And there's never a law of God or man runs north of Fifty-Three.
(Rudyard Kipling)
***
"...Just imagine it—centuries from now, people will remember Great Admiral Zhao, the man who destroyed the Water Tribe civilization! You're fortunate to be here!" Only the staff officers, who had snapped to attention at my approach, were on the bridge. The voice of the Great Admiral himself, however, was coming from the observation balcony. As always, smug and pompous.
"Be careful what you wish for, Admiral. History is not always kind to its heroes," Iroh replied, carefully concealing his exhaustion. Judging by the barely perceptible undertones in his voice, the old man had grown thoroughly tired of this peacock.
"You speak from personal experience," the commander of the Western Fleet snorted. "But don't worry—this won't resemble your famous defeat at Ba Sing Se." At that point, I would have already challenged the admiral to an Agni Kai, to the death.
"I certainly hope so, Admiral," Iroh said with a bow of his head.
"So do I. Otherwise, the Fire Lord may express his... displeasure," I added, entering the conversation.
The sight of both commanders flinching in unison at the unexpected voice was deeply satisfying. Suki had done a good job improving my "ninja-like" movement skills—or rather, complementing the foundation Piandao had given me. Approaching an exposed, wind-swept platform unnoticed wasn't difficult, especially when the noise of the engine reached it as well.
"By the way, thank you. It was very thoughtful of you to send someone to inform me that we'd arrived and to invite me to join your staff for the planning session."
"What? I didn't..." the admiral began and finally deigned to turn and face me.
"Exactly. You didn't," a familiar polite grin spread across my face. "When you should have." Oh, the sound of his teeth grinding was delightful.
"You are merely an observer, not the commander of this operation!" Zhao snarled.
"Correct. And in order to observe, I need to be at the center of the operation. Failure is unacceptable, and what I just heard is already a failure. Not to mention plain stupidity mixed with delusions of grandeur. Or is it incompetence?" Oh, the admiral was starting to smoke. Literally. The more time passed, the more I enjoyed provoking people.
"What exactly do you mean, Herald?" the general asked, trying to smooth over a situation that had become far too sharp.
"I mean the thinking of the esteemed"—I stressed the word—"Admiral Zhao. What glory? What place in history are we even talking about? Our opponents are a handful of 'water-splashers' living in a remote corner of the world that matters only to them, while we possess the full might of one of the Fire Nation's most powerful fleets. And simply destroying them? That's merely a matter of bombardment. Two or three days of naval bombardment, and there won't be a trace left of their city-state."
"Oh? Then what is it that you hope to achieve, Herald? We've all heard about your... diplomatic approach. Unfortunately, this time we're not facing a handful of painted girls but a well-entrenched enemy. On their own territory, with an entire crowd of waterbenders." Heh. Fair enough—whatever else could be said about him, the admiral knew how to fight a verbal battle.
"It is precisely because of that approach that I am the Fire Herald and have the authority to give you orders, Admiral," I emphasized our respective titles. "And I see far more ways to profit from this land than simply exterminating all its inhabitants. Neutralizing the threat of Northern Tribe raids is an important objective, but I will not permit the senseless slaughter of potentially useful people. Is that clear, Admiral?"
Zhao bored into me with a look of pure hatred. Iroh, meanwhile, was studying me with an odd expression, as though he were seeing me for the first time. The silence stretched.
"I asked you a question. Did you understand me?"
"Yes... Herald," the fleet commander hissed through clenched teeth. "Now, if Your Excellency does not object, I shall go issue maneuvering orders so as to prevent the senseless slaughter of our own people."
"Of course, Admiral. Go ahead."
At that moment, I genuinely thought he might lunge at me. But no—he restrained himself, walked off, entered the staff room, and immediately started yelling at his officers. Yeah... whatever else could be said about Zhao, self-control was not among his shortcomings. He'd held himself back. Still, I needed to arrange an "accident."
"You shouldn't have done that, Chan," Iroh said, shaking his head. "Zhao is the sort of man who holds a grudge."
"And I'm not the sort who stands quietly and listens while someone insults a person I respect, Dragon of the West."
"Let it go... It was a long time ago." The old man smiled sadly, almost helplessly.
"That doesn't matter. Besides, I genuinely dislike his idea of destroying a civilization."
"Alas, that is war. War never changes," Iroh sighed heavily, and I felt a strange sense of déjà vu.
"Ahem. Perhaps. But that doesn't mean we shouldn't learn from the past. The Air Nomads were wiped out a century ago. For a hundred years now, the Fire Nation has controlled their plateaus—and what has come of it? No significant population, no meaningful benefit. Yet if the archives are to be believed, those airbenders had their own craftsmen and farmers. Dead lands generate no income, whereas an alliance of several peoples can produce remarkable results. Do you remember Yu Dao?"
"Quite a pleasant little city, but what exactly do you mean?" the general asked, looking at me with interest.
"Ah, right. We only stayed there for two days," I realized the reason for the old man's confusion. That wasn't nearly enough time to grasp the social dynamics of a city, especially when you spent most of it either in headquarters or aboard a ship. "I take it you'd never been there before?"
(End of Chapter)
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