"There's no one else?" I wiped my sword clean on the clothes of the nearest corpse. Might as well retrieve my throwing knife while I was at it.
"No one nearby," Suki reported. "The surrounding area is clear."
"We should question them about the camp. There may be others still there."
"We won't tell you anything!" someone squeaked in a thin, trembling voice.
"Every time, it's the same thing," Dandadan sighed sadly. One of the warriors.
"You'll talk," Ju continued phlegmatically. "Everyone talks. Some while still mostly intact. Others while screaming, crying, and parting with pieces of themselves…"
"And if I were you, I'd hurry up about it. The Fire Herald doesn't like waiting too long. It makes him sad. And when the Herald is sad…" she smiled faintly, "everyone around him becomes very sad."
"H-Herald?" The kids turned pale instantly.
In the end, the flood of eloquence came pouring out with remarkable speed. Honestly, I hadn't expected this sort of theatrical performance from the girls. Though… psychological pressure was something they'd been taught back on Kyoshi Island, and somewhere along the way Suki had picked up all sorts of bad habits from me and become thoroughly corrupted. Afterward, she'd started corrupting the others as well…
Hm. Well, regardless, we obtained the information we needed remarkably quickly, simply by playing "bad cop, very bad cop, and kind inquisitor," all without laying a single finger on the prisoners. Not bad.
The "partisan" camp, built high among the trees, turned out to be empty. Well… empty of bandits, anyway. They hadn't even bothered leaving anyone behind to keep watch.
The gang also had no valuables stashed away, which immediately raised questions. If they had spent years robbing patrols and merchants alike, then where was the money? Where was the loot?
As it turned out shortly afterward, Jet had been successfully fencing everything on the western coast. And spending the profits on… explosives.
Inside the "partisans'" cache, we discovered half a dozen barrels reeking sharply of oil and something else. To be fair, local explosives couldn't really boast much destructive power. Crude oil mixed with wood shavings and coal tended to burn and smoke far more than it actually exploded. Hell, by local standards, my improvised gunpowder was practically a wunderwaffles. One stick of dynamite would have easily outclassed this entire stockpile, and that wasn't even getting into anything more advanced.
Questioning the gang leader revealed the rest.
At first, he had been extremely rude and uncooperative. I had to step lightly on his cauterized stump to encourage a more conversational mood.
According to Jet, he intended to use those supplies to blow up the dam and wash the entire settlement straight to hell. The fact that half the village's inhabitants were native Earth Kingdom residents—and peaceful civilians at that—didn't concern him in the slightest.
The only thing stopping the aspiring demolitions expert was that the water level behind the dam wasn't yet high enough to create a truly devastating flood. So, before carrying out the attack, he planned to reroute several nearby streams to "correct this small inconvenience." He needed about five more barrels to have enough for both the dam explosion and the landscape modifications.
Complete fucking lunatic.
After a brief discussion, we decided to take the explosives with us and hand them over to the garrison under official inventory. Let the soldiers deal with that headache from here on out.
We returned to town barely four hours after departing, dragging the "untraceable bandits" back with us. The prisoners were turned over to the garrison, while I sat down to write my report.
The local major would definitely be catching a severe reprimand. After that, the bureaucrats could decide for themselves whether to demote him or simply leave him rotting in this ass-end of the world. Either way, it would no longer concern me.
I could at least understand failing to capture the gang itself. This Jet fellow, through sheer personal skill alone, could probably fend off most ordinary soldiers—or keep them occupied long enough for the rest of his gang to escape before slipping away himself. And their archer had been genuinely good as well.
But failing to even find a pack of vicious little brats camped out in the trees barely an hour away from town? That took a special level of incompetence.
The next morning, we were already leaving the settlement behind us. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, and there was no point wasting more time here.
The last thing we witnessed before departing was the start of a gallows being built for thirteen people. Logical enough. The nearest prison was very far away.
***
The remainder of the journey to the Northern Air Temple passed without any incidents whatsoever. Peace and quiet all the way. In fact, things went too smoothly. By the third day of such blissfully uneventful travel, my ass had already started warning me that trouble was definitely on the way. Things simply could not be going this well.
And yet, strangely enough, nothing happened.
By evening on the third day, we safely entered the mountain fortress guarding the pass. Its commandant, Colonel Bohin, welcomed us with open arms, expressed the utmost respect, and offered every possible assistance.
The problem was that beneath all his courtesy and verbal flourishes lurked a distinct sense of sliminess. Altogether, the officer gave the impression of an extremely slippery and unpleasant individual, albeit one completely loyal to the Fire Lord.
More than that, the patriot proudly boasted about "modernizing old weaponry and inventing entirely new designs."
Interesting. I wondered what my "secret agents," in the form of Kyoshi Warriors and veteran sailors already wandering the garrison as usual, would manage to dig up.
"Would you care to inspect our newest developments, Herald Chan?" the man asked with an ingratiating smile and another bow.
(End of Chapter)
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