Bujing kept the advance of his army at a cautious pace, being thorough in crushing any resistance he encountered. He was taking his time to ensure that his supply lines were robust. Practically half the army was on foraging duty at any time to bolster the rations coming in from the ports, on the off chance that they might get cut off temporarily.
After the last incident with an abandoned village’s seemingly barely touched granary, Bujing’s punitive expedition would burn down any village or town stores they found.
The usual looting from the enlisted soldiers resulted in a rash of poisonings as they shared the meats and buns they’d pilfered with their comrades well before the physicians and apothecaries could verify the purity of the food. Worse, some of the clay jars of dried food contained false bottoms, which hid trapped vermin that happily infested the army’s stores after they were inadvertently freed.
It forced the whole advance to stall for three days as the troops purged the starved rodents and insects, and it came at the cost of almost a quarter of their fresh supplies. During that time, they had the misfortune of falling prey to rebel partisans, who managed to set fire to a further fifth of the food. A smaller but not insignificant amount of water was also lost during that raid.
Compared to that, foraging for poisonous mushrooms and unidentified fruits seemed a much safer alternative.
By the time the raiders were all hunted down, morale had plummeted, and Bujing was in no mood to tolerate any further setback. The army remained camped for a further two anxious days for resupply before they continued their advance.
It was a most inauspicious sign of things to come, from Bujing’s perspective.
The high general’s concerns were further proven true when they encountered a mob of fleeing, half-naked men. They were survivors from High General Wulong’s combined army, and the dread tales they brought with them made Bujing regret being out in the continent.
Wulong was dead by the Scorpion’s hand, and his combined force shattered and scattered in all directions to spread the news. The rebel princess was also in the field, apparently slaughtering her own tally of loyalist commanders. Worse, Wulong’s army of twenty thousand was routed by an enemy force of not even a third of that. And this was a battle on open grasslands, not a siege where such a disparity in numbers made more sense.
To top it all off, the prince and princess now had dragons under their command, to go along with tanks that spat fire, and soldiers that could somehow fly.
A lesser commander might write off the tales as mostly hyperbole. That Wulong was indeed illed, but battlefield hysteria caused the men to justify their cowardice with tall tales.
Bujing was not a lesser commander. He’d read what Xing could do. He’d personally heard of what happened to Zhao.
It was too late to stop the spread of the disastrous defeat, especially with more fleeing survivors potentially running into other groups. So Bujing acted immediately to slow the fear’s growth instead. “Send one hawk back to deliver the news back to the capital. Then send the rest to all commanders on the continent. Have their armies gather at the shores of the West Lake, and then we’ll march as one to take on Ba Sing Se. Avoid the Scorpion’s forces if possible. If not, send messages of the enemy’s locations before martyring themselves for the Fire Nation. Tell them that.”
With the inter-army communication dealt with, the high general then moved on to dealing with the infected communication within his own army. Morale had dropped to a point where there was already a trickle of deserters beginning. Capturing the cowards and executing them before their former comrades was a temporary balm to the problem, but Bujing had to get to the root of the issue.
The men needed something tangible to raise their spirits. Wine and increased rations would not be enough. Bujing needed victories. Any victories.
He set his army loose on the next group of partisans they encountered. Their underground hideout was fully burnt to ash and turned into an open grave for the rebels. Bujing let his men vent their fears on the fanatical peasants who died with their prince’s and princess’ names on their lips. He overlooked the desecration of the corpses and the slow, torturous execution of the few unlucky survivors.
It got some of the dread out of the troops’ system. That was what was important.
The expeditionary force kept their morale afloat by pouncing on several more civilian resistance groups. Bujing’s only rule was that the rebel women be executed along with the men, instead of being captured as playthings. Allowing the latter would only end up as a distraction to his men, and potentially serve as a security vulnerability. The soldiers were free to have whatever way they wanted with any rebels they captured, but no prisoners would remain after they broke camp on the following day.
The simple tactic kept the army marching all the way to the West Lake, where they met up with and assimilated other punitive forces. Some of the expedition groups suffered significant losses. Two had lost almost a third of their forces, particularly their cavalry, in trying to stop the rebels from harassing their march. Others suffered losses from traps and suicidal raids. Mutiny saw at least two armies losing about a quarter of their strength.
One unlucky group was half-starved and lost more than half their numbers, including their general and most of the command staff, to poisoned food and water. Desertion further brought their ranks down to barely a quarter of their original strength. Bujing immediately promoted the lieutenant commanding the battered survivors to general. Such talent, especially in the face of adversity, should not be overlooked.
Despite the ordeal they all face, after waiting for nine days for the rest of the punitive forces to catch up, the combined might of the muster still amounted to a mighty four hundred thousand men, with nearly ten thousand tanks and double that number in cavalry. In any other situation, it would be an awe-inspiring force.
Bujing doubted it’d be enough to replicate Prince Iroh’s siege on Ba Sing Se. Not with Princess Azula rousing the evacuated colonists to man the defenses. Not with Prince Iroh’s cunning and wisdom providing counters to the Fire Nation doctrines he was keenly familiar with.
Not with the Scorpion Dragon Xing who broke the very same city he was now defending by himself.
It was relief of sorts then, when Bujing received exhausted scouts that told of the rebels marching out of the city in force of around thirty thousand men. It was certain that both Xing and Azula were leading it, and they were headed west, just missing Bujing’s force by.a few miles if they did not deviate from the roads.
On the one hand, it meant that the biggest worries to sieging Ba Sing Se was now gone, though it was a meager consolation as Prince Iroh was likely still in the city manning the defenses. But at least now the siege now actually had a chance of succeeding. It might also force the Xing to turn back, ruining whatever reason he was marching out in the first place.
Yet, there was also the fact that even with a minimal garrison, Ba Sing Se’s walls and breaches would take weeks, if not months, to actually be overwhelmed. Bujing was sure that Xing employed turncoat earthbenders, who could, as a last resort, collapse the walls to bury entire regiments under an avalanche of brick and earth. And then there’d still be mountains of rubble-turned-ammunition for the surviving attackers to climb through.
Even if they endured all of that, there’d still be a second wall to endure. By that time, Xing could have already accomplished whatever goals he set out to do if he simply opted to ignore the loyalist army. Worse, the Scorpion might be heading westwards to begin razing the ports that fed supplies and reinforcements to Bujing’s army. Not only would it starve them out, it’d also strand them on the continent.
And if Xing managed to capture a few ships, they could realistically fool or convert the naval patrols and aim for the home islands.
“Damn that boy,” Bujing cursed as he stared at the map in his command tent, and then glanced up to the assembled generals. “We’ve no choice but to intercept the rebel army.”
And it was likely Xing knew it as well, the scheming little bastard. Which meant that he’ll be prepared.
“Should we aim to envelop them?” one commander proposed, not unreasonably. With such a numerical advantage, standard doctrine called for a complete encirclement before tightening the noose and thoroughly destroying the trapped target.
Bujing sighed as he pondered over the possibilities for a few seconds. “Against predictable earthbenders and their levy fodder, I’d agree with you. However, we’re dealing with Xing and his band of traitors here. They’ve knowledge of Fire Nation strategies and ploys, and have likely taken our usual approaches into consideration.”
Another general, one of the newer ones promoted by the Fire Lord spoke up with some indignation. “What then? We cannot just cower from them! We hold the advantage of numbers against these rebels, spirits-touched Scorpion or not. With some maneuvering, we can bring them to battle in favorable terrain as well.”
That was, unfortunately, true. Bujing stared at the map again, and then heaved out another sigh before fixing a glare at the assembled commanders. “We’ll send out our greener infantry formations first to try and intercept the rebels. Their one and only job is to keep the enemy pinned and worn while the rest of the army catches up.” The high general ignored the sour looks on some of his subordinates. “The tanks and cavalry will guard the flanks of the main force until we’re ready to engage the rebels, and then they’ll conduct flanking and encirclement maneuvers as appropriate.”
“With all due respect, High General,” a general said, “Might we be overestimating the rebels’ capabilities?”
Bujing snorted audibly at that idea. “Fool. You’re talking about a boy who’s made a reputation for stringing victories while outnumbered. One mere boy leading a regiment, however battle-hardened, does not break armies and cities with simple ‘intimidation tactics’. And considering how easily he declared his rebellion, the accuracy of his more recent battle reports might be suspect. Right now, I would rather overestimate his reputation and trample him swiftly, than underestimate him and suffer High General Wulong’s fate.”
Fixing a glare fuelled with all the authority of his rank, Bujing’s voice lowered to a steely order. “We move out tomorrow morning. Either six generals will volunteer to head the vanguard by the end of today, or I will nominate them once the marching orders are given tomorrow.”
For all the haste Bujing’s orders were carried out, the sacrificial vanguard of 120,000 barely created a lead from the main army by the end of their first day of their forced march. The banners of the tail end of the infantry martyrs could still be seen down the road even as the main force set up camp.
In the meantime, Bujing kept busy through the night trying to piece together Xing’s likely moves. The high general held no illusion that the vanguard he sent out would be broken, he just wasn’t sure how quickly or how worn the rebel force would be after that. He’d have to plan his attrition rates carefully. Orders were given to prioritize taking out the enemy vehicles first, to provide some advantage in mobility. After that, it’d be down to a bloody grind.
By the third day of intercepting, Bujing had to amend his calculations when he noticed that nearly half of the scouts he sent out to keep track of the rebels had not reported back.
On the fourth day, barely a fifth of them either showed up or sent their updates via messenger hawks. However, desperate runners from the vanguard brought news of Xing’s force being sighted. Battle was expected to commence the following day.
Bujing had his main army hasten their march on the fifth day to catch up with and reinforce the vanguard, only to encounter more messengers bringing bewildering news that the enemy was nowhere to be seen, likely having relocated at night. By now, the only scouts the army had left were those that remained keeping watch of its perimeter.
The main army caught up with the confused and frustrated vanguard on the seventh day. All 120,000 soldiers were spread around where the rebels were last seen encamped, poking about cautiously but futilely for any sign of the enemy. With their vision hobbled, Bujing had his army set up camp with the vanguard, and prepared to sacrifice some of the light cavalry to serve as eyes and ears for the army. They had the mobility, but not the training to keep a discreet eye out for enemy movement. The high general resigned himself to writing off maybe a division’s worth of ostrich horses to give his army some ability to see ahead.
It proved to be a moot idea, as late into the seventh night, as the soldiers recuperated from the weary marching and Bujing was busy refining his battlefield plans, half of his tent to sank underground with barely a warning. The high general had all of three seconds to be confused before the command tent’s heavy fabric fell over him and the furniture…and the braziers and candles.
Bujing hastily burned his way free from the smothering blanket, and as the silk and leather covering fell clear of his head, he found himself in the middle of bloody mayhem.
Neat holes dotted the ground, half-swallowing tents and palisade sections. Armored figures were casually climbing out of them with weapons or flames in hand, their outlines highlighted in baleful orange from the fires breaking out as tents and braziers and torches toppled atop of one another.
“Kill for the Scorpion Prince! Kill for the Phoenix Princess!”
Most of the confused loyalists were still recovering from the sudden appearances of sinkholes around them, and fell easy prey to the enemy ambushers. Spears stabbed into men still in their nightwear as they crawled out of their tents in a daze. Officers barely managed to get their hands on their weapons when they were pounced on by warcleavers and daggers.
The earth rose up to crush or impale soldiers trying to rally around their sergeants or captains. Flames incinerated groups of barely armed soldiers as they sought to organize into their squads as deep-drilled training urged. The whinny and grunts of startled ostrich horses and komodo rhinos cut across the din of flames and screams as tanks trundled up from larger pits and began spitting streams of fire.
“Spirits…”
Bujing would’ve remained rooted to the spot if not for the noise behind him triggering his instincts to quickly leap aside. He fell into a roll despite his age, and quickly got up into a firebending stance…and found himself facing off against a grinning, muscled figure that was the Mad King.
“Hey, looks like I got lucky and bagged myself a high general!”
Bujing barely managed to channel his chi when Bumi casually stomped his feet and crushed him almost to death in a neck-high prison of earth. The high general gasped as the tightly packed dirt slammed into his body from all directions. That nothing broke was a minor miracle.
Through tears of pain staining his vision, Bujing saw King Bumi walking up to offer a humiliating grin. “Now don’t move a muscle. We’ll come get you right after the fun’s over.”
And the Mad King turned away without acknowledging Bujing’s furious indignation, and with another stomp of his foot, the earth cracked outwards and a rift opened up to swallow up an officer and his rallying men. Another stomp and a push of his arms, and a tsunami of dirt rose up and tore through men and tents, leaving a long trail of churned earth and pulped corpses. The Mad King stalked off with a cackle, churning spikes up to shred anyone in his way, or more waves of earth to bury any significant groups that caught his attention.
“Kneel if you wish to live!” Bujing strained to turn his head when flashes and roars from one side caught his helpless attention, and he saw the rebel prince and princess joining in the chaotic melee. Princess Azula led a group of soldiers, ruthlessly cutting down any who stood in their way. Bolts of fire and walls of earth rendered any resistance against them impotent.
Azula stopped as she came across a gathering mob of firebenders, her earthbenders’ walls protecting her group from the barrage that followed. Bujing felt cold dread wash down his straining spine as the princess fell into a familiar stance, index and middle fingers of both hands pointed out as her arms moved in circular motions. Blue-white light sparked from her fingertips, and when she finally lanced one arm out at the mob, a blinding bolt of lightning blasted through the earthen wall between them and forked out throughout the firebenders that dared stand against her.
More lightning followed after that, as her soldiers stood guard around her and gave her the time she needed to deliver the devastating attacks.
Despite the terror that filled Bujing, it somehow got worse as he heard uncanny roars from the skies. Something darted past his constricted view, something snake-like and winged and trailing flames. The high general heard armor and bones breaking from where the figure darted towards, as well as the gurgling screams of men being brought down by predators. One of the figures flew by, slower this time, claws latched onto a hapless lieutenant as its elongated maw chomped out chunks of his neck and shoulders. Bujing saw a dragon for the first time, burning what’s left of its victim before flying off, and he felt the crushing pressure around his waist ease a bit as his bladder slackened.
High General Bujing remained a captive audience for spirits know how long, forced to experience his army crumbling around him. At some point, he saw Xing’s white flames somewhere nearby, and shortly after, ash fell from the sky like snow. Bujing also watched several doomed attempts by varying officers to rally their forces, but it only created easier targets for the rebels to focus on, particularly the cackling Mad King.
Bujing’s eyes ached as Princess Azula let loose lighting to any and all who dared point a weapon or raise a flame her way. Her guards were especially ruthless in keeping any challengers from getting too close, particularly a girl garbed in a green battledress and red armor. It was only when the distinctive war fan slashed out to slit throats or loosen jaws that Bujing realized that the exiled princess had somehow gotten the famed Kyoshi Warriors on her side.
How much of the Earth Kingdom supported the rebels?
If only Bujing had the luxury of being free from this bloody slaughter to figure out the answer.
Come dawn, the flames had mostly died out, as did the screaming. Moans of the wounded floated along the stench of burnt and ruptured bodies. Whimpers squeaked out from the soot-stained survivors of the punitive expeditions as the surrendered soldiers kept their knees, hands and foreheads pressed against the burnt and bloodied dirt in a bid to preserve their lives. Rebel soldiers stalked among the smoking tents and mangled bodies, either to pull out or mercifully end any breathing form they came across.
“Ah, high general.” Xing’s voice called out from one side, and then seconds later the Scorpion Dragon came into view, smirking triumphantly as two dragons almost as long as he was tall floated behind him. “Good to see you’re still with us.”
Seconds later, Princess Azula appeared at Xing’s side, her wrathful glare fixed on Bujing. “Xing.”
“Yes, my princess?”
“We only accept the surrender of those who kneel before us, is that right?”
Bujing found fresh terror rushing through his strained heart as Xing nodded.
“True, but that was during the fighting.” He inclined his head towards the high general. “And it’s not like he has a choice in that matter yet…” The Scorpion then gave a vicious grin. “So, High General Bujing,” the boy’s voice rang out clearly across the ruined campgrounds, “what choice will you make?”
The earthen prison suddenly slackened, and Bujing fell in a heap of aching muscles. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to find King Bumi smiling too warmly at him. Bujing glanced back to the prince and princess before him, and too exhausted to even sigh, he let himself fully crumple to the ground as he lowered his head. “High General Bujing offers his unconditional surrender.”
Bujing kept the advance of his army at a cautious pace, being thorough in crushing any resistance he encountered. He was taking his time to ensure that his supply lines were robust. Practically half the army was on foraging duty at any time to bolster the rations coming in from the ports, on the off chance that they might get cut off temporarily.
After the last incident with an abandoned village’s seemingly barely touched granary, Bujing’s punitive expedition would burn down any village or town stores they found.
The usual looting from the enlisted soldiers resulted in a rash of poisonings as they shared the meats and buns they’d pilfered with their comrades well before the physicians and apothecaries could verify the purity of the food. Worse, some of the clay jars of dried food contained false bottoms, which hid trapped vermin that happily infested the army’s stores after they were inadvertently freed.
It forced the whole advance to stall for three days as the troops purged the starved rodents and insects, and it came at the cost of almost a quarter of their fresh supplies. During that time, they had the misfortune of falling prey to rebel partisans, who managed to set fire to a further fifth of the food. A smaller but not insignificant amount of water was also lost during that raid.
Compared to that, foraging for poisonous mushrooms and unidentified fruits seemed a much safer alternative.
By the time the raiders were all hunted down, morale had plummeted, and Bujing was in no mood to tolerate any further setback. The army remained camped for a further two anxious days for resupply before they continued their advance.
It was a most inauspicious sign of things to come, from Bujing’s perspective.
The high general’s concerns were further proven true when they encountered a mob of fleeing, half-naked men. They were survivors from High General Wulong’s combined army, and the dread tales they brought with them made Bujing regret being out in the continent.
Wulong was dead by the Scorpion’s hand, and his combined force shattered and scattered in all directions to spread the news. The rebel princess was also in the field, apparently slaughtering her own tally of loyalist commanders. Worse, Wulong’s army of twenty thousand was routed by an enemy force of not even a third of that. And this was a battle on open grasslands, not a siege where such a disparity in numbers made more sense.
To top it all off, the prince and princess now had dragons under their command, to go along with tanks that spat fire, and soldiers that could somehow fly.
A lesser commander might write off the tales as mostly hyperbole. That Wulong was indeed illed, but battlefield hysteria caused the men to justify their cowardice with tall tales.
Bujing was not a lesser commander. He’d read what Xing could do. He’d personally heard of what happened to Zhao.
It was too late to stop the spread of the disastrous defeat, especially with more fleeing survivors potentially running into other groups. So Bujing acted immediately to slow the fear’s growth instead. “Send one hawk back to deliver the news back to the capital. Then send the rest to all commanders on the continent. Have their armies gather at the shores of the West Lake, and then we’ll march as one to take on Ba Sing Se. Avoid the Scorpion’s forces if possible. If not, send messages of the enemy’s locations before martyring themselves for the Fire Nation. Tell them that.”
With the inter-army communication dealt with, the high general then moved on to dealing with the infected communication within his own army. Morale had dropped to a point where there was already a trickle of deserters beginning. Capturing the cowards and executing them before their former comrades was a temporary balm to the problem, but Bujing had to get to the root of the issue.
The men needed something tangible to raise their spirits. Wine and increased rations would not be enough. Bujing needed victories. Any victories.
He set his army loose on the next group of partisans they encountered. Their underground hideout was fully burnt to ash and turned into an open grave for the rebels. Bujing let his men vent their fears on the fanatical peasants who died with their prince’s and princess’ names on their lips. He overlooked the desecration of the corpses and the slow, torturous execution of the few unlucky survivors.
It got some of the dread out of the troops’ system. That was what was important.
The expeditionary force kept their morale afloat by pouncing on several more civilian resistance groups. Bujing’s only rule was that the rebel women be executed along with the men, instead of being captured as playthings. Allowing the latter would only end up as a distraction to his men, and potentially serve as a security vulnerability. The soldiers were free to have whatever way they wanted with any rebels they captured, but no prisoners would remain after they broke camp on the following day.
The simple tactic kept the army marching all the way to the West Lake, where they met up with and assimilated other punitive forces. Some of the expedition groups suffered significant losses. Two had lost almost a third of their forces, particularly their cavalry, in trying to stop the rebels from harassing their march. Others suffered losses from traps and suicidal raids. Mutiny saw at least two armies losing about a quarter of their strength.
One unlucky group was half-starved and lost more than half their numbers, including their general and most of the command staff, to poisoned food and water. Desertion further brought their ranks down to barely a quarter of their original strength. Bujing immediately promoted the lieutenant commanding the battered survivors to general. Such talent, especially in the face of adversity, should not be overlooked.
Despite the ordeal they all face, after waiting for nine days for the rest of the punitive forces to catch up, the combined might of the muster still amounted to a mighty four hundred thousand men, with nearly ten thousand tanks and double that number in cavalry. In any other situation, it would be an awe-inspiring force.
Bujing doubted it’d be enough to replicate Prince Iroh’s siege on Ba Sing Se. Not with Princess Azula rousing the evacuated colonists to man the defenses. Not with Prince Iroh’s cunning and wisdom providing counters to the Fire Nation doctrines he was keenly familiar with.
Not with the Scorpion Dragon Xing who broke the very same city he was now defending by himself.
It was relief of sorts then, when Bujing received exhausted scouts that told of the rebels marching out of the city in force of around thirty thousand men. It was certain that both Xing and Azula were leading it, and they were headed west, just missing Bujing’s force by.a few miles if they did not deviate from the roads.
On the one hand, it meant that the biggest worries to sieging Ba Sing Se was now gone, though it was a meager consolation as Prince Iroh was likely still in the city manning the defenses. But at least now the siege now actually had a chance of succeeding. It might also force the Xing to turn back, ruining whatever reason he was marching out in the first place.
Yet, there was also the fact that even with a minimal garrison, Ba Sing Se’s walls and breaches would take weeks, if not months, to actually be overwhelmed. Bujing was sure that Xing employed turncoat earthbenders, who could, as a last resort, collapse the walls to bury entire regiments under an avalanche of brick and earth. And then there’d still be mountains of rubble-turned-ammunition for the surviving attackers to climb through.
Even if they endured all of that, there’d still be a second wall to endure. By that time, Xing could have already accomplished whatever goals he set out to do if he simply opted to ignore the loyalist army. Worse, the Scorpion might be heading westwards to begin razing the ports that fed supplies and reinforcements to Bujing’s army. Not only would it starve them out, it’d also strand them on the continent.
And if Xing managed to capture a few ships, they could realistically fool or convert the naval patrols and aim for the home islands.
“Damn that boy,” Bujing cursed as he stared at the map in his command tent, and then glanced up to the assembled generals. “We’ve no choice but to intercept the rebel army.”
And it was likely Xing knew it as well, the scheming little bastard. Which meant that he’ll be prepared.
“Should we aim to envelop them?” one commander proposed, not unreasonably. With such a numerical advantage, standard doctrine called for a complete encirclement before tightening the noose and thoroughly destroying the trapped target.
Bujing sighed as he pondered over the possibilities for a few seconds. “Against predictable earthbenders and their levy fodder, I’d agree with you. However, we’re dealing with Xing and his band of traitors here. They’ve knowledge of Fire Nation strategies and ploys, and have likely taken our usual approaches into consideration.”
Another general, one of the newer ones promoted by the Fire Lord spoke up with some indignation. “What then? We cannot just cower from them! We hold the advantage of numbers against these rebels, spirits-touched Scorpion or not. With some maneuvering, we can bring them to battle in favorable terrain as well.”
That was, unfortunately, true. Bujing stared at the map again, and then heaved out another sigh before fixing a glare at the assembled commanders. “We’ll send out our greener infantry formations first to try and intercept the rebels. Their one and only job is to keep the enemy pinned and worn while the rest of the army catches up.” The high general ignored the sour looks on some of his subordinates. “The tanks and cavalry will guard the flanks of the main force until we’re ready to engage the rebels, and then they’ll conduct flanking and encirclement maneuvers as appropriate.”
“With all due respect, High General,” a general said, “Might we be overestimating the rebels’ capabilities?”
Bujing snorted audibly at that idea. “Fool. You’re talking about a boy who’s made a reputation for stringing victories while outnumbered. One mere boy leading a regiment, however battle-hardened, does not break armies and cities with simple ‘intimidation tactics’. And considering how easily he declared his rebellion, the accuracy of his more recent battle reports might be suspect. Right now, I would rather overestimate his reputation and trample him swiftly, than underestimate him and suffer High General Wulong’s fate.”
Fixing a glare fuelled with all the authority of his rank, Bujing’s voice lowered to a steely order. “We move out tomorrow morning. Either six generals will volunteer to head the vanguard by the end of today, or I will nominate them once the marching orders are given tomorrow.”
For all the haste Bujing’s orders were carried out, the sacrificial vanguard of 120,000 barely created a lead from the main army by the end of their first day of their forced march. The banners of the tail end of the infantry martyrs could still be seen down the road even as the main force set up camp.
In the meantime, Bujing kept busy through the night trying to piece together Xing’s likely moves. The high general held no illusion that the vanguard he sent out would be broken, he just wasn’t sure how quickly or how worn the rebel force would be after that. He’d have to plan his attrition rates carefully. Orders were given to prioritize taking out the enemy vehicles first, to provide some advantage in mobility. After that, it’d be down to a bloody grind.
By the third day of intercepting, Bujing had to amend his calculations when he noticed that nearly half of the scouts he sent out to keep track of the rebels had not reported back.
On the fourth day, barely a fifth of them either showed up or sent their updates via messenger hawks. However, desperate runners from the vanguard brought news of Xing’s force being sighted. Battle was expected to commence the following day.
Bujing had his main army hasten their march on the fifth day to catch up with and reinforce the vanguard, only to encounter more messengers bringing bewildering news that the enemy was nowhere to be seen, likely having relocated at night. By now, the only scouts the army had left were those that remained keeping watch of its perimeter.
The main army caught up with the confused and frustrated vanguard on the seventh day. All 120,000 soldiers were spread around where the rebels were last seen encamped, poking about cautiously but futilely for any sign of the enemy. With their vision hobbled, Bujing had his army set up camp with the vanguard, and prepared to sacrifice some of the light cavalry to serve as eyes and ears for the army. They had the mobility, but not the training to keep a discreet eye out for enemy movement. The high general resigned himself to writing off maybe a division’s worth of ostrich horses to give his army some ability to see ahead.
It proved to be a moot idea, as late into the seventh night, as the soldiers recuperated from the weary marching and Bujing was busy refining his battlefield plans, half of his tent to sank underground with barely a warning. The high general had all of three seconds to be confused before the command tent’s heavy fabric fell over him and the furniture…and the braziers and candles.
Bujing hastily burned his way free from the smothering blanket, and as the silk and leather covering fell clear of his head, he found himself in the middle of bloody mayhem.
Neat holes dotted the ground, half-swallowing tents and palisade sections. Armored figures were casually climbing out of them with weapons or flames in hand, their outlines highlighted in baleful orange from the fires breaking out as tents and braziers and torches toppled atop of one another.
“Kill for the Scorpion Prince! Kill for the Phoenix Princess!”
Most of the confused loyalists were still recovering from the sudden appearances of sinkholes around them, and fell easy prey to the enemy ambushers. Spears stabbed into men still in their nightwear as they crawled out of their tents in a daze. Officers barely managed to get their hands on their weapons when they were pounced on by warcleavers and daggers.
The earth rose up to crush or impale soldiers trying to rally around their sergeants or captains. Flames incinerated groups of barely armed soldiers as they sought to organize into their squads as deep-drilled training urged. The whinny and grunts of startled ostrich horses and komodo rhinos cut across the din of flames and screams as tanks trundled up from larger pits and began spitting streams of fire.
“Spirits…”
Bujing would’ve remained rooted to the spot if not for the noise behind him triggering his instincts to quickly leap aside. He fell into a roll despite his age, and quickly got up into a firebending stance…and found himself facing off against a grinning, muscled figure that was the Mad King.
“Hey, looks like I got lucky and bagged myself a high general!”
Bujing barely managed to channel his chi when Bumi casually stomped his feet and crushed him almost to death in a neck-high prison of earth. The high general gasped as the tightly packed dirt slammed into his body from all directions. That nothing broke was a minor miracle.
Through tears of pain staining his vision, Bujing saw King Bumi walking up to offer a humiliating grin. “Now don’t move a muscle. We’ll come get you right after the fun’s over.”
And the Mad King turned away without acknowledging Bujing’s furious indignation, and with another stomp of his foot, the earth cracked outwards and a rift opened up to swallow up an officer and his rallying men. Another stomp and a push of his arms, and a tsunami of dirt rose up and tore through men and tents, leaving a long trail of churned earth and pulped corpses. The Mad King stalked off with a cackle, churning spikes up to shred anyone in his way, or more waves of earth to bury any significant groups that caught his attention.
“Kneel if you wish to live!” Bujing strained to turn his head when flashes and roars from one side caught his helpless attention, and he saw the rebel prince and princess joining in the chaotic melee. Princess Azula led a group of soldiers, ruthlessly cutting down any who stood in their way. Bolts of fire and walls of earth rendered any resistance against them impotent.
Azula stopped as she came across a gathering mob of firebenders, her earthbenders’ walls protecting her group from the barrage that followed. Bujing felt cold dread wash down his straining spine as the princess fell into a familiar stance, index and middle fingers of both hands pointed out as her arms moved in circular motions. Blue-white light sparked from her fingertips, and when she finally lanced one arm out at the mob, a blinding bolt of lightning blasted through the earthen wall between them and forked out throughout the firebenders that dared stand against her.
More lightning followed after that, as her soldiers stood guard around her and gave her the time she needed to deliver the devastating attacks.
Despite the terror that filled Bujing, it somehow got worse as he heard uncanny roars from the skies. Something darted past his constricted view, something snake-like and winged and trailing flames. The high general heard armor and bones breaking from where the figure darted towards, as well as the gurgling screams of men being brought down by predators. One of the figures flew by, slower this time, claws latched onto a hapless lieutenant as its elongated maw chomped out chunks of his neck and shoulders. Bujing saw a dragon for the first time, burning what’s left of its victim before flying off, and he felt the crushing pressure around his waist ease a bit as his bladder slackened.
High General Bujing remained a captive audience for spirits know how long, forced to experience his army crumbling around him. At some point, he saw Xing’s white flames somewhere nearby, and shortly after, ash fell from the sky like snow. Bujing also watched several doomed attempts by varying officers to rally their forces, but it only created easier targets for the rebels to focus on, particularly the cackling Mad King.
Bujing’s eyes ached as Princess Azula let loose lighting to any and all who dared point a weapon or raise a flame her way. Her guards were especially ruthless in keeping any challengers from getting too close, particularly a girl garbed in a green battledress and red armor. It was only when the distinctive war fan slashed out to slit throats or loosen jaws that Bujing realized that the exiled princess had somehow gotten the famed Kyoshi Warriors on her side.
How much of the Earth Kingdom supported the rebels?
If only Bujing had the luxury of being free from this bloody slaughter to figure out the answer.
Come dawn, the flames had mostly died out, as did the screaming. Moans of the wounded floated along the stench of burnt and ruptured bodies. Whimpers squeaked out from the soot-stained survivors of the punitive expeditions as the surrendered soldiers kept their knees, hands and foreheads pressed against the burnt and bloodied dirt in a bid to preserve their lives. Rebel soldiers stalked among the smoking tents and mangled bodies, either to pull out or mercifully end any breathing form they came across.
“Ah, high general.” Xing’s voice called out from one side, and then seconds later the Scorpion Dragon came into view, smirking triumphantly as two dragons almost as long as he was tall floated behind him. “Good to see you’re still with us.”
Seconds later, Princess Azula appeared at Xing’s side, her wrathful glare fixed on Bujing. “Xing.”
“Yes, my princess?”
“We only accept the surrender of those who kneel before us, is that right?”
Bujing found fresh terror rushing through his strained heart as Xing nodded.
“True, but that was during the fighting.” He inclined his head towards the high general. “And it’s not like he has a choice in that matter yet…” The Scorpion then gave a vicious grin. “So, High General Bujing,” the boy’s voice rang out clearly across the ruined campgrounds, “what choice will you make?”
The earthen prison suddenly slackened, and Bujing fell in a heap of aching muscles. He glanced over his shoulder briefly to find King Bumi smiling too warmly at him. Bujing glanced back to the prince and princess before him, and too exhausted to even sigh, he let himself fully crumple to the ground as he lowered his head. “High General Bujing offers his unconditional surrender.”
