The rooftiles of the Lower Ring varied wildly in quality. Some are sturdy, many more threatened to be her literal downfall. The rain made the precariousness worse. One misstep on a slick tile could send her tumbling from the roof, plummeting to a violent, unceremonious death. As a Kyoshi Warrior, she could rely on her training, her body already conditioned for agility and evasion. Yet even with years of acrobatic mastery, her movements across the Lower Ring's rooftops were sluggish compared to the Dai Li. His earth-encased shoes clung to the buildings as though they were an extension of his body, allowing him to move with terrifying swiftness over stone and brick.
"Follow," the Dai Li commanded, almost gliding over the rain-slicked tiles as if gravity held no claim over him.
Mayumi had never been outpaced in all her years as a Kyoshi Warrior. Yet now, she found herself sprinting across a Lower Ring neighborhood, the supposed waypoint of the newly chosen Apostle before his journey to the Upper Ring. The lead had been provided willingly by the captured acolytes, a location that while marginally more stable than the war-torn districts beyond, still bore the scars of neglect and poverty. As the Dai Li had emphasized, such vulnerability made these areas ripe for fringe spiritual movements, which promised miracles and salvation in exchange for submission.
She wanted to urge him to slow down, to temper his reckless velocity. But pride clipped her tongue. Even more unnerving was this Dai Li's solitary presence. She had long assumed that men like him always operated in pairs.
The chase ended atop a roof that overlooked another mundane slice of the neighborhood. Rows of densely packed houses stretched beneath them, their green roofs muted under the night's drizzle. Residents slept unaware. Yet, as in countless corners of the Lower Ring, even this unremarkable quarter could conceal a nest of conspirators.
The notion that enemies of society could hide so effortlessly among ordinary citizens was foreign to Mayumi. She had grown up in a backwater village, a life far removed from a city teeming with millions.
As the Dai Li's gaze lingered on one particular home, Mayumi ventured cautiously. "Where is your companion?"
A pause, long and deliberate, stretched between them.
"It is simply not needed," he said finally, voice still as stone. "I prefer to reduce any obstacles that stand between me and maintaining the city's order."
Mayumi said nothing. Beneath her straw hat and dark veil, she felt the dented armor beneath, a silent reminder to the Earthbenders' formidable power.
The two pressed onward, their footsteps soft yet unyielding. As Mayumi kept her gaze sharp for signs of an ambush, her thoughts wandered to what might lie ahead. Memories weighed on her, those of the four merciless bending bandits, the relentless Firebender named Huo who had hounded her steps, and the marauding horde that laid waste to Hao Jing. Such recollections convinced her that a nest of underground acolytes would prove no less obstinate. She knew from bitter experience that even the feeblest among the so-called acolytes, those bereft of bending, could still pose grave danger. A frail body animated by fanatical zeal is no trifling foe, their raw ferocity and unnerving tolerance for pain could test even the discipline honed over her lifetime as a swordswoman.
To face an enemy who scorns their own survival is to confront a peril that no ordinary weapons training can prepare one for.
Her eyes flicked to the sheathed blade at her waist. The Inquisitor, temporarily granting her personal weapon, had tacitly acknowledged her skill. Yet, she restrained the urge to assert her newly attained badge to bear arms. The Dai Li is a man of few words, and negotiation may not be a wise option.
Approaching a dimly lit warehouse, she sensed the hideout immediately.
"We are here," he said abruptly, indicating a modest house beside the warehouse. According to willingly revealed location from the captured cultists, the newly ordained Apostle was to pass through here before continuing to the Upper Ring. Perhaps if luck favors them, they could even apprehend the newly appointed head of the snake and the Golden Book.
Mayumi's grip tightened on her sword. Her eyes swept the street, scanning every shadow, every possible approach. Nothing stirred. Without further explanation, the Inquisitor advanced to one of the residential homes, stopping before a rotting, unremarkable door.
She approached him with measured steps, careful not to provoke. "I do not intend to challenge your authority," she said softly. "But I do not believe this dwelling can accommodate a hundred souls."
Buildings in the Lower Ring were designed to meet only the basic necessities. Ony the sprawling mansions of the Upper Ring could hold more than a dozen inhabitants with any comfort.
"Your opinion is well-meaning, but uninformed," the Dai Li replied, tapping one stone-clad boot against the floor. "The peons are here."
Just as Mayumi wanted to question why more Dai Li had not accompanied him to capture the zealots, the Inquisitor knocked sharply on the door.
Her pulse quickened. Though she had donned the straw hat and veil, even a shadowed presence was preferable to being seen outright.
"I thought we were to wait for the others!" she hissed beneath her veil.
The Dai Li remained still, listening as the aged wooden door creaked under the strain of multiple locks. The residence is also unremarkable, merely one of countless ground-floor homes, yet it held measures enough to occupy those within.
After a measured delay, the door yielded. A cheerful man peered out.
"Ah, you've arrived just in time, we were just starting to begin—"
the man's greeting faltered as his eyes fell upon the Dai Li, the haunting face paint and the darkened robe alone cause delight to drain from his face, replaced by a frozen mortification that seemed to stretch the seconds into an eternity.
These moments are what the enforcer surely found satisfying.
Hands hidden within voluminous sleeves, the Dai Li stepped inside without permission. Each stomp of his stone boots was quiet but deliberate, a subtle herald of authority.
"You have a fine dwelling," he remarked, surveying the modest quarters. "This simple peace would be the envy of any who had faced the carnage beyond the city walls. A shame that some remain ungrateful for the harmony we cultivated."
"N-nothing illegal here!" the frightened tenant blurted. "We are a small household, sir. We seek no trouble!"
Mayumi's eyes swept the room with practiced scrutiny. There is no evidence of clandestine gatherings. Two small rooms, ordinary furnishings, space barely enough for five occupants. A family portrait caught her attention. There is the man and his small family. But his spouse and young daughter is now absent.
Returning to the Dai Li, she spoke with quiet conviction. "I believe you've been misled. No one else is here, perhaps your prisoner lied to save themselves."
The Dai Li's gaze sharpened. "I see why you people leap to such conclusions."
She did not understand, yet it was evident that the tenant's alarm was a reasonable response to the reputation of these cultural guardians. Furthermore, this modest dwelling literally has no space to house a secret gathering.
"Surely, as a protector of the people, some measure of reason should temper your actions," Mayumi lightly challenged, believing barging into someone's home unannounced is far below the expected decorum. "Perhaps your subordinates provided faulty information."
"That I concur," he said in a rare instance of agreeableness. "But duty permits no indulgence of emotion."
Without warning, the Dai Li lifted his boot, striking the man violently towards the wall. The force reverberated through the room, and Mayumi's breath caught.
"Dai Li!" Mayumi protested. "The innocent are not to be brutalized! This man poses no threat!"
The tenant coughed, writhing in pain, while the Inquisitor's expression remained unyielding.
"A poor actor exploiting the kindness of others warrants none of your concern," he intoned, stepping toward the family portrait. He adjusted the frame, dusting away a thin layer of gathered dust. "If every decision to maintain peace must be subjected to the softness of hearts, the harmony we enforce would falter."
Then, as though a question had arisen unbidden, he addressed the man.
"Your wife and daughter, you love them, do you not?" His voice was calm, yet it pierced deeper than any weapon.
"I… I loved them," the citizen stammered, still pressed against the floor. "They were taken from this world."
A pause ensued. Soon, the Dai Li asked again.
"More than anything else in the world?"
Mayumi leaned forward, straining to perceive the nuances of the interaction. The Inquisitor's method was subtle, insinuating unspoken truths she had overlooked entirely. It is at this moment, she realized the neglect that has transpired from the moment they stepped into this home.
"Most citizens born in the Earth Kingdom honor their ancestors and departed loved ones with incense sticks," the Dai Li continued, his gaze flicking between the Kyoshi Warrior and her captive. "Even the poorest of the poor would never neglect such rites. Yet you, Wang An, why have you not?"
The tenant stiffened, perhaps startled that the Dai Li had correctly discerned his name. Yet it was not the recognition that caused alarm, it was the glaring absence of incense and food offerings, which is a sacred custom observed not only throughout the Earth Kingdom but also in the mainstream of the Fire Nation and some Air Nomad monasteries. While the inquisitor cared little for the petty judgment of the pedantic Earth Sages, in the context of rooting out a foe that renounces all other beliefs and religions, Wang An's neglect is especially suspicious.
Wang An's protest was swift and defensive. He insisted that such minor omissions did not warrant scrutiny or state intervention, a claim both reasonable and fair.
"Groundless accusations alone cannot prove a threat," Mayumi interjected, stepping closer to Wang An to offer reassurance. Her eyes then swept toward the Dai Li, silently pleading for focus on the fanatical cult rather than the missteps of innocents.
But in that instant, she felt a sharp impact against her concealed armor. Spinning, her shocked expression still obscured by the dark veil, she saw Wang An clutching a meat cleaver, a common household implement turned weapon.
The transformation was instantaneous. From terrified man to vengeful assailant, Wang An swung the cleaver wildly.
Mayumi evaded. Given the length of her prized blade, Mayumi had no chance to draw it. She was forced instead to catch the swing of the cleaver upon the sword's scabbard.
Locked in a deadly contest of strength, Wang An aimed a vicious swing at her. But a flash of steel intercepted his wrist, disarming him and granting Mayumi the precious moment to draw her blade.
"Your skill as a warrior is undeniable," the Dai Li remarked without much reaction for the escalating situation, advancing beside Mayumi while pointing the bloodied saber at the wounded Wang An. "Yet a warrior who fights in daylight should not masquerade as a paragon in the shadows. Speak less, listen more."
Mayumi could only begrudgingly nod in silence, acknowledging her misjudgment. Wang An's betrayal had been swift, near-fatal and entirely unforeseen. Had she forgot to wear her battered armor, the strike might have ended her life.
"Lowly dogs!" Wang An spat, snatching up the cleaver once more, striking at the Dai Li.
Wielding a nimbler one-handed blade, the Inquisitor not only disarmed him a second time but also sheared through several fingers in the same motion, drawing from him a scream worthy of the abyss.
"You are not the first peon to slay spouse and offspring in devotion to an unsanctioned religion," the Dai Li intoned harshly, a reminder of Ba Sing Se's relentless grip on the city, including the culture.
Wang An crumpled, yet defiantly cursed by invoking divine retribution. Specifically, he mentioned that all those who oppose the so-called Eternal Balance would be thrown into a fiery, brimstone-laden inferno, a realm of endless suffering reserved for the faithless.
The Dai Li's face, painted in stark black and white, betrayed only a faint smirk.
"Other like-minded seditionists I have met has uttered the same delusions," he replied, voice laced with quiet menace. "Though I find such visions preferable to the chaos of this era, those who uttered such senile words can never speak again."
In a swift motion, he slashed Wang An across the throat, careful not to kill. Rendered speechless, the acolyte could only watch as the Inquisitor employed Earthbending to reveal a hidden entrance behind the family portrait, a cruel demonstration of both control and precision.
Mayumi stifled her gasp. The Dai Li toyed with the man. Wang An could do nothing but lie prone, helpless and humiliated. Failure to guard the entrance might warrant more than mere disappointment from his so-called Master. Even cries for help were impossible.
"Shall we?" the Dai Li asked Mayumi, gesturing toward the revealed passage. Her heart sank at the mundane, thankless task ahead. Learning to root out secret cults hidden among ordinary citizens is a chore unworthy of heroic songs or painted legends.
The descent proved far longer than anticipated. Who would have imagined that these zealots had carved such an elaborate web of tunnels, all leading to a single refuge? According to the Dai Li, countless such compounds lie scattered across the Lower Ring, each sheltering clandestine societies that proclaim the absolute dominion of their divine Master over the authority of Ba Sing Se itself. From the Inquisitor's account, which is drawn from the records of the Western Depot, every subterranean assembly boasts at least one Earthbender presiding as leader, dispensing what they deem the true doctrine of their venerated figure. Around them, the non-bending faithful gather to partake in these revelations. Yet sectarian schisms and the fractured, decentralized nature of these circles give rise to variations in custom and conduct. Still, they are united by one immutable creed, which is the rejection of every faith and tradition but their own.
"Why did you feign ignorance of Wang An's allegiance?" Mayumi demanded as they advanced. "Toying with lives is unnecessary, don't you think?"
"The peons, wild animals clad in the skin of people, deserve no respect," the Dai Li said sharply, his words slicing through the darkness. "Perhaps all beings are such. Conferring them the title of seditionists is too generous a term for those betraying the ones they supposedly hold dear. For a state that is the most powerful in the Northern Earth Kingdom, we have no need for such ungrateful people."
Mayumi narrowed her gaze. "For the record, I would never betray my—"
The Inquisitor raised a gauntleted, earth-clad hand, signaling her to halt.
Faint light shimmered at the tunnel's end, accompanied by the unmistakable sounds of singing. Tremors reverberated through the earth, the rhythmic stomp of feet, exuberant and ritualistic. Even more strangely is the incantations, filled with words they cannot understand.