A vast wing of the museum stood as a monument to a singular category of artifacts, with stalwart soldiers clad in heavy brigandine posted vigilantly at every corner. Within these hallowed halls lay treasures tied to the royalty of the Earth Kingdom, specifically relics from the latest dynasty. Throngs of eager onlookers clamored to glimpse the most prized heirlooms of the realm, their fervor reminiscent of acolytes bewitched by forces beyond mortal comprehension.
Yet, Satchiko could not suppress a creeping unease. Before stepping into the most solemn of exhibits, her gaze lingered on a terracotta warrior positioned conspicuously near the entrance. Its carved visage bore the unmistakable mustache of an infamous tyrant from a bygone era, perhaps also craving its place amongst the many dynasties.
Navigating through a sea of curious visitors, Satchiko murmured countless apologies each time she accidentally stepped on a foot.
"Hey!" a woman exclaimed, sharp with indignation. "My dress!"
"Sorry!" Satchiko stammered, bowing her head hastily.
In the commotion, she had lost sight of Han Fei, who had somehow slipped effortlessly through the throng. Determined, she pressed forward, persistence finally rewarded as she broke free from the dense crowd. Ahead, Han Fei stood motionless before a crystal display case, his gaze transfixed upon its sole content.
"Young lady," he murmured, almost reverent. "Behold, the Heirloom of the Earth Kingdom."
Satchiko's eyes widened as she beheld the exquisite object, its verdant hue mirroring the shade of her own eyes.
The artifact, carved from flawless green jade, glistened under the museum's light. Save for one corner, which is made of gold, the craftsmanship is so precise that every curve and engraving seemed alive. Resting atop the jade slab is a delicate carving of a Badgermole, a replica of the colossal stone sculptures flanking the Royal Palace gates. Yet, this miniature held an understated elegance, its square foundation adding a stately symmetry.
On its side, inscriptions whispered blessings to the sovereign.
Having received the Mandate of Heaven, may the ruler live a long and prosperous life.
Behind the display, an engraved wall chronicled the names of fifty-four Earth Monarchs from the latest dynasty. At the bottom of the list concluded with King Wu.
"When one of my subordinates recovered this priceless relic, not even the most eloquent poet, Li Hei himself, could have captured the depth of my emotions." Han Fei stated sentimentally. "Its return to us quelled a sorrow I thought insurmountable. The Heirloom Seal has once again found its rightful steward."
"Was this truly used by the king of the entire Earth Kingdom?" Satchiko asked, as the Earth Sovereign technically also rules Kyoshi Island.
"Indeed. This imperial seal embodies the legitimacy of the Earth Kingdom's ruler, solidifying their divine right to govern." His gaze never left on the piece of pure jade. "Without it, no claimant can assert dominion over the realm. For thousands of years, countless wars have erupted to secure its possession. Rebel leaders and rival kings alike have coveted it, even the likes of—"
"Chin the Conqueror?" Satchiko said.
The museum director nodded, remembering the tyrant who lived during Avatar Kyoshi's era. Although Chin managed to control most of the Earth Kingdom, save for Ba Sing Se and a few backwater settlements such as the Yokoya peninsula, he was never recognized as the true sovereign of the nation. The Heirloom Seal of the Realm, crafted from a piece of pure jade, serves as a symbol which cements a ruler's divine right to rule. Thus, signaling the beginning of a new dynasty that will formally rule over the entire Earth Kingdom.
"I heard the mainland has more than one king," Satchiko asked, unable to withhold her curiosity. "Is this very true?"
Han Fei sighed. "Even in peace, the Earth Kingdom is a fragmented colossus, a land of disparate rulers and dialects, united in name but divided in spirit. Thankfully, in this current era of chaos, none of those upstarts have yet to carry out the folly of seizing the Heirloom Seal of the whole realm."
While the squabbling states of Xiao Zhong and Jian Xin drenched their shared border with rivers filled with the corpses of vengeful spirits, both of their formidable armies wouldn't entertain the idea of provoking the dormant behemoth next door. A rough estimate is often used to estimate a state's strength during times of division, and mustering a million soldiers isn't an easily ignorable trait.
"But how can the Earth King use the seal when it's locked away here?" Satchiko asked innocently. "Shouldn't it be at his side for making decisions to help the people?"
While the intricacy of governance still remains too elusive to the young Kyoshi Warrior, she at least understands that leaders use seals to approve the words written on parchment. Her own father carried around a simple wooden one, trying to settle dispute between fishermen over trivialities such as deciding a reasonable price for oysters. If a humble village chief cannot perform his duty responsibly without a seal to approve parchments, how can the Earth King himself part with the literal Heirloom Seal of the Realm?
Han Fei suddenly laughed, much to Satchiko's confusion.
"You have a sharp wit, young one," amusement dancing in his eyes. "Rest assured, the people's welfare is not imperiled. His Majesty has entrusted me with safeguarding the Heirloom Seal, shielding it from those are incompetent and colluding with people seeking to betray the Earth Kingdom. I am but a humble servant fulfilling his command. Furthermore, I have taken upon myself the protection of his royal brooch, a temporary stand-in for the crown, still regrettably missing." He gestured toward a nearby display, where the modest brooch rested under glass. Compared to the Heirloom Seal, it seemed almost trivial.
As they moved toward the hall's exit, Satchiko's thoughts lingered on the enigmatic figure of the Earth King. "If he's supposed to rule the Earth Kingdom, why doesn't he do a better job?"
Her query, simple yet profound, carried the weight of a truth seldom addressed. For many living in backwater lands or secluded settlements, the idea of a single nation known as the Earth Kingdom meant little, and so does the distant city of Ba Sing Se, which holds no influence over their insignificant lives.
"Rulers are as numerous as stars in the sky, yet far too many of them are unfit to govern the creatures we call people." Han Fei exhaled a long sigh, weighted by both experience and resignation.
Satchiko braced herself, fearing the museum director was about to launch into a tedious morality lecture, the sort she had endured countless times in Zhu Xi's classroom. Yet to her surprise, Han Fei's demeanor shifted, adopting a contemplative air instead.
As they made their way toward the grand hall that would soon host the Keju graduation ceremony, he paused abruptly before a trio of statues. Their stony visages loomed solemnly, each figure imbued with an aura of gravitas. Han Fei lingered on the central statue, as though peering through layers of history.
"Have you ever heard of the wise and talented Shang Yang?" he asked.
Satchiko remained silent, embarrassed by her scant knowledge of Earth Kingdom history. She decided to let the older man speak unimpeded, suspecting he intended to extol the virtues of some long-dead person.
"He is my favorite statesman," Han Fei continued, a faint smile curling at the edges of his lips. "Also, one of my distant predecessors in thought. But before his brilliance was recognized, his own master advised their king to have him executed should the young scholar ever serve another state. The foolish king did not think much of Shang Yang, allowing him to leave his domain, a choice which doomed that kingdom.
"What is so special about this Shang Yang that even his own teacher wants him dead?" Satchiko asked, already confused by the story.
The answers are broad, but the director tried his best to summarize. During the era of the first warring states, not too similar to the current one, all warlords below the heavens compete for supremacy. While naive boys might believe that the strongest states must have the strongest armies, not many consider how a ruler can achieve those realities. In any society dominated by patrimonial lineages, ideas such as centralized rule and merit terrified many.
"Nobles enjoy their wine and women, but the commoners simply wish to eat," Han Fei remarked in a slightly dull voice. "Without power wielded within the hands of a ruler, where hence are great armies and productive farmlands?"
Shang Yang, after becoming chancellor to a state that accepts him, enacted rigorous reforms. Many of his ideas, harsh laws, military reward and the prioritization of agriculture over luxury commence, have all earned the ire of the nobles. Although his policies solved food shortages, and created a powerful army based on merit instead of birthright, many of the gentry denounced him. In the end, the scholar was executed, as the new ruler heeded more advice from members of the aristocracy over capable ministers.
"It's a cruel irony, isn't it?" Han Fei mused, eyes still fixed on the statue. "The greatest reformers in history often pay for their vision with their lives. They elevate their nations to heights unimagined, yet are cast down by those too blind to see beyond their own privilege. I have no doubt you already encountered a fair share of such people on your way here."
Satchiko hesitated before replying. Two figures came to mind, but she spoke only of the erratic governor of Yi, carefully omitting their fiery confrontation.
"I see that the state of Yi has still yet to address its agricultural woes," Han Fei remarked dryly. "No matter, misfortune for one state can be fortune for another."
His callousness unsettled Satchiko, her mind flashing to the haunting images of the sick and starving. She changed the subject, gesturing to the statues. "And the other two? Who are they?"
Han Fei's expression brightened, interpreting her question as genuine interest. "Shen Buhai and Guan Zhong. Both were instrumental in transforming their kingdoms into hegemonic powers."
As expected, their contribution of morphing the kingdoms they served have been received with nothing but scorn, mostly by those who are offended by the idea that the nobility must relegate themselves onto the same levels as the common folks. Furthermore, not even the rulers of the highest hierarchy can escape Han Fei's critique.
"The ruler is like a mirror, reflecting light, doing nothing, and yet, beauty and ugliness present themselves. Being a scale establishing equilibrium, doing nothing, and yet causing lightness and heaviness to discover themselves." Han Fei stated, as if being possessed by ancient texts. "If the ruler's intelligence is displayed, self-interested officials will prepare against it. If his lack of intelligence is displayed, they will delude him. If his wisdom is displayed, men will gloss over their own faults. If his lack of wisdom is displayed, they will hide from him. If his lack of desires is displayed, men will spy out his true desires. But if his desires are displayed, they will tempt him. Therefore, an intelligent ruler would proclaim I cannot know them. It is only by means of non-action that a ruler can control them. Such is the beauty of Wu Wei."
Satchiko furrowed her brow. "What does that mean?"
After a careful detailed explanation, Han Fei described Wu Wei as a philosophy that the ruler should rule the nation through inaction, or 'effortless action'. Essentially, it argues that the King must 'do nothing' even if he has the talent and wisdom. The King should play no administrative roles and conceal his intentions. Because by getting involved into the politics directly, it would hinder the monarch from actually ruling. Which is why Wu Wei proposes that the sovereign should supervise the government without interference, all the while maintaining perspective. There are obviously strong parallels with the concept of Neutral Jing, which also proposes 'doing nothing' until the right opportunity presents itself.
"But shouldn't the ruler at least do something useful?" Satchiko countered with skepticism. "If they do nothing, how can they help their people? What's the point of having a ruler at all?" While it is unfair to compare the governance of a village to the entire continent, she couldn't rally behind the idea that a ruler should remain complacent. If disasters struck, complacency is no solution.
Han Fei closed both eyes and sighed while shaking his head, deciding to leave the trio of statues. He continued to guide her towards the main throne room, while continue to dispense his own insight on the complicated nature of power. "You can't make everyone loyal but ruling over the subjects do not necessarily require loyalty. What truly matters is technique. Let's take the forty-sixth Earth King. His greatest mistake is that he cannot hide his own incompetence, which prompted the people to revolt. If he knows that his reign is unpopular, then it's better to adapt a more effortless policy. Which was achieved anyway despite his resistance against Avatar Kyoshi. Why worry at all if the end result is going to be the same anyway?"
"But fate is unpredictable, you never truly know what lies ahead," Satchiko asserted further. "If leaders could understand how ordinary people live, I'm sure they'd become better and kinder rulers."
That statement elicits a small chuckle from Han Fei, but nonetheless, he commended the young girl for the meagre knowledge on rulership.
"A kind ruler?" he mused. "I see that Earth Sage Zhu Xi's teachings have begun to take root in you. Admirable, I suppose, though such sentiment is rarely a foundation for effective governance. Still, learning from the Earth Sage does no harm, so long as you don't aspire to join the ranks of this city's administrators."
Satchiko frowned, sensing layers beneath those words that she could neither fully decipher nor confront. How different he seemed from the blunt, straightforward mannerisms of her homeland's people. On Kyoshi Island, kindness was genuine, rarely free of pretense or veiled intent. Here, every sentence felt like a riddle, each smile possibly concealing a barbed truth. She longed, if only for a moment, for the honest simplicity of home.
Their stroll ended as Satchiko found herself back among her fellow students, standing near a massive crowd that had gathered before an imposing set of double doors. The grand woodwork loomed high above them, carved with intricate designs that shimmered faintly under the light of nearby lamps.
"Why is everyone just standing here?" she asked, craning her neck from the back of the crowd. "Shouldn't we be going in by now?"
"The ceremony is not yet ready," Han Fei replied with an air of nonchalance. "By that, I mean the food isn't."
Strangely, a part of her itched to charge forward, deliver a dramatic flying kick to the doors and burst into the throne room. But surrounded by dignitaries and distinguished visitors, such theatrics would be wholly inappropriate. She sighed, quelling such impulse.
"Have you ever witnessed the opulence of a throne room before?" Han Fei's voice broke through her thoughts, casual but curious. Satchiko promptly replied that someone of her origin couldn't even fathom what lies behind those massive doors. Hearing this, the museum director offered some advice, if it can even be considered one. "Whatever you find in that room, however grand it may be, I've seen greater splendor in Omashu."
...
Mayumi stood transfixed, gaze drawn inexorably upward to the vaulted ceilings that seemed to pierce the heavens themselves. As a child, she had listened in rapt wonder to the tales spun by her esteemed great-grandmother, vivid accounts of adventures beyond the tranquil confines of their island during the tumultuous era of the Hundred Year War.
The world beyond their shores was vast and wondrous, teeming with marvels as countless as the stars. Despite the ravages of war, their intrepid forebears had journeyed to lands both perilous and resplendent. Her great-grandmother's stories painted luminous vistas, the formidable expanse of the Serpent's Pass, the austere grandeur of the Fire Nation palace reputedly gilded in gold. These tales, woven with boundless curiosity and courage, had ignited a fire within Mayumi, a longing to step beyond the edge of familiarity and into the living pages of history.
And now, she found herself in one such storied place, a hallowed hall once traversed by her revered ancestor. Awe surged through her, and for a fleeting moment, she felt the weight of history beneath her feet. How many had stood here before, warriors and rulers alike, their destinies intertwined with the Avatar's own odyssey? Her heart swelled with reverence, tempered only by the bittersweet realization that her younger sister lacked this fervent tenacity, a casualty of never hearing their great-grandmother's legendary exploits.
Her attention soon drawn to the resplendent golden throne at the hall's zenith. Elevated upon a grand dais, it stood as a silent sentinel of power, its gilded surface a testament to centuries of rule. Behind it loomed a colossal steel Badgermole, an emblem of unyielding strength. How many intrigues, triumphs, and tragedies had this throne borne witness to? Yet Mayumi doubted it would divulge its secrets, even if granted the gift of speech.
"Takeko, what are you doing?"
Despite the awe, duty called. The voice of barmaid Xiao Qing, a fellow caterer, jolted her from the reverie. The borrowed name was a guise, a shield against unwanted scrutiny, and one that had already aroused some curiosity among her companions.
Balancing the tray in her arms, Mayumi followed Xiao Qing, navigating the grand hall's eighteen monumental pillars. Each column was crowned with intricately painted brackets and corbels adorned with green lanterns, the light of those crystals casting a soft, ethereal glow. The diaphanous curtains framing the throne seemed to ripple with an unearthly grace, drawing the eye inexorably toward the seat of power.
It was all breathtaking despite the mundane task at hand. To her knowledge, those graduated from the civil service examination would be personally congratulated by the sovereign of the entire Earth Kingdom. For now, the food preparation remains paramount. Under the watchful eyes of soldiers covered in heavy brigandine, the feast must feed many who hail from prominent families of the Upper Ring and distinguished members of the city's upper echelon. Only the finest delicacies can be worthy of their elevated palate. Despite the mounting pressure, the elderly Jin remains calm, commanding the chefs and waitresses to not spare any detail in their respective tasks.
"I still don't understand why you want us to call you Takeko," Xiao Qing asked, her tone tinged with playful suspicion as she arranged a platter of steamed fish onto a table. "You're no fugitive, so what's the mystery?"
Before their journey to the Upper Ring, Mayumi respectfully requested everyone in the restaurant to address her with an alternative name. Thankfully, all of them obliged, as the city's inhabitants are fully sympathetic to those who does not wish to attract attention.
Aware that the royal guards are not too far away, Mayumi simply whispered, hoping it may quell the barmaid's curiosity. "It's complicated, Xiao Qing," she said quietly. "Just think of my predicament as someone trying to avoid distant relatives." She then lifted a massive cauldron of noodles, feeling the strain on her spine while carefully placing it on the table.
As the duo moved in synchronized precision, arranging the freshly prepared dishes along the grand banquet tables, an air of culmination began to settle over the hall. At the far end of the expansive chamber, chefs labored with fervent intensity, each movement driven by an unyielding pursuit of perfection. Among their creations is the renowned delicacy that had long solidified Ba Sing Se's reputation as the culinary capital where people eat like kings.
The aroma wafting from the kitchens was unmistakable, a tantalizing blend of spices and roasted fat that permeated the air, tempting even the stolid guards stationed nearby. Though countless establishments across the city sought to emulate this legendary dish, Jin's roast duck remained unparalleled, a recipe steeped in tradition yet veiled in mystery.
The process began not in the kitchen, but at the very birth of the bird. Raised in free-ranging pastures, each duck lived its early days in idyllic liberty, only to be subjected to a rigorous feeding regimen. Four meals a day for twenty days to ensure optimal plumpness. Once slaughtered and plucked, the duck's skin was carefully scalded in boiling water, causing it to contract and firm. Afterward, it was glazed in syrup, marinated with soy sauce, and coated with maltose, a painstaking ritual that imbued the meat with its signature richness.
Within the hall, a row of brick ovens stood like silent sentinels, their open flames fueled by fragrant hardwoods of peach and pear trees. Each oven could roast twenty ducks at once, the birds suspended near the fire so their fat would render, crisping the skin to a golden perfection. Yet, Jin's genius lay in the subtle final touch, a secret so fiercely guarded that even the palace's former head chef, once a master of the royal kitchen, had no inkling of her methods.
"Turn away from the ovens," Jin commanded.
Her staff complied without question, including Mayumi, whose finely honed Kyoshi Warrior instincts allowed her to discern the elder's actions through sound alone. She caught the faint rustle of a spice bag and whispered to her companion, Xiao Qing.
"She's applying some kind of powder," Mayumi murmured, though Xiao Qing, indifferent to the arcana of cuisine, merely shrugged.
For the other waitresses, however, the evening's focus extended beyond the culinary. Draped in silken gowns of vibrant hues, they moved with practiced grace, each harboring fanciful hopes of romance worthy of poetry. Jin had offered Mayumi such finery, but she politely declined, favoring the plain green robe that allowed her to navigate unnoticed amidst the grandeur. To further cloak herself in modesty, she brought alone her white umbrella, may further serve as camouflage amongst the other fine ladies of the gentry. At least, that's what she assumes would happen, since the concept of viewing umbrellas as an accessory is still new to a person from a backwater village.
"It's done!" Jin announced triumphantly. The turtle ducks emerged from the ovens, their skin glistening in a deep crimson hue that promised irresistible succulence beneath.
The chefs worked swiftly, separating the crisp skin from the tender meat with practiced ease. The pieces were wrapped in delicate spring pancakes alongside slivers of fresh scallions, each parcel a perfect balance of texture and flavor. A final flourish came in the form of hoisin sauce, presented as the essential companion for dipping.
This was how Ba Sing Se's famed duck is typically prepared. Yet, the secretive touch of Jin's mysterious seasoning elevated the dish from mere excellence to an unparalleled masterpiece.
As the final platters were arranged, the leader of the royal guard moved to unseal the towering double doors. The grand hall was soon awash with a tide of guests, each more varied than the last. Officials arrived clad in reserved attire, their modesty a deliberate contrast to the ostentation of Upper Ring scions adorned in garments as opulent as their egos. Among the throng is a delegation from the Northern Water Tribe, their presence ceremonial rather than purposeful.
The hall glowed warmly under the soft radiance of green lanterns, casting a serene yet regal light. Mayumi, balancing a tray of duck wraps, found a certain ease in the less strenuous nature of serving food, though her humble attire drew sidelong glances from noblewomen her own age. Their silent judgments prickled at her composure, a stark reminder that the plain robe was a quiet rebellion against the grandeur of the throne room. Yet Mayumi remained undeterred, moving through the crowd with poise, as unseen as the secrets Jin poured into her legendary dish.
Her heart lifted when she caught sight of her sister amidst the crowd. Their reunion was fleeting yet warm, aware that the presence of paramount members of the city.
"Everything's well, sister," Mayumi assured, offering a wrap. "This is Jin's finest recipe."
Satchiko hesitated, eyeing the delicacy with apprehension. "Turtle duck?" she asked softly, her gaze flitting to the empty shells on nearby tables. Ultimately, her stomach's protests went unanswered, appetite bowing to principles. "Thank you but may I will try something else?"
It was a rare occurrence for anyone to turn away from the celebrated cuisine of Ba Sing Se, a city renowned for its culinary prowess even as wars raged across the continent. Yet, Satchiko's loud, insistent stomach voiced a clear demand, forcing her to break from tradition.
"Any fish?" she asked, eyes scanning the lavish spread. "I like eating those."
Alas, the sole platter of steamed fish had already been devoured, leaving only a pile of delicate bones as evidence of its fleeting existence. Defeated but resolute, Satchiko chose to endure hunger over indulging in guilt-laden indulgence.
"By the way, big sis, I met the museum director earlier. Strange man, but he knows a lot." Satchiko proclaimed, recounting their strange conversation about a ruler imitating the role of a mirror when facing the ministers who governs the nation.
Though her words seemed innocent, they unsettled Mayumi. A subtle tension crept into her voice. "I don't mean to sound harsh, but you shouldn't be talking to strangers. And remember, we mustn't use our real names here. Where is this director now?"
Satchiko glanced over her shoulder, gaze wandering through the crowd. The grand hall brimmed with dignitaries, their conversations flowing like rivers of debate and policy. Yet, the enigmatic director was nowhere to be seen, until Mayumi felt a subtle shift in the weight of her tray.
"I must say, Grandma Jin has outdone herself," a voice interjected smoothly. "This truly is an investment worth every ounce of effort."
Turning sharply, Mayumi found herself right next to the middle-aged man. He held a delicate serving of braised duck meat in his hand, savoring it with deliberate appreciation.
It was Han Fei, the museum director. With relative ease, the middle-aged official then congratulated elder Jin, praising the professionalism of the chefs.
Seizing the moment, Mayumi gently but firmly pulled Satchiko aside, urging to avoid any interaction with the museum director. "Be careful, sister. Do not forget, we are far from Kyoshi Island. Trust no one without caution."
Satchiko obeyed without question. She did steal a glance at director Han Fei, who engages in pleasantries with many invited officials of the city. Intending to avoid further troubles, Mayumi placed her close to the other students before resuming the role of caterer.
...
"I see that General Liu is absent," one of the military commanders remarked as they clustered around their superiors.
At present, only two members of the council is present. Unhurried, Tian Ji indulged in a cup of barley wine, made by the city's famous brewery named Maotai. While the crippled Sun Bin sat regally in a simple wooden wheelchair. It had been anticipated that the head of Ba Sing Se's military would also attend, yet unforeseen circumstances seemed to have kept him away.
"He is preoccupied with matters beyond his control, like the rest of the Liu family, well, the legitimate one," Sun Bin said, remembering there are millions across the fractured Earth Kingdom with the Liu surname. "Regardless, he will definitely be present at the upcoming military examination."
Many of the generals present saw the Keju graduation ceremony as little more than a hollow formality. The promotion of literati into the ranks of scholar-officials meant little to soldiers who are not compelled to attend.
"Yue Yi is also absent, attending matters of state at the Northern Water Tribe," another lower-ranked commander added. "But I have no doubt that the head admiral would be here, considering his son attained a high rank during the Keju examination."
As these murmurs passed, an armored figure approached the gathering, his silent, measured stride betraying no fear of offending or violating any decorum. Casually, the general with the metal mask inserted himself among his colleagues, directing a greeting specifically to Sun Bin and Tian Ji.
The Judge of Honghai, as he is known, bowed, expressing personal gratitude for the council's role in repelling the Xiao Zhong army sent to relieve Li Zhu'er. Not even a war hero would wisely risk his men against a much bigger army without the support of allies.
Tian Ji let out a deep, hearty laugh, his face creased with a warm smile as he returned the gesture. With a firm pat on the masked man's shoulder, he boomed. "No need for such humility! Rather than waste words heaping praise upon one another, let us instead indulge in the finer things such as wine and meat. There's still time for youth like yourself to climb even higher!"
The majority of the 'younger' generals who isn't an Earthbender have already passed their physical prime, they understood well that the study of strategy could win wars without the need to set foot upon the battlefield. Still, some of them preferred the visceral rush of combat. Yet, they all respected the wisdom of their elders, veterans who had risen through the ranks from humble, often undesirable beginnings.
With respectful bows, the gathered generals saluted the two superiors, before resuming their enjoyment of the feast laid before them.
"Young one," the more reserved Sun Bin called out as the Judge of Honghai turned away to sample some of the food. "If the admiral arrives, do not engage with him, not yet."
The masked figure did not respond with words. Instead, he simply joined his palms in silent understanding before bowing once more and departing. For men such as him, hardened generals tasked with guarding Ba Sing Se's walls, the Upper Ring felt like an alien world. In the grand hall, some of the city's influential fathers scolded their fragile, pampered sons, mocking them for their inability to even wield a simple vegetable knife. These same patriarchs entertained notions of sending their children to face the brutality of the battlefield, conveniently forgetting the unspeakable horrors that accompanied every major conflict, including the infamous Battle of Honghai near the Western Air Temple.
As the Judge of Honghai made his way toward the tables laden with delicacies, his subordinates mingled with the throngs of guests. Unlike the stoic Jang, Sedna seemed to relish the crowd, conversing cheerfully with kinsmen from the Northern Water Tribe. After instructing his bodyguards to enjoy the event as they saw fit, the general himself felt an unusual sense of relief. It was a rare moment when the lives of thousands did not rest on his shoulders. Although it might seem trivial, for someone who frequently held the fate of so many in his hands, a simple meal is a rare and welcome indulgence. While he refrained from overtly devouring the food in public, the masked man could not deny the pleasure of savoring the dishes.
"General," Mayumi offered quietly, discreetly avoiding any mention of their past encounters. "Would you care to try a Ba Sing Se duck wrap?"
Without hesitation, the armored figure drew a small copper knife from his belt, likely another one of his battlefield trophies. He carefully speared a duck wrap, dipping it in hoisin sauce and inserted it through the gap in his mask. A sharp, almost uncomfortable swallowing noise followed. It was clear the task was not entirely effortless, as though the food itself struggled to pass through the confines of the throat.
"I will not fault you for hiding your identity," he said, breaking the silence with startling abruptness.
Mayumi's face betrayed no emotion, though she struggled to maintain composure, careful not to draw undue attention.
"If you are concerned that my role as a general of Ba Sing Se might implicate you, have no such fear," he assured calmly, all expression hidden by the metal mask that only depicts anger. "After all, it would be very hypocritical."
The caterer gave a subtle nod, her gaze flickering briefly to their flanks, ensuring their conversation went unnoticed. With a simple bow, gratitude was conveyed without further speech. Soon, the Judge of Honghai steered the conversation back to more important matters, the food.
"Before my arrival to this city, I always thought that Ba Sing Se roast ducks were eaten just as it is, simple plain duck meat," the general said, showing common misconception about this famous Earth Kingdom dish. Even though the rest of the world have heard much about Ba Sing Se's delectable cuisine, many didn't consider that the brazed duck is eaten using a spring pancake wrap dipped in sweat bean sauce. Perhaps it is a more 'cultured' way that folks here like to establish to the world, allowing Upper Ring ladies to enjoy the food without opening their mouths too wide. "No matter, at least the ones I fed my troops do not contain any glittery excessiveness." He then noticed Satchiko standing with the other students, remarking how the aim of Xuan Zang is overly optimistic, which is further exacerbated by the idealistic Zhu Xi.
"What do you mean?" Mayumi cannot help but ask.
"I heard they gather students from across the realm, hoping to foster some semblance of peace between the various states," the general replied. "A commendable endeavor, but ultimately a fruitless one. I traveled across the four nations, served many states in the now shattered Earth Kingdom. The things I saw, they made me abandon all naive thinking. And when I truly let go of my blind delusions, even deities become slayable." He then looked at Mayumi specifically, asking a question she never entertained strongly. "Does your sister ever harbor the ambition of reunifying the realm?"
The response came with hesitancy. Mayumi replied with a simple 'no', refusing to fathom that her own sister would ever want to be part of some grand event remembered by history itself. Ironically, her own love for the wonders and histories of the world never includes endangering Satchiko into such realities, the same wish shared by their strict mother.
"Such is the result of caring for one's family," the general said. "I do not blame those who still must shoulder the responsibility of caring for a younger sibling. It was a burden I too once have. But after that ordeal, my fear of battle has been reduced from miniscule to feeling none. To this day, I am still unsure whether if this is a curse or a blessing sent by the Heavens."
Another duck wrap was offered since Mayumi is no philosopher and struggles to offer any insight into such matters. For warriors who had lost everything they once held dear, perhaps death no longer carried the same weight. With the loss of that fear came a certain freedom, an unburdened, relentless drive to fight.
As the general asked whether tea was being served at the event, he was met with disappointment. The hall is flooded with wine, but none of the freshly brewed tea he favored.
"A pity," he sighed. "I do enjoy a fine oolong brew." Around them, the chatter continued unabated, the guests discussing news from beyond the walls, some mocking Jian Xin and Xiao Zhong for their relentless, meaningless war, especially the recent battles.
And then, with a flourish, the famed Young Master Pan Yu made his entrance. A shower of flowers seemed to conveniently materialize as if summoned by his presence. With gracious waves, he greeted the admirers, many of whom congratulated him for attaining the fourth-highest rank in the Keju examination. Despite entering the hall for only a few seconds, the attention he garnered is undeniable. Waitresses from Jin's eatery, their eyes aflame with admiration, abandoned their duties to compete for his affections. Mayumi only sighed, found herself pacing the hall, trying to compensate for her colleagues' unhealthy infatuation.
The general ignored all of this, he grabbed a steel goblet nearby and prepared to taste the exotic grape wine imported from Li Qian. But even without turning towards the hall's entrance, he felt an unwanted presence.
"Greetings, General Ximen Gui," several lower-ranked commanders bowed, but their gesture was reciprocated with haughty disdain.
"It's Admiral Ximen to you!" barked the armored figure, his voice cutting through the air like a whip.
Draped in the customary Earth Kingdom armor reserved for high-ranking officers, he is adorned with a flowing cape and heavy pauldrons shaped like the faces of Lion Turtles. Admiral Ximen Gui made his entrance, with every movement laced with contempt. Atop his head is the xiao guan, a headpiece signaling either noble lineage or high military rank. It is obvious that many invitees to today's ceremony noticed this outwardly unrefined fellow.
"Who is that?" Satchiko whispered.
The Judge of Honghai did not even bother to turn his helmet.
"That is Ximen Gui, one of the five in the military council. While the likes of me guard the southern walls, he stands watch over the north, constantly eyeing the Northern Water Tribe." He took a deep slurp of grape wine before continuing. "How far has the Council of Five fallen. Once, they commanded all military operations across the realm. Now, they merely oversee the walls of Ba Sing Se."
Not wishing to end his slander, the Judge of Honghai even gestured Satchiko at the sword strapped to the admiral's waist. Though the blade itself is exquisite, its rusted hilt told a different story, one of neglect or disuse. Granted, swords are not exactly the first choice for powerful Earthbenders who rely on brute force. Even something like a glaive, which technically is a blade, must be strong enough to exert tremendous power.
"A sword that's fallen into disrepair is a sword that's never truly seen much battle," the general continued. "That blade can trace its history back to a Ba Sing Se admiral hundreds of years ago, who shamefully lost the entire fleet to the corsair warlord Tagaka. Amongst the many plunders of our once unified nation's eastern coasts, that sword was her price. It's quite a beauty, which would be more worthy of its acclaim by being part of my personal collection."
"I didn't realize there was a concern about the Waterbenders attacking," Satchiko remarked, her brow furrowing in confusion. "I thought the threat from other states and bandits on land is more serious."
"Fisherman Ximen Gui's fleet consists of little more than wooden junks and fishing boats hastily gathered from local fishermen," the general replied dismissively. "I doubt the Northern Water Tribe would be foolish enough to interfere with wars between our people. Besides, I have already found a far more capable candidate to oversee the navy." His gaze flicked toward his lieutenant, Jang, who is still bearing a stern visage, an expression ill-suited for the lack of immediate danger surrounding them.
"It's Admiral Ximen for you. For a general who commands a mere three thousand, you should have learnt by now to address your superiors with the correct title."
It seemed the derogatory comments did not go unnoticed. As Ximen Gui advanced, Mayumi found herself stepping into his path. With a quick shove from the admiral, she almost toppled to the floor but thankfully caught the tray's content.
Satchiko's hand instinctively reached for her golden fan, ready to deliver a swift reprimand for such crude behavior, but before she could act, the towering figure beside her intervened.
"Do not strike when the best opportunity has not shown itself," the general said, invoking the philosophy of Neutral Jing, which is application to many things, including military tactics.
Satchiko harbored doubts. She suspected that this man had no intention of truly adhering to those same ideal, especially when the steel goblet in his hand is now bent in half from the grip alone.
The Judge of Honghai, ever keen to maintain his sense of superiority, could not resist adding fuel to the fire. Almost immediately, he 'praised' the admiral, crediting the latter for pacifying the corsair horde to safeguarding the Western Air Temple. The golden rule of never outshining one's hierarchical superiors has been overplayed strongly. Of course, this specific instance is intentionally not supposed to appease Ximen Gui.
"I am far from impressed by your insubordination," the admiral reproached with restrained ire. "Do not forget whose ships carried you to that monastery teeming with those bald heads."
"Partially bald," the Judge of Honghai corrected. "The nuns, after all, still retain a modest knot of hair at the back."
The admiral blinked, momentarily disarmed by the remark, but the conversation barreled on. Within the labyrinthine politics of the Ba Sing Se military, few disputes were as contentious as the Battle of Honghai. While seasoned officers widely acknowledged that victory was unattainable without the full coordination of the city's formidable forces, whispers spawned in the teahouses told another story. They speculated on the navy's conspicuous absence during the climactic battle. As corsairs clashed in bloody pitch battles on the beaches, rumors swirled that the navy, stationed perilously near the Western Air Temple, had failed to exploit the pirate fleet's exposed rear.
"My fleet's daring maneuvers ensured that no pirate escaped unscathed," the admiral proclaimed, tinged with pride. "Yet my sailors' valor has been repaid with treachery, by the very man who claims to have saved the monastery."
"And what befell your subordinates," the masked general responded with calm. "Will likewise befall you."
The air grew taut as the admiral's personal guards shifted, their hands hovering over sheathed blades. The masked figure continued, unperturbed. "When a servant commits immoral deeds under their master's blessing, their final cries sound the same when heard by the executioner. Rest assured, Admiral, the path to your eternal repose will be long and arduous. How tedious to waste so many words when I might instead savor another exquisite meal."
The masked sentinel took a single deliberate step forward. The gesture alone compelled Admiral Ximen to draw his illustrious blade halfway from its sheath, though a flicker of uncertainty danced in his eyes.
"I was very tempted to bring Zhang Xun to this occasion, as he would love to get to know more about the likes of you," the Judge of Honghai said. "He enjoyed your subordinates."
Around them, tension thickened. If these two Earthbending titans chose to settle their grudge here, the vaulted ceiling might well collapse, burying all in the rubble of their wrath. Thankfully, someone intervened before a crisis would spawn.
"At ease, at ease," came the smooth, affable voice of Han Fei, who arrived with the air of a man accustomed to extinguishing tempers. His smile, warm yet inscrutable, seemed to disarm even the most volatile. "Let us not shatter the fragile harmony within our ranks when far greater threats loom beyond the literal horizon."
With the measured grace of a statesman, the museum director interposed himself into the dispute, not even bothered untuck his hands from the sleeves. Somehow, the persuasion was easy.
"It would be most unfortunate if the Keju ceremony were disrupted by... untoward events," he said. "Don't forget, treasonous fellows can come from anywhere, such crafty and whimsical people are indeed quite inconvenient. Besides, let us not dishonor the name of Ba Sing Se's revered Earth Sage, his Excellency Zhu Xi."
Though he stood amidst two Earthbenders capable of unleashing cataclysmic force, Han Fei remained unflinching. His calm authority is sufficient to dissuade further outbursts. To further illustrate some vague and unspecific consequences, he cast a meaningful glance toward an elderly man leaning heavily against a pillar, the brigandine armor tarnished, the wearer's movements sluggish with drink.
"General Zeng Guofan is a good man," Han Fei remarked, almost wistfully. "But the whims of fate have not favored him."
The gathering's attention briefly shifted to the inebriated figure, though most dismissed him as a relic of past glories. Yet Han Fei's veiled allusion resonated with those attuned to the precarious balance between a general's brilliance and the crushing weight of state power. History, after all, bore witness to countless war heroes brought low by the machinations of the mighty. Even a god of war, it seemed, is not immune to the judgment of higher forces.
...
Mayumi held the tray with care, offering a Ba Sing Se duck wrap to a woman clad in the attire of the Northern Water Tribe. The latter's long fur coat and warm cap is complemented by a necklace carved from blue stone, and the hair is adorned with the iconic hair loopies flanking the face.
However, when Mayumi noticed the woman's fingerless hands, she immediately apologized, worried that the nearby armored lieutenant might misinterpret her offering as a slight against a handicap.
"It's fine," Sedna replied with magnanimity. "Both Jang and I have already eaten enough."
Mayumi, careful to maintain the anonymity of her real identity in front of the lieutenant, is surprised by the woman's unexpected kindness, especially considering the earlier discourtesy shown by the admiral.
"Th-thank you," Mayumi stammered, moving on with a respectful nod. As she resupplied the tray with food and wine, a sudden commotion at the entrance caught her attention.
An official announcement resonated across the throne room, an honor that wasn't even offered to the fourth-place ranker already inside the hall. However, the newcomer had no need for such formal recognition. Her presence spoke for itself.
She entered the hall like an enchanting spirit who have graced their insignificant existence. Elegant and graceful, blessing hundreds of eyes with the perfect dance of worldly beauty and intellect. Of all the flowers of Ba Sing Se, this one outshined the entire serene garden.
Accompanied by only a single retainer, she eschewed unnecessary ornamentation, adhering to the Earth Sages' teachings of humility. Though even they temporarily faltered their tenet in the face of her resplendence. The layers of her silk robes shimmered with intricate designs, while her liangbatou was adorned with a hundred rare flowers, their beauty unmatched.
As she walked pass, the gathered officials, nobles, and influential figures willingly bowed their heads in reverence. Even Pan An, the celebrated poet, and other distinguished graduates seemed compelled to show respect to the esteemed literato.
Mayumi felt a flutter of anxiety in her chest. Approaching the noblewoman to ask about Satchiko's tutelage now might be interpreted as audacity, especially given the high regard Lady Te commanded. Regardless, the public appearance by Lady Te here can be described with one word.
Pulchritudinous
"L-Lady Te," Mayumi uttered cautiously upon approaching, trying to hide the subtle trembling of the tray. Nearly everyone in the room is watching them. "Would you care for some roast ducks?"
The center aisle of carpet, usually bustling with activity, now lay empty, a path of reverence leading straight to the woman. Mayumi feared that her humble appearance as a waitress would break the ethereal moment, disturbing the solemnity of Lady Te's procession.
Yet, to Mayumi's surprise, instead of allowing her retainer to rebuke the caterer, Lady Te paused and addressed her directly.
"Thank you," Lady Te said, her composure never slipping. "I appreciate your—" Her voice faltered slightly, the briefest flash of surprise quickly concealed beneath years of trained etiquette. "I'll have one, please."
Although the face paint of a Kyoshi Warrior serves as a form of disguise, standing too close meant nullifying such quirks. On this side of the continent, those with long brown hair is also exceedingly rare.
In the presence of such distinguished guests, it was customary for a noblewoman's retainer to assist her with matters concerning food, especially with Lady Te's silver nail guards that made holding anything difficult.
Seeing that a mere waitress has the courage to talk with Lady Te, a bold scion from an Upper Ring household mustered the gallantry to also encroach. Judging by his attire and family name alone, all affluent invitees recognize him as hailing from a less prominent household with dubious lineages. Thus, as detailed in plenty of literature cliche, talented scholars of the Earth Kingdom would describe overly ambitious situations like this as how a toad would covet the taste of delectable swam meat.
"My dear Lady Te," he began, fumbling through words during the cumbersome introduction. "I humbly praise you for achieving the highest rank of Zhuangyuan, truly a remarkable feat."
It was a valiant but nonetheless infeasible attempt to court a woman far above his status. There is also one slight issue in this effort of flattering, which the other guests stifled their amusement. Since the nobleman is clearly unaware, he continued to shower praises, increasing the weight of the blunder.
"I humbly accept your praise, however," Te Gaogui suddenly gazed lifelessly at the audacious fellow, unimpressed with this laughable conduct. "What is the title granted to the second-place holder of this occasion?"
The young nobleman faltered, caught off guard by the simple yet pointed question. His face turned crimson as he stammered, struggling to recall the answer. The Zhuangyuan title, the highest distinction, is far superior to second place. But any literate person would have known the three key ranks of the ceremony.
"I... uh..." the scion stuttered, fumbling for words. Boldly, he even tried to completely ignore her question, inviting the heiress to share tea in the many gardens of Upper Ring. "Lady Te, I have long admired your... talent..."
In her heart, Mayumi couldn't help but feel a wave of relief at the diversion caused by the nobleman's awkwardness. The spotlight shifted, and she watched, wincing at the dramatic drop in the nobleman's aura. It felt like a scene lifted straight from a poorly penned romance novel, one that had somehow materialized in real life.
Whether this young nobleman was driven by personal delusions or encouraged by overly ambitious parents, it was clear that Lady Te and her clan had little interest in courting an inferior clan, even if it's an Upper Ring one.
Lady Te's expression hardened, her patience running thin. "A kind offer," she said with a touch of disdain. "But perhaps you should reserve your attentions for a lady more suited to your caliber." With a graceful wave from her hand, she demanded his dismissal. When the nobleman tried to further overstep his bolds, the Te heiress retainer, a middle-aged woman, delivered a more forceful glare to counter such pathetic persistence. Finally, the locust who was attracted to mere beauty and status is ward off, and his whole family would become the subject of the city's teahouse gossips. Who knows, maybe this specific moment might form another Earth Kingdom idiom about harboring unrealistic goals.
As he retreated in disgrace, Mayumi found herself startled by the insinuation of Te Gaogui's words.
"You didn't attain first rank?" The question was direct, perhaps too impulsive from the Kyoshi Warrior's usually guarded mouth.
"We can speak after this," said the noblewoman. "For now, I just want to finish this entire ceremony." The voice felt tired, like a person awaking from a long sleep, yet felt no rest at all.
The Chamberlain of Rites and Ceremony, Earth Sage Zhu Xi, soon took his place beside the empty throne and began the formal announcement of the inauguration. He too seemed less than optimistic about the year's results.
End of Chapter Notes:
-Bhojpatra, or Himalyan birch, is a tree native to the Western Himalayas. Its bark is used for the ancient manuscripts of Sanskrit literature, and is still used today for various purposes including writing mantras.
-Bear Cat is the literal meaning of Panda in the Chinese language.
-The Tarim mummies are originate from the Tarim basin.
-The bronze blade depicted here is inspired from the sword of Goujian.
-One of the contributing factors of the Jingkang incident, a series of atrocities inflicted by the Jurchen Jin dynasty against the Song dynasty, was due to Emperor Qinzong's trust in superstition, which promises divine soldiers from the heaven.