Since their first "customer" the previous day, Iroh, Zuko, and Katara served tea to an ever-increasing number of foreigners. It seemed that, as with most who tried it, Iroh's incredible tea had won them over to the point they filled every table, and a queue had formed outside. These were the "Ruskians," as made evident by their green uniforms and penchant for herbal teas, which seemed to be the only thing they ordered, and Iroh quickly recognized he was starting to run out of ingredients. "It seems I'll need more hands," he mumbled as he carefully adjusted the heat on the pot of boiling herbal tea, the last of several he was working on. As with everything he did, he took his time, bending the fire and swooping it around the pot at just the right temperature and intensity to boil the tea to the correct level before he cooled it and passed it to Katara or Zuko to serve their many guests. However, as he turned to finish the other pots, he suddenly heard a commotion from the serving area, followed by loud cheers echoing through the small building.
"А вот и нашему полководцу,
нашему собственному великому князю Николаю,
завоевателю и герою нашей великой Империи!
Пусть долги годы его служения Отечеству,
за веру и Царя он смело идет вперед!"
Once the song and cheering ended, Zuko rushed into the back, a shocked look on his face. "Uncle, we have more guests," he told him.
"What was that all about?" Iroh asked while checking that the tea hadn't boiled over while he was distracted. "And what's this about new guests?" he asked over his shoulder.
"I don't know, but they seem important. When was the last time you saw soldiers greet someone with a song?" Zuko asked before leaving back into the serving area.
That caused Iroh to pause. After all, as a senior officer, he knew it could only be someone they respected. So, after putting out the stove once the tea finished, he followed his nephew.
As Nikolai and the other senior commanders, along with the young girl who seemed to always be with General Alexeev, entered the unassuming establishment, they entered to the cheers of jubilant soldiers and officers.
"And here's to our commander,
Our own Nicholas Asimov,
Conqueror and hero of our great Empire!
Long may be his years of service to the Fatherland,
For the faith and Tsar, he boldly goes forward!"
He smiled at the praise, though his thoughts were elsewhere, and he barely acknowledged as a group stood up and gestured to their table before departing. Once seated, his mind returned to the meeting. Of course, Nikolai had faith that things would pan out, but even with his short meeting with Long Feng, the Grand Duke knew not to trust his word. He saw it in his eyes: the man was a snake. "Excuse me, may I take your order?" he stirred from his thoughts and turned to find a charming young woman with tan skin and bright blue eyes dressed in obvious waitress attire beside his table.
"Why certainly, Young Lady," he nodded. "I would like some turmeric tea, please," he ordered before turning to the others. "And what about you, gentlemen?"
"I'll have Ginger, please," said Boskovsky.
"I would like the same, Miss," added Alexeev before turning to the girl sitting shyly beside him. "What about you, Tiya?"
"Oh, uh, I think I'll have what he's having," she replied quickly, seemingly snapping out of whatever stupor had come over her. Likely due to what she had seen while they were crossing through the field.
The girl blinked before shaking her head and allowing the other commanders to place their orders. Once she finished, she nodded and headed to another table, leaving the men to converse. But that was until a portly man with a grey beard and a balding head walked up to them with a kind smile filling his features. For whatever reason, the elder Grand Duke swore he looked familiar, especially his striking amber eyes. "Hello, gentlemen, welcome to the Jasmine Dragon. (former Pao's Teahouse) How may I help you?"
"I'm not certain, Sir, seeing as we already placed our order," Nikolai replied politely, eyeing him as he did. "Are you the owner of this establishment?"
The man paused for a moment before nodding. "Yes, that I am."
As Iroh stared at the group seated before him, he already could tell his nephew was correct: these men were indeed the commanders of the Ruskians. He could see it in their eyes and countenance, hear it in their voices and even witness it in their auras. Each bore the invisible scars of strife and battle but knew how to hide it well enough that only one who'd experienced it could understand. Which, of course, he did. After all, once upon a time, he'd have sacrificed entire divisions to stand where he stood now. Yet, much to Iroh's surprise, rather than their spirits being as dark and gloomy as his was before his son's death, there seemed to be an equal measure of something else- "I see," the tall bearded man replied, his calculating grey-blue eyes focused on him as if he were trying to recognize if he'd seen him before. "Well, I must say, despite this being my first time here, I am interested to see if what my men say is true."
"And what do they say?" Iroh asked, his face forming a polite veneer as he examined the man. Who was he? What business did he have in this place? Did his niece perhaps have something to do with this, or were they here for a separate end?
"They say this is among the best tea they've ever had, and as we have cause to celebrate, we thought we should see if the rumours are true," the Ruskian man replied coolly.
"And what are you celebrating?" he asked, trying to see what sort of person he was dealing with.
"I apologize, Sir. But alas, nothing is set in stone as of yet. Besides, you and the rest of the city shall see tomorrow," he formulated his response far more quickly than Iroh expected. "But, rest assured, good Sir, things will improve from here."
Iroh raised his brow skeptically. "How so?" he asked.
The man's features shifted, his eyes brimming with a steel resolve. "Because I will make it so, good Sir," he replied, with everyone else seeming to stop what they were doing and listen as his voice carried through the tea house. "I may have only entered this city this morning, but I know overcrowding when I see it, and the stench of a slum hangs in the air. I will not tolerate such characteristics in a Ruskian city."
And there was the answer he was waiting for. Of course, these men had made it further than he had by a vast margin. But if what he said was true, that this would be a Ruskian city, it could only mean one thing: Ba Sing Se, the last bastion of the Earth Kingdom, and one the Fire Nation had expended so many years and resources trying to take, had allegedly fallen in less than a week. However- "And what will happen once you take it? Won't the Fire Nation-"
The man blinked for a moment before smirking. "Hm. You needn't fear them," he said plainly, surprising Iroh.
"Why shouldn't I?" he asked sternly with a cocked brow. Of course, he didn't fear the Fire Nation itself. It was his homeland, after all. But if he were to keep his cover, he needed to keep up the act. Besides, he was interested in why this man appeared to dismiss the idea they would overtake him out of hand. He already suspected his niece was here, given that the last place they saw her wasn't so far away that she wouldn't have used her position to take charge of the army under General Chi if he recalled his replacement correctly. If she were, he found it highly unlike her that she would hand him the city without a fight-
"Well, if you must know, we concluded an agreement with the Fire Nation to ensure peace between our states," the man replied. "So, as I said, there is no need to worry."
Iroh remained skeptical but kept it to himself. "I see," he replied. "Now, might I know who I am speaking to?"
The man put a hand to his chin a moment before nodding. "I am Nikolai," he replied, pointing to himself before gesturing to him. It didn't surprise Iroh that he didn't add any titles or accolades. "Now, who might you be?"
"I am Mushi," he replied, using the horrible cover name his nephew came up with. The man stood up and outstretched his hand.
"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Sir," Nikolai stated as Iroh looked at his hand quizically. "It's a handshake, a formal custom of my people," he told him. Iroh had recalled seeing several Ruskians grasping each other's hands when they would greet. So, acting quickly, Iroh seized the man's hand, who shook it firmly before letting go. Much to Iroh's displeasure, despite Nikolai being someone of such high status, his hand was coarse, and his grip was painful. But not enough to cause open discomfort.
"Well, I think I can say the same," he said with a nod. As he did, Katara ran up to him.
"Can you come to the back? Some guys asked for a tea that I've never heard of," she whispered as she passed him and dropped off another group's refreshments.
"Well, I'm afraid I have to get back to work. It was a pleasure speaking with you," The former Prince said before turning and heading to the back room. As he departed, he took a moment to ponder what the future would bring. After all, if he was honest about making a deal with the Fire Nation, which he knew the man was. Then, Iroh would need to get himself and Zuko out of the city as soon as possible. As much as abandoning his new teashop may have hurt, he couldn't risk Zuko being taken and handed over to his sister. Yet, as he got further, his thoughts turned to Nikolai. While the others each bore the scars of war, he was the only one who gave him pause. He was a sharp man, one he knew better than to underestimate, especially since he knew so little about him, save the unwritten story his eyes told. Iroh recognized them, those eyes. They told a tale of loss, malice, and, most surprisingly of all, love and sincerity. Though, love of what, he could only guess.
After finishing the meeting, Ivan left for the Bulwark to check on Azula and the girls, with Pyotr volunteering to escort him. Once they left the Lower Ring, he decided to speak with Ivan to lighten his mood. "So, what happened in the meeting?" Pyotr asked as he rode alongside his friend.
"I don't think it would be wise to comment yet. It's too soon," Ivan replied. The older teen frowned in response.
"I see," he replied with a sigh. "But I assume I won't be capturing any more colours, will I?"
Ivan put a hand to his chin before shrugging. "I don't know, honestly. It depends on how the campaign carries on."
"I guess that makes sense," Pyotr acknowledged. "So, what do you plan on doing when we-" Ivan glared at him sharply, causing the man to raise a hand and lean back slightly. "Right, you're going to check on Azula?"
Ivan shook his head and stared forward, trying to keep his head clear despite all the noise of the approaching columns of Ruskian and allied infantry and cavalry. They soon bypassed the static siege line, the guns still as the artillerists sat idly nearby, presumably waiting for the order to resume their bombardment, an order which would hopefully never come. "Yes, unless the others get to me first. I'm sure Avgust must be fuming I didn't show up for muster," he said sarcastically. Despite his dower persona, he knew the man couldn't possibly be upset over what happened. After all, he was there, along with the others, when Azula fainted.
"I wouldn't blame him. Since I can imagine Colonel Marinkovsky having a fit if I left him as often as you leave your unit," he retorted with a smirk as Ivan shook his head, and the two chuckled afterward. It was nice to have a friend like Pyotr. After all, such banter helped to keep his thoughts away from his reason for going back.
"Indeed," Ivan replied, recalling the man's stern nature and short temper. "Though, now that you mention it, doesn't he have fits regularly anyway?"
Pyotr shook his head. "Not since the war started," he began, his voice turning quiet. "Losing a son can do that to a man."
Ivan's eyes widened in shock as his head wiped around to see Pyotr's eyes downcast, a frown on his face. "Really? He lost his son?"
Pyotr shook his head. "He died on the Bulgariyan front," he replied. "We were up North when it happened. The Colonel was devastated. He didn't leave his tent for a week."
Ivan sighed deeply. "It seems that's just how things are these days," he lamented.
"Indeed, my friend, indeed," Pyotr muttered softly, thinking of all the friends he'd lost. All those faces he would never see again, some of whom had perished upon the very ground he and his best friend were currently riding over. As the Captain thought it over, an old saying came to mind: Only young blood can run in the veins of a hussar. They knew what they'd signed up for, so why should he mourn for them? They were soldiers, and they'd done their duty. The only thing he could do was pray they found peace and paradise. Feeling slightly better, the man began to sing:
"The fields stretch ever on, and our campaign has just begun.
So we go on ahead to see the way is clear!
For we are the Life-Guards,
His Majesty's own Hussars!
The bold, the swift, the brave, is what we are!
For we are the Life-Guards,
His Majesty's own Hussars!
The bold, the swift, the brave, is what we are!"
He sang proudly, his head held high, and his chest puffed out as he recalled the spirit of his unit. However, unintended though it may have been, it also raised Ivan's mood as he joined in singing the second verse:
"Along the brush and treelines, we gallop to and fro.
Our sabres at the ready to meet the foe!
For we are the Life-Guards,
His Majesty's own Hussars!
The bold, the swift, the brave, is what we are!
For we are the Life-Guards,
His Majesty's own Hussars!
The bold, the swift, the brave, is what we are!"
When both finished, they shared a laugh, the two men nearly forgetting the stacks of bodies surrounding them as they caught sight of the Bulwark. "Ah! Thank you, my friend. Sometimes, I forget what a good song does for one's spirit!" Ivan cheered as Pyotr smiled, glad to see a little bit of Ivan's positive side shine through.
"I'm glad of it, Grand Duke. Now, let's see who can get there first!" Pyotr shouted, spurring Yelena onward as Ivan glared after him.
"HEY, THAT'S CHEATING!" Ivan cried, kicking his legs as his stallion got into gear. He may not have been as majestic as Adriel, but Grisha made up for it in sheer grit. "COME ON BOY!" If Azula were watching, she would probably scold him for such childish behaviour, yet, even after all these years, Ivan swore that, one day, he would finally beat his friend in a race. Unfortunately, today was not that day, as Pyotr maintained his lead until finally crossing the finish line as he dismounted and waited for him at the Bulwark's entrance.
"I win again," Pyotr stated once Ivan arrived.
Once the Grand Duke dismounted, he shook the dust from his uniform before his eyes settled on Pyotr. "You only won because I wasn't ready," he retorted.
"Oh, whatever," he replied with a dismissive wave before folding his arms. "Now, are we going to sit here and argue, or are we going to do what we came here for in the first place?"
Ivan sighed before entering, with the Hussar following behind him. Once they reached Azula's room, he was not surprised to see the girls sitting and watching over her, quietly speaking with one another in hushed tones before Ivan entered and cleared his throat. "Hello, ladies. I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Mai sighed. "Not really. We were having some girl talk-"
"Petr!" Ty Lee squealed as she practically lept on him once he entered, nearly knocking him over as she embraced him. "I'm so happy to see you!" she cried.
Pyotr turned to Ivan in confusion while the younger teen shook his head. "So, what happened with you? I heard your father took you with him to Ba Sing Se."
"Indeed he did. Though I'm afraid there's not much to share for the moment," Ivan replied as he walked over to the side of the bed and leaned his head down to check Azula's breathing, which came out healthier than yesterday. Leaning up, he turned to Mai. "Has anything changed while I've been gone?"
Rather than Mai, Ty Lee whipped her head around as she separated from Pyotr and allowed him a chance to breathe. "Nope, she's pretty much the same since yesterday. But I did hear her whisper something a little while ago," she said conspiratorially.
Ivan cocked a brow in question. "And what did she say?"
Ty Lee narrowed her eyes in a leering manner. "Wouldn't you like to know~?" she said with a mischievous grin.
Ivan cocked a brow. "What's that supposed to mean- You know what? Never mind," he said with a shake of his head before pulling up a seat and inspecting Azula's temperature. "She does seem to be a little cooler as well. Has the doctor been here?"
Mai nodded. "Yeah. But we only saw him leave."
Ivan nodded. "Thank you," he said. "And thank you for watching her. I would've gladly joined you if my father didn't require my presence."
Mai sighed. "It's not like we had anything better to do," she replied, slumping back in her chair.
"I see..." Ivan said as he stroked his chin, uncertain what else to say or do when-
"Your Imperial Highness?" asked Antonov in surprise as he arrived at the entrance. "I wasn't expecting you to be back so early."
Ivan took a moment to regard the young man holding a tea tray. "It is alright, Lieutenant," he replied as he walked to the door. "Now, what seems to be the matter?"
"I just thought the ladies could use some biscuits and morning tea," he replied, nodding to the tray in his hands. Ivan smiled and moved aside as he entered before Antonov placed it on a small ottoman that sat astride the bed and pulled it into the center of the room. As he did, the others gathered around and set out folding chairs around it before taking their seats. Afterwards, Ivan and Pyotr left to collect their breakfast from the kitchens, leaving the trio to themselves. "So... How did you sleep?"
As a patrol of Jagers rode just beyond the outer ring, one stopped as he caught sight of a short wall sitting at the base of the great wall, wrapping around like a bastion. "Hey, guys, are you seeing this?" he asked as his comrades halted their mounts and turned toward the strange object.
"Yeah, I see it," said the man closest to him while the last man in the group nodded.
"Well, why don't we investigate?" the first asked as the last man raised a spyglass to get a closer look. Slowly bringing it down, the man blinked several times before looking through it again. "Hey, what do you see?"
"A little girl," the man replied as the other two turned to him with cocked eyebrows. "I'm serious, Gregori! Look!" he said, handing it over to the first, who took hold and raised it to his eye.
"I don't-" and then he saw her, a little, raven-haired girl dressed in relatively plain clothes, slowly walking toward the structure, a tiny could of dust left in her wake. "I see her! Quick, guys!" Gregori shouted as he kicked his heels, spurring his stallion toward the girl as the others followed suit. "Hey, you, what are you doing out here!" he shouted once he got closer, and the girl stopped and turned toward him, her brow furrowing as he got closer.
"I just bent myself out of a tin can," she stated with a crack of her knuckles, much to the man's confusion. "Now, what's going on, and who are you? Your accent sounds funny."
The man felt taken aback by her attitude and the fact she didn't see that he was a foreigner until he looked closer and noticed her eyes were cloudy. "Are you blind?" he asked with a cocked brow.
The girl blew one of her bangs. "Yeah, so? I can see you well enough, though the thing you're riding on, I don't know."
Gregori blinked several times, trying to understand what she meant before shaking his head. "Well, either way, you didn't answer my question."
The girl crossed her arms. "And what's it to you? Are you a soldier or something?"
"Yes, I am Sargeant Yuenko. Now, where are your parents?" he inquired while dismounting once he determined the child was not a threat.
"Yuenko? What Province are you from?" she asked, something off about her voice.
"Khemcha Oblast," he replied instinctively, the girl's brow scrunching as she put a hand to her chin before shaking her head and chuckling.
"You'll have to do better than that, Ashmaker," she stated in a low voice, catching the soldier off-guard as she stamped her foot and bent a blunt spike of earth into his torso at breakneck speed, sending the man flying with an audible crack. The last thing he saw was the girl speeding off, and he faintly heard a scream, followed by the scampering of horses before he crashed to the earth, his chest in unimaginable pain. Then, all at once, his suffering ended, and his body fell limp. His final thoughts were of home.
After Toph dealt with the other two soldiers, she stopped to search them, hoping to find water, which, as luck would have it, they carried in metal containers. "Ah, that's better," she said after gulping down the final canteen, trying to ignore the sting in her chest when he'd asked if her parents were around. "Well, if these guys were here, I bet the Fire Nation managed to do something while I was away," she lamented after taking a breath. She could feel the warm water spilling down her chin, but she didn't care. She had to return and find Katara. However, after she'd searched them, she wasn't sure it was the Fire Nation. It could have been, but almost every time she fought them, they wore armour, which she could feel thanks to the extra pressure they exerted, yet these men felt much lighter, and their mounts had nothing in common with the animals she was familiar with. However, if she had been able to see, she would have noticed that Yuenko's uniform was torn open, and a small picture had slipped out, displaying him and a woman holding a newborn. "Well, no time to wait! I gotta find out what happened," she said as she used her bending to slide over to the wall before bending herself onto a platform and going up, leaving behind the soldiers' corpses as their mounts slowly returned to check on their riders.
Hey everyone. I know it's been awhile, but I should be able to finish a chapter per week again. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter, and as always, plase R&R, as I always apreciate the feedback. As for next chapter, well... Let's just say that things will begin to come together for the final climax of the 1st arc. So, tune in next time for GAang to start getting their act together.