𝑰𝒕'𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕 𝑨𝒍𝒍 𝑹𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒔

Chapter 19

Zhao gazed into the cup of ginseng tea in front of him that General Iroh had offered to everybody at the beginning of the meeting. It was a pretty little trifle—glazed blue and with some kind of delicate bamboo painting and an old proverb written on the side. Zhao hadn't bothered to read it. It was probably supposed to be deeply inspirational and significant, and he couldn't stand useless things like that.

The droning voice of General Li at the opposite end of the table buzzed in Admiral Zhao's ears like some kind of obnoxious insect.

"—therefore, we should exercise the utmost caution when considering a rescue mission. We could lose much more than the Emperor's life. Our reputation as a strong, honorable country is at stake."

General Iroh, uncle of the said Emperor, nodded his head gravely at Li's finished speech. "We will take your opinions into account, General Li."

Li, the idiot, accepted this graciously and sat down, a superior smirk on his face.

It was all Zhao could do to keep from rolling his eyes. A "strong, honorable country"? Ha! Honor had died the day the first Zuko, the deranged one, had launched his massacre on the Water Tribes and desecrated anybody who stood in his path of world domination. There was no honor left in the Fire Empire. Not in the royal family, not in the army, and certainly not in the common people. What was left consisted of greed, lust, envy, and cruel ambition.

All of which Admiral Zhao had in abundance, he was proud to say.

He stood up, slapping the table in a show of confidence and arrogance. The teacup rattled dangerously, and Iroh's eyebrows raised. You stupid old man, with your stupid blue teacups.

"I say," he proclaimed, raising one arm, "that we've already delayed our rescue of the Emperor for far too long! He has been kidnapped by those bloodthirsty, barbaric rebels, and who knows what sorts of horrors they are committing on him right this minute. It is our responsibility, as honorable and loyal officers of the Empire, to bring our leader home safely. We should leave now, with the biggest fleet of ships the world has ever seen, and those Kyoshi rebels will know what kind of empire they're truly dealing with." It was a passionate and rousing speech; he could see it in the eyes of several other commanders and captains situated around the table. They were caught up in the glory and the picture of victory he'd painted for them.

"But," interjected General Li, "there are large risks, and committing an unnecessary amount of firepower on a mere rescue mission—"

Zhao rounded on him, "Are you saying that the life of our Emperor is not worth a few paltry ships? Are you implying that our loyalties aren't strong enough to necessitate the immediate return of our great monarch?

"No! I'm saying that we have to be logical—"

"You," Zhao pointed at Li, "might not put much worth in the life of the Emperor, but I, and several others here, I'm sure, are eager to free our great leader from the traitorous hands of the rebels. We are honorable men with integrity, Li. What are you?"

Li mumbled something about support and getting right to it.

Zhao smiled, a gracious and kindly smile directed at General Iroh, who had been watching this entire exchange in silence. "My Lord?" It was like a dagger in his pride, every time Zhao had to call Iroh by this honorific. General Iroh was part of the royal family—while he was not the current ruler, respect was still accorded to him.

One day, thought Zhao, we'll see who deserves to be My Lord. Or, more accurately, Your Lord.

"Admiral Zhao has brought up several good points," said Iroh, "not the least of which is that my nephew has already spent far too long a time in the grasp of the rebels. He needs to come home, and soon."