A Crimson Sabaku

Chapter III

"Really?" Zhao asked them, a hint of suspicion in his words. "You must regale me with all the thrilling details. Join me for a drink?"

"Sorry, but we have to go," Zuko said, turning and starting to leave. Iroh stopped him with a hand to his shoulder, and proceeded to scold him.

"Prince Zuko, you should show the Commander some respect." Iroh then turned to Zhao. "We would be honored to join you. Do you have any ginseng tea? It's my favorite."

Soon, as one, we all made our way towards Zhao's tent, Zuko and his 'prisoner' arguing with each other.

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[>Elsewhere<]

A lone figure made his way towards the docks, where his ship was waiting for him to depart. Upon rounding the corner, however, he noticed a small group of people coming his way, though their destination was the Commander's tent. The figure watched the group, stopping in his tracks as he did.

At the head of the group was Commander Zhao himself, though he hadn't paid the figure any attention, meaning there was no need to salute. Beside him, making small talk of some kind, was an old man with grey hair and a receding hairline. The figure recognized the elder man - General Iroh, the Dragon of the West. The only man to ever make it past the great walls of Ba Sing Se.

Behind them and trailing along was a curious pair. The first of them was a boy of Fire Nation descent, wearing armor and having no hair atop his head save for a long, black ponytail. The left side of his face was marred by a reddish scar, the same eye partially closed because of it. He was forcing a girl with brown hair to walk along. She wore the blue and white clothing of the Water Tribe, and her hair was in a curious style. The boy's identity was also known by the figure - Zuko, the Banished Prince. However, the girl was unknown to them.

The last person in the group, bringing up the rear, caused the figure's blood to run cold.

He wore long, cloth robes of deep red and piercing gold, draping low and obscuring his feet. He had his arms hanging at his sides, trailing behind him, and his head was wrapped up in a cloth of a deeper red. The man almost seemed to glide along the ground - no, to slither. The robed man's movements reminded him of some spectral serpent, sliding across the ground with feet that were not there. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the man disappeared into the tent after his companions.

The figure caught their breath in heaving gasps, for they knew the robed man all too well. Sabaku, personal servant to Prince Zuko. A man who kept himself shrouded in mystery. The figure had met him only once before, in a small Earth Kingdom village that had tried rising up against the soldiers stationed there. Prince Zuko and his crew had been docked there to resupply, and so Sabaku had also been there. Zuko had sent him against the rebels alone. At first, the figure had believed it was a death sentence.

And it had been a death sentence - just not one for Sabaku, but for the rebels.

Sabaku had darted into the fray, sand lifting into the air and swirling around his opponents as he danced within the crowd. Only when Sabaku stopped, and when the sand had gone to hover near him, had the condemned villagers collapsed on the ground. The sand had turned a scarlet red, dripping with blood. Sabaku was a Sandbender, indeed that enough was surprising, but one thing had chilled the blood in the figure's body as he watched.

Not once did Sabaku hesitate. And as he slowly slid away, he had whispered, "Such fools as these are not worthy of mourning."

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