The Upside of a Hangover

Part II: Turn About

The Pai-sho parlor in Omashu was new, brand new, although it had been designed, constructed, and decorated to enforce an atmosphere of “lived-in”-ness and complacent decrepitude.

It was a jarring dissonance for anyone who paid attention, a false sense of “normalcy” inculcated into a locale where all one had to do was pull aside a curtain to see the remnants of an abandoned, scorched and battered hulk of a Fire Nation weapons emplacement across the rear courtyard.

Of course, the architect/owner/manager had been well aware of this. Not only were highly elaborate (and permanently locked) decorative ventilation screens placed over every window, but also every attention had been paid toward making the interior so delightful one would never want to peer out of those windows. The resplendent basement had been with fine viands and liquors, and the parlor had been staffed entirely with buxom, beautiful, and intelligent young women. These “barmaids” (although the term was patently inadequate, none of them minded) were as capable at humbling an upstart “prodigy” from Ba Sing Se at the parlor’s premier game of strategy (and making him like it) as they were at hauling six one-liter steins of foaming ale in one trip from the kitchen to the private rooms on the second and third floors.

“Nice place you got here,” Pakku summed up rather sardonically as one of the aforementioned barmaids winked cheekily at her boss before drawing the heavily-latticed screen closed behind her.

“Why, thank you!” Bumi replied boisterously, cheerfully pretending to be oblivious to Pakku’s black humor, “You know, I interviewed each and every one of the girls working here myself, just to make sure they were qualified. That was Miki who just left, if I forgot to mention: she’s a master of Eastern White Phoenix strategy, the only one I could find. Maybe you’ll be up for a set-to with her later in the evening, eh, Jeong-jeong?”

“I highly doubt that,” Jeong-jeong growled, before catching himself; Bumi was the evening’s host, and it did him no credit to sound like a boarqupine with a sore tooth. “Perhaps another day.”

Bumi sighed and spread his hands. “You younguns, always thinking you can put off ‘til tomorrow what you should do today, especially when it involves a lass of her… qualifications.”

The only one to crack a smile at this pronouncement was the last member of the party, and this only because it was a rare sight indeed to witness Jeong-jeong so obviously flustered by Bumi’s insinuations. “Be that as it may, we have serious matters to discuss,” Piandao reminded his fellow Order members over the sound of Jeong-jeong’s irate, incomprehensible sputters, “Even Miki should be considered a secondary priority.”

The corners of Bumi’s mouth turned down so low it was amazing the entire bottom half of his face did not slide off. “I suppose I’m outvoted. If only Grand Master Iroh were here, he’d agree with me.”

“So, it’s definite he returned to the Fire Nation capital?” Pakku asked, after taking a long pull of ale. He sounded smug. “Called it.”

Jeong-jeong glared at him witheringly. “We all did, Pakku, and there’s nothing special in “calling” the obvious,” he grumbled, also taking a drink.

“It was an outside hope he would be allowed to enjoy his retirement in peace, as we all knew,” Piandao reflected soberly, staring down into his emptied stein, “I am merely surprised by how long it took the young Fire Lord to recall Master Iroh to service.”

“Pfft, I advised him to do it from day one,” Jeong-jeong tossed out rather unnecessarily, “Mulishness seems to be a royal family trait. I can’t tell you how many times I had to put up with that young git droning on and on about how ‘Uncle Iroh trusted me to do this’ or ‘the Fire Lord is expected to shoulder that’ or some other such nonsense.”

“Is that why you resigned from the Ministry?” Piandao asked, genuinely curious.

“Partly.” Jeong-Jeong emptied his stein and thumped it down on the earthbending-carved Pai-sho board/table (cleared of tiles for the sake of that night’s meeting only) with a thunk!, “I was trying to wake him up, convince him that he had to rely on others who actually had some experience in government, rather than just counting on his idealism and the Avatar’s good graces to lead.”

“Probably would have been more effective if you’d been the most senior minister to do so, after all of four months,” Pakku pointed out. He pulled the thick, emerald-green silken chord that clanged down in the kitchen below, informing the staff that Special Private Room #8 required another round. “At least Master Iroh will have the ability to bring about most of officials the Fire Lord’s managed to alienate, especially the ones in the military with his force reduction policies.”

“I admire the boy for trying to make up for past mistakes,” Bumi stated, uncharacteristically lucid, “but he’s making some of the same mistakes Fire Lords before him made, if in entirely new ways: taking on too much, too fast, and not relying on popular support. Speaking of,” here he looked at the resident Fire Nation-affiliated contingent, “have I suddenly gone mad or did I hear that the Fire Army is abandoning the Occupied Territories?”

“Not quite,” Jeong-jeong replied, “Fire Lord Zuko has declared that he will unilaterally withdraw all forces within two hundred miles of Ba Sing Se as a gesture of good faith to the new Earth King. The question of the Occupied Territories will continue to be negotiated in the next Nations Peace Conference.”

“Ah – bet Aang suggested that to him,” Bumi said, smiling broadly.

“Actually, the Avatar tried to convince the Fire Lord to withdraw all the way back to lines established fifty years ago, which would have left any of the colonies there open to reprisals,” the tufty-headed former rebel said darkly, “Well, more so than they already are. The Earth King was pushing for that as well, but I managed to convince the Fire Lord to hold strong.”

“And then you resigned,” Pakku noted coolly.

Jeong-jeong’s retort was overshadowed by Miki’s return. The barmaid, in addition to the overflowing mugs she carried, had slung a dispatch case around her left shoulder; this she gave to Bumi, whispering something in his ear as she did so.

“Looks like they found me, gentleman,” Bumi gloomily informed his puzzled guests as the screen slid to once more, “I knew that statue of me couldn’t fool them for long, not even though I ensured it wore my best hat.”

“Don’t tell me you used our annual meeting as an excuse to run out on your palace staff again,” Piandao groaned into his hand.

“Okay, I won’t,” Bumi practically chirped, “But we’re going to have to call it quits before my prime minister’s panties get into much more of a twist.” He slid the stack of scrolls from the dispatch case and discarded the empty satchel on the floor. “This is what you all have come here for: the latest intelligence from out information network.” He shoved the scrolls unceremoniously into the center of the grid-lined round table. “There’s also a scroll for each of you containing Grand Master Iroh’s new directives; those would be the smaller ones.”

The private room fell silent as the men, minus Bumi (who ignored his scrolls in favor of finessing the elaborate pattern of trefoils he had carved into the ceiling), skimmed through the material, perusing the characters with various expressions of growing alarm.

“Of the ten latest attempts to free deposed Fire Lord Ozai,” Pakku unconsciously read aloud, “Seven were assassination attempts, four of which can be traced back to the Earth King’s agents. Why am I not surprised?”

“Yes, we’re all aware of the fact that you think the mob should have been allowed to tear Ozai apart a year ago, Pakku, you don’t need to keep on harping on it,” Jeong-jeong managed through grit teeth.

“Bad enough that Azula escaped to the desert, with an entire corps of the Army defecting to join her, I suppose,” Pakku mused as if to himself, “Still, par for the course insofar as Fire Nation prison security is concerned.”

“Don’t be ruining the polish on the table, it’s hard to get it that way after it’s been scorched,” Bumi told Jeong-jeong a trifle plaintively.

“This new Earth King – it says here that not only was he a cousin of the former earth King, but that he actually served in your palace guard, Bumi,” Piandao spoke up, more to direct the conversation to a new, safer topic rather than because he was surprised.

“Really?” Bumi riffled through Jeong-jeong’s copy of the report. “Well, ain’t that a kick in the head. Lieutenant Qiang ought to have mentioned that to me. I think I’m hurt.”

“Says here a member of our Order stationed in Ba Sing Se spirited him out of the capitol only a few days after he was born, to keep him out of Dai Li hands,” Pakku said, “But why didn’t – oh. She was murdered a month later, but the infant was never found. It must have half-killed Master Sheng-di to have that blotch on his record.”

“Master Spider lost track of someone in his web?” Bumi asked, raising surprised eyebrows. He grinned maliciously, looking uncannily like the mask of some underworld ghoul. “Now I have something to tease him with next time he visits.”

“You know, it’s never a good idea to get on the spymaster’s bad side,” Piandao advised, “He might dig up something to blackmail you with or…”

Bumi looked at him blankly.

“Never mind,” Piandao finished quickly, aware that warning a madman about the machinations of blackmail and espionage was as useless as tossing pebbles to stop a rampaging komodo-rhino. Particularly when said madman had been running intellectual rings around his opponents for well on a century.

“It explains his determination to extract blood-price from the Fire Nation, since it seems he was also part of the resistance group that stayed behind after the Fire Nation occupied the city – ideological purists can be a handful,” Jeong-jeong said wearily, “What I wouldn’t give to have that pragmatic old son of a bitch Long Feng still around; at least he could have reigned the man in a bit.”

“Bite your tongue,” Piandao said sharply, “Long Feng would have done far worse with the new powers granted the Earth King; he would have given carte blanche to the mob to empty Ba Sing Se and go on a killing spree in their old home towns!”

“Hrmmmm…” Jeong-jeong did not vocally concede the point, but he did take a drink of his ale.

“Seems like I’m going to have to pay a visit to my old employee,” Bumi remarked thoughtfully, “I do hate the thought of leaving Omashu in the middle of rebuilding, but if it’s a personal favor to Master Iroh…”

“I wouldn’t doubt that’s what he meant for you to do,” Pakku said reproachfully, eyeing Bumi’s still-sealed scrolls with a stern gaze he reserved for recalcitrant students (Bumi ignored him, of course). He opened the smaller of the two scrolls in front of him and raised his eyebrows. “Apparently, I am to accompany my step-granddaughter to the next Conference and establish a guild of neutral shipping masters; the Fire Navy has been getting rather high-handed on the water of late.” He snapped the scroll closed with a smirk. “Nothing I can’t handle, but I suppose Master Iroh is taking Kanna’s sensibilities about “special missions” into consideration.”

Piandao and Jeong-jeong had, in the meantime, opened their own scrolls and read them. Twin expressions of gloom blossomed on their faces.

“Recalled to duty?” Bumi guessed with a cackle.

Piandao nodded dolorously. “I’m being re-commissioned, and promoted, to take the place of that general who defected.”

Jeong-jeong snorted. “You fared better than I – I’ve been recalled to my ministerial post. And this time, the Grand Master says, he will be “displeased” if I resign.”

His compatriots winced sympathetically. “Have another ale,” Bumi counseled.

Jeong-jeong nodded. “You know,” he said a trifle thickly, “I think tonight I will be trying out Miki’s… qualifications… after all.”

A/N: Poor Jeong-jeong: I always single him out for teasing, because he is such the quintessential hard-ass. At least he got a wench out of it. :3

I don’t know if I will continue this series or not – things are turning grim, and I just wanted the Bad-Ass Old Guys (BAOGs) of Avatar to have some fun. Ma na.