Danev
The matchlock arquebus delivered to the Dragon's Host as delivered by the Fire Nation mainland did not operate similar to the traditional hand cannon long used as a shock weapon by Fire Nation infantry.
Even a brief inspection made that simple fact impossible not to notice.
For starters, the firing mechanism had taken a complete shift. With older hand cannons that we'd been assigned, the make had essentially been a metal tube packed with blasting jelly ignored by a single fuse that poked out of the frame of the metal tube. The fuse would be lit, touching the jelly off quick enough to create an explosion enough to propel the projectile far enough to hit a hostile combatant. For such hand cannons, the fuse was sensitive enough that the first strike of fire would create a near instant reaction that'd touch off the powder, meaning, however, that the fuse would need replacing after every fired shot.
Now, however, that'd changed. The fuse from earlier hand cannons had been replaced with a longer rope fuse that was held in place by a small metal level on the weapon. It burned nowhere near as quickly as fuses for hand cannons and, as a matter of fact, could be relit a number of times before requiring replacement. This rope was hardly a fuse so much as it was, however, the touch required to fire the weapon. Alternatively, this rope would be lit, and would remain lit, not in jeopardy of prematurely firing the arquebus, however, due to its distance from the flash pan. The rope match would stay lit and in place until the cock was pulled towards it. This was done by means of a small level below the arquebus that was pulled back with a single finger. This would cause the match to draw towards the pan, touching off the powder, firing the arquebus, allowing the actual hand cannon to be precisely aimed while firing it.
In addition to that, the actual shape and frame of the arquebus itself allowed for a much easier time actually wielding the thing. A wooden underframe allowed for an easier time holding the weapon that would not mean burning oneself due to the heat of the barrel while a well-rounded grip and stock allowed for a comfortable and convenient firing position, matched with a small iron sight at the end of the weapon that allowed for one to know precisely where they were aiming.
The weapon was superior in every way to our traditional hand cannon, I knew while inspecting it, but that would not stop Shozi from attempting to assert his dominance over the newbie, Asaih, with his outdated antique of a weapon.
That wasn't to say he was bad with such a thing. The man still was an excellent shot, the best I knew, and was met with cheers that reflected such a feat when he managed to score four hits out of five on the targets we'd set up, one even a bullseye.
"Fuck yeah!" he exclaimed on his final shot, another hit about a half foot off from the bullseye, not bad by any means. The others accompanying him cheered in response to his victory, the first up in the impromptu contest between him and the greenie.
All of Dragon Platoon was in attendance with even a few spectators from the other platoons of the 114th. It would only be as the chorus of cheers died down that Shozi would surrender his position at the barricade to Asaih, it now his turn.
There would be no words of encouragement or cheers at his approach as there had been for Shozi, a new recruit who'd been with us for less than a day. Though a few of his fellow replacements also were around to watch the event, they were surrounded by long-time soldiers of the 114th and would therefore keep their support muted for the time being.
Asaih approached with his arquebus in hand, and took a position at the barricade. One could tell instantly that he'd been trained differently from how we had. Rather than positioning himself with his chest facing the target, he stood with his toes facing the right of the target, and so pivoted his chest, side-facing the target as a swordsman might his opponent to present himself as a smaller target.
I supposed that the same logic was reasonable when racing a ranged antagonist, but nonetheless, it remained to be seen how it would be reflected in the boy's accuracy.
He'd loaded his weapon prior to approaching the brigade, and so his shot was ready, match already lit. He raised his arquebus to face the target now, steadied his hand, and right then was met with a "Choke!" from the audience.
He fired. It was not a total miss, but the shot still nonetheless was far from impressive, barely managing to strike the outer ring of the target. The failure was met with no shortage of laughter and jeering from the crowd as the boy was reminded just how many cards here were stacked against him.
I found myself at odds with myself, a part of me damn well believing Shozi to be the better shot and wanting to see it reflected here, but another part of me was hardly eager to see a growing rift in our unit as brought by the new recruits. I could hardly just dismiss the boys from my unit as I'm sure a majority of my soldiers would've liked to see me do. There needed to be a sense of unity, but it was not one I would be able to bring. The replacements needed to earn such things for themselves, and this boy, Asaih, had a chance to begin here. He had to get it together, and he had to show the others what he was made of.
He didn't face the audience, rather maintained his composure as he adjusted his spectacles. He then prepared his second shot. He poured his powder down the barrel, similar to as we'd done with our old hand cannons, followed by the powder charge, and lastly, the ball.
He raised the musket again, and was met with a similar volley of jeers and distractions, but would not be so affected as before, instead letting them pass over him and firing. The shot now was a stark improvement, managing to hit the 2nd ring out from the bullseye.
The jeers went quiet, stricken by the sudden improvement of the shot.
Asaih loaded another round met with general silence until he raised the gun again. Only a single voice in the crowd would try to shout out to distract him, but would be quickly silenced by the other spectators as Asaih fired his third shot, only a single ring worse than his prior.
Another round loaded, another one fired, this one a bullseye, eliciting a silenced, "Fuck me" from the crowd, though not from Shozi. It sounded more, as a matter of fact, to have belonged to a surprised Tosa.
The last round would be loaded, the crowd kept in a muffled state of shock of Asaih would raise the arquebus once again, and fire. The ball would damn near collide with the one from Asaih's previous shot, a perfect bullseye once again.
Not a word would be spoken from the crowd, Shozi's aim bested, but by what? Superior marksmanship and skill, or a better-designed weapon.
"Give me that!" Shozi exclaimed as he approached Asaih's firing position, snatching the arquebus from his grasp and shoving him aside.
Asaih did not resist, rather standing back to allow Shozi his chance, perhaps a part of him smugly believing, and rightfully so, that he'd made his point clear.
Shozi, however, would hardly concede the fight as easily as that, and so stood with the arquebus in hand, realizing only now that he hadn't a clue how to use the thing.
He loaded the powder easily enough, though perhaps a little bit on the plentiful end, Asaih speaking up to say, "You don't need as much here as-"
"Shut up!" Shozi would cut him off to say as he finished loading the powder and now resorted to loading the musket ball as well.
"You need a powder charge t-"
"I said quiet!"
Come on, Shozi, I thought. Don't make an ass out of yourself.
I understood though. His reputation here was at stake, compromised by a lowly replacement private.
His outlook in the eyes of other would hardly be made any better as he would assume a firing position, however, and struggle to properly hold the gun, wielding it similar to how one would our antiquated hand cannons. A series of muffled comments would come from the crowd making that same observation until Shozi forced himself to shift his posture, now wielding it at least somewhat properly, though still a far cry from what Asaih's training had provided. It was good enough though, at least according to him the moment he pulled the trigger.
Good enough would not be enough, however, the shot not even striking the target, or even the hay barrel it was painted on.
"Somebody give me powder!" he demanded as he stood on the stand with an unloaded arquebus in hand.
It would end up being Asaih who would actually hand the pouch of blasting jelly to the man meant to be his opponent. Similar to how he had the arquebus, Shozi snatched the pouch of blasting jelly and poured it down the barrel.
He knew he would need to ask for a powder charge yet, and Asaih wasn't about to find himself victim of another vocal abuse and so simply placed down the pack of them on the shelf beside Shozi's position. No thanks would come from the man as he snatched that up next and packed it down the barrel, eyes fixated on the task ahead of him, and on restoring his lost pride.
Down went the musket ball, and once again, he held the gun up, though something was clearly lacking this time around–confidence. He knew that his previous attempt with this weapon had failed, and there was something he was lacking. His confidence was faltering. For once, he seemed unsure if he could make a certain shot, and he likely would have too if Asaih, bold and foolish as he was, hadn't spoken up.
"Look down the sight," he said.
"What?!" Shozi asked back, harshly, though not shutting down. He was asking, 'what' in earnest. He wanted to know what to do. How to do it. How to strike his target.
"The back of the gun," Asai said. "The stock. Put it to your shoulder and look down the sight of the gun. It'll show you right where you'll hit."
"No hand cannon does that!" Shozi spat.
"This one does."
Shozi didn't say anything as he turned back around to face the target. He didn't want Asaih's advice. Sure as hell didn't want to listen to it. But even less, he didn't want to miss. If he did, he could at least use Asaih's advice as blame, but only if he followed it.
Begrudgingly, Shozi raised the arquebus up, placing the curve of the stock to his shoulder so that it cut off directly below. He tilted his head to look down the length of the barrel, eyes likely following the metal to the sight at the end. The adjustments he made now were minor ones, though vital.
The spectators stood in silence as he aimed, moved his finger to the trigger, and finally, fired.
A hit.
There was some attention from the crowd, a few cheers, a few muffled congratulations, but not much. Not for a simple 3rd ring away from the bullseye. Not after what Asaih had demonstrated. But Shozi wasn't done. Not yet.
He turned back to his target, eager for more.
Another load of powder, a charge, and a ball later, he fired once more. A ring closer.
Once more, yet another ring closer.
And finally one final, and midway between the innermost ring and the bull's eye, each shot better than the last. Shozi could've kept on going. He had a feel for the weapon now, an aim on the mark, a sweet spot met if he wanted to claim victory, but instead, something else happened.
Shozi lowered the arquebus. He turned behind him to look at the crowd that stood watching, and amongst them, Asaih. It would be then that Shozi held out the musket to the greenie, and so said, "Alright," with a growing grin on his face. "Let's see you beat that."
And so the competition was on. And for real now.
There would be cheers for both as Asaih and Shozi would hit and miss their marks. Joking jeers, snideful remarks in good fun most of the time, and shouts of support, sometimes even for the newbie, and not only from his fellow replacements.
The revelry would last some time too, even see others at some point or others take a turn up at the stand to try their shot with the new weapons we'd been given. Some would perform better than expected such as Mano and Tosa who found himself to be a surprising crackshot, while some would perform worse than anticipated which, though I regretted to admit it, included myself.
It would turn out I was more of an infantryman than an arquebusier, no surprise there. Fortunately, further embarrassment would be spared for me as I was saved from going back up to the stand by the arrival of somebody requiring talking to in the distance–Colonel Lu Ten.
Thank the Spirits.
The sight of him would be enough to playfully shove the arquebus back into a laughing Chejuh's hands as he reveled in my failure to hit anything within 2 rings of the bullseye even once, my skills, I supposed, having gotten rusty in the months since training had ended back in Citadel.
I shook my head, waving a dismissive hand behind me at the laughing crowd as I saw Murao up at the stands next, telling myself that he, at least, of all people, would manage to shoot worse than I had.
Hopefully.
"See the new guys have shown up then?" Colonel Lu Ten asked with a grin as he dismissed my salute with a casual wave of the hand.
"Could've warned me when they were coming," I said.
"Them coming today was as much a surprise to me as you," Lu Ten defended himself. "I've never known the Navy to be punctual in helping the Army with anything if I'm being honest with you."
"So what makes today so special?"
Lu Ten shrugged. "Potential end of the war perhaps?"
I raised my eyebrow.
"What?" I asked.
What would come next was not meant for the ears of Dragon Platoon's common soldiery. Or at the very least, it wasn't meant for my ears alone. Lu Ten would bid me to come with him and so would bid another man by his side, a squire by the looks of him, to fetch the other commanders of the 114th and bring them to our command tent.
The aide would do just that, and soon enough I would find myself with Lu Ten in the 114th's command tent alongside lieutenants Nokoh of Ant, Cheno of Bat, Reesu of Cat, Laohan of Elephant, and of course, Captain Rulaan of the company as a whole.
"I apologize for coming here on such notice, as well as for failing to notify you about when your replacement troops would be coming. Command was just as in the dark regarding our resupply's status as you all were, but that isn't the purpose of this meeting."
So what is then?
"I called this meeting because last night, our intelligent unit was given information informing us that two weeks ago, Ba Sing Se fell into a popular revolt. Protests related to food rationing and martial law mandates have descended to riots and the Earth Kingdom military and police have already lost control of a number of sectors in the outer city."
"Oh shit," a silenced voice from Reesu said from inside the tent while I could hear Cheno murmuring to himself, "Is he fucking serious?"
Is he? I felt my heart jump a tad. They're really tearing each other apart then? Just like that?
"How was this intelligence acquired?" Captain Rulaan asked, voicing a valid query.
"I'm afraid you don't have clearance to know that," Lu Ten said, "But I assure you that this intelligence is reliable. It is with this in mind that I inform you that our division strategy has shifted to strike while the iron is hot. I cannot give specifics as to day or time, but at some point in the next two weeks, the artillery will end, and we will make our assault. I've come to your division to inform you to begin your preparations and to be ready to attack at a moment's notice when the time comes."
"And he comes to us to tell us this?" I leaned over and whispered to Rulaan who turned his head to face me as I asked, a look in his eyes telling me that he agreed. "Why not go to Battalion command first?" The 114th company was a mere branch of the 119th Battalion after all, headed by Lieutenant Colonel Shazo who reported directly to Colonel Lu Ten. So why had he come to our mere division? If he wanted us to know this, he simply would have told Battalion command to relay this information. There was something more here, and I was thankful that Rulaan would be the one to ask.
"Sir," he said. "If I may ask, why tell us this rather than Battalion command?"
A slight smile grew on Lu Ten's face as he faced Rulaan, and his eyes drifted to me for a quick few seconds before returning back to the Captain. "Good question. I come to your division personally because I have a special assignment for you. I've been informed that the majority of your company's troops are from Citadel, also known as Taisho, is this correct?"
"It is."
"Do your men happen to have experience in infiltrating? Perhaps, sneaking past Fire Nation fortifications in order to go places they shouldn't? This isn't an accusation and nothing you say here will be held against you. I'm simply asking."
"I couldn't answer for my men," Captain Rulaan started, "But even in Citadel, most of us kept to the slums at around my time. Trying to get into the inner city was suicide, especially-"
"I have," I spoke up to interrupt Rulaan. I turned my head to him, as though asking for both forgiveness as well as for permission to continue.
A nod from his head gave me both.
I cleared my throat. "I'd say, about a year ago, there was a food shortage. Severe. Most of it was coming here to the front as a matter of fact. Some people in the same gang as me, The Hornets, we'd found a way to get into the inner wall, and so used it to get into the inner city to steal food from the garrison. We were caught, but not after using this wall multiple times over for years on end."
That brought a smile to Lu Ten's face. "Not bad. So let me ask you something. You were able to get into the Fire Nation's wall in Citadel. How ridiculous would it be for me to ask if you believe your men are capable of infiltrating Ba Sing Se's wall, weakening it from within?"
My heart skipped a beat. He's asking…he's asking us to infiltrate Ba Sing Se's wall? There was a silence in the room that came from a shared revelation of just that. This was no simple question. He was asking us to infiltrate, and weaken, the strongest wall in the world.
"I," I started. "I don't…"
"I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't necessary, but we've been pounding their wall for a near year now with artillery and it hasn't made a dent. Firebending hardly leaves a scratch, artillery rounds just cause a few chips, we need something more drastic–for the wall to be infiltrated, explosives packed along its interior. Combined with shaped charges placed by tanks, artillery, and firebenders, it's the only chance we have of possibly bringing it down. So are you capable of doing this?"
I looked at Rulaan, praying, begging for him to be the one to answer. He only nodded back at me. I had initiated this. Now it was for me to finish.
"We're capable," I said.
Lu Ten nodded, then looked back at Captain Rulaan. "Can I count on the 114th for this?"
"You can," he answered back, sealing the deal.
Lu Ten nodded once again, and so it was set. We would infiltrate Ba Sing Se's wall, and tear it down.
More would follow from there–the essentials behind Lu Ten's plan of infiltration, the point where we planned on attacking, and the final notice that he would inform us the night before the assault when it was time to head out. Our skills in infiltration would be essential to this, and so I couldn't help but find my mind wandering to all the times I'd done it before, of how us Hornets had even managed, and how of all those people who would travel back and forth as well as into Citadel's walls, the only one left from them all was Fluke. And so it struck me in that second that he hadn't returned yet. It'd been hours, and he still wasn't back.
So before Lu Ten could leave, after the other lieutenants had already begun to disperse, I pulled him aside, because I had to know.
"Excuse me, Colonel," I said. "But regarding the arrangement we made for Private Fluke, you know, the one from the 62nd?"
"I remember, yes. It's taken care of. Nothing should be barring his way to join you now."
"I know that, sir. Thank you. But, he should have come here by now. He set out to get assigned to us just this morning, but, he hasn't come back."
"You think he got into any trouble? This is all within the camp. I doubt-"
"No, sir," I said. "I doubt anything terrible has happened, but…is there any way, possibly, that he might have found a way to go somewhere other than the 114th?"
There was a silence that followed as Lu Ten searched technicalities in his mind, and so it became clear to me. Damnit, Fluke.
"Sir," I said. "Where's Fluke?"
Fluke
It'd been months since I last felt the rumbling of a moving tank beneath me. It would have been inaccurate to say I'd missed it, but there was no lying about the fact that there was something almost comforting and soothing to feel it once again.
What was less comforting, however, was that I no longer felt it now from where I belonged, atop a gunner's turret seat, but rather from right beside our pilot, this "Boss," in a co-pilot's seat, idle, useless.
It could have been worse, I supposed. I could have been stuck here while we were being fired upon, unable to do anything to help us. I could've been stuck here while we were in the middle of hostile territory, unable to keep an eye on all sides of us in the incident we were being surrounded without us noticing. But instead of any of those things, we were running simple patrols around the perimeter of the 91st Brigade's station.
It could be worse.
"Eyo, Hizo!" a voice came from behind me, Zek's. "Think I got a name for the pool!"
"You forget the rules, Zek?" Hizo asked from the rear of the tank in the engineer's cabin, a space that previously would have been occupied by Gunji.
I craned my head back to overhear, curious.
"It look like we just finish a fight?" Hizo continued.
"Eh, we can let the rules slide for a day," Zek said with a shrug. "Get Fluke into the flow of things."
"Rules for what?" I asked, turning my head back.
In the few days that I'd been with these men so far, conversation hadn't been our strong suit. Rather, it hadn't been my strong suit. Zek and Hizo chat often enough to fill the tank with a noise that wasn't that of earth being crushed beneath our treads, but there was only so much that two men could talk about while trapped in a rolling metal tomb.
I couldn't help but get the impression that it normally wasn't so silent. Be it that they'd recently lost their old gunner as well as for the fact that the so-called Boss seemed too annoyed with my mere presence to speak to those of his crew for a purpose other than to give instructions, then certainly carried with them an atmosphere of awkward silence. It was one that Zek had been trying to break over these past few days, but to little avail. The least I could do was give him something to talk about, or at least try. Besides, I needed someone's voice to kill the silent tedium.
"It's-uhhh, it's nothing. It's stupid."
Nevermind then.
There was no denying my presence as a foreign entity amongst these others. Whether it'd been months, or perhaps even as long as a year that this screw had been together, the fact was that I didn't belong. There was a history here, one that I wasn't a part of, but it hardly made any difference. Would life have been easier had I gotten along with my crew? Naturally. However, I wouldn't let myself become dependent on them. I hadn't transferred here for the friends. If I'd wanted to have friends, I'd have gone with the 114th.
I was here because I was a soldier.
A soldier being wasted on navigation.
"Greenie," The Boss said, referring to me so as to catch my nickname through the use of a pathetic nickname that betrayed having spent a half year in this damned war. "Check heading. Ensure compliance with patrol route."
Why? I wondered. The 91st Brigade's encampment was still practically in visual range. We hardly needed to make the effort of analyzing our route while on a harmless patrol that was more meant to get the oil flowing through the tank, sorry, Shanzi.
Still, I was given orders, and I would follow them, so I consulted the instruments available to me as co-pilot. I checked first the mission timer, a small dial that was reset whenever we embarked on a journey and so kept track of the time we'd spent out on patrol today.
2 hours and 24 minutes.
Huh. It'd felt longer than that.
I consulted our patrol directive, calling for a median patrol speed of twenty miles per hour, and so cross-references with our speedometer, approximately the same. Checks out.
I so turned to the rough map of the route we were set to take and the numerous checkpoints across our path. We had already made notes of when we'd passed checkpoints 1, 2, and 3, meaning that checkpoint 4 was at the fifty mile mark.
We'll be approaching soon.
"Checkpoint 4 should be in visual range, reachable in no more than ten minutes."
"Zek?" Boss asked from the cockpit, asking to confirm with our gunner who was incapable of gunning for some reason or another.
"Visual range confirmed," Zek said.. "1 mile out."
"Mhm," Boss mumbled to himself from his pilot's seat, as though confirming something he already knew. Of course he would, I thought to myself as I shook my head to myself and tried to find as comfortable a position as I could, leaning my head against the side hull.
"You wonder why we're doing this?" Boss asked. It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.
"I haven't said anything to complain, sir," I said, quite positive that I'd been successful at least in keeping my complaints to myself.
"But you still question our orders."
I shrugged. "Orders are orders, sir. Doesn't matter if I question them or not so long as I follow them."
I wouldn't give him an excuse to ditch me for insubordination. I would do as my orders dictated, so long as these orders, one way or another in due time, brought me to the front lines.
"Good answer," I heard Zek say from behind me accompanied by a chuckle. "Reason we call him 'Boss.'"
So that was it then. Uncompromising compliance. I could live with that. I'd do what was asked of me and follow orders to a letter so long as they weren't given by somebody remotely resembling Major General Daiming. I had no reason to believe this Boss of theirs to be incompetent save for the fact that he had be resigned to co-pilot in spite of the fact I was sent here as their old gunner's replacement. I imagined such a thing came down to malice and lack of faith more than anything else.
I could work with that. I'd play by the rules however much he wanted.
I could tell that Boss has been looking for a fight. He wouldn't get it. He turned his attention back to piloting.
"So why are we doing this, Boss?" I heard Zek ask from behind me. This would be followed by a stifled laugh coming from deeper behind in the tank, from Hizo. What I couldn't get away with, those two certainly could.
Boss sighed, and Zek chuckled, knowing clearly that to make a point, Boss would not answer. I knew Zek's gesture was less a form of supporting me and more simply getting some fun out of the situation. I could hardly blame him for that, and frankly, I was grateful. Anything to lighten the mood.
Zek, naturally, would not get an answer even if he ordinarily would. The rest of our patrol would closely resemble the other patrols we'd embarked on over the course of the last few days: driving in relative silence only to the sound of our rumbling treads and that of artillery shells constantly barragings the walls of Ba Sing Se.
It'd gone on for what must have been months now, the walls bearing the scorched marks of gunpowder residue from each attack that struck it. I could only imagine what beyond the wall must have looked like with the sheer quantity of shells that'd found their way over in all this time.
I knew that, one day soon, hopefully, we would find out for ourselves, and finally take that damned wall, but I wanted to know what to anticipate, what to expect beyond that wall.
"So what's beyond the wall anyway?" I asked later that evening as I clung to my poncho to my chest as we battled a late winter breeze that'd come in with an unexpected rainshower.
"Ba Sing Se," Zek said, always the clever one.
"No shit," I answered.
"Why do you want to know?" Boss asked.
"We're expected to go over it, no?" I said. "More we know, the better chance we have of doing our job."
Boss paused, uncertain whether to see my point, or let his lingering spite for me prevent him from saying any such answer, if even he knew.
"Farmland and small towns supposedly," Zek said instead, indicating that his initial answer had been one of jest rather than uncertainty.
"Before we started shelling the fuck out of it," Hizo said.
"Well yeah," Zek agreed. "Before. Now, can't say."
"Trenchline and fortifications," Boss finally answered grimly. "Underground bunkers, reinforced foxholes, and lines of artillery trained on the base of the wall ready to blast us the minute we go over. Still excited to make that ascent?"
It was never excitement, I knew. It was an understanding that such an attack was inevitable. I just was ready to do what needed to be done.
I shrugged. "Just means we shouldn't sit on our asses once we get over. Don't have time to dig our own fortifications, so we'll have to take theirs."
"Make it sound so easy."
"They'll send their troops at their nearest fortifications to the wall once they see we're attacking. Won't have time to deploy them from anywhere else."
"You seem to doubt just how many troops the enemy has."
"Kid's got a point though," Zek said. "You heard the news. Good chunk of their men are being used to fight their own people now. If ever there was a time this might just work,..."
Boss would not finish that thought, leaving it lingering in the air for the last few hours of our ride.
The sun would be down by the time we returned to camp, us relying on our tank's headlamps to light the way through our fortifications and the maze of tents and structures to ensure we didn't find ourselves accidentally trampling over our own men and resources.
Quickly enough, we found our way back to our spot where a half dozen other tanks were either returning from their own patrols routes too or already in the process of shutting down their equipment for the night.
"Hizo," Boss said as our tank came to a halt, brakes engaged. "You good to shut 'er down for the night?"
"I got it, Boss."
I squirmed my way out of the co-pilot seat and made for the same hatch I was accustomed to ordinarily leaving through, the same gunner hatch Zek vacated through, myself still not grasping the fact that there was a hatch specifically in place for the pilot and co-pilot to leave through. Old habits died hard though.
"Hate to disappoint you, kid," Zek said upon seeing me wriggle my way out of the hatch, "but still don't got a bed for you."
Meaning I'd be spending the night in the tank again. There were worse things.
"Fine by me," I said. "Just want to stretch my legs a bit."
Stretch my legs, freshen up on some firebending lest I let myself forget even the basics, something to that effect.
Boss was already out of the tank and standing on the ground by the time I finished descending Shanzi's chassis.
I wasn't sure if there would be some mentioned of what we'd talked about earlier, if he would reprimand me, scorn me, something. Instead, he'd do none of those things, and simply turn away, refusing even to acknowledge me.
Fine then, I thought to myself. It hardly made a difference. After all, it was like I'd reminded myself before. I didn't need to make friends. I just needed to do my job. And for that, I needed to be ready, and that meant putting down time to good use.
I went back to the spot where I would practice with Danev, relatively close to the 114th all things considered, but at this late hour, I wanted to think there was slim chance of me being intercepted. The place was close enough to camp that I was within range of friendly forces and at less of a risk of being nabbed by an ambitious Earth Kingdom scout, but still far enough out that it was quiet and there was no risk of me burning anything down.
The place hadn't changed much. Racks of sparring weapons were still set up, old training dummies still in their old place, the only change really the addition of some new targets, possibly for bows, but more likely for the new hand cannons I'd heard had been delivered to our brigade. I'd been meaning to get my hands on one of those. I was aware that such a desire made little sense for a firebender capable of doling out much more firepower in much less time with simple natural ability, but I simply happened to admire the craftsmanship of such a weapon.
We'd been supplied with the other new equipment to come in, including new helmets.
"Sure you don't want us to ask about it?" Zek had asked a few days ago when only new helmets had come in for him, Boss, and Hizo, which made sense as they were different helmets altogether from what they'd been outfitted with before while, from what I saw, firebenders such as myself maintained our skull caps.
"I'm fine," I'd told Zek.
"You sure?" he asked once again. "Yours is a bit…" He raised a finger to his eye to indicate where I knew my own helmet was in a sorry state of disrepair. It'd been that way since the battle, the ceramic plating by the right eye completely blown away.
"I'm sure," I said. "See better with this anyway."
Zek had scoffed, finding it amusing I supposed.
At the very least, I would be given the luxury of a new gas mask. Once again, only three had come in, but Hizo, the designated maintenance crew for the tank, already was equipped with one. He'd tried to make the demand that, on the basis of seniority, he receive one of the replacements and give me his hand-me-down.
Zek'd put that thought to rest, fortunately, on the justification that nobody deserved to put up with months' worth of buildup of his breath in the same place.
Hizo had agreed with that assessment, and as such, I had at least some new equipment to boast about.
But new equipment meant nothing without a skilled soldier to wield them, and so why while the vast majority of our brigade settled into the night with the intent of a restful sleep, I practiced. I trained. I sent bolts of fire into stationary target dummies. I reviewed forms taught to me months ago back in Citadel. I focused on my breathing, my offense, my defense, and everything in between, watching as my fire dissipated off the training dummy's armor.
One hand was all I needed.
I could begin to feel a physical sensation returning to my right arm. It was there, I knew that much. Enough to be uncomfortable and feel constrained by the cast, but the slightest effort to let the energy flow through and bend fire, but to do so was to invite a fresh wave of pain coursing through my hand, arm, and entire half of my body.
So I focused on what I had. My left. It would be enough. It had to be.
A punch, right on its mark in the chest. A spinning kick, a proper sweep that would have severed a man in half waist down. Another punch, a headshot. A punch and a kick combined, two great holes that would have a man's charred flesh collapsing in on itself.
Another punch, and so it-stopped before the fire could come out as I stood face to face with a man who had managed to sneak up on me, even out here. Danev.
He didn't so much as flinch, face to face with me now. He only stood in place, arms crossed, watching me.
How long had he been watching me?
I wondered if it mattered. I simply was more curious to know what pushed him to come here. I saw nobody else with him so I highly doubted he was here to train with somebody else, especially at this late hour.
"Was wondering if I'd find you back here," he said.
An interesting enough greeting after how we'd parted ways. Meaning, so to speak, that we hadn't.
It was a conscious choice that I'd made that day that I left the 114th. I hadn't planned on leaving the 114th indefinitely when I'd gone to personnel, but then the opportunity had presented itself–to rejoin the fight the way I knew how. I hadn't told Danev of the possibility as I knew he would have fought it. I didn't bother returning to the 114th after as I knew there would only be a fight. I thought I was clever in saying nothing, in just leaving, but I'd only been putting off the inevitable, and so here we were.
"So you been coming here every night then to see if I'd show?" I asked, half-joking and the other half nervous as I tried not to make that half come out. Instead, I simply wiped the sweat from my brow as I looked back at him, curious to know where this was going.
I wouldn't get an answer to my question, namely as it wasn't important. It wasn't important why I was here, how he knew I was here, anything aside from the fact that I'd left. I wanted to think that I was sorry, but I knew that much was a lie. I wasn't sorry for leaving as I was where I was meant to be now. I wasn't sorry for saying nothing as I knew doing so would only make things more difficult. I was sorry over the effect it may have had, but beyond that, to apologize would have been a lie, and so I said nothing. Nor did he, the two of us waiting for the other to make the first move.
"What are you doing here?" he asked.
So we're beating around the bush first, then.
I shrugged. "Armored doesn't have as good a training site, believe it or not."
"So back to Armored then," he said with what almost seemed to be a sigh. "After everything that happened? Why?"
It was a fair question. Why? After being a soldier of armored, being misused by idiotic commanders, sent on suicide missions, the sole survivor of my unit, who would consider going back to such a thing. I would be first to acknowledge that from an outsider perspective, it made no sense, but this wasn't about me. This wasn't about my survival, my longevity. I was a soldier. I knew where I belonged, and that was where I could do the most good, where I could do what I knew how to do better than anything else by this point–fight.
"Because it's where I'm needed," I said.
"There are twenty thousand fucking men in this division," Danev said. "What the hell makes you being in Armored so damned special?"
Of course.
I shook my head and let out a small chuckle of resignation. "I knew you wouldn't understand."
"What is there to understand?" Danev asked. "You were with your people, in infantry, where you could be in the fight, with those who would look out for you, be there for you if you needed it. You'd have good commanders, reliable people at your side, you'd-"
"Never be let out of sight by you," I finished.
That gave Danev pause quickly enough. The response was not one he'd anticipated. He just looked at me, waiting for elaboration.
"It'd be no different from Citadel," I said. "You'd waste your time looking after me, and you'd forget that there are dozens others relying on you too, whether I was in your platoon or not."
"This isn't about me; it's-"
"Yes it is," I countered. "You, and all the others. Yes, you'd all look out for me the same way you did when I crawled my way to you, but that's not what the company wants."
"What do you mean what-"
"That's not what I want."
And again, that same pause from Danev. And so I saw it finally begin to click for him. His brow furrowed, and I could hardly blame him for what came next.
"Fuck you."
I breathed out. It was the only fair response to essentially being told you'd get in their way. Frankly, it could have been worse.
"I need to do this, Danev," I said.
"Why? So you can test your luck and see if you manage to cheat death twice in a row? You really want to try that?"
"I'm a soldier, Danev. I have a job to do."
"I'm a soldier too, and so do I!"
"And that job isn't protecting me!" This, I am sorry for, Danev. "I'd be dead if it wasn't for you in Citadel," I said. "And thank you for that. But, you don't need to keep on protecting me. You did your job. You saved my ass from Riu, the Hornets, everybody, but that's over now. You have more people you need to look after, and keep safe now. People that aren't me."
"Fluke,-"
"I won't be anybody's burden anymore," I said.
There it was. There was nothing more to say to fight it. Not from Danev, not from me. I'd already won. There was nothing Danev could do now anyway short of appealing to the Dragon of the West himself.
"I can't change your mind then, can I?"
"Wouldn't matter if you did."
It was done.
Now it was only a matter of determining what was done and what wasn't. I wanted the argument to be over. I wanted the understanding to be reached that I was here to fight, here not to be a burden, here to kill the enemy. What I didn't want was to sever things with Danev. He, more than anybody, was the only person I could actually consider a friend. Near everybody else in this army, they had something they left behind when they joined the ranks of the Fire Nation: friends, family, lovers, home, anything.
Citadel was none of those things anymore. I would sooner die here than step foot in that hell again. But Danev, he was everything that Citadel wasn't. He was my friend, he was my family, he was home. I couldn't lose him, but I needed to leave. If only for the time being.
"I'm not," I started, "saying this to hurt you. But I need to do this, Danev."
And that silence held.
Please, I thought. Just say something. Laugh, yell, I don't care. Something, anything. Show me you're still there. That you know what I'm saying.
The seconds would feel like hours there until finally…finally, he would sigh.
"I just feel bad for you," he said.
What?
"Now you really do have no chance of beating me over the wall first."
Thank the spirits.
I chuckled, half-nervously, wondering if maybe I was being tricked into letting my guard down, but no, Danev wasn't hiding something up his sleeve. He was hurting, clearly, but this wasn't an act. Forced, maybe, but there wasn't an ulterior motive here. Nothing of that sort.
"That's pretty confident of you," I said in jest. "Hate to break it to you though, but when the day comes, armored's gonna be first ones to finally see the other side."
Danev smiled, partially at least. It was something. Anything was something.
"I guess we'll find out."
"Yeah," I agreed with a smile that came from knowing that in spite of it all, I hadn't lost him. I couldn't. And if the spirits answer my prayers, I never would. "I guess we will."
Long Feng
Ba Sing Se burned.
The lower districts of our city were lit aflame, in a state of war within itself. The King's government had lost what semblance of control it'd once had.
The King's forces now were deployed, acting as soldiers rather than police, sent to quell these riots as though they were no different from a hostile invasion. Our forces were split between those on the wall and those within the city, focusing on one enemy or the other, but even here, we had tens of thousands of our soldiers at our disposal, armed with the latest in Earth Kingdom arms and armor, to push back a disorganized rebellion of peasants and street urchins.
And in spite of that all, we were losing.
2 weeks ago, it'd been the Yellow, Sapphire, Flower, Summer, and Yellow districts.
A week after, it'd been the Emerald, Blue, Nan, and Fang Yu districts.
There was no telling what would be lost by next week, hell, by tomorrow.
The riots were spreading like wildfire across the lower districts, out streets now battlefields, our city plazas mass graves, homes and commercial centers reduced to rubble so the pavement could be torn up to make way for trenches where our soldiers were standing by with catapults, spears, arrows, and rockets, ready to open fire on the first faces they saw, regardless of whether they were innocent or otherwise, only that they were on the right side of the line that'd been drawn in the sand.
And despite all of that, despite the fact that hundreds to thousands were dying by the day on our doorstep, we were throwing a party.
The Royal Earth Palace was alive with excitement. A troubadour played "Fair Maids of Summer" to an audience of nobles from the upper city who I overheard making passing and uninterested references to the "troubles" in the lower districts.
A fool pulled links of pork sausages out of his throat, one at a time, numbering to the dozens as a man I recognized to be Magistrate Nam Bishe of the Liuxiayu District joked that he found where all the food the peasants were missing was, attracting a chorus of laughter.
A troupe of dancers performed in rhythm to "The Name Day Boy" on the opposite end of the Great Hall so their sound may not conflict with "Fair Maids of Summer" as Lady Lee-Wei scolded her husband, Kwon San, magistrate of the Nanshi district, for ogling one of the dancers for a few seconds longer than was respectful.
A pair of earth benders at the center of the hall performed a grand display meant to resemble the cunning and dramatic victory of the 46th Earth King over Chin the Conqueror, a fictitious series of events ignorant to the real history while the truth of the matter was that our 46th Earth King had hid behind his walls as his kingdom descended into hell, and now his great descendant did no different as he his behind his walls in his great palace as we all stood here in celebration of his 19th nameday.
And I was being expected to smile through it all.
I was the cultural minister of Ba Sing Se, and as such, it was my responsibility to ensure the continuation of our city's most valued traditions, even in times of great upheaval. I'd attempted to argue against it, protesting with the argument that there were better uses of our limited food stores, but, needless to say, I hadn't had much choice in making the decision at the end of the day.
Just stay as long as is absolutely necessary, I told myself. I had matters to attend to, ones of far more importance than managing cleanup when this whole spectacle eventually came to end after enough hours that most people would feel the king's eyes had met their enough times for them to have left a lasting impression.
None of them did, or would, but that was hardly important to me. Such trivialities as this helped to assure them of their place in this crumbling society, and if it meant keeping them from starting a fight within our city while we already had enough on our hands as things were with putting down a peasant rebellion, then so be it. I'd do what was necessary to keep what we had left together.
But that didn't necessarily mean I wanted praise for this.
"Long Feng!" I heard a voice that I recognized call out for me. Sure enough, the man speaking to me as he approached me was Chenbre Brai-Dee, magistrate of the Danhai and Hequcun districts, the latter having been obtained after the rather untimely lynching of Hequcun's prior magistrate, Ook Hong-Li.
I didn't attempt to escape into a crowd, knowing that some encounters were simply unavoidable, and so appropriately braced myself for his arrival as he approached with a woman on his arms, not the old wife of his that I knew by the looks of her, quite possibly a new spouse whose wedding I hadn't bothered to attend, a mistress of his, or just as likely, a simple serving girl who didn't know how to say 'no.'
"I'm glad to have caught you!" Chenbre said, releasing hold of the woman to allow him to bow as his woman curtsied in kind. I bowed in response. "I believe you've met before a few years back. This is my sister, Irah. Irah, Cultural Minister Long Feng."
"Irah?" I asked in surprise. "I hardly recognized you. The last I saw you, you must have been less than half as tall. How old are you now?"
"Fifteen, my lord."
"But don't get any ideas," Chenbre said with a chuckle. "She's spoken for."
I gave him the benefit of the doubt and chose to assume he didn't mean himself.
"Irah," Chenbre added, turning to his sister. "You can go. I'll find you when you're needed."
She nodded and walked away, sent off by a pat on the back from her brother who now turned to me, reassuming the massive grin on his face.
"I wanted to tell you that this," he gestured to the hall. "All of this, just, wow. Even in these precarious times, you really do know how to ensure the continuity of our greatest traditions."
"Nothing compared to the king's 16th nameday, if you remember it."
"Oh I do. I'm not that old, Cultural Minister." he chuckled. "I remember being jealous that my own 16th was hardly a fraction as grand."
"Hardly a fair comparison, don't you think?" I said.
"Of course not," Chenbre said. "But I was 18 at the time and believed myself a great dragon ready to swoop in and claim my place in the world."
"And now?" 21 years was hardly much older and much wiser. I hardly would have imagined these last 3 years to be particularly formative for the man in front of me.
"And now I'm content with being a fish."
"A fish?" I asked, surprised.
"Storms come and go, Whaling ships pass right over, and I keep swimming."
"A fitting mindset for times such as these," I said.
"Certainly did me well following the tragedy that befell Hong-Li, may he be one with his ancestors now. I hear it's you I have to thank for bringing his murderers to justice?"
That they had, my Dai Li agents having had a far easier time operating in the districts not yet lost to the rebels, able to find these actors quickly enough, turning them over to General How's forces the day after to be hung in public view, but only after interrogation from my agents revealing that they'd received a tip on how to find and kill the magistrate. Unfortunately enough for me, the tip had been an anonymous one, from where it came untraceable.
"We couldn't let those murders roam free," I said.
"I couldn't agree more," the man said. "But I'm sure you'll agree that a more subtle touch has its own benefits, not that those military brutes would know. What the lion cannot reach, the snake does."
This man really did know precisely what to say to try to appease me. His only shortcoming was failing to see that I was hardly in the mood to be flattered by anybody this night.
"I didn't think a fish concerned himself with what happened on land."
"A fish has its eyes on its head so it may always know what happens above. For instance, when I saw that my neighboring district was in desperate need of assistance, I stepped in. Now the district is secure from rebel influences, and my tax income is expected to nearly double."
"But fish who swim in a school find themselves staying in a school unless they break free, do they not?" I asked, growing frustrated with the animal allusions. "Your sister will be of age soon. Should she bear a son, there'll be a demand for your estate to be split between you and him."
Chenbre smiled. "You let me worry about that. Don't forget that the tiger shark is himself a fish, but one not afraid to act. Now come on, you laid out this grand meal for us. Let us enjoy it!"
Chenbre would go his own way from that point, much to my relief.
I didn't have much of an appetite, but nonetheless, eating something would help the time go by faster.
Kuei had already "cut" the first slice of meat off of the flank of the badgermole being served as the primary course of the event. By "cut," I meant that he had held the knife and posed long enough with it to convince the crowd and himself that cutting through the thing threads of fat and artificial leather constituted him piercing through the thick hide of such a grand creature.
A badgermole's hide was near impossible to penetrate with a simple carving knife, but every King before Kuei had managed to cut through the great beast and serve up the meal to his guests, and every cultural minister before me had been sure to properly preemptively cut through and redress the exact place it was customary for all Earth Kings to cut through in a show of their divinely-wrought strength to the masses.
The crowd had cheered, of course, while Earth King Kuei had begun his meal and the rest of the badgermole was brought to the kitchens to be actually cut through so it may be distributed.
Even now, a good hour after that initial cut, a good half of it still remained. By night's end, perhaps a third of it would still be left, while a good quarter of the entire food store for the night would remain.
And it would all be fed to the horses and dogs.
It was "bad practice" to feast on leftovers. Some previous kings had been gracious enough to distribute the leftovers to the lower districts, but this year, in light of the fact that the commoners were in open revolt, Honang had judged it to be in "poor taste" to, as he put it, "reward them for their troublesome nature."
I found some finger foods that would help the time go by, choosing a spring roll that I could hardly taste, just glad to have chewing on something as an excuse to, for a minute or two at least, not converse, but instead just watch the gifts that were being presented at the King's feet.
There was a bejeweled golden goblet presented to him by the refugee magistrate of the Emerald district that Kuei would drink from once and never touch again.
There was a diamond-forged sword with a golden hilt presented by General Sung, claiming he himself had used it in the battle of Tanyuan in his younger years, quite the claim for a man who'd only been eleven years of age at the time of this battle's happening, the closest relative of his to have fought there being a second cousin who was slain in battle prior to the entire territory being occupied by Fire Nation forces.
I leaned back against a table, and watched, wondering if, having finished one spring roll, I might grab another to maintain an appearance of being too busy to talk.
My indecision would be my downfall, however, as conversation quickly found me. To my pleasant surprise, however, it would be one who shared as much a disdain for these proceedings as me–General Hondu.
"Do you believe this," he asked.
"Of course not," I said. "Sung was never in any such battle."
General Hondu scoffed, the two of us knowing that was not what he was asking about. "So a little pageantry really is all it takes to convince people that everything is alright. So even as cultural minister, misinformation still is your job, isn't it?"
It wasn't insulting. At the very least, not insulting towards me. Towards our circumstances, perhaps, but not towards me personally. Something about suffering equally at the hands of blinded leadership created a bond that could only be described as equitable commiseration.
"I haven't seen General How here. Is there a reason for his absence that I should know about?"
General Hondu turned his head to study me, intrigued. In the past, I imagined he never would have bothered to tell me the reason for such a thing, but a lot had changed in the last couple of months of trying and failing to hold this city together by the skin of our teeth. Working against each other had accomplished nothing, it seemed, and so, he spoke.
"Winter is ending," Hondu said. "A thaw is coming, and the General is convinced that the Fire Nation will be making another attempt on the wall."
"The Dragon of the West hardly has the men or equipment for another attempt," I said.
"He's received reinforcements and new equipment from the islands. Nowhere near as much as what they had before, but they're concentrated now, pooling their efforts together, and between where we were and they were three months ago, only one of us is better off, and it's not the city on the verge of civil war."
"You still have two divisions manning the wall," I said, now trying to convince myself more than him.
"And mass defections. The men are hearing what's happening in the lower city. At least one in five men over the last month have tried to sneak away to return to their families and help them, loyalists or rebels alike. How wants his men on the wall not just for the defense, but to maintain discipline too, stop these defections from continuing."
"And?" I asked, sensing a "but."
"But with the King so determined to use his military to quash a rebellion that's already gotten out of control, I'm not anticipating much. He allowed How to leave on the condition his men remain here. Under my command."
"Congratulations," I said in half-jest, answered in kind by a half-scoff. "Let me guess, Honang's orders?"
Hondu nodded his head. "Guess somebody needs to clean after the mess he made of things. I'm…sorry things didn't pan out the way they should have."
"Don't be. We tried. Now all we can do is try to mitigate the damage."
"And how well is that going?"
"You're asking me?"
"You're the one who has agents with eyes and ears everywhere. I'm a simple soldier. All I can tell you is that in the last month, I've lost more men under my command to defections and rioters than to the Fire Nation over the course of the last year during this damned siege. So tell me, Long Feng, are we losing as badly as a commoner as myself thinks we are, or is there a silver lining that I haven't noticed?"
"If there is," I said, "then I haven't seen it. Those streets are a warzone. I'm having a hard enough time maintaining my network in the districts we still control, much worse where fighting is actively going on."
"So the longer we fight in here, the more people I lose, and the less you're able to do your job. Spirits, I'm half tempted to suggest we just cut our losses, leave them to the outer districts."
And would that really be the worst thing? I wondered. I had to consider all angles. There were hundreds of thousands of people in the outer districts. How many would die if our men were simply to abandon them? Less than if we continued fighting there, I imagined. But then what? We cut off food and let them starve out there? Isn't that what we've been doing already?
"Spirits," I muttered quietly to myself. I wouldn't be met with a response. Hondu's attention was elsewhere.
I heard him scoff. "Was wondering how long it'd take for the interesting presents to show up."
I looked up to see what he was referring to. Sure enough, now before the King and Grand Secretariat Honang by his side, was Magistrate Chenbre and, beside him, Irah. She was the gift. I almost wanted to laugh in disbelief. That clever bastard. Offer his sister into concubinage, win prestige for himself, strip her of her title and claims as well as those of any children she should bear, and remove any competition for his holdings.
"And the tiger shark swims," I muttered under my breath.
"What was that?" General Hondu asked.
"Nothing," I said.
"Well," the general said, pushing himself off of the table. "I suppose I should follow suit. Don't want to keep our dear King waiting."
"You brought gifts?" I asked.
"Of course. I don't want any Dai Li agents coming after me for failing to honor our valuable traditions."
I let out a soft chuckle as Hondu asked, "What about you?"
"The King's a young man of nineteen years. Finding what he wants isn't particularly complicated."
"Well, as long as you have sister to sell off that is,"
I smiled at the jest, nodding for Hondu to leave and enter the queue.
At around that same time, Honang would lean over and whisper something into the King's ear, to which he received a nod approving of whatever he said. I had a good idea of what it was, the Grand Secretariat likely setting out to prepare his own gift for the King. Were Kuei married, it would be his wife, and, had he kids, them as well to be the last to present the king with his gifts, but seeing as how he currently had neither, that fell to his right hand.
And so the grand secretariat would temporarily leave the King's side to prepare whatever gift he had, but not before approaching a number of other guests that would eventually conclude with myself.
In the time before then, however, I would have the pleasure of witnessing Hondu's approach to the Earth King's throne where he would present him with a massive book of text that must have been at least a third of a meter thick.
It was a full military history of the conquests of Chin the Conqueror, a gift Keui would cite in his thanks as being one of insight and wisdom, but as indicated to me by a brink wink from the general as he left, was more than that. The less the King knew of that, however, the better.
In time, Grand Secretariat Honang's round tour of the throne room would reach me.
"Quite the spectacle, is it not?" the grand secretariat asked.
"A spectacular waste of time and resources, yes," I agreed.
Honang chuckled. "You disagree with my decision to still hold this event."
"It is not the spectacle I disagree with so much as the expenditure. We don't have it in our coffers to make up for this loss."
"You let the financiers worry about that."
"I'm worried about it."
There was a pause. "Tell me then, Long Feng. Where do you think our expenditures should be going?"
"For one, choose between the enemy at our gates or on our own streets. Not this pageantry. Is the King aware of the situation in the lower districts?"
"He has been informed of your successful operations to root out dissidents in the Hequcun district."
"As for our losses of the others?"
"The King doesn't need to be informed of such things."
So the magistrate involves the king when it'll rile his support against Hondu and me such as in the affair pertaining to the now dead magistrate Chang Pusuwan, but not when doing so would be indicative of the grand secretariat's failures. I supposed the truth didn't cut both ways after all.
"And the purpose of this senseless misdirection?"
"It's far from senseless. Oftentimes, an illusion of order and peace is just as effective as order and peace themselves. For both the King, as well as his people."
"Do you plan on telling that to those getting killed in the lower districts?"
"They're insignificant," Honang said. "It'll blow over. And once they realize they have no food, no weapons, no able bodies to continue their petty rebellion, they'll lay down their arms."
The same way that they would bend the knee when we executed their ringleader?
Honang turned his head to face me, my doubt not exactly unapparent. "You and General Hondu have been collaborating on containing this threat. So what's your recommendation on how to proceed?"
What are you playing at? I wanted to ask. It was clear that the Grand Secretariat had no interest in the recommendations of the police or the military regarding how to approach security threats to this city, clearly thinking himself smarter than the both combined. Why bother, then? He wouldn't heed whatever it was we had to say. The odds were just as good, in fact, that he'd find some way or other to stand in the way, ensure that it was him and only him who'd get the job done.
So why say the truth? Why tell Grand Secretariat Honang how I planned to save this city, save our people, win this fight? As far as I was concerned, his job began and ended at ensuring the internal stability of the Earth King's realm, and in that, he'd already failed.
It was like he said, misdirection was purposeful, and so I said what he would have wanted to hear.
"There's not much more we can do as it stands. Dai Li and military forces will continue to collaborate in holding the line against these rioters. If starving them out is our only chance by holding them in place, it's what we'll do."
"Very well," the grand secretariat said. "I leave matters of security to your and General Hondu's capable bands."
And with that, he patted me on the shoulder, and left, and just in time too as emerging from the great doors of the palace was a moving platform being carried by a half dozen servants to either side. This, certainly, had caught the King's eye, without a doubt more than a book he would never make it past the first twenty pages of.
The platform being moved was ornamented with jewels, metallic trims, and, interestingly enough, golden rails.
On top of the platform was, surprisingly, a single box made of wood, and on either side of it, small holes.
The platform would be dropped off before the King's throne as Honang would order those in the immediate vicinity to back away as he himself approached, demanding the floor for himself.
"My King," he said. "In these troubled times of conflict and disorder, it is essential that we remember what strength is. Strength cannot be viewed as simply a concept, an ideal. It is something that must be embodied, and is embodied by you, or King, preserving the legacy of those who came before, destined to lead us out of these dark times. What better show of your strength, than a mastery of the world around you? What better show of your strength, than by taming the untamed? My King, allow me to present this gift to you."
The pageantry aside, Honang would now motion two of his servants forward who would approach the box and, accordingly, open it.
Everybody craned their head to look, but it would be a few seconds until they'd see anything until, finally, a single furred paw made its way out of the box's threshold. And so followed a snout, and a head of equally brown fur, revealing as it stepped out, a small baby bear.
Reactions were mixed across the throne room. Some wives urged their husbands to step back and stay with them as others approached closer out of curiosity.
The King himself, he was difficult to read. His eyes were wide, and he stepped up from the throne, clearly curious as to what was before him. Curious as to how to proceed.
"He is yours, your grace," Honang assured him.
The Great Hall was silent, watching in anticipation as the King made his first steps down the stairway, one at a time.
The bear cub remained in place, looking curiously around the hall as it seemed just as curious about what was going on as the hundreds of pairs of eyes staring back at him.
As Kuei approached closer, however, the cub turned towards him. No doubt at least half of the Great Hall was curious to know how this would pan out, but Honang was not one of those, and nor was I. I knew a trained animal when I saw one, and so all it took was for Kuei to kneel down before the bear and outstretch a hand for the cub to approach, sniff, and become his.
The Hall cheered in enthusiasm, yet another testament to the King's strength, all eyes focused on him, and none on me. It was a good a time as any to leave, and so I did, leaving the Hall to the joy, the King to his new pet as he now embraced the tiny cub, and Honang to another victory, the King sinking further into his own pockets with every passing day.
Even beyond the doors of the great hall I could still hear their incessant chattering. It would go on for a while yet, likely into the early hours of the morning. I would sneak back home with the rest of them, but until that hour came, I would work on whatever I could, and begin sorting out what needed to be done, away from Honang's prying eyes.
Back in my office, however, upon opening its door, I would be met with a sight I wouldn't have normally anticipated for this early hour. The sight of Joo Dee was common enough, but her packing up for the night, already, that wasn't. I'd grown accustomed to her pulling all nighters, blending one work day into another with simply a brief nap spent atop 4 chairs she'd push together.
That wasn't to say I was upset that wasn't the case tonight, but an early departure such as this,-
"Joo Dee?" I asked, curiously as I closed the door behind me.
"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Long Feng! Sorry, I…I thought you were at the King's nameday festivities."
"I was," I said. "I decided my presence was no longer needed there. I see you've determined the same."
"I uhhh-I didn't mean it like that, I-"
"I'm teasing," I reassured her, realizing then that perhaps joking wasn't my strong suit.
"Oh," she said, relieved, clearing a loose strand of hair from her face. It was easy to forget sometimes how pretty she was when she spent most of her day hunched over the same desk meticulously poring her way through one document after another to help me keep this mess contained as much as humanly possible, but times like this, I remembered. "I'm sorry," she said again. "It's just that…Fihe is back in town on temporary leave and I want to see him before he's off again. I would have waited for you to come back so I could ask, but I wasn't sure when-"
"It's fine, Joo Dee," I said, trying not to let my mind linger on the thought of her and her husband together tonight. "But even when Fihe's been back before, you've never quite been this eager to leave. Don't tell me work is finally starting to bore you."
That, at least, she properly identified as a tease, and so she smiled. "No," she chuckled. "Nothing like that."
"An anniversary then?" I continued. "I'd get a gift, but-"
"No," she laughed again. "Not that either."
It was around then that I noticed what her hand was doing. The one that wasn't fixing her hair. I wasn't sure if it was meant deliberately as a clue for me or perhaps an intrinsic instinctual action, but it'd found its way down her torso to where it rested now on her belly.
And so I put two and two together, even though it took me a moment of pause more than it should have.
"O-oh," I said. "You…you're,-"
"Yes!" she smiled, positively beaming, the biggest smile I've seen on her face since the day I hired her for the job.
"Co-congratulations," I said, knowing there was nothing else to say, and she took that as her cue to close the divide between us and wrap her arms around me in a hug. I hugged back, knowing it was the only right response in a moment like this, my head still spinning at the thought of it. "When did you?" I asked, still in her arms. "When did you find out?"
"A week ago?"
"And you're only telling me now?"
"Don't complain," she laughed. "I know secrets are your strength and all, but I didn't want you to know too long before Fihe."
She hadn't told him yet. I naturally pulled away from her and looked at her face, realizing that she wasn't making that up. So tonight, she-what am I doing still hugging her?
I pulled away, retreating immediately to my desk, digging through the drawer where I knew I would find what I was looking for.
Seeing my haste quickly enough, Joo Dee would ask, still laughing, "What are you doing?"
"You think I'm sending you home empty-handed? You need a gift!"
"You don't need to do that," she said, still chuckling to herself, but I was insistent, already digging through my drawer for pre-filled pouches of gold typically used to curry favor with public officials whenever they proved uncooperative. No, Joo Dee knows about these pouches; that'd send a bad message.
"Just give me a second," I said as I closed the drawer. "Just let me-" but before I could do anything more, she stopped me right where I was, holding down my hand on the desk with her own, her face looking up at me, a perfect smile right there.
"All I need from you," she said. "Is to be happy for me. That's enough. Are you happy for me?"
I was. I felt my face flush. In those seconds, there was nothing else in the world. There was no king celebrating his nineteenth nameday, brushing the fur of a cub he'd led himself to believe responsible for the taming of. There was no Grand Secretariat pulling his strings as he slowly claimed this kingdom for himself. There was no rioting on the streets, there was no army at our gates, war being fought drawing on to a century of a length.
There was only her and me in that room, and I was happy. I was happy, and I was miserable. Her face looking up at mine, inches away, perfect in every way, I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to be the man she was coming home to. I wanted to be the real reason for that smile on her face. I wanted her; I wanted everything about her, and I could have none of it except for this moment, and I knew that the moment she was gone from this office tonight, only the despair would remain, but in this moment, yes, I was happy.
"I am," I smiled, and so did she.
"Good."
And she elevated herself the few inches that standing on her toes would allow, and kissed me on the cheek.
"I'll be here first thing tomorrow."
I wanted to grab her by the wrist and stop her from drawing away. I wanted to call for my guards to bar the exit of anybody from this office. I wanted the rioters at our walls to breach through into the middle and upper exits, for this palace, this office to be the only safe place in the world so I could keep her here with me, but none of those things would happen. There was nothing I could have done to keep her here. She was going home now, to the man she loved, and to the father of her child.
She looked back at me one last time from the door, smiled, and like that, she was gone. She was happy. She was in the middle of a city that was burning from the edges, but she was happy. And to her, that was all that mattered.
That couldn't change. Not for anything. This city would stand. For the sake of her, for her family, for her child, I couldn't let this city fall. And if that meant doing what needed to be done to keep it standing, I would. I knew already what needed to be done, but a mother would do anything without limit to keep her child safe, and so this could be no different. I would keep this city, those living inside of it, those I cared about, safe as well. And if I needed to get my hands dirty to do it, then so be it.