"And you… ahem. I'd better keep quiet—otherwise I might go straight from the awards ceremony to a court-martial."
"Ahem," the admiral pretended not to understand what I was getting at, "then I won't tell you about the second part just yet. You'll see for yourself tomorrow at the ceremony. Here—" he handed me a bundle, "your dress uniform. You'll wear it for the ceremony. An honor guard will be waiting for you at the gangway at ten in the morning."
"Hey, old man, what are you plotting now?" The paranoia that had only just calmed down promptly put its tinfoil hat back on.
"I have absolutely nothing to do with it," the instigator denied. "And don't you dare call me 'old man' until I become a grandfather!" That, for some reason, made me feel distinctly uneasy. The phrase "young hero from a noble family" suddenly took on fresh—and dangerous—undertones.
""I'm still far too young to get married! And besides, I haven't had my fun yet, and… and… well, you'll be waiting a long time"
"Mm-hm," the admiral snorted—and, while I was busy protesting, brazenly snatched my glass and drained my wine. "Hm, not bad—Ashen Isles, right? Once this whole investigation wraps up, I'm taking leave. I've got nearly a year worth saved up…"
Having the last word, my esteemed parent took his leave of my cabin—and the ship.
"Why do I get the feeling it would've been better to just sit quietly and not stick my neck out?"
Tossing my dress uniform onto the bed, I went off to track down Weifong—our chief medic (well, the only one; he had a couple of orderlies under him, but they were more like a mix of nurse and butcher).
I needed to make sure the bodies of our fallen comrades had been properly handed over to the appropriate service, and that the compartment where they had been stored had been thoroughly disinfected. The bodies had been placed in a local equivalent of a cold room and preserved as carefully as possible, but it had been three weeks since their deaths. The preservation might not have held, and the last thing I needed was an outbreak of cholera, typhoid, or any other nastiness aboard my ship.
After that, I could finally unwind a bit. It was the capital, after all. The theater didn't really appeal to me, but spending a couple of hours in a pai sho club or ordering some interesting blend at one of the tea houses…
Ah, tea. In this world, it had opened up to me in an entirely new way!
The range of refreshing and invigorating drinks here was, if anything, even broader than back where I came from. What they lacked in chemistry, they made up for with a dizzying variety of fruits, brewing methods for decoctions and infusions, and the truly inexhaustible imagination of local masters who refined their recipes over generations. But tea… the culture surrounding it, the sheer number of ceremonies and variations—enough to make the Chinese and Japanese hang themselves out of envy. Together. In unison.
In short, I understood and fully approved of Iroh's tastes. I was even considering starting a collection of my own.
After agonizing a bit longer over the choice, I decided to combine pleasure with pleasure and indulge in some strong, astringent variety right there at the pai sho club.
***
The next morning, I woke in high spirits—the game had been enjoyable, the tea excellent, and the waitress who'd served it both pretty and more than willing to get to know a young captain a little better…
The hardest part was not oversleeping and showing up at the appointed time in full dress—alert, clean-shaven, and polished—but I managed it in the end.
The honor guard, clad in gilded armor and armed with ceremonial naginatas, greeted me with a synchronized strike of the fist to the chest in an old martial salute. Then they closed ranks around me and escorted me to the palace.
The procession moved with solemn deliberation, giving onlookers ample time to take us in.
Feels like a convoy marching me to the scaffold, an unpleasant thought crossed my mind—but I dismissed it. I hadn't annoyed Admiral Chan nearly enough for him to look that pleased at the prospect of my execution.
The honor guard led me to the entrance doors, richly gilded and carved with intricate patterns. What a bunch of vandals!
Right. I'm getting jittery.
The guards took their positions on either side. The doors swung open with ceremonial grandeur, and a sinking feeling hit me—I'd completely forgotten all this protocol!
Of course, when Chan—that is, me—was a child, he'd been taught all the bows, nods, and proper forms. His status demanded it. But he'd never cared much for it, and I had somehow managed to forget about it entirely. At first I had more pressing concerns. Then I figured I'd made it through and could finally relax.
Damn it! If I'd thought of it earlier, I wouldn't have been fooling around with a waitress—I'd have been brushing up on my etiquette.
Alright… think. Come on, brain. What am I supposed to do?
Bow. Yes, bow.
But how?
A deep bow? A half-bow? Or some other ridiculous variation?
The doors finally opened, and I stepped inside what I soon realized was the throne room.
Oh, hell… judging by the cloaks and headdresses, the Council of Sages was here too—our highest religious authority. And those over there looked like ministry officials.
Panic surged, tightening its grip. I clenched my will, forcing my mind to go blank. Don't think. Just do what needs to be done. Use your surroundings, but don't depend on them. Stay at the center of the storm, as Master Piandao had taught.
One step. Two. Three.
The herald announced me. Another step.
Stop twenty paces from the Fire Lord. No closer, no farther.
Bow—quarter incline. Don't lower your gaze. I was greeting him, not begging forgiveness.
I caught my father's eye—he was standing among the courtiers with a small retinue. He gave a slight nod of approval.
So far, so good.