Omashu was chaos made elegant.
The city clung to stone like a defiant thought, its slides and ramps twisting logic into something playful and lethal at the same time. It reminded me of King Bumi himself—unpredictable, ancient, and far more perceptive than he pretended to be.
I didn't enter secretly.
I was escorted.
The gates opened without resistance, guards stepping aside with the kind of obedience that came not from fear, but from understanding exactly who not to obstruct. By the time I reached the throne room, the city already knew I was there.
King Bumi lounged on his throne like a bored child, crown tilted slightly, eyes sharp behind the madness.
"Well now," he said, grinning widely, "you don't look like a conqueror. Too clean. Too quiet."
"I'm not here to conquer," I replied calmly. "Only to talk."
He laughed—loud, delighted.
"Oh, good! Talking is much more fun than fighting. Fighting is so predictable."
We spoke casually at first.
Trade routes.Fire Nation movements.The strange stability settling over Ba Sing Se.
I introduced myself simply—as the Earth King's new advisor. Bumi didn't question it. He tested it, circling topics like a game board, flipping assumptions upside down just to see how I reacted.
I answered honestly.
Not fully.
But cleanly.
Eventually, I reached into my sleeve and placed something on the table between us.
A white tile.
Lotus inlaid perfectly at its center.
The room did not change.
Bumi did.
His grin softened. His posture shifted. The madness… focused.
"Ah," he said quietly. "So you've heard rumors."
"Enough to know they're not rumors," I replied. "And enough to know the White Lotus doesn't recruit lightly."
He leaned back, eyes never leaving me.
"Then why show me that?"
"Because the world is approaching a turning point," I said. "And groups that claim to stand above nations should be aware when someone is already moving the board."
Silence stretched.
Then Bumi burst out laughing again—this time with unmistakable approval.
"Oh, I like you," he said. "You're no fun at all."
He reached forward and turned the tile once, aligning it perfectly.
"You already know the basics," he continued. "We value wisdom over rank. Balance over allegiance. Pai Sho over politics."
"I don't play Pai Sho," I said.
Bumi smirked. "Neither do I. Not properly."
That was the answer.
He tapped the table once.
"You're in."
No ceremony.No oaths.No warnings.
Just acknowledgment.
He gave me what I needed—fragments of history, names spoken carefully, the understanding that the White Lotus watched the world from between the cracks, intervening only when stagnation threatened collapse.
Before I left, Bumi looked at me long and hard.
"You know," he said, "most people who try to control the world think they're above it."
"I don't," I replied. "I'm inside it."
He grinned again, wide and sharp.
"Good. That's much more dangerous."
When I departed Omashu, the city felt lighter somehow—like a move had been made in a game no one else realized they were playing.
I now stood at the intersection of powers:
Ba Sing Se's shadow government.The Spirit World's ancient truths.And the White Lotus—quiet, patient, watching.
The Avatar would return soon.
And when he did, he wouldn't just face a world shaped by nations.
He would face a world shaped by players.
And now—
I was officially one of them.