Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

The Message

The journey to Ba Sing Se took three days.

Rokkun rode at the head of a small, elite column—twenty of his best warriors on war rhinos, moving fast and silent through the western plains. Fong rode bound across the saddle of a spare mount, wrists and ankles tied, mouth gagged to keep him quiet. The general's eyes burned with defiance, but he said nothing. He knew words would only amuse his captor.

Rokkun, for his part, was in excellent spirits.
He rode his massive bull rhino with casual ease, long hair tied back in a messy top knot, sleeveless crimson tunic open at the chest, twin swords resting across his lap. Every so often he would glance over at Fong and flash that easy, dangerous grin.

"Comfortable back there, General?" he called one afternoon, voice warm and teasing. "I'd hate for you to arrive looking anything less than your best."

Fong glared. Rokkun laughed — rich, unhurried, the sound rolling across the plains like he was sharing a private joke with the sky.

On the morning of the fourth day, the outer wall of Ba Sing Se rose on the horizon—immense, white, and seemingly impregnable.

Rokkun reined in his rhino at the edge of the great bridge leading to the gates. His men formed up behind him in a perfect line. Fong was dragged forward and forced to his knees in front of the column, still bound and gagged.

Rokkun dismounted slowly, boots crunching on the stone. He walked forward until he stood just out of arrow range, hands resting casually on the hilts of his swords.

"Earth King Xuo!" he called, voice carrying clear and strong across the open ground. "I brought you a gift!"

The walls were lined with defenders — archers, earthbenders, Dai Li agents. A ripple of movement passed along the ramparts as word spread.

Rokkun waited, patient, smiling.

After a long moment, a figure appeared on the wall — King Xuo himself, flanked by generals and Dai Li. Even from this distance, his face was pale.

Rokkun raised a hand in a lazy wave.

"I have your General Fong," he shouted. "Alive. For now."

He gestured. Two of his men hauled Fong forward and forced him to his knees in full view of the wall.

Xuo's voice cracked with fury. "Release him at once!"

Rokkun tilted his head, grinning wider. "Release him? After all the trouble I went through to bring him here?" He shook his head, almost fondly. "No, Your Majesty. I think I'll keep him a little longer."

He drew one sword with deliberate slowness, letting the steel sing against the scabbard. The blade caught the morning light.

"I want you to understand something," Rokkun said, voice still carrying easily. "Your peace accords mean nothing to me. Your walls mean nothing to me. Your entire kingdom... is just another province waiting to be claimed."

He placed the flat of the blade under Fong's chin and lifted the general's head so Xuo could see his face clearly.

"This man fought bravely," Rokkun continued. "He deserves a proper send-off."

Fong glared up at him, eyes full of defiance even now.

Rokkun met his gaze and smiled — not cruel, not mocking. Almost respectful.

"Thank you for the dance, General."

In one clean, fluid motion, he drove the sword through Fong's chest.

The general gasped once, body jerking, then went still.

Rokkun pulled the blade free and wiped it on Fong's cloak with casual grace.

He looked back up at the wall, voice still calm and conversational.

"Let this be a message to your people," he called. "Tell them the Fire Nomads are coming. And next time... we won't be so polite."

He turned to his men.

"Mount the body on a rhino. No saddle. Let it ride through the city on its own."

Two warriors lifted Fong's body and secured it upright on a spare rhino's back, arms tied loosely to keep it from falling. The animal was given a sharp slap on the flank and sent trotting toward the gates of Ba Sing Se.

Rokkun watched it go for a moment, then swung back onto his own bull rhino with effortless swagger.

He looked once more at the distant figure of King Xuo on the wall.

"See you soon, Your Majesty," he murmured, too quiet for anyone but Azula to hear.

Then he turned his rhino and rode west, his war band falling in behind him like shadows.

The message had been delivered.

And the war had just become personal.