Avatar-The Mandate of Heaven

The three highest-ranking officers of the Jian'er strode along the great wall's battlements, steps purposeful as they approached the turret housing their general's office. Qibi Heli chuckled to himself, remarking that the so-called office bore more resemblance to a boy's treasure hoard than a space befitting the monotony of administrative toil. It was a fair observation, if suits of armor and gleaming weapons could be likened to the whimsical trinkets of a child.

Such fanciful musings were promptly brushed aside by the pragmatic lieutenant, who regarded his companions with a measured look. His tone, even and unyielding, reminded them that their commanding officer had never allowed pastimes to encroach upon duties.

"Painting and feasting are hardly transgressions for a man of high station," the Firebender declared as the trio pressed on. "Especially for one tasked with bearing the unrelenting burdens of leadership. While I may not condone the unconventional use of his office, there is a limit to how much we can sacrifice to duty before even the strongest bodies demand reprieve."

Qibi Heli wasted no time in responding, a booming laugh escaping his lips. "And yet, I doubt you find much rest beneath a full moon."

The lieutenant offered no reaction beyond a fleeting glance. When they neared the turret's entrance, he abruptly raised a hand, halting their progress just before crossing the threshold.

A faint melody reached their ears, a song, unmistakably human in its cadence, though its origin seemed hauntingly out of place. The sound emerged from behind a metal mask, its eerie resonance laced with both sorrow and an insatiable hunger, as if the voice itself yearned for something it could never quite grasp.

The melancholic refrain intertwined with the rhythmic scrape of a glaive being sharpened against stone. For Jang, the lyrics carried a strange and disquieting weight, a lamentation steeped in unspoken yearning, as if the singer's voice hungered not only for sustenance but for something far more profound.

Mighty old Earth Kingdom, restore my land.

Till our blood runs dry, we shall not falter.

Mighty old Earth Kingdom, restore my land.

Till our blood runs dry, we shall not sate.

In the west is the great enemy, rising like the sun.

Our century of national hate, unstoppable by the sea.

When all under heaven is in turmoil, how can there be peace?

Our nation has valiant warriors, who dares to oppose them?

The singing ceased, leaving only the rhythmic rasp of the glaive against the sharpening stone. As Jang leaned closer to the entrance, taking care not to reveal himself, a voice called out from within.

"How kind of you to wait for someone like me to finish," the general said with his usual calm.

Realizing concealment was futile, Jang stepped into the doorway, fully revealing himself to the imposing figure seated within.

The Judge of Honghai, clad in his formidable armor, sat at ease in the sturdy seat, one hand methodically drawing a rock along the blade of the mighty glaive. Around him stood four ironclad figures, each garbed in bronze-plated armor interwoven with heavy cords. Their masks were intricate, with helmets resembling unfurling lotus blossoms. Stranger still, among their arsenal are unexpected items such as a pipa, its strings taut and gleaming, and also an umbrella.

"It is always good to see you, my trusted second," the general said, voice muffled slightly by the metal mask.

"General," Jang replied, pressing his hands together and bowed. Without preamble, he began to relay matters of state. "While you were away on your hunting trip last night, word arrived from the Upper Ring. They request your presence at this year's Keju graduation ceremony."

The general continued his sharpening but gave no immediate response. For a man known for quelling threats beyond the borders of Ba Sing Se, he harbored little interest in scholarly rituals.

It wasn't until Jang added that the event would coincide with the annual military examinations that the general finally raised his helmet, the masked visage turning toward the lieutenant.

"Your company by my side would be most welcome," the general remarked. Setting the glaive aside, he rose and turned toward a simmering pot at the cooking station nearby. The rich aroma of spiced meat and herbs filled the turret, scent both tantalizing and almost overwhelming, irresistible to those unaware of its preparation method.

Eschewing formal dining etiquette, the general lifted the pot directly to his helmet, drinking deeply. The vessel itself drew reluctant attention, a refashioned Fire Nation helmet, likely a relic from the Hundred Year War. Watching the voracious mannerism of his general, who seems to very enjoy the meal, Jang is hesitant to speak further.

When the general's appetite was sated, the lieutenant approached with another matter, though one less pressing. With measured steps, he withdrew a rolled parchment and placed it on the table beside the glaive. Its texture and appearance were immediately striking, the surface neither bamboo nor silk, but something older, more organic.

"Bhojpatra," the general said slowly, pronouncing the word with great difficulty. Despite the bulk of his armored gloves, he handled the parchment with surprising care. "Few in the Earth Kingdom would recognize this. The tree grows only in the high mountains, where monks built their sanctuaries. Scaling those peaks is no easy feat, and most of us would find little reason to attempt it."

Jang unfurled the parchment, revealing lines of calligraphy that spiraled and swirled in a style wholly alien to the Earth Kingdom. The script, written in an unfamiliar language, defied understanding.

"This is from the Western Air Temple, I presume?" the general asked, his attention returning briefly to the meal.

"Precisely," Jang confirmed.

The general let out a low hum of acknowledgment, setting the parchment aside with the air of one accustomed to mysteries. "I'll ponder its contents when time permits. For now, let us turn our focus to preparations for this journey to the Upper Ring. It would do my trusted officers some good to see sights more verdant than the sand dunes beyond our walls."

The Judge of Honghai's reputation as the pacifier of the corsair horde led by the notorious Anguta was well known, though often overstated. Among Ba Sing Se's vast legions, his command of a mere few thousand troops paled in comparison to the entire army's might. Yet, the invitation to the Upper Ring was a rare honor, undoubtedly extended thanks to the influence of General Liu.

For now, the Judge's presence would be required not on the battlefield but in the ceremonial halls of power, a shift as curious as the refashioned helmet from which he had just drunk his fill.

"We should probably bring some baskets too," Qibi Heli chimed in, stepping seamlessly into the conversation with his usual irreverence. "All we need to do is raid the party's catering and divide it among three thousand people. Simple enough, don't you think?"

The absurdity of the suggestion hung in the air for a moment. To Jang's dismay, the general gave an approving nod. It was difficult to tell whether the masked figure was genuinely entertained by the idea or simply indulging his officer's jest.

"Relay an order to Captain Zhang Xun," the general instructed. "Let him know there is no need to prepare rations upon our return. A change in fare will do us all good. Even soldiers need to remind their palates of life's variety from time to time."

...

A lifetime spent in a remote and unremarkable village left her with an acute awareness of how much of the world remained beyond reach. On occasion, she had wondered what lives people might lead behind the towering walls of distant cities.

Now, standing within the Upper Ring of Ba Sing Se for the first time, she felt those musings take tangible shape. The air here practically hummed with affluence. Everywhere she turned, citizens strode in elegant attire, a harmonious blend of deep yellows and verdant greens that seemed to reflect the city's storied prosperity. Educated men and influential merchants reclined in opulent teahouses, sipping rare blends as they managed sprawling business ventures in the outer districts. High-born ladies, poised in carriages drawn by ostrich horses with plumage soft as silk, filled their days with pursuits of leisure. Often, they are reciting classical Earth Kingdom poetry, tending to their timeless beauty by fighting against time's march, engaging in conversations sharp enough to make even the occasional Water Tribe traveler pause and listen from the street.

The architecture was a marvel. Nearly every structure boasted elaborate stonework and yellow-tiled roofs, all symbols of wealth and power designed to impress. Yet, for all its splendor, there is a disquieting undercurrent to the grandeur. Elder Jin had remarked earlier that many of the city's wealthiest residents are merely heirs to old fortunes, their opulence a hollow shell of labor and merit. Even so, not every inhabitant of the Upper Ring hailed from prominence. Merchants, military generals, and bureaucrats who rose from the Lower Ring through ambition and grit also called this district home, proving that the city's rigid hierarchies, while daunting, is not entirely impenetrable.

Her own position, she mused, is not so dissimilar. Born to moderately influential parents on their island, she had gained access to unearned tutorage through privilege that set her apart from the common folk. A curious blend of guilt and fascination tinged her thoughts as she followed the guide's call.

"This way, children, follow me!" the tour guide directed, leading the group toward the grand entrance of the royal palace.

They approached the massive red-plastered stone wall, its scale imposing even from a distance. The gate itself was a masterpiece of fortification and ornamentation, with three grand arches crowned by a two-storied pavilion. Flanking the structure stood double-eaved guard towers, their golden roofs gleaming beneath the sun. At the center of it all, a colossal golden coin symbol sat above the main door, a bold testament to the Earth Kingdom's past rulers.

"I wasn't expecting a sea of people," Hudie muttered, visibly uncomfortable amid the crowd.

Near a thousand had gathered, all awaiting entry. Guards in heavy brigandine maintained order, their stoic presence a silent reminder of authority. As the crowd shifted restlessly, a resonant horn sounded, signaling the next stage of the procession. Slowly, the great doors creaked open, and the masses surged forward like water slowly released from a dam.

Satchiko clung close to her fellow students, unused to navigating such a dense throng. Once through the gatehouse, sunlight bathed them again, illuminating a sprawling courtyard that seemed to stretch endlessly. Flags of earthy greens and yellows flanked the brick pathway leading to the palace, their long rectangular shapes swaying in the breeze. The vastness of the space overwhelmed her. It is likely larger than her entire village.

"How long has it been?" one of the elders murmured. "How many years has this gate remained shut?"

In its golden age, the monarchy of Ba Sing Se welcomed dignitaries from across the world through these gates, their tributes and treasures enriching the city's legacy. But years of peasant revolts had stolen much of that glory. Priceless relics were looted, and the gate itself had been sealed for at least two decades.

The palace loomed ahead, separated from the courtyard by a shimmering stream crossed by three stone bridges. Its architectural grandeur was almost incomprehensible. Huabiao pillars, with intricate carvings, stood like silent sentinels. Beyond the gates and courtyards lay the palace's true majesty, a self-contained world, vast and opulent.

Satchiko craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the royal residence, a structure that embodied both the heights of human ambition and the weight of historical consequence. The enormity of the palace was undeniable, as was its dual nature, serving as a home for the sovereign yet also a seat of power that once dictated the fate of the entire continent.

"Man, it's so far away!" a boy in stiff ceremonial robes complained. "Who thought it was a good idea to make the courtyard this big? It's ridiculous!"

"Behave yourself!" snapped an elder, who appeared to be his grandfather. "This ground you tread upon bears the weight of history. Wise rulers and valiant generals have walked these very bricks. Show respect, kiss the earth if you must!"

The boy froze, horrified by the command. "W-wait, you're serious?" he stammered, reluctance only amplifying the chuckles from those nearby. Despite his protests, he eventually complied under the elder's stern gaze, pressing lips to the meticulously maintained bricks to the amusement of the crowd. Although the courtyard is likely cleaned before this occasion, no sane individual would commit unhygienic acts like this one.

Judging by their attire, they are undoubtedly members of a wealthy Upper Ring family. The older generation carried themselves with an air of reverence for the palace, being a testament to centuries of reform and governance. In contrast, the youth seemed largely indifferent to the gravitas of the world around them, uninterested in the 'dull' concerns of politics and history.

For someone like Satchiko, and the millions residing in forgotten corners of the continent, the palace represented something entirely different. To them, the grand edifice was less a symbol of governance and more an abstraction, a distant idea divorced from everyday reality. Most villagers in her homeland would struggle to even comprehend the concept of the Earth Kingdom as a unified nation. The fractures of the realm meant little to communities that had never felt the monarchy's influence, save for the occasional pillaging brought by marauding warlords.

As Satchiko marched towards the base of the palace, the enormity of it loomed over her. Not just the physical size, but its implications. Was her little island truly part of this so-called Earth Kingdom? Even if technically? The notion still puzzled her. But what legitimacy could the Earth King claim when his influence ended at the walls of Ba Sing Se? She had seen firsthand the devastation wrought by unchecked warlords and the hollow shells of towns left to rot. A unified kingdom, if it ever truly existed, felt like a myth, ensconced by those within the palace's safety.

And yet, she couldn't help but wonder. If the Earth Kingdom could somehow reclaim its unity, could it mend the rifts across the land? Would the wars stop, and the famine recede? Or was the splendor of this place merely a facade, hiding a deeper rot that no amount of power could ever heal?

...

Npauj Npaim panted desperately, drinking deeply from a gourd before continuing their arduous trek. They had been walking for far too long, bodies worn with fatigue, especially among the older members of the group. "Are we there yet? My feet are killing me!"

"Nope!" came the cheerful response from the tour guide, her wide, unwavering smile tide to the boundless optimism. Like a diligent custodian, she seemed impervious to exhaustion, unlike the weary travelers trailing behind her. It was precisely this resilience that had placed her at the head of the group, leading the students at the forefront. "A bit of exercise never hurt anyone. Once we cross that stone bridge, we'll arrive at the royal palace museum. You'll find a wealth of artifacts and paintings to marvel at!"

Her words sparked a glimmer of renewed energy among the students. Fortunately, Satchiko had shed her usual armor and student garb for the day. Instead, she wore the simple green robe favored during training. Still, it would have been more comfortable had she not been constantly jostled by the crowd.

...

"Is this some kind of jest?" Satchiko grimaced, her stomach stirring with discomfort. She could feel the weight of disappointment press against her as the crowd shuffled along at a glacial pace in the oppressive heat. Though the procession advanced with perfect order, Satchiko knew that her acrobatic prowess could easily shave off time, allowing a quicker route.

After crossing a weathered stone bridge that spanned a small stream, they faced an imposing staircase that seemed to stretch infinitely upward. Gazing at the monumental steps, Satchiko's breath caught in her throat. The sheer scale of the structure towered over her, dwarfing everything she had ever encountered. Even Kyoshi Island's grandest temple would appear like a humble shack in comparison to this towering marvel of stone architecture.

"Ah, don't fret," the tour guide chimed cheerfully. "Just a little stretch for your legs! Nothing to worry about!"

"A LITTLE?!" Satchiko's incredulous exclamation cut through the air.

The elderly man, who had previously been quiet, did not echo the youthful complaints of the others. Perhaps the monumental significance of the royal palace overpowered the physical toll of the climb, even for someone of his advanced years. Thus, the immense stairs were but a trifle for those who understood the rarity of stepping foot on such sacred ground.

The students could only groan in defeat, their movements agonizingly slow. But rather than succumb to their shared ennui, Satchiko resolved to take matters into her own hands. With a fluid motion, she pushed forward.

"Hey! Slow down!" the guide called in alarm.

In a flash, Satchiko sped forth in a blur of speed. Her Earthbending abilities, though limited to levitating pebbles, could not match the fluidity and agility she had honed since childhood. It was a privilege few could claim, with a body sculpted by years of rigorous training in the art of stealth.

Still, as the climb wore on, her muscles ached with each step, the strain beginning to gnaw at her endurance. She pressed onward, though it seemed that no matter how far she pushed, the meager strength could not overcome the brutal test of attrition. But with one final push, she reached the top, breathless yet triumphant.

Panting, Satchiko stood at the summit, a small yet gratifying victory surging within her chest while gazing down at the vast expanse below. She had raced ahead, reaching the Royal Palace long before anyone else.

"Woah!" she gasped, startled as her foot caught an uneven stone. The whole body lurched forward. But her hands, trained for such mishaps, snatched the air and prevented the face from crashing into the unforgiving stone. Steadying herself, she stood before the palace doors, their sheer immensity towering over like the very forces of nature. It was staggering to think that something so seemingly mundane could possess such enormous size, a testament to the mainland Earth Kingdom craftmanship.

"I see the youth are as impatient as ever," a voice remarked. "Once their sights are set on something, they cannot be deterred."

Satchiko spun toward the source of the voice, startled that she had not sensed another's presence. Her hand instinctively reached for the metal fan concealed beneath her attire but halted when the gaze landed upon the middle-aged man, who is casually resting against one of the colossal pillars, seemingly at ease.

Clad in a simple green robe, and a topknot wrapped in a cloth, he exuded an air of studied indifference. The mustache curled around the mouth, while serviceable, forms an attire that lacks the more polished appearances of the Upper Ring's elite.

Satchiko, who is no better than a country bumpkin, recognized the disparity. The near simplicity of this man's appearance contrasts most affluent locals who prefer golden hues to showcase their immense wealth. She wonders why he is even here.

"Look at them, all look like mere dots," the man mused, eyes tracing the slow procession climbing toward the palace. "People are such a curious thing. So obsessed with royalty, yet they understand nothing about the weight of the crown. Most have never seen the true face of a monarch's court, its greatest woes and triumphs."

Satchiko approached cautiously, her words carefully measured to avoid offense. Despite doubting the man's significance, she nonetheless chose a cordial exchange.

"The name is Han Fei," he said, rising with an almost lazy grace, brushing off the dust from his robes with a dismissive flick. He brought both hands together in a gesture of respect, bowing in the basic style used in the mainland Earth Kingdom. "Director of Ba Sing Se's Royal Museum. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, young lady."

Satchiko, having been schooled in the etiquette of the Earth Kingdom by Earth Sage Zhu Xi, tried her best to reciprocate the gesture. Even for simple interactions, differences in social status, age and profession must all be meticulously considered, much to the liking of the first Earth Sage, who champions adherence of rites and ritual that have lasted thousands of years. While her own people bow differently, she at least tried to mimic the correct form of hand greeting.

"Thank you, sir," Satchiko replied simply. "I am from Ky—" She caught herself just in time, recalling her sister's advice to keep their origins vague. "I'm from the south."

The answer was technically correct, as Kyoshi Island does lie somewhat southward from Ba Sing Se.

Han Fei replied with a light smile, remarking how he too hail from the southern part of the continent. While all under heaven is engulfed in war, it is ironic that social advancement is also suddenly available in its own unique way. As the states waged war against one another, scholars and generals compete for peerage and wealth by demonstrating their usefulness to enterprising rulers.

"In a hilarious matter of fate," he said. "So much suffering created opportunities for those who would otherwise stagnate in peace."

Satchiko did not take kindly to these words. It was never right to revel in personal gain when one was acutely aware of the cost to others.

"Ah, well," Han Fei said with a shrug, dismissing the weight of his previous statement. "Enjoy your tour, young lady. We have recently recovered some fascinating artifacts, perhaps something will catch your interest."

As the rest of the invitees began to trickle up the final stretch, Han Fei's demeanor shifted once more. His previously casual air dissolved into a far more formal stance, greeting distinguished guests, high-ranking officials and affluent families of the Upper Ring. Satchiko, however, took her leave following the man's cynical outlook. The guard nearby pointing her toward the correct corridors, where she would soon step into the heart of the Royal Palace.

...

The interior was a breathtaking sight, lavishly furnished and adorned with opulence that left Satchiko in a state of quiet awe. While she understood that this hallowed space served as a residence for the monarch of the entire Earth Kingdom, the sheer grandeur of it still overwhelmed her.

The vastness of the rooms struck her with a sense of insignificance. The ceiling, towering and impossibly high, dwarfing the wooden lodges of her homeland. And the jade pillars that lined the hall stood like silent sentinels, holding the green glow of crystals embedded within the thick columns bathed the space in an ethereal, dim light, casting a soft luminescence across the room. Even as she marveled at the architectural splendor, the sheer magnitude of it continued to feel surreal. The thought that such luxury could be the birthright of some, while countless others under heaven must beg for alms to survive, was a bitter pill to swallow.

As the group wandered through the vast corridors of the palace, the tour guide regaled them with tales of the priceless artifacts collected by the diligent cultural guardians. Among the treasures were ancient weapons, blades and polearms dating back to the time before the Earth Kingdom's first unification to its greatest golden ages. Intricately crafted paintings, as well as delicate porcelain pieces created by the finest artisans, lined the walls, each one a masterpiece in its own right.

One particular painting, which depicts four women making silk, is displayed with pride. It is said to have been personally created by a sovereign during one of the Kingdom's wealthiest dynasties. This ruler, though famed for his artistic patronage, was equally remembered for the folly that had marred his reign. It was a foolish mistake that led to the comedic opening of the gates to a seemingly impregnable fortress, a fatal moment during a critical war between the settled people and a rising nomad khanate. Fooled by a religious charlatan who promised 'divine reinforcements' by gathering a thousand sickly beggars to the city's main gate, the ruler stupidly allowed the invaders through the walls, resulting in a series of tragic atrocities.

That infamous event, and this painter's incompetence, was immortalized in the annals of history.

Satchiko moved with the group, her gaze drifting over the treasures as the tour guide continued her lecture, pointing out the most notable items in the collection.

"Here we have the robe once worn by Li Hei, the Earth Kingdom's most celebrated poet," the guide announced with a flourish, gesturing toward a mannequin draped in a dark, silken robe. The garment is exquisite, a masterpiece from the nation's greatest golden age. Its fabric flowing with an elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Though Satchiko remained largely illiterate when it came to the calligraphic arts, she could make out the characters etched upon the nearby wall. The words, though enigmatic, conveyed a sense of grandeur and beauty, an echo of the poet's legendary mastery of language. She couldn't help but feel a sense of disconnection, like a stranger lost in a world of words.

Beside my bed a pool of light,

Is it hoarfrost on the ground?

I lift my eyes and see the moon,

I lower my face and think of home.

To Satchiko's recollection, however dim her grasp of the lessons imparted by Earth Sage Zhu Xi, it was clear that capable scholars naturally aspired to positions of authority. There are the ministers, officials, and statesmen, all within the Earth Kingdom's vast bureaucracy. The same could be said of the renowned poet Li Hei, who had once served as a translator at the side of the Earth Monarch. A man celebrated for his mastery of poetry and love of wine, Li Hei enchanted both aristocrats and commoners alike with his personality. It was said that in the twilight years of his life, disillusioned by the trappings of courtly intrigue, he retreated from the royal capital to wander as a hermit, dedicating himself fully to the arts and to the solace found in nature's quiet embrace.

As the group moved through the halls, Satchiko's mind wandered back to the familiar shores of Kyoshi Island. Her thoughts drifted to the windswept beaches where the rhythm of the tides seemed to speak in verses as old as time itself.

A group of poet enthusiasts soon took her place, no doubt receiving more inspiration from this renown poet more than her uneducated mind.

After lingering over the artifacts from the Earth Kingdom's golden age, they ventured into the deeper chambers of the museum, where relics of an even more ancient past is on display. Here, the objects were steeped in mystery, small sculptures depicting men and women engaged in rituals that had long been abandoned, considered archaic even by the time of the first Earth Sage. Tools inscribed with strange, unrecognizable symbols stood as mute witnesses to a culture that had vanished into the annals of history. Even the weapons are different. The double-edged swords, much thicker than the ones used today, predated the era of single-edged blades, a design that would only become popularized until the brutal war between settled peoples and nomadic tribes.

"And here we have another piece of historical significance," the tour guide said, her voice tinged with reverence as she gestured to a weathered jian, a blade cast in tin bronze. She explained that the weapon was forged in the earliest days of the first Warring States Era, before the unification of the Earth Kingdom. This thick and wide jian, once belonged to a defeated king, who had been made a slave by the rival ruler. To earn his freedom, the owner of this legendary blade endured unimaginable hardships, including the tasting of manure in an effort to gain the trust of his captors.

As for the weapon itself, forged thousands of years ago, was crafted by a tribe who once resided within the Foggy Swamp. Though the makers of this blade may not have understood the intricacies of statecraft or the elegance of poetry, their mastery of metallurgy was without equal, creating a blade that had withstood the test of millennia.

"What a stunning piece. It would make a fine addition to my personal collection."

The voice came from a figure in the crowd, the heavily armored one that towers over the other invitees. With a massive glaive in one hand, resting the blade on his shoulder, the masked general approached, forcing those nearby to avoid the passing blade. One poor fellow even accidentally broke his silken hat in half as the blade effortlessly cleaved through.

A museum staff member, clearly alarmed by the general's display, hurriedly attempted to intervene, though his voice faltered in the presence of such authority. The displayed ancient jian, despite its age, remained pristine. On the blade's surface, a column of ancient inscriptions caught the eye, words that though now obscure, is known across the continent as a famous idiom.

越王勾踐

Satchiko, though not versed in the language of calligraphy, admired the craftsmanship of the blade, noting the way the inscriptions seemed to pulse with the weight of history. Still, even this legendary artifact was not beyond flaw. Along the edge is a small but noticeable scratch. For a weapon thousands of years old, the mark seemed almost inconsequential, yet it stood out sharply against the flawless surface of the rest of the blade.

"Why is there a tiny scratch on the side here?" Satchiko murmured aloud, unable to contain the curiosity.

The masked general, clad in full armor with mountain-patterned scales, turned toward her, answering before the tour guide can respond.

"The tarnish of a prestigious weapon only occurs when it is handled by those unworthy," he said. Despite the flamboyant armor, there was an effort to keep his presence minimal, almost haunting in its quiet intensity. "Such a timeless treasure, a sword whose condition are just like when it was forged. Enduring the march of time for more than two millennia but was shamefully tainted by clumsiness." His tone shifted, tinged with a rare hint of sorrow. Stepping closer to the display, the frozen mask marvels the blade as though mourning its imperfection. "A pity, for its wielder have endured great hardship, a true practitioner of the Neutral Jing, which brought a decisive victory for his kingdom over the enemies who humiliated him. Perhaps, one day I too may reap the reward akin to a man who slept on sticks and tasted bale. Although, the thought of asking my men to slit their throats may be beyond even my sanguinary."

The Judge of Honghai, his metal mask depicting only anger, turned toward the nearby museum staff with a gesture of authority. "Take better care of this timeless blade," he warned. "I'd rather not see it suffer the same fate as the sword of Chin the Conqueror." His words, though diplomatic, hinted at an underlying frustration.

As the tour guide offered the students some free time to explore, Satchiko hesitated. Still disgruntle by their conflicting views on the Avatar, she approached the Judge of Honghai.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, spending no effort on cordiality. "I thought you were guarding the outer wall. What if someone tries to break in and harm the locals?"

The general gave a low, almost amused chuckle. He reached into a satchel carried by one of his soldiers and retrieved a bucket of fried meat. "Considering you are not even a citizen of Ba Sing Se, it delights me that someone of your stature would value the lives of the common people. But aside from your overestimation, I doubt the Outer Wall would fall due to the absence of a single general, especially one whose feats are greatly exaggerated. There are dozens like me, each overseeing a portion of the city's protection." He took a casual bite of the fried meat, savoring it with unrestrained pleasure. "Besides, it's not every day that men like us are invited to such a grand occasion. I heard the food at the ceremony is quite extraordinary." He suddenly looked at Satchiko, offering a piece of fried meat. "Want one?"

Satchiko eyed him carefully. The aroma wafted in the air, but despite its mouth-watering appeal, she resolved to save the appetite for the free catering that awaited her later. Still, she couldn't suppress the lingering suspicion that something wasn't quite right about the general's casual tone.

"Well, I do hope you find Zhu Xi's sagely teachings useful for your Earthbending endeavors. If I may offer a piece of advice, something to consider despite our differences, keep your mind open to the teachings and traditions of others. While I don't expect the great Earth Sage of Ba Sing Se to speak fondly of the monks, there's no harm in visiting places where one might learn, as long as they don't try to kill you." The general and his entourage moved on.

Satchiko watched the procession, but as the group disappeared into the distance, her attention is drawn to two figures standing in the background. Her keen eyes narrowed at a serious-faced lieutenant in darkened scale armor, flanked by a woman dressed in heavy woolen garb. The latter's attire struck Satchiko as wholly impractical for the warm climate of the city. Surely such garment is meant for the frigid climate of the North or South Pole.

What was more curious, however, was the woman's lack of any fingers. The duo was engrossed in something, a wooden mannequin that seemed to be a practice tool of some kind. The figure reminded Satchiko of the training dummies with chi pathways inscribed upon them, used by herself and others on Kyoshi Island to hone the art of jabbing body pressure points.

"Enjoying the tour?" came a friendly voice from behind.

Satchiko spun around, instinctively reaching for her remaining metal fan, an old habit she struggled to suppress. Here, amid the crowd of onlookers, the sudden approach of the director of the museum was almost unsettling. She was confounded by the absence of footsteps, perhaps Han Fei's presence was simply diluted with the crowds of invitees who revel in their eloquence about priceless artefacts.

"At ease, at ease," Han Fei said with a light laugh, brushing his beard with one hand. "I'm just curious if our collection has incurred your interest. After all, it's thanks to the diligence of my hardworking students that many priceless artefacts are retrieved."

Satchiko hesitated for a moment before forcing a smile, recalling her sister's advice to remain camouflaged with the city's populace. She glanced around, finding a nearby porcelain pot that caught her eye, immediately complimenting it with slight exaggeration. "This vase," she remarked with false enthusiasm. "Looks very exquisite. It reminds me of one that belonged to one of our village elders."

It wasn't entirely a lie. A porcelain vase of such quality would indeed be a rare and valuable treasure on Kyoshi Island, where even the wealthier villagers would scarcely possess such luxury, serving as bragging rights.

To cement the appreciation, Satchiko channeled the knowledge from her father, who has a penchant of arranging their home's furniture to harness what he claims to be the energy of good fortune, a concept found in Earth Kingdom geomancy.

"Now that I think about it, the expert positioning of this vase has great Feng Shui!" she added, almost pleased with her confidence on the subject. "It's good that you ordered your students to put it next this display of ancient spears. I remember my father did the same with putting our mattress next to the window."

"That's just a rubbish bin," Han Fei interjected politely, wishing to end the secondhand embarrassment that likely frightened away any good 'Feng Shui energy' that was present in the museum. "One of our interns put it there, and I can assure you that not all on this continent shares the same belief on the cultural norms and customs of furniture arrangement."

It was an honest statement. The more they traveled, the more Satchiko realized the difference others appear to her. Local superstitions and customs vary. Even on Kyoshi Island, she heard there are women from other villages that tattooed the areas around their lips, throwing beans around their huts to ward off so-called evil spirits.

Thankfully, the director is rather magnanimous in her sheer ignorance, offering a short tour around the museum that wasn't covered by the tour guide.

"As a director, it's such a pleasure to watch the visitors glamouring over our cultural heritage and appreciate what our ancestors have passed down for the new," Han Fei proudly said as they bypassed two history students examining a prehistoric ding tripod cauldron, metal artefacts that predates before the Earth Kingdom's establishment. "As progress constantly advance and transform society, we must never forget the mistakes and accomplishments of history. There are plenty of exhibits stolen when Ba Sing Se was driven to anarchy. Thankfully, we have repaired the walls and reinstated order. A great deal of effort was spent to get these irreplaceable relics back, so that we may pass down these vestiges of ancient Earth Kingdom to future generations."

They walked up to a large display featuring a skeleton of a creature that stood upright, its form unlike anything Satchiko had encountered.

"What do you think this is?" Han Fei asked, his voice laced with amusement.

"A platypus bear?" Satchiko ventured, unsure but drawing from the live platypus bear the city used to quell disorderly refugees. Yet, as her gaze scanned the skeleton's mouth, she saw it lacked a beak.

Han Fei gave her a knowing smile. "It's a bear," he corrected, but his words seemed to fall on deaf ears, for Satchiko was still trying to identify the creature.

"A skunk bear?" she asked.

"No."

"An armadillo bear?"

"No."

"A gopher bear?"

"No."

"Bear cat?" Satchiko persisted.

"The last one was surprisingly close," Han Fei chuckled, clearly entertained by her educated guesses.

Satchiko, growing increasingly uncomfortable, sought to minimize the awkwardness of her mounting mistakes. "Just... a bear?" she offered hesitantly.

Han Fei nodded. "This bear was a rare specimen, one of a kind in fact. He was the pet and closest companion of the fifty-second Earth King, Kuei. The university's head of zoology of that time was tasked with finding him a mate. Sadly, both the professor and the bear met tragic ends."

Satchiko, now intrigued, pressed further. "What happened to them?"

"The bear was eaten by the King's unfilial daughter," he said. "As for the professor... " Han Fei paused to think, tucking his hands underneath those massive sleeves. "Strange, he actually never came back from the trip. Oh well, move on."

They then arrived at a rather humble display, with a frame protecting a blue mask, flanked by two broadswords. The mask was striking, unlike any Satchiko had seen before. It didn't resemble those worn in Ba Sing Se's opera performances, suggesting it as a foreign artifact.

"Ah, the Blue Spirit," Han Fei said with a sense of pride. "A mysterious figure whose true identity remains unknown. Is he a human or a spirit? No one knows for sure. What are your thoughts on this individual?"

Satchiko was silent for a moment, unsure how to respond. She was unfamiliar with this figure and the significance behind the mask. Finally, she asked. "Why are you so certain this figure is male?"

Han Fei's lips quirked in amusement. "It's an educated guess. Luckily, I can still confirm the truth, if the wearer is a man of integrity who upholds his promise."

As they moved past more exhibits, everyday objects from the Hundred Year War, Satchiko couldn't help but notice the constant greetings Han Fei received. Several invitees bowed and exchanged pleasantries with him, acknowledging the clear hierarchy in the room.

"Your Excellency," a merchant greeted with a warm grin. "Your collection is as vast and impressive as ever. It's an honor for humble traders like me to be invited to admire the treasures of our ancestors!"

"No need for such formality," Han Fei responded with a smile, clearly used to the deference.

Satchiko waited patiently for their conversation to end, wondering when she can scurry off to find her sister without appearing disrespectful.

The merchant continued, undeterred. "Director, there's talk of a wedding between Young Master Gong Zi of the Gan Jin patriarch and Lady Qian Jin from General Sun Bin's family. Would you be attending?"

Han Fei chuckled lightly. "I'm still working on it," he said. "My schedule is packed, but I'm sure a few cups of aged wine won't be too much of a burden."

The two men shared a laugh, enjoying the simplicity of life. After a polite exchange, Han Fei resumed Satchiko's tour, guiding her to a dark, overlooked corner of the museum where a lone painting hung behind glass. Not a single soul seemed to take notice of it, and its unassuming presence made Satchiko question its worth.

Of all the artworks created using ancient ink washing techniques, aesthetically beautiful nature scenes that are hard to replicate, the scribbling before her is like a child's wanton imagination, filled with a rabbit person bending water followed by a snarling little kid. One figure possesses spikey hair, while another styled a very gloomy look. Furthermore, there is even a boy with wooden stick and a fan wielding girl that is presumably a magician shooting fire out of her hands. Even more absurd, there is a fat man rubbing his stomach.

Satchiko, familiar with her own crude attempts at painting, could relate to the feeling of frustration that likely came with such a poorly executed piece. Yet, she was hesitant to openly voice such opinion, especially with Han Fei so clearly invested in the painting's significance.

"When I became the new director of this museum, all the artifacts and precious paintings handed down by our ancestors were lost," Han Fei said in a saddened tone, perhaps still pained at the thought of unretrieved artefacts still in the hands of looters. "My first walk through these empty halls were unforgettable. It was all stripped clean. The paintings, the armor, the porcelains, and even the ancient mummified bodies found in the basin of the Si Wong desert. Yet only this painting survived the anarchy, completely untouched. It is indeed an unimpressive piece of parchment, ugly, lacking any artistic skill, but it does occupy a special position my heart." He paused, reflecting these past years, speaking in a manner not too dissimilar to an Earth Sage. "No benefit is more constant than simplicity, no happiness more constant than peace. While the painter never titled his masterpiece, I decided to call it, The Moment."

Satchiko examined the lackluster painting once again. Strangely, she did somewhat understand Han Fei's perspective. Maybe there is indeed a deeper meaning that is difficult to grasp. After all, perhaps there is divine intervention involved, which prevented this painting from being looted.

"So, what do you think?" Han Fei asked the young girl. "The one who painted this picture is a very intelligent and clever man. Someone who despite all the challenges and drawbacks, managed to establish himself as a key figure of the world. The moment depicted by this glorious artwork is priceless, almost legendary. What feelings or thoughts does his artistic talent invoke in you, young lady?"

Satchiko, still unsure how to respond, chose the only answer that would keep the conversation from spiraling into awkwardness. "Well, it did remind me of my terrible Earthbending. Hopefully, I can at least learn something basic here."

Han Fei smiled at her earnestness, nodding in approval. "Hardworking people should always be rewarded. Through rewards and punishments, we're encouraged to become a greater good for society. Now, allow me to show you the most prized exhibit in our collection, the envy of the entire Earth Kingdom."