Luke

On the battlefield, while at war, one skill that was trained more than many others was finding the excuse to celebrate. The team got back from a patrol alive? Celebrate. The squad scored a kill? Celebrate. Only 50% casualty rates? Celebrate. Still alive? Celebrate.

As the time living on the precipice of death droned on, the justifications for a hard drink became all the more lax. Maybe Ba Sing Se would have turned out differently for myself had I let myself settle down from time to time. Watching the Earth Kingdom soldiers around me now though, no inclination to go easy on the alcohol present, I reconsidered that notion. Danger was the furthest thing from their minds.

In Ba Sing Se, you couldn't allow your mind to go null. If you got caught in an 0200 bombardment, found that you were pulling patrol duty the next day, or spirits' forbid, were taking part in an assault, if you didn't have your wits about you, you were doing yourself no favors. It had all come down to luck at the end of the day, I suppose, but the handicap was by no means a necessary one.

One had to wonder just how these soldiers had survived here for so long with the state they were in. All it had taken was less than a day to come to the realization that they hadn't seen action since the Fire Navy had established their blockade. There had been some initial skirmishes that the Earth Kingdom had triumphed in, holding the southern coast, but beyond that, in the years that this campaign had been being waged, they'd seem to have forgotten that a hostile force occupied the waters they neighbored.

Feasting, drunken, acting an oaf, Commander Hanief wasn't particularly setting an example for his men to follow. Or, rather, he was, but just the wrong example at that. His crew seemed more than content to follow in his footsteps all with the exception of Captain Cholla who was, by all counts, being what a proper model should be. He checked up on the tables, removed those drunken enough to be putting their lives or the lives of others at risk, and for the most part, just rendered himself somebody of actual use around here. I couldn't help but look at the man with a degree of begrudging respect, coming to a quick enough assessment that he was the kind of man I'd be willing to fight under. Pity he's got to be fighting for the Earth Kingdom.

I ignored the drink in front of me as I grabbed a bun that'd been situated on the table between me and Zek. It was stale. How long had this been in storage? It was quick enough for me to realize that I'd eaten worse. Far worse. At least this bread wasn't moldy.

"You're going to eat that?" Zek asked, looking over as I slammed the bread into the corner of the table to break it open and make enough room for me to shove my fingers inside and tear it apart, giving me access to the interior.

"For somebody who's been to my home city, you still seem to have a very odd impression of me being a picky eater," I retorted before taking a bite, not sure if bread was supposed to be crunchy, the type I was more accustomed to being soggy and oozing. But thinking back on it, mold did tend to have that effect.

"How long until you think they're done cooking?"

I shrugged, possessing no earthly idea. I tried thinking back on time aboard the Patriot. Ka'lira had cooked for us then, but for the most part it had really been Gordez doing the work along with her help. The man, despite his rough edges from working mechanics all his life, possessed a very odd grasp on the culinary arts if the meals he'd prepared had been any indication. "Do you think we should go help them?"

Zek scoffed, turning to me to ask, "Do you think we know how to cook?"

"No…," I responded, seeing his point. "Do they know how to cook?"

Zek considered, thinking. "Maybe? Huh. No clue. It's Gordez they should have in there right now."

"Where is he anyway?" I asked. All we knew was that he certainly wasn't with us. None of us had been surprised when he hadn't showed up. Commander Hanief, only tipsy at the moment rather than full-blown drunk, had still been conscious enough to possess a small degree of disappointment at his guest's absense, but soon seemed to get over it as he filled the void with alcohol as seemed to be a common practice in service.

Zek shrugged, clearly having no idea himself, but I think we both figured that the man was likely around the artillery emplacements, admiring the sight, or more intelligently, had already gone off to sleep, knocking himself out before his drunken bedmates arrives. Likely a wise decision. Wouldn't be a bad idea to do the same myself.

Gordez had never been the type to really enjoy the company of strangers. I could only imagine the effort it had taken him to represent us to the groups we ran across in these last few weeks, be it the Revanchist Tribe, the Nuns, or the Earth Kingdom now. I wouldn't be surprised if Boss was grooming him for command. If there was anybody to pick, it would naturally fall to the most senior of us save Boss himself. There was, however, something disconcerting about just how much Boss seemed to be entrusting everything to Gordez. Not in the sense that it's due to Gordez, but just that he's been seeming so prepared to ready a replacement. Hell, he'd given Gordez command of his entire squad with the exception of Jadoh. He was quite literally putting all of our lives in the hands of his successor.

And it was paying off. Since we'd left, we'd allied the Revanchists, helped a town partially recover from disaster, recruit a new member, and successfully link up with the Earth Kingdom.

I wondered what was going on with Boss. It was quickly approaching a month that we'd been apart from him. The last time we'd talked, he'd spoken passionately in defense of working with the Separatists and ending this conflict. I still had my doubts on whether it was simply another job, or an indication of what was to come. It's just one front. We're not turning coat. I didn't doubt that the justifications I gave myself were exclusive to only me. Zek, as of late, had shown doubts of his own, wondering if Boss's true loyalties were still with the Fire Nation and his men who believed in it. Gordez, naturally, had defended his all-time friend, but Zek seemed less inclined to believe it was as simple as that.

Things were changing. That much was obvious.

A cheer emerged through the dining hall, rather quite all things considered given that a majority of those occupying the hall were passed out or too drunk to express the joy of food being brought in. No wonder they have plenty of food. They fill themselves up on the liquor before they let their appetites build.

I shook my head in what I couldn't suppress as just sheer disappointment. How had the Fire Nation not already attacked and taken this fort? What were they waiting for?

It was around now too that Ka'lira and Zare showed up finally, two trays of food between them, finding where we sat soon enough and making their ways over to us.

"Better've been worth the wait," Zek jested as Ka'lira took a seat beside him, seemingly unamused by the comment, replacing what ordinarily would have been a playful shove with a deathly cold comment of, "It will be when I see you gulp down the meal I spit in."

Zek's only response was to stare her dead in the eyes as he raised the bowl of what appeared to be stew to his mouth, gulping down a sizeable portion of it before returning to his cold stare, simply saying, "Even better."

The comment was enough to break Ka'lira who found she couldn't maintain the act any long, devolving into a series of chuckles intermixed with complaints calling him disgusting.

I meanwhile was experimenting with the heat of the meal before me as Zare watched as though she were observing some wild animal stalking a prey. Having observed this, I simply set the bowl down, returning the gaze as she seemed to become aware of the unnerving effect her gaze was having, scooting back away, now just sneaking the occasional glance.

Needless to say, it was good. Then again, I believed everything was good so it was little compliment to call a meal "good" for me, and I would have gone on saying nothing had she not been clearly waiting for a measure of my opinion regarding its quality from me, already seemingly in the process of excusing herself in saying, "Okay, look. I don't know how to cook. Didn't really have any idea what I was doing, and-"

"It's good."

"Oh," she replied, the hesitant and frightened version of her suddenly disappearing, pride instantly rising to her face as she now spoke again, saying, "Well, I mean. I have some experience, I guess. I wouldn't call myself too shabby-"

"Yeah, I take it back," I joked. "It's shit."

"Oh," she said, head sinking exaggeratedly in a fashion clearly meant to play along with the joke, eliciting a chuckle from Zek rather than Ka'lira who seemed to think me serious for a moment, glaring across the table to ask, "Really?!"

"What?!" I defended myself. "I'm tempering expectations. That's a good thing!"

There was something about a warm meal that never got old. Gordez was always happy to provide, cooking for us even after leading us along for days at a time. Never knew where he had the energy. Couldn't help but appear to me that the group felt the least bit emptier without him right now. I supposed even his energy had limits. When it came to something like this, social company, rowdy drunkenness, he didn't really take to it. But when it meant looking after those he cared about, there was no stopping him.

All around us, the joyous celebrations, for Raava knows what, continued. In some way or another, we seemed to have caught the eye of Hanief who now worked his way towards us, freshly filled tankard in hand, spilling its contents as he clumsily worked his way towards us, which was probably for the best as he certainly didn't need any more drink inside of him than he already did.

"Ey-y-y. You're all here!" He exclaimed, raising his arms to his side as though preparing to embrace us all in one big bear hug.

"Commander," Zek responded to him, "How nice of you to join us."

It was fortunate that Hanief was drunk out of his mind, or he may have picked up on Zek's blatant sarcasm. Were Gordez or Boss here, I'm sure that the conversation would have taken a more measured approach, but with Zek being the one to lead the conversation, it came down to praying Hanief would have no memory of anything that transpired here by tomorrow morning.

Judging by the look of him, though, I had my doubts that he was even remembering the events as they transpired in this very moment.

"Why of course! I would be remiss if I didn't check up on my esteemed guests!"

"Just checking up then?" Zek asked. "Or was there something more useful you came here for?"

"I-uh," he hiccupped, then just stopped, wondering to himself just why he was here. "Oh. Yes yes! I remember now! I sent that letter I was talking about to those nuns of yours. Let them know that if they come by here, we can see what we can do to help them out."

It was there that Zare shot into attention, and logically so, exclaiming, "Great! Thank you!"

"Anytime," he said with a lazy half-salute. In the rear of the hall, his name was being called and Hanief now seemed suddenly aware of 'other commitments.' "Well, it was great catching up, but I have important Earth Kingdom business to attend to." He grinned devilishly before turning on his heel towards the drinking companions he had temporarily left astray as he came over to us.

In my time growing up, I'd known two types of drinkers. The 'admirable' drinker, and the 'pathetic' drinker. The admirable drinker drank for a reason. Whether it was to forget, enjoy a moment, put himself out of misery, it didn't matter. They had a reason. Then there was the pathetic drinker, who drank because there was drink to be drunk. They thrived on the high that the alcohol provided and had no aim for their binge beyond lasting long enough to pour another down the hatch. Those were the tier of drinkers I found myself surrounded by now.

Now that I considered it, watching around at the crowd, many of whom were now becoming drunk to start eyeing up Ka'lira, something that very much put her at unease, and even some of the more desperate eyes following Zare, all of us damn near ready to gut whoever even tried to do something. It became obvious that our time here had been overspent.

"Let's get out of here?" Zek offered.

There wasn't a disagreement among us as we stood to leave, only one soldier protesting our early departure, but was stopped short by a case of drunken depth perception, seeing him tumbling over a bench and falling flat on his face while the laughter of his comrades ensued.

The circumstances we found ourselves in outside were a marked improvement, a cold wind blowing in from the sea, the fog seeming to have extended this far as well. Or it's just natural fog, I supposed. Couldn't begin assuming everything was the responsibility of the waterbenders, but it would indeed be a welcome occurrence in knowing that their shrouding barrier extended this far.

"So," Ka'lira spoke up. "What we gonna call it a night here?"

"You kidding me?" Zek asked, extended his arms in disbelief. I still have some juice left in me. Ey, Luke!"

"Mmm?"

"Earth Kingdom doesn't lock down their weapons here," he said, referring indeed to the weapon racks still left out after dark, a violation that would never pass in a Fire Nation installation. "Thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Isn't it a bit late for me to be kicking your ass?"

"That a challenge?"

"Damn straight," I grinned, already setting off towards the racks not far away, overhearing Ka'lira as she now spoke to Zare.

"Well while the boys are out whacking each other, you want to get some shuteye."

"I'm fine to watch. Still got plenty of energy for the night," Zare commented with a shrug that I noticed after Zek and I had retrieved some optimal-seeming sparring blades, dulled at the edges. "Kinda want to see who wins."

Ka'lira scoffed. "Please. If it's anything like the dozens of other times I've watched, it'll just be them hitting each other with a stick for a few minutes before they both get too tired and try to tally who got more hits on the other person."

The chuckling duo, I believe, reinvigorated the both of us, Zek turning to me to say with a smirk, "Let's give the ladies a show then, eh?"

I needed only answer with my returning smirk myself, entering a ready position, favoring a one-handed fighting style, lighter and more versatile while Zek did likewise, but in a position that showed me he planned on favoring a defensive technique, letting me tire myself out, opening the way for him to get a decisive hit on me.

It'd worked back in Ba Sing Se over a year ago, and perhaps it had won him a few matches over the last few months, but if he thought I'd learned nothing from all this time, well, then I was frankly insulted.

Still, sometimes it took springing one's trap in order to let them reveal their own weaknesses, and so I struck first, a blow I allowed to go wide to conserve my energy, holding back, gauging how quick his reflexes were tonight. He quickly reflected the attack despite it not having been on course to hit anything, and quickly returned to a defensive position. Quick, but I'll need more than that.

I launched another 3 consecutive blows, all of which he deflected, not quite with the same speed, but still fast enough to pose a danger. Going to have to lower that. Tire him out.

He noticed I was bringing up my aggression, accounted for it by gripping his blade with 2 hands, better equipped to having me run out of energy all the sooner if he could have my blows fall on nothing but an unbreakable defense. Luckily, I had no intention of throwing my weight against a block I couldn't break. Rather, I allowed a weak blow to fall upon his 2-handed grip, quickly shifting attack his right flank, a block he made easily enough while maintaining a two-handed grip. He wasn't, however, able to maintain that same grip as I brought a two-handed blow to his left side, requiring him to switch to one hand, the force driving him back, sending a clatter up his arm as I could see.

He looked up to me above his blade. He knew what I was trying to do. His own offensive had come. It was a powerful two-handed blow he swung at me, myself just barely dodging out of the way, relying on mobility rather than strength to not be harmed by the blow. That was close. He wasn't done, however, switching to one hand for an upward slash, clanging against my wooden sword. The blow, however, was desperate, just meant to prevent me from attacking his exposed side. I, however, took the other opportunity presented to me, and locked his blade, using his compromised position to my advantage to swipe it aside and score a stab against his shoulder. The force was enough to send him back, but not down. Not even close. He was just getting started.

He retaliated now, a swing to my left, my right, right again, swiping for me feet, a narrow dodge on my part avoiding it but putting my balance into disarray, a state he took advantage of land a slash against my side, particularly hard at that, sending me to my knee, but just like him, I was far from done.

And so the exchange in blows, slashes, stabs, and blocks continued, my blood pumping nearly as much as it had when finding myself toe to toe with somebody who truly did desire my death. It would be hard for an outsider to surmise that there was no hostility between us judging by the ferocity of the two combatants at play. And in that moment, perhaps there was hostility, but only in the combative sense as we landed blows on one another, fighting to the last breath until our muscles were heavy, our hearts and lungs screaming at us to stop, eventually, both of our blades falling to the ground in near unison as we stood there, huddled over, hands on our knees, just gasping for air.

"O-okay," I sputtered out, panting for dear life. "I think we're about good."

"You sure?"

"No, no, I can keep going if you want to." I coughed. "You want to keep going?"

Zek entered his own coughing fit as well, just barely managing to get the words out as he said. "No. No. I think we're good. I came out on top anyway."

"Hell you mean? I landed more hits on you?"

"No," he coughed. "No you didn't! That one at the beginning didn't count. Didn't know we were being for real."

"Fuck you mean 'didn't count'?!" I yelled. "You still tried blocking it!"

"Because you surprised me with how intense you were getting. You were way too into it."

"Fuck you!"

"No, fuck you!"

Our focus on one another was only broken by the hysterical laughter emerging from the two females watching us from the side. "What did I say?" Ka'lira guffawed. "Just like every other time!"

"Okay!" Zek countered. "But I undoubtedly won this time!"

"Ha!" I retorted. "So you admit you lost every other time!"

"I didn't say that!"

"Ah, but you insinuated it."

"Ahem," came a voice from one of the two females standing off to our side, tearing us away from each other's throats once again.

The voice had belonged to Ka'lira, made clear when she referred to her boyfriend and stated, "Yeah, I'm going to let you two hug it out. I'm going to sleep."

"Wait," Zek said, quickly leaving me behind. "I'll come with."

"Tsk. Not really sure that the Earth Kingdom'll like that."

"Well…I could at least just walk you there."

"I could accept that."

And so Zek at the end of that saw himself feeling like the true victory after all, turning back to Zare and me to say, "Alright, you kids enjoy yourself."

"Oh come on? You're leaving? I was just getting warmed up."

"Practice with Zare. Getting your ass beat by a woman changes a man. Trust me. I know."

Ka'lira's look at that reminded Zek of the thin ice he was on, prompting him to immediately shut up as they ascended the stairs taking them to the walls on the perimeter of Xiahu en route to where I assumed her quarters were.

I had Zare alone now. A more devious mind would have had obvious intentions, but I wasn't of the sort. Instead of perverted notions, I had questions and an insatiable demand for answers. I'd seen the face she'd made when Zek proposed we practice between one another.

"Well," stated Zare with a stretch of her arms in a clear effort of demonstrating exhaustion, likely exaggerated at that. "I probably should get going too."

You aren't getting out of this that easily.

"So soon?" I asked. "What ever happened to 'I have plenty of energy for the night'?"

"Oh you know," she shrugged with a nonchalant chuckle. "Watching two men beat each other with sticks is fun and all, but also quite tiring."

"Well, I can't have you walking in on the lovebirds. So I have you for a few minutes yet. How 'bout you pick up a bow, get some practice in. Been meaning to see what you're capable of."

There was something in the look she gave me then that told me she was worried, but she still managed to play it off rather well. Enough so that it might have deceived somebody who wasn't looking for it. "As I said, I'm not too good. I can land a few shots, sure, but I'm no expert."

"Then show me."

"It's dark out."

"I'll light a torch."

"Is there an issue?" she was playing off her worry as frustration. It wasn't working.

"Fine," she shrugged, now phasing into the indifference portion of her act. "If it means so much to you."

"It does, as a matter of fact."

A shadow of a glare lined her face as she retreated to the rack holding different bows and arrows off to the side. Her instincts betrayed her performance as she very clearly tested the weight of different bows, picking them up ever so slightly before finding one she clearly favored, but remembering her purpose, set it back down, opting for one far inferior.

I wanted to ask why she picked it, provoke her further, push her limits, but decided not to, letting her think that facet of her act had been played off well. Don't get me wrong, she knew what she was doing, but overriding instinct was something else in its entirety, something that not even the most deliberate of human intervention could replace.

So she uncorrected her stance, deliberately fumbled with the arrow at first until realizing she was overcompensating, allowing herself to score not a half bad shot on the targeted hay bale. Perhaps too "not half bad" I imagined she was thinking as she deliberately flunked her next shot.

"Not very consistent," I commented, half-amused, the other half of me wondering just what the hell she was covering up.

"I told you. I can shoot, but I'm not great."

"I wasn't talking about your aim. I mean your act. It's shit."

"What do you mean?"

"Come on. 'I'm not great.' I saw what you did in the woods outside of Heigou. The man you killed to save my ass."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Luke, but that wasn't me."

"Zare, please, for spirits' sake, you don't need to insult my intelligence. What the hell are you hiding?"

"I'm not hiding anything!"

"Zare!

She was done talking now. Had nothing more to say by the look of it, just facing me in disbelief. She just threw down the bow onto the ground, released the quiver from around her back, and set off. And so I'd pushed her too far.

Damnit.

Was I wrong? Was I just being completely paranoid? Was I seeing shadows where there were none, just unable to belief the reality in front of me?

She disappeared further away, behind a corner. I considered pursuing her, but decided against it. I'd messed up. That much was clear. Whether I'd messed up by pushing her too far, messed up by completely misanalysing her, it didn't matter.

"For fuck's sake, Luke," I muttered to myself, leaning over to pick up the bow and quiver. I felt the bow. It was a good one too, light but sturdy, and a great grip, the arrows just as well-constructed. Damnit.

I messed up.