Opulence coddles the frail, whereas hardship forges those who may even one day make and unmake kings.
The wind flattered the banners stamped with the sigil of the golden coin. A lone Dai Li stood atop the colossal wall, hands clasped behind his back, content to behold the setting sun. The spectacle is magnificent, perfectly complemented by the lavish architecture of the Upper Ring, indeed a vista reserved for the few. After all, this height is denied to the masses by both stone and decree.
Yet for all its height, even this man-made marvel could not sever humanity from the earth. Well, save for perhaps one or two exemptions.
Unlike the birds that claimed the heavens by nature alone, without external means, no human could ascend the skies.
The distant rasp of stone being carved grew steadily louder. The walls of Ba Sing Se towered above anything mankind had ever erected, and scaling them is also no trivial undertaking. The bastion's sheer surface offered little, forcing an Earthbending gauntlet into its body demanded not only labor, but obstinacy sufficient to defy the element's stubborn will. The climb itself is further an ordeal of attrition, draining strength with each agonizing inch. To falter midway would be disastrous, and most surely the Director would not wish to receive word of a trainee plummeting to his death.
The Dai Li leaned over the parapet, gazing inward toward the Upper Ring. All fourteen are still alive. That is fortunate. A need for rescue would be inconvenient, though far preferable to the alternative.
Every climber is exhausted, as expected. This trial is merciless, and none of the participants had yet reached adulthood. No sane parent would permit their child to attempt such a lethal ascent, yet such cruelty is the price demanded to forge the world's deadliest Earthbending masters.
The mind is malleable in youth, and the body no less so. Even iron, when struck often enough, could be bent into purpose. Most new aspirants within their order are orphans shaped by brutal, clandestine instruction since early childhood. Naturally, those initiated before their tenth year demonstrated superior mastery. Still, adolescence did not preclude greatness. Among this cohort of fourteen novices, a rare few had already revealed promise.
One climbed marginally ahead of the others, inching upward at a glacial pace. His limbs trembled, breath rasped through clenched teeth as sweat streamed down his face. Every grip inflicted pain as the tightening gauntlet crushed flesh against bone, raising blisters and tearing skin. And yet, through unrelenting agony, this apprentice reached the summit first.
The Dai Li observed in silence as the boy completed the ascent. With a final surge of spent muscle, the novice hauled himself over the ledge and collapsed beside the middle-aged man in his flowing robes. He lay sprawled upon the stone, lungs heaving, body so utterly spent that even standing is an impossible notion. It's as if each limb had surrendered to numb oblivion.
A wooden ladle was retrieved by the overseer and he dipped it into a nearby bucket, lifting a measured spoonful of water. The training was pitiless. But survival is mandatory as without was it, the whole ordeal would be meaningless. Having endured the same crucible in his own youth, he would show no leniency to the newcomers. Still, discipline required balance, as fairness and harshness alike must be dispensed with precision.
The water is offered on wooden ladle to the boy. There was no time for savoring as the boy gulped the water down, coughing as it burned its way into his throat.
"You have not displeased me, aspirant," the Dai Li said, his voice formal and devoid of any warmth. Such speech was deliberate, a means of excising sentiment that might interfere with duty to the state, particularly when instructing those destined to become future brocade guards. "Among your peers, none of your performance metrics have fallen below standard. I expect this level of progress to continue."
There was no praise in his words, just that they carried the weight of a warning rather than encouragement. Camaraderie was reserved for rare and specific circumstances. When addressing those of inferior rank, this measured neutrality is the highest form of courtesy permitted. Anything more would have been indulgent, perhaps even improper.
"T-thank you, sergeant," the teenager said while breathing uncontrollably.
The Dai Li sergeant overseeing the training is plainly distinct from the regular enforcers. Yellow silk tassels spilled from the finial of his headwear, draping over the brim of his helmet like ceremonial warnings. His office extended beyond the supervision of physical drills. The shaping of young minds is perhaps a greater burden entrusted to him.
They waited as the others gradually reached the summit. Many clutched their throats, desperate for water to soothe their parched mouths, lungs heaving after the punishing ascent. The sergeant regarded their sorry display without expression. When the boys were finally permitted to drink, he gathered their gauntlets, fusing them into a misshapen sphere of earth. With a casual shove, he pressed the mass into the wall where it vanished, absorbed seamlessly into the colossal structure.
"You lot are not the most pathetic bunch I've overseen," he said to the fourteen trainees.
It was no compliment, merely a severe form of approval marking them as passable, if not yet worthy of praise. Such detachment is typical of the cultural guardians, who hid their eyes beneath the shadowed brims of their helmets. Cold and impersonal though this relationship may be, the youths had no other figure to rely upon. Still, the sergeant lingered longer on the trainee who had finished last, his posture noticeably sterner. Loyalty is paramount, but competence is indispensable to the machinery of the state.
"You all still have much to learn," the instructor said, pacing before them. "Your duty will demand that you overcome threats far greater than the wall you just climbed."
The trainees sat on the ground together, young minds fixed upon every word.
"Feast your eyes," the instructor commanded.
Before them sprawled the vast expanse of Ba Sing Se. From atop the fortifications, the Upper, Middle and Lower Rings lay exposed in their orderly immensity, a vision of grandeur that dwarfed any onlookers. Never before had these youths stood at such a height, gazing upon the city's enormity. Yet this is no indulgent field excursion. There is a lesson to be drawn.
"You may believe these bastions, these so-called impenetrable walls, will shield the city from chaos and disorder," the instructor said evenly. "They will not."
The fourteen students did not exchange any uneasy glances, not even an ounce of confuse dares to manifest on those who have a different upbringing. None dared question the instructor as any who beheld the colossal walls of Ba Sing Se would be struck by their scale and thickness. In the past, any army foolish enough to assault them would be digging their own graves, often quite literally.
And yet, history told a less comforting story. Scholars knew better than to revere walls as absolute safeguards. Though they had repelled Chin the Conqueror, there were moments when these defenses failed, or rather, when those entrusted to defend them did.
"The greatest walls are only as invincible as the one who guard them," the instructor lectured on. "What use is a mighty weapon in the hands of fools?" He cited some fallen fortifications across the central Earth Kingdom, formidable structures brought low not by superior force, but by complacent and inept garrisons. His emphasis was unmistakable, even the strongest bulwarks could crumble from internal weakness. "The walls of Ba Sing Se create protection and order. But harmony cannot be maintained by stone alone. Loyal servants of the state must act decisively against dangers from within."
A trainee glanced down at his own blistered palm, momentarily lost in thought. The lapse was swiftly corrected by the sergeant's sharp gaze before the lesson pressed on.
"Remember this sight. Enemies within the city are many, and all must be brought to justice. Expect threats to arise from everywhere."
The trainees nodded.
All fourteen were then escorted down from the wall by the sergeant's Earthbending. The descent spared them further exertion as they stood upon a moving platform concealed within a turret, gliding downward as stone shifted and groaned around them. Silence prevailed as the instructor guided the mechanism, the grinding of earth filling the air while the youths mulled over his words.
When the platform reached the ground, the students filed out at the base of the bastion. Though the walls of Ba Sing Se loomed over every quarter of the city, another lesser barrier separated them from the wider city itself. Since their arrival, the trainees had been confined behind the high, austere walls typical of Upper Ring estates. The compound sealed to outsiders, so exclusive that even Upper Ring ministers and generals are rarely granted entry. To many of the youths within, the city beyond those walls remained distant and close, always within sight.
The only world these aspirants are mostly familiar with is none other than the grand headquarters of the Dai Li, located somewhere near the Inner Palace. A vast, walled network of compounds fused seamlessly to the Royal Palace's own fortifications, it stood sealed away from the rest of society. Countless unnamed structures lay within, their purposes known only to those who served. Though many citizens are dimly aware of its existence, it is not uncommon to glimpse figures scaling its walls in the midst of training, and few ever wished to know more. Those who attempted to peer too closely rarely retained the luxury of curiosity for long.
The instructor arranged the trainees into two immaculate files. Taking his place at the front, he led the small contingent across the training grounds toward one of the towering edifices where the next segment of their regimen awaited. The walk was long and punishing. Not a single trainee broke rank or voice as they marched, even as distant shouts echoed through the compound, chants born of Earthbending drills. Hands, when subjected to the mastery of secret techniques, often learned pain before precision. Despite their youth, each trainee was expected to command the clandestine arts of stealth and ensnarement. These skills are not merely intended for the apprehension of unruly civilians, but also the subjugation of fellow Earthbenders with equal rigor.
Little excitement ever stirred within these walls. The immense compound was governed by relentless discipline and unyielding instruction. The trainees were assured that their confinement was temporary. Hopefully one day, they would be permitted to cross the walls and step into the wider city.
For most of them, that day lay impossibly far in the future.
"Focus," the sergeant commanded in a deep, unforgiving voice. Without turning, he sensed one mind drifting. One trainee's gaze had strayed to a small bird perched atop the compound wall, its feathers stirring softly in the breeze.
The bird took flight the moment it realized it was observed. A pair of eyes followed its ascent with quiet longing, wondering where it might go beyond the wall. Against the immensity of Ba Sing Se's great bastions, this stone barrier is little more than a fragment. Yet most knew that placing even a single foot beyond it without sanction would invite severe punishment.
The group soon arrived at a vast central courtyard, one they were merely passing through. From here, brocade guards could be seen dispersing to their assigned duties. Senior members moved among them, predominantly middle-aged men whose presence felt even more elusive than that of ordinary Dai Li. It was widely believed that only the most loyal and ruthlessly efficient could ever ascend to such ranks. The Eastern Depot concerned itself with intelligence gathering and the suppression of sedition. The Western Depot devoted its efforts to eradicating heterodox doctrines and fringe spiritual movements deemed incompatible with the Earth Kingdom's many religions. Lastly, there is the Inner Palace Depot, supposedly stationed itself behind the Royal Palace walls and stood above the former two. As cultural guardians, its members oversaw the operations of the lesser depots, forged new brocade guards, and enforced an unwavering adherence to protocol. They also served as the main curators of priceless cultural relics, a sacred charge bestowed by the founder herself.
They crossed the courtyard in silence. Some trainees dared to lift their eyes toward a solitary wall etched with innumerable carvings. This time, their instructor permitted the distraction.
Before them stood the codified laws of the palace grounds, each rule carved meticulously into stone. All rendered in seal script, an ancient form of Earth Kingdom writing dating back thousands of years. The inscriptions admitted no ambiguity. Regardless of rank or tenure, every Dai Li are bound to obey them without exception. There are one thousand and one regulations in total, enforced with relentless precision. The trainees felt familiar tightening in their chests. Though some of them had been here for weeks, the anxiety stirred anew whenever they stood before the monument.
"Walls keep us safe. Rules instill order. Both are essential." The instructor declared. "Today, you will learn to obey these paramount stipulations so that you may understand how harmony within this city is truly maintained."
A small smear of blood beneath the austere wall of rules stood as a quiet testament to how easily punishment can incur. Someone, not long ago, had committed an infraction grave enough to warrant the infamous 'disciple whip'. Most offenders were lashed no more than twice, yet the pain is unspeakable. Wounds etched deep enough to linger long after the flesh had healed. For graver transgressions, death itself is not beyond consideration. The fortunate were granted lighter sentences of hours spent kneeling before the inscribed stone, copying its decrees until obedience seeped into muscle and memory alike.
"I expect your hands to mend quickly," the sergeant said to them all coldly. "The next phase of our schedule waits for no one."
The sergeant's authoritative bearing permitted no indulgence. The trainees' palms still throbbed from scaling the towering bastion, but the rigor of their regimen is indifferent to suffering. Among the Dai Li's elder ranks, such relentless indoctrination is deemed as vital as Earthbending prowess itself. To fashion these youths into the most lethal brocade guards the world had ever known, the mind had to be tempered in perfect accord with its purpose.
Sedition, as the old saying warned, knew no bounds.
…
Fourteen sat in disciplined silence within one of the countless classrooms hidden deep inside the network of compounds. Before each of them lay reading materials forbidden to the common citizenry. As juvenile members of the Dai Li, they are granted access to the organization's most clandestine archives, texts barred even to the most celebrated scholars of the Earth Kingdom, including those who had attained the rank of Zhuangyuan.
From the very first day, the warning had been unambiguous. To share even a fragment of these secrets with outsiders would invite consequences beyond imagination. This was no longer a matter of simple punishment. Collusion is a crime without negotiation, especially when the opposing party sought insight into the cultural guardians themselves, hoping to erode the foundations of the city. It is an irredeemable offense.
The instructor held the same volume as the trainees, prompting them to repeat each passage in unison. The text is a cornerstone of their instruction, detailing penal codes codified several dynasties prior. Though some regarded it as antiquated, many considered it eminently practical, for it also outlined certain legal procedures still enforced across the fragmented states of the warring realm today.
The sergeant lingered on a particular section, underscoring its gravity. Those who violated these statutes are the most severe offenders, threats not merely to Ba Sing Se, but to social harmony itself. Such enemies are abhorrent by nature, and their continued existence posed a danger to civilization throughout all four bending nations. To streamline judicial proceedings and guide the judgments of county magistrates, a list of ten supreme crimes had been compiled to designate those deemed unfit for society. It had endured largely unchanged for over a thousand years.
This is known as the Ten Abominations.
"Remember this, you novices, carve it into your skulls if you must," the instructor's voice rising only slightly. "Offenders of the first three articles are to be met with capital punishment. Any magistrate who fails to enforce this sentence will suffer the same fate, as will all who conspire with the seditionist."
The trainees began their recitation, committing each line to memory as their instructor prepared to expound upon every point. Their voices merged into a single, mechanical cadence.
The first crime on the list is Plotting Rebellion.
"This is the most heinous of all offenses," the instructor emphasized heavily. "Outlaws and rebellious generals are alike in their wanton ambition. They seek to usurp the state and erect their own dominion, driven solely by self-interest, sowing chaos among the populace. Such creatures in the pages of history and the ones alive are beyond redemption. Remember this, a household has its parents, and a nation has its ruler. No state can benefit from rebellion. It is a tragedy that beyond our city's walls, such abominations flourish unchecked."
The second offence the student recited is Plotting Great Sedition. It encompassed all who sought to damage or defile royal temples, ancestral tombs, or imperial palaces. In ancient Earth Kingdom belief, such acts of vandalism are not merely crimes of stone and mortar, but the casting of a malignant curse upon the sovereign. As initiates destined to become cultural guardians, the trainees were taught that no restraint are permissible when confronting such disorder. One of the central pillars of the Dai Li's mandate is the preservation of the Earth Kingdom's irreplaceable heritage, a duty whose gravity could not be overstated.
The third offence is more barbed still, and the instructor made no attempt to gloss over it. Their order remained infamous for this particular stain upon its history. It is Plotting Treason. Those who defected to an enemy state while betraying clandestine national secrets are to be put to the executioner's cleaver without exception. A traitor, they are reminded, is far more contemptible than any foreign foe.
"What would you do," the sergeant asked abruptly. "If I committed treachery against Ba Sing Se?"
Silent confusion rippled through the hall. Not a single hand was raised. The instructor surveyed the room. Of the fourteen trainees present, each had expected nothing more than the rote recitation of laws and doctrine. The mere prospect of independent judgment lay well beyond their expectation of the lesson.
The sergeant called out one name, fixing his gaze on the boy seated at the rear.
"Answer."
It was not a request. It was an order issued by a cultural guardian. A brocade guard possessed the authority to execute without trial. The boy could not refuse, yet his reply had to be measured, to anger a Dai Li was an outcome best avoided.
The trainee rose slowly to his feet as the others watched in tense silence, pitying his misfortune at having been singled out. After a long pause, he finally forced the words from his mouth.
"I would kill you," the teenager said without reservation.
A quiet shudder passed through the class. Several students paled slightly, yet the instructor's expression appeared appeased by the answer.
"Correct," he said. The trainee is soon permitted to sit. Nothing seemed could deter the sergeant from impressing upon them the absolute necessity of punishing those guilty of any among the Ten Abominations.
The litany continued. The instructor had already declared that the first three offences are punishable by death, which explained the marked brevity with which he addressed the remaining seven.
There is, after all, a very practical reason.
The fourth offence is Parricide, encompassing the harm of one's own kin. The trainees are reassured that their likelihood of ever committing such a crime are negligible. They exist to punish offenders, not to become them. In truth, few of them even knew their relatives. One could hardly destroy what in any meaningful sense, did not practically exist.
The fifth is Depravity, a broad charge encompassing acts of moral corruption. The murder of innocents by criminal elements are deemed both unjustifiable and a direct affront to the authority of the state. While such crimes are likewise punishable by death, they are typically handled by city patrol officers, armed guards of a lower rank than the elite Dai Li. However, recent rumors of strange disembowelments and unorthodox sorcery in the Lower Ring had drawn the attention of the more specialized Western Depot. Heterodox spiritual practices are to be persecuted without respite. Only sanctioned and recognizable beliefs, native or imported, are permitted to endure.
The sixth offence is Great Irreverence. Disrespect toward the Earth Monarchy is of course intolerable. Still, the instructor conceded that this particular statute had grown somewhat antiquated. He urged the trainees instead to focus on lesser scoundrels who sought to profit from royal authority, charlatans who stole sacrificial relics, forged imperial decrees, or otherwise disrupted public order. There remained, he remarked with disdain, an alarming number of fools in this world who continued to venerate a family of imbeciles.
The seventh offence is the Lack of Filial Piety. Reverence toward one's parents is a virtue held in the highest regard within both Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation tradition. To behave improperly during the mourning of a deceased parent is considered indecent and morally suspect. Such individuals may not be seditionists at first, but how can a self-respecting state be expected to tolerate those who cannot even demonstrate loyalty to their own progenitors?
The eighth offence is Discord. Conflict with one's spouse or elder relatives violates the carefully cultivated harmony of Ba Sing Se. Stability must be preserved at every level of society, and this obligation extends even to the smallest and most intimate institution, the family unit.
The ninth offence is Unrighteousness. This transgression is broad in scope, yet many scholars interpret it as encompassing acts of grave insubordination. The murder of one's mentor or the assassination of a local county magistrate all falls squarely within its bounds. The instructor emphasized that should a Ba Sing Se soldier slay his unit general without proper justification, the offender must face the full weight of consequence, without exception.
The final rule is perhaps the most abhorrent, for it addresses the basest impulses of humankind. The morally transgressive act in question is Incest. Specifically, fornication with the wives or concubines of one's relatives is utterly inexcusable. It is a shameful reality that in certain aberrant cases, the Dai Li are compelled to deal with such unsightly degeneracy. The instructor noted that this offence also encompasses adultery. However, the suppression of sedition against Ba Sing Se remains the state's highest priority. Other states, such as Omashu and their legions of pedantic Earth Sages, would obviously prioritize correcting moral fallings above the more dangerous elements to the state.
"Enforce punishment with rigor, yet always exercise judgment," the instructor reminded them. "Each of you are bound by the same standards. The consequences for treason spare no one, neither noble blood nor the remnants of a deposed dynasty."
Naturally, even the staunchest decree would invite dangerous curiosity.
"Sir, are there any exceptions to these laws?" asked one of the fourteen.
"For us, none," the instructor harshen his tone. "But for those who wish to skew morality and law to their own sanctimonious way to excuse the inexcusable, there is another legal framework known as the Eight Deliberations. It merely exists to mitigate punishment for royals, nobles, and select members of the Upper Ring. Though I am not inept enough to endorse this code, many of such privileged exemptions are naturally derived from the ancient rites proclaimed by the first Grand Earth Sage. Those afforded such treatment are at the very least spared capital punishment. We will examine this flawed doctrine, which is still applied to other states in this era, in a different lesson."
The fourteen trainees gathered their meagre belongings and filed out of the classroom in silence. The instructor remained by the doorway, motionless until the space was emptied. Only then did he depart.
This institution is like a perpetual cycle, repeating itself across generations. With its long history of forging eyes and ears in for the city's shadow, even the stools and tables bore the weight of age. One day, these students would become the same cogs, perpetuating the vast mechanism conceived by its original architect.
Of course, although the instructor is pleased with one of his pupil's response about how one should deal with seditionists, the spilling of traitorous blood can go both ways if the situation demands it.