And so, on the day of departure, after properly saying goodbye to Suki (though she wasn't particularly happy about the upcoming separation, duty won out. Besides, she was still burdened with concern for a little blind girl who got lost somewhere in the city and might be quietly crying from hunger and cold right now... Ah, female logic. She knew perfectly well that Toph was practically a weapon of mass destruction, and the only way the words "Toph Beifong" and "crying" could belong in the same sentence was through the phrase "made someone else"), I boarded Zhao's battleship clad in my brand-new red armor crafted from dragon scales.
The newly minted admiral and General Iroh were already on the bridge. The tea enthusiast initially greeted me with a friendly wave, but the moment he noticed what I was wearing, he visibly stiffened and narrowed his eyes in a decidedly unfriendly manner.
The admiral, meanwhile, didn't deign to spare me a glance, preferring to majestically survey his fleet from the lofty bridge of his battleship.
"So you finally decided to grace us with your presence, Hera—"
At that point, the commander of the Western Fleet turned to face me and got a proper look at the armor. Armor covered in distinctive scales, something he had likely only ever encountered in books or paintings. Like the ones depicting Sozin, for example.
"—ld. What is that?"
Oh, if looks could kill...
Apparently, the rumors had already reached him, and now he had received visual confirmation.
"Mm? Whatever do you mean, Admiral?" Smile and wave, gentlemen. Smile and wave.
"That armor... Dragon scales? But how? General Iroh killed the last dragon!"
"Forgive me, Admiral, but did it happen to have a sign around its neck saying it was the last one?" I replied in a polite but distinctly cutting tone. "The fact that no dragons were seen for many years afterward doesn't necessarily mean none remained. Though... considering how rare they are, it's entirely possible that the one I encountered really was the last."
"Oh? Then I suppose congratulations are in order, young man." the kindly, round old gentleman smiled warmly.
For some reason, that smile made me feel profoundly uncomfortable.
Very uncomfortable.
"I suppose so."
"And how exactly did you manage to slay a dragon, Herald?" Zhao pressed.
"Oh, it wasn't easy at all. It was enormous and spent the entire time trying to roast me alive or squash me flat." I turned toward Iroh. "We danced for about ten hours."
For several seconds, we simply looked at one another.
Then the old man nodded and, this time, smiled genuinely.
"But after such an exhausting performance, it was finally over. My reward was the hide… and a few other things besides."
"Then why didn't you take the head and announce your achievement to the entire nation? Slaying a dragon is a monumental accomplishment!" the admiral continued probing.
"Well, killing a dragon with bending and a sword is one thing. Removing its head from the rest of its body, unfortunately, is another matter entirely. The thing was simply too large. A piece of hide was all I managed to take. Besides, I couldn't afford to linger. The cave might have collapsed at any moment."
Never mind that it had been standing there for centuries, perhaps millennia. What was I, a professional spelunker?
"As for glory... why would I need it? I am merely a humble servant of the Fire Lord. If something is due to me, it will find me on its own. If not, then I have no need of it."
All right, that was a slight distortion of the truth. I did possess a certain amount of pride. I'd simply like to think I possessed even more common sense. As the great Ciaphas Cain taught: modesty and emphasizing duty earn far more glory and reputation than openly flaunting one's accomplishments—real or imagined, it makes little difference.
After all, there is a difference between me announcing to the entire nation that I slew a dragon and other people spreading the story themselves. Especially the craftsmen who had made my armor. Because then the tale becomes not that a Herald "slew a dragon," but that he casually killed one, thought so little of the feat that he didn't even bother mentioning it, skinned the beast to improve his equipment, and simply carried on with his life.
There's a certain distinction there, wouldn't you agree?
"And why exactly did you challenge a dragon if you didn't want the glory or the title that came with it?" Zhao simply could not stop digging for answers.
"It just happened that way." I spread my hands. "Our paths crossed, and things unfolded on their own. By the way, Admiral, aren't we in a hurry to get somewhere?"
In response, the commander of the Western Fleet ground his teeth, then turned away and began issuing orders to the other vessels. The commands were relayed through specially trained firebenders using complex fire-signal patterns.
"General Iroh, would you care for some tea while our gracious host is occupied?" Hmm. Was it my imagination, or was the admiral trying to incinerate me with his back alone? "I happened to bring along some White Dragon—the blend you enjoyed so much."
"Oh, with pleasure, Commander Chan!" the old man brightened immediately.
"Besides, I think we may have a few things to discuss as fellow Dragon Slayers."
The grinding of Zhao's teeth could probably be heard all the way at the North Pole.
I couldn't suppress a smirk, while Iroh merely shook his head at the sight, as if to say, Ah, youth.
There was no shortage of space aboard the battleship, so each of the distinguished guests had been provided with a generously sized cabin. The furnishings were downright luxurious as well. In fairness, there were at least a few positive aspects to the commander of the Western Fleet's personality—he was never stingy when it came to his own comfort, nor when it came to making an impression on others.
So the two of us settled comfortably into Iroh's cabin and wasted no time making use of his tea service.
(End of Chapter)
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