what we saw happening on the streets now. Outplaying him, even with him in custody, would be easier said than done.
We could hardly leave the rioters to their own affairs as one of two things would happen. Either they would continue such targeted assaults and essentially seize control of entire districts of the lower city, or their violence would become random, and so they would begin taking out their rage anywhere they saw fit, be it businesses, residences, or civilian clusters. However, responding with equivalent force would only escalate affairs as well, result in more violent clashes, possibly the spread of riots to other districts, and, worst of all, the loss of essential manpower.
"Then we should dispose of him," the general suggested. "Clearly he's too much of a risk alive. We might consider-"
"Magistrate Pusuwan is no longer the problem," I asserted. "In custody, he cannot possibly be giving orders nor instructions to those in the lower districts. And regardless, there likely already is a network in place to fill any void he leaves. He is not the problem any longer, no, but he could be a solution for us."
The general turned his head to meet my eyes. "In what way?" he asked.
"In situations such as these when public activism becomes violent, centered around individual incidents, it is important than we target the inciting incident before larger systematic problems can become targeted. In this case, those are two–the killings at the Winking Butterfly, and the arrest of magistrate Pusuwan."
"Yet we still lack Ruhe."
"My agents will find him. For now, we do possess the magistrate."
"You already said that the man is no longer the problem. What good will executing him do? Clearly there is a network in place without him."
"I'm not suggesting executing him."
"Releasing him then? You can't be serious."
"Not releasing him, no. We can use him, however. If he can denounce the actions that the rioters are taking, perhaps confess to a number of other crimes that would implicate him in more scandalous affairs than simply assisting locals, deep-seeded corruption perhaps, we can strip the dissidents of a valuable figurehead."
"Clean him of his legitimacy by making him out as a villain to his own people, and we get the praise of having ended him as a threat. Clever."
I smirked, hardly needing the general's praise, but appreciating it all the same.
"And what of Ruhe?" he asked.
"His case is more of a tricky one," I confessed. "He's just a boy."
"A boy?" the general asked. "There's a dead Earth Kingdom soldier on his hands, and a second being held captive by a mob. And you said your agents are tracking him, are they not?"
"They are, but not for the reasons you think. Witness testimonies show that he himself wasn't involved in the death or capture of either soldier. He was escorted off the premises before a single soldier had been killed. He is, nonetheless, still a symbol. But a symbol that stands for nothing soon fades. I suggest we let him off the hook."
"You're kidding me."
"He isn't guilty for Foleng," I reminded him. "Men who are're already dead. We let Ruhe off the hook, and he fades into obscurity. No overcompensating punishment to rally behind, no manhunt, and certainly no overzealous soldiers deciding that revenge is their primary directive."
"You sent your agents to protect the boy."
"We don't need to give the enemy any more martyrs."
The general's lips pursed. He wasn't happy. Granted, he rarely was happy about anything. But he was considering what I had to say. A month of working together, and we couldn't exactly keep on going on aggravating one another. There had to be compromise at some points or others.
"You think you can make the magistrate say what we need him to say?" he asked.
Could I? I wondered. "I knew the man. He valued his position, that much was true. I didn't anticipate any strong moral convictions that a bribe within my means and an assurance of comfort and security couldn't overcome.
And at the very worst, well, there was some new methods that the Dai Li was developing that couldn't hurt to test out. If I wanted to risk such a thing on the magistrate and a public confession was another matter. One way or another, however, it could be done.
"I can," I assured the general.
He nodded his head. "Good," he said. "I get the impression that neither of us will be getting much more sleep tonight.
"I believe you are correct," I said.
The general scoffed. "Well, I suppose somebody maintain the peace. You just do what you can about Chang."
"I will."
And so that would be my intent.
I informed Joo Dee before departing that I would be unavailable for the day and to reschedule any meetings I couldn't think to remember to tomorrow. She did all that I asked of her without question, only stopping to ask if I'd slept last night.
I supposed it was obvious. It was 0630 in the morning and she had just come in, early, of course, as per usual, and I was already here, bearing the marks of only four hours of sleep before being woken by the news that the outer city was at war with itself.
After affirming that I had, though deliberately not mentioning for how long, I had departed with a contingent of Dai Li guards, and so made my way towards the outer ring. Towards Lake Loagai.
It still struck me as a shock just how quiet things were on this side of the city, far enough away from the Fire Nation's primary siege lines and far away enough from the sea that I couldn't hear the artillery of the army or navy alike. Here, one could actually believe there was no war. Here, there was an undeniable order to things, something that should have been present throughout the entire city but alas was not the case.
And a damned shame it was too.
The greatest city in the world brought to its knees not by an enemy barging through their walls, but by the mere notion of one. How could we expect to survive past this? Even if we did repel the Fire Nation, the remembrance of this siege would linger with us indefinitely, daring to bring this city to its knees before the Fire Nation would have the time needed to rebuild its strength and attack once again, which it most certainly would.
It was not a winning hand by any means, but it was the one we were dealt. We would find a way to make things work, to save this city, whatever the cost.
The sun had finally ascended over the wall by the time we reached Lake Laogai, and a damned good thing too as the temperature was beginning to rise, even for a midwinter day such as this. It was no wonder the Fire Nation always seemed to hold the upper hand, something so strong as the sun itself guiding their power, ever-present, ever-powerful, twelve months of the year.
The agents beside me locked their feet, and so bent upwards the entrance to the Lake Laogai facility, a small walkway that led from the mouth of the lake to a concealed entrance not far beyond. It was hardly the most elegant of entrances, but it maintained a lower profile than our other ones designed to allow in larger shipments of supplies and troops. For a small contingent of individuals such as this, subtlety was everything.
At least from the outside.
Inside, one could not make that same claim. The facility was a monstrosity of budgeting and secrecy. I envied the Avatar Kyoshi who'd constructed it in the first place. Able to just bend the monolith of a structure with her own ability, she'd never needed to consider the costs that would come with the maintenance of such a facility: maintenance, servicing, guard salary, everything.
I wondered what she would think of us now. I wasn't so bold as to say that we maintained the stringent moral standard that she had established, but how could be held at fault for that? The Dai Li had been established outside of wartime, designed to maintain the peace following the fall of Chin the conqueror. From that point, she had lived through a time of unprecedented peace, helped maintain by the Dai Li that she herself had founded. Now, however, we were at war, but we held in our hearts that which was our founding duty, to protect the Earth Kingdom, and to maintain peace, security, and stability.
And we were failing on all those points, I was sad to admit.
But that could change now. It had to.
I found the magistrate's cell, and so ordered the Dai Li agents beside me to fetch Captain Heli. I hardly needed him present for the talk with the magistrate himself, but how we proceeded after this point would very much depend on him.
The agents nodded and set off, leaving me alone with a single door to the magistrate's current residence. A number of compromises had been made to keep the man from screaming his lungs out every chance he was given, and so I would step into a room occupied by a bed, desk, rug, paintings, curtain for privacy when at the toilet, and a good number of books, but most importantly, for all of our sakes, silence.
"Long Feng," I allowed the magistrate to greet me first from where he was, lying on his bed with a book in hand.
"Magistrate," I answered, figuring it not a bad idea to begin with the man's title. If there was anything I could do to make him believe there was a way out for him where he could maintain his position, then I would do it. "I hope your quarters are treating you well."
'Quarters' was a nice word for it.
"As well as can be expected," the magistrate said. "I haven't seen you for quite some time. Is there a reason for the visit?"
"I don't take it you've heard the news," I said, taking a seat on the chair behind his desk to meet him eye to eye as he sat up on his cot.
"I don't hear much of anything down here."
Of course he doesn't.
"There was an incident last night," I said, jumping right into things. "You were informed of the Fire Nation's resumed artillery attack on the city, but matters have escalated since then, especially given an influx of refugees into the lower districts. Last night, a pair of soldiers got into an altercation with a group of civilians. There were casualties."
"In my district?" the magistrate asked.
I nodded my head, and continued. "There were casualties on both sides, and now the population of the summer district is up in arms, chanting the name of the civilian who helped incite the incident, and…" my voice trailed off as I considered if I should mention the rioters' other demand. Such a thing would possibly embolden the magistrate, allow him to believe he had a bargaining power that I would prefer him not being aware of. "And calling for an end to the martial law," I concluded.
The magistrate scoffed. "I suppose you can only push people so far before they push back. Never should have initiated martial law in the first place."
"I won't take administrative council from one who fomented armed rebellion within his own territory."
"So if not council, then what do you want from me?"
"I want you to help me end this sorry state of affairs."
"And how can I possibly do that?"
"By cooperating with me," I answered. "It is within my power what happens to you now. You are not in royal custody, in military custody. You are in my custody, and if you assist me, I can promise you great things, the least of which would be your release from this cell."
"Cooperate with you how?"
"You can help to end the rampant violence occurring in your district. To do that, I would ask for you to voice your condemnation of the violence that is occuring."
"My condemnation?"the magistrate scoffed. "What good would that do?"
I wouldn't humor him by answering lest I give him more than he needed to know. All he needed to know was that by doing what I was asking, he would stand to benefit.
"You will voice your condemnation as well as confess to a number of your charges. You will not confess to them all, and you will serve a sentence of house arrest where your movements will be limited to the inner city, Ba Sing Se's upper echelon."
"Hold on," the magistrate said. "I'm still trying to understand. What good would this…"
Damnit.
A smile grew on his face. "Oh," he said. "I see."
"Don't make this any harder than it has to be."
"They're calling for my release then."
It was only a matter of time before he put the pieces together.
He continued. "They're calling for my release, and you want me to call them off. In exchange, 'luxuries more than I would ever deserve.'"
"You make it seem as though it's an offer you'd decline."
"Oh it's not an offer I would ever decline, no. But I'd be an idiot to accept all the same."
"What are you talking about?"
"Are you really this much of an idiot, Long Feng? Me confessing and condemning their actions wouldn't do a damned thing!"
"Don't try denying the influence you've had in this revolt."
"'Influence in this-Look at me! Does it look like I'm conspiring an armed rebellion from in here!?"
"You've had a network in place ready to increase tensions in the incident of your arrest. You assisted dissidents before, you knew the consequences. You would have a plan in place."
"I helped in hiding them, yes! Nothing more!"
So he's back to denying what we've already found him to be guilty of. We'd known he was lying when first we questioned him, but still he maintained that story. Why?
"So why are they calling for your release?" I asked.
"Because I helped them when nobody else would! Sure I stood to benefit, but at least I took their side to give them a helping hand! I'm not the one who started this mess! You are!"
I could feel my face tightening involuntarily. I tried to force it back, but the adjustment did not come easy. I was phased, and the damned magistrate could see that.
"So will you cooperate?" I asked, forcing myself to try and maintain my composure, though I doubted I was succeeding as much as I would have liked to.
The magistrate scoffed. "I can say some words, but you damn well can't force me to mean a lick of it. The people'll see that, you know. You'll only make things worse."
"You'll cooperate, and you'll sell what you're saying."
"Why should I?"
"Because you know what refusing to cooperate will mean for you."
"Do I? You can't kill me, and you know that. You'd just be turning me into a martyr."
"Only if people find out about it. The Dai Li specializes in making people disappear."
"But you won't because you think you can still use me. And you can, but not for a house arrest. I'm a magistrate who you've unlawfully imprisoned. I can get more from the king than I can from you, so take it up with him, and we'll talk when I have a new offer."
He was asking to play things the hard way, whether he knew it or not.
"This is your last chance to do things the easy way." One last chance. That was the least I could do for him, and by extension, myself. If the man was smart, he would accept now, before things could become that much worse.
"I'll pass," he said.
So there was nothing more to discuss. I stood. I watched him readjust to lay back down on his bed, book in hand, having already dismissed me from his mind. He would be dismissing a lot more soon enough too.
I left the cell. Nothing more would be accomplished by sticking around.
I would shut the cell door to find Captain Heli patiently awaiting my arrival. I didn't need to tell him anything for him to know. The details were written on my face plain enough.
"Didn't work out?" he asked, likely having already found the details for himself on what the greater situation at hand was.
I shook my head. "We're going to need to do things the hard way. How goes our work in suggestive therapy?"
"Effective so far," the Dai Li captain responded. "More hesitant recruits are falling into step, but…you're suggesting we try the same technique on the magistrate?"
"I am," I answered, already beginning to walk towards my local office, not about to make the trek back to the royal palace just yet. "Is that a problem?"
"I'm not sure using it here would fall within our timeframe. The quickest we have it functioning is on a 4-week program."
By then the lower districts may very well have already destroyed themselves, and quite possibly taken us down with them. "We don't have four weeks," I said.
"I know," Heli answered. He did. He was more aware of our limitations than anybody save myself was. But I couldn't take that as an answer. Something had to be done, and time was running short.
"There's always the alternative," I said. It wasn't an alternative I was particularly eager to try. It was more theory than anything by this point, an attempt to try to hasten the suggestive therapy process. But it was the only shot I could think of that we had.
"It's untested."
"So test it."
"On the magistrate?"
On him? I considered it. Would I take that risk? Allow him to possibly break programming in front of thousands of lower city denizens? Imagine the catastrophe that would create. Maybe then the magistrate would actually have been correct in saying we were the ones making things worse than they were.
I shook my head. "No. Your new recruits. Any who have been more uncooperative than most?"
The captain's face hardened. He was not fond of the idea, I knew, but he wouldn't object. Not if it meant his city and his kingdom. "There are two," he said. "Gen Lao and Cho."
"Then test it."
"We don't know what it will do to them," the captain said, trying however much he could to hide his fear and doubt behind a veil of pragmatic observation and caution. "Could render them brain dead as much as fix them. There's no way to know what it will do."
Isn't that the point of a test? I wondered. These men, they were dead before I took them here, considered too far gone to be worth the medical aid. They were on borrowed time from the start. If they died here, then it was no great loss. I understood that the sentiment was not particularly…noble, but was there much other choice? If this failed, a whole lot more than Gen Lao and Cho would fall."
"Then find out," I said, our walk having now reached the front door of my office. "We have a day. Two at most. Get it done."
The captain nodded, and saluted. He knew what needed to be done, and so long as he knew that, I knew he could be trusted to see it done, for better or for worse.
He left, leaving me to my office now, where no doubt a busy day would await me, but at least one that would take me away from the royal palace. There was work to be done in order to save this city, and if that meant doing it from down here beneath the ground, then so be it.
Danev
It'd been a month of silence around the Dragon's Host. I'd almost come to forget what the noise was like. I could hardly remember things being so quiet. Certainly not in the weeks preceding our firsts attack on the wall, certainly not during training except during lights out, and sure as hell not back in Citadel.
I should have let myself appreciate it more when it was here. I would have too if I'd known it would be a long as time before I'd be treated with such silence again. It was the seventh consecutive day of Fire Nation artillery now, and facing Ba Sing Se's great wall, I could see as each shot found its mark, be it on the wall, or right over into the outer ring of the city itself.
Still at it, huh?
"Hey!" Fluke yelled out from behind me, forcing me to turn my attention back to him. "It's not going to stop just because you're watching, you know!"
No shit, I thought with a chuckle as he returned to his sparring position where we'd been set to put him to the test, injury and all.
His form was off.
His grip was wrong, his stance incorrect, and his balance shit, though I supposed the latter was rather understandable given that half of him was still in a cast.
At least his footing was right, I told myself.
"What?" Fluke asked defensively, seeing clearly enough in the way I was analyzing his form that I was perceiving no shortage of mistakes.
I hesitated on whether or not to say anything, pondering just how to put it to spare the boy.
"Is it my grip again?" Fluke asked, now raising his hand to study it, adjusting his fingers in order to fit the hilt more properly.
"That among other things," I said.
"Well go on," Fluke said. "You never gave a shit about sparing my feelings before. No reason to start now."
Well fine, I thought. You asked for it.
"For starters," I began, "your grip is shit. A single clash of blades and that's gonna go flying out of your hands. May as well speed things up and throw your sword on the ground before you even get started. Not to mention your stance is like you're still fighting with your right, meaning your balance is shit too. You really think you're going to go out there and last more than fifteen seconds like that? We've been over this before and I'll go over it again with you, you're practically already dead"
That felt good to get out, I thought. At least to an extent, even if it did leave Fluke looking at me dumbfounded as though searching for something clever to respond with. Finding nothing, he'd only end up saying, "Well you didn't have to be that harsh." I knew he didn't mean too badly. He knew that he was a bit rough around the edges.
I chuckled to myself as Fluke adjusted his position, quickly enough mending his grip and stance while maintaining a tenuous balance at best. I supposed it was as good as he was going to get for somebody just recently becoming exclusively off-handed. I'd suggested that Fluke not push himself too severely as his good arm would indeed heal with time, perhaps even sooner than anticipated, but he'd been quite insistent.
He'd practically demanded that I start sparring with him the night after he got back after breaking out of a Fire Nation medical tent. I'd been paranoid for the first few days that somebody would come looking for him, but nobody had. I wondered if such a thing was common to a degree–soldiers breaking free of their assigned medical units in order to get back to their comrades all the quicker. I supposed with all of Fluke's old comrades in the dirt, however, we were as close as he got to that.
He didn't like touching on that subject–what'd happened at the wall and those he'd lost. Everybody processed that day differently. I was slowly starting to come to terms with things, but Fluke had come out of there more scarred than most, physically and mentally, I imagined. Any attempt I made to talk about it with him was quickly dismissed. He much preferred to ready himself for the next time he would come face to face with the enemy.
I prayed it wouldn't be any time soon. For his sake.
It wasn't to say that he was a poor fighter with his off hand. I mean, he was, but that was far from the point. The fact was that he was in shit shape, no matter how one framed it. He only had access to one arm, still sported a slight limp in one of his legs, and had been worn down from too long a stay in the medical wing–a fact he was already more than pissed about.
I supposed that was how he justified this to himself, coming back time and time again to get the shit kicked out of him. He knew he wasn't ready, but by the look in his eyes, I imagined he wasn't about to let whether he was ready or not get in the way of fighting this war when it resumed. He wasn't letting it pass without him.
And that was what scared me.
But he was committed, so I highly doubted that there was anything I could have done to stop him. It meant that all I could do was try to help however I could. I
And at the very least too, it meant I was able to torment him some small bit in these days. Just like old times.
"Ready?" I asked, assuming a stance of my own as Fluke still adjusted his until it was more or less right.
He nodded, and so I wasted no time in attacking.
He was ready. His reactions were on par at least, judging by the fact he raised his sword perfectly in time to meet mine. I wasn't holding back. I hadn't been for the last week that we'd been working together, nor would I hold back now.
The strike against Fluke's blade was a strong one, knocking him back, but if there was one thing that a broken arm didn't ruin, it was his footing. He took the weight of the blow and moved with it, not trying to stand his ground when he couldn't.
I struck again, easily enough, but he was light on his feet, knowing full well that he couldn't meet my attack with a bulwark of a defense. He moved back with the blow once more, but on my third strike, he was better prepared. Enough distance between us, he guided the movement of my blade with his own, knocking it astray, and so lunged forward. Another hand available to him, possibly bearing a ball of flame in it, I would have been dead, but he'd failed to account for his limitations. I had to give him credit, however, he moved precisely as a firebender would, precise, calculating, light on his feet, waiting for an opportunity to strike and seizing upon it immediately.
I was surprised he even found such an opportunity, much less seized upon it. Unfortunately for him, it would prove to be too little, too late. Unlike him, I still had two arms, and so where he theoretically should have been able to so quickly claim the upper hand, I instead closed the distance while both of our sword arms were away, and knocked my weight into his, bringing him down to the ground with me atop him.
He was down on the ground with me atop him, and from the get go, it was easy to tell that he wasn't fond of the position.
"Really?" Fluke asked.
"Aw, come on," I joked. "Aren't you gonna tell me you enjoyed it too?"
If the deliberately suggestive comment didn't bring a flush to Fluke's face, then the joking quip from Tosa as he and Zihe passed by certainly did. "Lovebirds at it again, eh?"
"Gonna have to hose them down again," Zihe responded. "Get up you too! Dinner's being served!"
The comment got a good laugh out of me as opposed to Fluke who, now red faced, pushed me off of him before rising up back to his feet.
"What?!" I asked, still laughing. "Aren't you reminiscent over old times?"
"Why do I get the impression you're enjoying this a little too much?" Fluke asked as I managed to get back to my feet before him and so offered him a hand to help him up the rest of the way.
"Maybe I just missed having the excuse to knock you on your ass and call it 'teaching.'"
"Nice to hear you admit it at least."
"So you good for another go?" I asked. We'd already been at this for a good few hours today, but I was curious to see just how far Fluke's persistence went even after a near whole day spent failing in no different a fashion similar to this.
"Fuck that," Luke groaned as he dusted himself off. "Besides. You heard the others. Dinner."
"Now you're just making excuses," I said, accompanied by a scoff.
"You kidding?" Fluke asked, his complaint quickly shifting into a smirk. "I just don't want to be on an empty stomach when I kick your ass next time."
It was a good enough cover, and one I would let slide. I myself was beginning to tire and a meal in the right spot was just what I needed.
I would never end up knowing if it was Tokai seeing the merit in my suggestion or perhaps a direct order from Lu Ten, but one way or another, a brigade-wide change to logistical food distribution had been enacted. This week, it was the 117th Battalion taking night duties, meaning they would be treated to a later supper, but for us, it came just as the sun was setting to the west.
Even down in our subterranean barracks connected to our trenchline, we could hear the distant artillery, still pounding away at Ba Sing Se's wall. We did our due diligence as a company, however, to ensure that we could hold a conversation louder than a two-ton yield of Fire Nation explosive could sound off less than a couple of miles away.
"I'm not arguing that!" Chejuh protested in response to accusations that he was voicing his support for an idea that we should try burrowing beneath the walls themselves. "But you've got to admit that if we all were dedicating our effort to going under rather than going above, the one place a wall reaching the clouds doesn't want us to go, we'd probably be through by now.
"So you're saying we tunnel through the earth?" Penar asked.
"That's right," Chejuh responded."
"To get into an Earth Kingdom city."
"Uh huh," Chejuh nodded enthusiastically.
"Controlled by earthbenders."
"Mhm."
"You're a fucking dumbass."
That elicited a good laugh from those seated around the barracks engaged with their suppers, including Fluke who laughed as well from where he sat atop the bunk that'd once been Mykezia's.
"Aw, can you blame 'im?" Shozi joked. "Took a hit right to his helmet at the wall. Hasn't been right up there since."
"What?!" Chejuh protested, inciting even more laughter at his expense.
"You do realize we can feel people through the earth, right?" Mano asked from where he sat at a table, pleasing the lot of us by actually choosing to speak on his own volition. "Just crush them whenever we like if they're literally surrounded by rock and earth."
"Alright, fine then," Chejuh protested amidst his humiliation. "Go with something they can't crush then, like a giant drill!"
And if Chejuh hadn't been a laughing stock before, then he certainly was then, proudly defending his idea, proclaiming for all of the barracks to hear that what they were now mocking was nothing short of pure genius.
We continued to steadily pick at our meals in spite of this, enjoying the warmth of the stew that, though it'd progressively gone cold in the kettle while waiting to be dished out, Fluke had volunteered his services in reheating, justifying, as far as any man of Dragon Platoon was concerned, his extended stay here.
Because extended it most certainly was, not than any were keen on complaining. They knew him. We were all Citadel trainees at the end of the day, a common heritage, background, and culture to show for it, for better or worse. Though there was, of course, some hesitation in seeing another occupying Mykezia's cot, even if it was only for the time being, an unspoken agreement could be reached that it was best going to one of our own for however long that would end up being.
We knew it couldn't last forever, of course. If Lu Ten's announcement to the rest of the men the same night that Fluke had arrived was any indication, then reinforcements would be arriving soon, which meant one thing–replacements. There would be non-Ctiadel boys and girls coming to claim Mykezia's bunk soon enough as they replaced those we lost, and likewise, Fluke would be sent elsewhere to act as a replacement for those who'd been lost across the division.
It seemed the most natural thing in the world to me for Fluke to be assigned here, however. He 114th needed firebenders, he already had established ties to the men here, and, frankly, he deserved the break. I'd told as much to Lu Ten when I'd had the chance before he'd left that day, and he'd been right on the same page with me. Alas, of course, matters of troop allocation and reallocation were not up to him, but he assured me that he would pull what strings he could, which already was better than nothing.
I wanted to think he'd come through. There was no denying that the wall had left Fluke worse for wear, and not just physically.
"I don't know how the fuck you're doing it," Murao said from where he'd taken a break from his meal to request another look at Fluke's cast.
"I ain't doing shit," Fluke said.
"Yeah, I know, but damn. Arm wound like that'd normally take twice as much time as this to get to this state."
"So you're saying I can ditch the cast?"
"I…wouldn't go that far. But I wouldn't be surprised if you have that shit off of you in the next month. Small bit more at most."
"Thank the spirits," Fluke groaned. "This shit's killing me." He turned to me. "So whatchu think, Danev?" he asked. "Think we gonna hit the wall again in the next month or am I gonna pop this fucker off right in time?"
Then there was that which wasn't physical. It was odd. Most others who'd seen something remotely similar to what Fluke faced at the wall were dreading the mere thought of going back, but not Fluke. He seemed as of late almost eager to get back. It wasn't so much that he was chasing a high as much as that he seemed to be possessed by some notion that there was an obligation to return, some sense of belonging out there that he needed to return to.
It was worrying to say the least, and something I'd tried to tread the subject of once or twice before, but to no lasting avail.
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that," I said, trying my best to make this all come off as a joke lest I deliberately tread a line Fluke had non verbally warned me not to cross enough times before. "We hardly need you to take the wall."
"Oh I'm not talking about helping you," Fluke joked back. "I still remember our wager, and I'm getting over before you."
Is it the bet that's doing it? No, of course not. That'd be idiotic, even for him. There's more to it.
"Cute," I said in return. "Maybe you can elicit enough pity from the defenders looking like that and they'll take you over on the other side. Only way I can possibly see you beating us.
Fluke smirked. "Well I guess we'll just have to find out then, won't we?" He turned back to Murao, thanking him. "Definitely better than whatever the fuck my other doc was doing."
"Hey. Your other doc's the reason you're still alive and have an arm."
"Just let me thank you like a normal person, nah?"
Murao chuckled, and headed off back towards his group of fellow Dragon Platoon soldiers, leaving only me and Fluke, who picked at his stew once again to finish it off.
"So same time tomorrow?" Fluke asked between slurps.
"What?"
"Sparring," he clarified. "Left's not getting any better by using a spoon," he said, twiddling the spoon in his left hand before going back to the bowl."
"You know we can take a day off if you-"
Fluke was shaking his head before I could even finish. "Nah. You made it perfectly clear back in Citadel. You don't survive by idling. You work for your life. Anything less, that's it."
"That was different."
"Not different at all," Fluke said. "Comes down to the same thing. Survival. You gotta fight for that. Fight to protect myself, protect you guys, and kill whoever tries to stop me from doing that. So same time, yes or no?"
All I could do was nod my head. His plan was already set in his mind. If I said no, tried to fight it, he'd only find somebody else. It really was no different from Citadel, and he was right about that much. Back then, I'd also been unable to keep him away from that hell. He'd become a Hornet, gotten entangled in Riu's bullshit turf war, and become a street soldier for it. All I could do then was to help him get through it, teach him how to fend for himself and not die out there. I'd wanted to think that with our deal with the Fire Nation, maybe he could've been spared of worse to come, but here we were again, myself unable to keep him away, leaving me with the same task once again, to get him as ready as I possibly could. And so I'd do just that.
Fluke nodded in return, set his now empty bowl on the ground, and stood, heading for the barrack's exit.
"Where you going?" I asked.
"Practice," Fluke answered. "Firebending!"
"Been training all day!" I protested. "Give it a rest!"
"Day's not over yet!" was all I would get in return before he was gone.
In some ways too, I knew, it wasn't just the same. Not quite. Preparing and training to survive no matter the cost, that was one thing, but something about this, what Fluke did now, it was different. The training, the discipline, the practice, this was not just about keeping himself alive. He wasn't simply training himself to survive and protect himself from danger. He was training himself to be the danger in question-to kill, and he knew it. That, at the end of the day, was what I found worried me most.
Long Feng
It felt, from time to time, that I never quite gave my Lake Laogai office the recognition that it deserved.
It was nowhere near as grand as my office in the royal palace, lacking the same amenities, service, and convenience, but it brought with it one thing that never was lost on me–silence.
No chatter from the great hall echoing across the cavernous walls all the way to be audible from so far as my office, no aids and attendants dashing from one place or another as though their lives depended on it just to deliver something as menial as tax return reports, and certainly nobody trying to remind me that I was also the city's cultural minister.
Who the hell would even try to throw a military parade in the middle of a war that we're losing?
Instead, I was able to dedicate my efforts to one thing alone, actually trying to stop us from losing.
That didn't mean things were entirely free of distractions. Even down here, there were those whose will would not go unanswered.
A knock on my door would remind me of that.
"Come in," I said, still focused on a report regarding the more recent movements of other notable persons of interest within the lower districts, trying to keep tabs on things as much as possible to ensure that the disruptive behavior within the Summer district and its nearby neighborhoods hadn't yet spread too far beyond appoint of repair.
One of my agents opened the door, a blank look on his face as he stated, "You're wanted at the Royal Palace," he said.
"I ordered my secretary to push back any meetings today," I said. "They know not to expect me there today."
"It's urgent," the agent responded. "The request has been made by Earth King Kuei. He demands your presence."
That was all it took for me to look up, and I didn't need to hear why to know that it was nothing good from the start.
All things considered, it might have been a good day to stay at my palace office. It was unusually quiet compared to most other times, the halls for the most part empty but for the usual guard contingent who acknowledged me not in the slightest but for those who flanked the great doors leading into the throne room, bending them open now for my arrival.
I was being waited on, I could tell, everybody already in their assigned places: the king atop his throne, Grand Secretariat Honang by his side, the royal court scribe, General Hondu, and even General How, leader of the Council of Five, seeming to have found the time to get away from the front.
So they really were serious, huh?
Granted, times themselves were serious, but for the king's council to act on anything this quickly was surprising to say the least.
I took my position where I was expected, Honang's eyes following me all the while, something in them I could never bring myself to tolerate, much less feel comfortable lingering on me. The look that Hondu afforded me wasn't quite the same, if anything more concerned. He knows something I don't.
"Your grace," I said, kneeling upon having reached my position. "I apologize for my lateness."
"You are excused, cultural minister," the king responded in kind as customs dictated.
I rose, and the king appropriately allowed for his grand secretariat to proceed.
"We've called this emergency meeting in light of the recent incidents proceeding in the lower city, namely the Summer, Flower, Yellow, Yang Fu, and Jade districts."
So it'd spread to Jade since this morning, I noted.
"The royal council has been deliberating on solutions since this morning," Honang continued.
The royal council? Meaning who? I looked towards Hondu, wondering if he'd been part of this alleged 'meeting' that I myself hadn't been a part of.
He shook his head.
So just the king and his chief adviser then. I didn't much like the sound of that.
"There's no mistaking that the situation has become volatile. A case that it was the duty of the Dai Li and the military to prevent from becoming reality."
"Grand Secretariat," General How protested, naturally to come to the defense of General Hondu whose responsibility it'd been alongside myself to manage such affairs. "The resources dedicated to the policing of the lower city have proven to be insufficient. A single corps' worth of men for Ba Sing Se's lower district. It was never-"
"Resources were never the problem," Honang cut off the general.
On that we agreed. The issue was not one of how many men we had; it was of the fundamental strategy we'd been ordered to follow, carelessly merging military and secret police doctrine into a single approach. It was doomed for such a fate from the start. Of course, such a realization would have put Hongang at fault, and so I seriously doubted such a same conclusion was being reached by the Grand Secretariat.
Instead, he would opt for an approach that more benefitting him and only him.
"The error falls to a blatant lack of communication and coordination between those charged with the lower city's policing, an effort undeniably too grand for a single branch of your government, my king."
"On that we agree," the king said. "Proper management of this city requires full communication and cooperation between all aspects of our kingdom's divisions."
There's an echo in here.
"You have failed to cooperate and coordinate as was expected of you, and the consequences lay bare before us."
"My king," I said before Honang could continue to speak through the king any longer. "There is still time to repair this state of affairs."
"The council this morning has already come to a decision," the king said. "I am informed that you have the magistrate of the summer district and ringleader of this insurrection, Chang Pusuwan, in custody?"
That was no secret, of course, but where was he getting at with this? "That is correct," I said. "But the problem extends further past him. There is likely a network in place maintaining order in his absence."
"Nonetheless," Honang said, taking over in the king's stead. "This magistrate is a key figure if not at the center of affairs himself. It is clear that the elimination of such an individual is in the best interest of national security.
You have to be kidding me.
"Your grace," General Hondu spoke up surprisingly. "I must object."
That was as surprising to me as it seemed to be to the king and grand secretariat himself.
"General Hondu," the magistrate said. "Are you saying you object to a firm response?"
The general's objection had even attracted the curious gaze of his own supervisor, General How himself, more surprised by this sudden change in perspective than anyone else.
"I'm not saying that," Hondu responded. "But killing the magistrate might only further embolden the rioters. Turn him into a martyr."
"You would suggest letting these rioters run rampant then?"
Hondu looked towards me. There was an alternative and he knew it. He was only waiting for me to be the one to say it.
"There's another way," I said, now turning to meet the king's eyes more than that of his puppeteer. If I could have my words heard by the man whose say mattered most, bringing information to light that he'd not yet heard, I could find something Hongang could not have possibly prepared for ahead of time. Something he could not have already convinced the king was beyond mere consideration. "I believe that if we can take away from the rioters a figure to rally around without turning him into a martyr, we can best bring this crisis to an end."
"And what would you suggest?" the king asked, leaning forward on his throne, intrigued.
Good.
"If the magistrate can confess to malfeasance on his part: corruption, embezzlement, a lack of regard for his district's wellbeing, we can turn him into a villain for his people rather than a hero. All popular support would be stripped away, and you, my king, would be the man who brought him to justice. Support for your reign would intensify and peace could be restored to the streets."
"These crimes you speak of," Honang said. "I have no memory of such charges having been levied against him."
"They didn't need to be. All the magistrate must do is confess to them in exchange for fair conduct."
"Surely you're not suggesting we negotiate with a criminal, traitor, and rebel?"
"At the cost of preventing many more from sprouting," I said, "I am."
"You would sacrifice our principles for this?"
"I would end this crisis."
"I will not have us negotiating with those who would so easily turn against my kingdom," the Earth King said. "There would be no guarantee that he would even hold true to his word."
"My thoughts exactly, your grace," Honang said. "While I do confess that in times such as these, tough decisions must be made, this magistrate clearly cannot be trusted. He may very well betray our king's trust the first chance he gets. We have no means of ensuring his reliability and fidelity."
Damn you. It was no surprise such a suggestion might have been prepared for. The next, however, the next might actually get us somewhere.
"There is another option," I said. "One that would ensure his cooperation. Willingly, and unconditionally."
"And what would that be?" Hongang asked, doubtful, yet still curious.
"A longstanding Dai Li practice," I said. "Suggestive Therapy. It is generally used to prevent criminals from acting out repeat offenses to safely reintroduce them into society. It can also be used, however, to ensure cooperation and obedience. That is what I would do."
"What you speak of makes no sense. Such methods cannot exist!" Kuei objected.
"He speaks the truth, your grace," Honang said.
I would not allow myself to feel relief. Not yet. There's more.
"The technique was a cornerstone since the foundation of the Dai Li under Avatar Kyoshi and the 46th Earth King, essential in maintaining peace and stability across the kingdom. But, do tell me, cultural minister, my understanding of this suggestive therapy is that it is a lengthy process. Would such an outcome be ready in time for effective deployment?"
Would it?
Ordinarily, no, but with the orders I had given Captain Heli, perhaps. I had to have faith.
"I can have him ready by tomorrow," I said.
Honang's head dropped low.
Don't.
He turned to the King, who now looked back, wondering what to feel, and when he saw Honang's disappointment, he took that as cause enough to be disappointed as well.
Damnit all to hell.
"Since last night," Honang said, "Four districts have fallen into chaos as a result of the riots. By tomorrow, there is no telling how this situation would have evolved, perhaps, even, past a point that we can control it. We cannot wait for tomorrow. There can be no telling what will have occurred by then. The action we take must be deliberate, and it must be done effective immediately.
"Your grace," Hondu protested.
"My decision is final," the king said.
And so it was.
There was nothing I could have done to fight the decision.
The king's words were law, even when not his own.
So here we were, that same afternoon, staring down a crowd of raging protestors, the only thing between them and us a stifled hope that we weren't truly about to do what we had come here to do. That, and four lines of Earth Kingdom soldiers.
I'd had no choice but to transport the magistrate into the inner city and hand him over to royal custody. I'd considered, for a time, swapping him out for a body double, but to find one fitting enough a replacement would have taken time. And time I no longer had. It'd been taken away from me, down to the shortest day.
My orders from the king were to deliver the man, and Hondu's, after being reprimanded by General How for trying to refuse, were to prepare the Summer district plaza for a public arrangement–the execution of magistrate Chang Pusuwan.
Nearly a full quarter of General Hondu's corps assigned to the lower districts was here, and after today, we would need a hell of a lot more than that.
I'd tried to protest to the King. Hell, I'd even go so far as to try and convince Honang himself. He had to know this wouldn't work, did he not? He had to, somehow, comprehend that such a thing would only make things worse. Was this really his only way of asserting control, of trying to fix things? Was there really no other way?
Standing here now, it sure as hell didn't seem that way. Standing beside General Hondu, we seemed on precisely the same page as one another. He was on edge, and not only because we were surrounded by thousands of civilians who, in the span of a single axe swing, could become a horde of rioters out for blood.
"He can't possibly think this will work," Hondu sighed next to me. "Does he?"
I turned my head to look towards Honang, standing as though just to ensure that all went as expected. He sure as hell looked confident, to a foolish degree.
"He sure seems to think so," I mumbled back.
"Then he'll be leading us into hell blind."
We weren't the only ones. Behind us, the magistrate was being escorted to the stands. His eyes met mine though I tried not to look at his in turn. He was scared. I would have liked to take some satisfaction in him having now realized the mistake he made, but I couldn't bring myself to. Not like this. Not when our fate was just as much at stake as his.
His eyes couldn't linger on me forever, however, as he was soon brought to the front of the stage, and set down on his knees immediately behind the headsman's block where the royal executioner, Galo, awaited.
He was set on his knees, and the crowd watched in silence. Some attempted to shout their contempt for this charade, but more lay in wait, a silent hesitation to be left wondering what direction their city would take after today. I wondered the same thing.
"Magistrate Chang Pusuwan!" Grand Secretariat Honang announced, rising to join the accused at the front of the stage. "You stand accused of-"
"I'm guilty!" the magistrate screamed.
What?
"I'm guilty!" he yelled again. "Fraud, embezzlement, corruption! I did it all! I stole from my people! I betrayed their trust, just please don't kill me!"
Silence.
Only silence.
Silence from me, silence from Hondu, silence from Honang who suddenly had not a single clue what to think, and silence from the crowd as well, from nearly all the thousands of people who had come to gather.
All but one.
But one was all it took.
"Lies!" the voice in the crowd shouted.
And then there were more.
"He's being told what to say!"
"He's not guilty!"
"Don't let the king fool you!"
The crowd began to shift, moving forward, as though thinking they could be the ones to reach their magistrate first, to free him. Honang was stood still, trying to determine what to interpret the magistrate's last desperate effort as. But there was no doubt for me and what he had tried to do, but it was too little too late.
I'm sorry, magistrate, I thought. But it's too late for both of us now.
"For these charges!" the grand secretariat continued, recovering quickly enough, "Earth King Kuei hereby sentences you to death!"
The crowd continued to move, now clashing against the shields of the first line of Earth Kingdom soldiers.
Galo donned his hood as Hondu's troops held the masses back, the rare man making it through to the second line behind.
Galo grabbed the hilt of his axe as more clashed against the Earth Kingdom shieldsmen, the odd few making it past them, and the second line too. Their voices rose in shouts of protest, of anger, of pleading, but none of it would be enough to stop the royal executioner from raising his axe, and lowering it the second after.
And like that, the real battle for Ba Sing Se had begun.