Even beneath her veil, Mayumi's ire was palpable.
"Dai Li," she said. "Are you not being excessively pedantic? No one should require permission to save a life."
Privately, she wondered what would happen if the Inquisitor were slain. Yet such thoughts were dangerous. Ironically, he is also the sole reason the wanted notices bearing her and Satchiko's likeness had not circulated among less discerning enforcers, those who would apprehend first and question never.
"Was there not a ruler in history nearly undone by such rigidity?" Mayumi pressed, adopting Shan's scholarly approach by invoking a historical precedent. "So paranoid was he that even his own palace guards dared not act without direct command simply because he did not order them to rescue him from the assassin."
"Chin the Conqueror," the Inquisitor replied without hesitation, immediately identifying the correct historical figure. "A fair comparison. But order to me should resemble the stars, each fixed in its proper place and none permitted to drift beyond notice. I prefer such stability, just as how I desire those who dwell behind the mighty walls of Ba Sing Se to not scheme against it. A warrior as accomplished as yourself may believe the greatest threat is an enemy charging with a blade, but whispered betrayal is often far more lethal. Even Avatars are not immune to deceit born in the most trusted of quarters."
Mayumi said nothing further, fully aware that debating intricate philosophies would be fruitless, as she was no scholar. Yet, sensing he had already made his peace with the specter of death that shadowed this line of work, she wondered if a different topic might pique his interest.
"I acknowledge your skill and resolve in dealing with traitors. While our duties diverge in circumstance, there is something I wish to know, and I would prefer a candid answer."
"Speak freely," he replied.
Mayumi steeled herself, bracing for a question both immense and personal. Perhaps part of her curiosity sprang from memories of her own mother, the Matron who may or may not have executed those who betrayed their people.
"How did you do it? How can you strike down a fellow Dai Li without remorse?"
"I simply no longer see them as my own," the Inquisitor answered with startling bluntness, not even relinquishing a second of waiting before answering that question. Mayumi found herself taken aback. In his world, a traitor was no longer a comrade, but a true foe whose actions imperiled the city and endangered loyal Dai Li agents. Emotions in such matters is a liability, and practical solutions demanded detachment.
"Reward and punishment, Kyoshi Warrior, are cornerstones of Legalism," he reminded her. "As a retainer of the one youthful scholar in this side of the fractured realm who studies this reviled philosophy, you ought to grasp at least the fundamentals. Tell me, would you tolerate a someone who betrayed your trust, whose actions imperiled your people? Hesitation born of personal sentiment can often invite greater losses. Zhao Jingzhong, a lowly man, committed a treachery so grievous that even his death cannot wholly erase its consequences."
Mayumi further deliberated, her voice softening yet insistent. "But how can you bear it? I do not question your conviction. Yet you don't even seem saddened about staining your hands when delivering such judgement towards your former acquaintance. Do you truly feel nothing?"
The Dai Li's gaze sharpened. The intricate black and white patterns of his face paint seemed to harden, the youthful cultural guardian is unamused by her inquiry.
"There is no sympathy for traitors who place our Earthbending techniques in the hands of brigands and outlaws," he said simply. "You witnessed how that renegade maimed those under my charge. Were I to show an ounce of leniency, all who remained loyal might have suffered needlessly from Zhao Jingzhong's betrayal. If it hadn't been that renegade's unexpected fatalism, such sedition should sour and succumb to my swift and sensible sentencing."
The network of trust among Dai Li agents was indeed labyrinthine. Their bonds are a world apart from Mayumi's own ties to her sisters, related or otherwise. The thought that circumstance might force her to draw her blade against her own kin is daunting. Yet, pragmatically she could afford to set such musings aside for now. There remained questions she still needed answered from her mother.
"What will you do, Kyoshi Warrior," the Dai Li continued with earlier question again, his tone grave. "If one of your own becomes a genuine threat to the citizens you are sworn to protect? Without rigorous enforcement, opportunists may act with impunity, flouting the laws of the land. And what if the perpetrator of a grave offense is your kin? Will you stand against those who demand his head?"
The moral dilemma certainly escalated quickly, much to Mayumi's discomfort.
"I suppose it depends," she replied evasively, which is a time-honored tactic against unyielding questions. "Your fellow Dai Li truly meant nothing to you? Aren't they akin to your family?"
She sensed his posture stiffen, his hands disappearing into the voluminous sleeves that marked his office, a signature look of a Dai Li taking a casual stroll. The silence stretched, hinting at his unwillingness to disclose the full measure of his convictions.
"My loyalty is to the law of the state," he said finally. "Should I be forced to choose between family and the law, the latter would always prevail."
Even without the wisdom of an Earth Sage, Mayumi could scarcely comprehend such utter disregard for blood. But then again, he is a Dai Li agent, valuing state loyalty above all is unsurprising.
That is, if these Dai Li agents even have family members to begin with.
"You wish to argue that the severity of a crime should govern how one confronts kin," he said, shifting the discussion. "Let us suppose your close friend or relative committed a minor offense against your village. How would you, Kyoshi Warrior, deal with such a transgression?"
Restraining the impulse to snap, Mayumi contemplated carefully. She could not be certain of the Dai Li's knowledge of her home, since her father's role as village chief isn't mentioned immediately.
"Of course it is wrong," she said, acknowledging the principle. "Our villages do not possess the sophisticated laws of Ba Sing Se, no codified penal system nor elaborate jurisdiction. Yet that does not mean my sisters and I would allow transgressors to escape unpunished. But consider this, Dai Li, would you arrest a poor mother who stole food merely to feed her starving children?"
She fixed her gaze on his face, anticipating the slightest flicker of hesitation, some trace of moral doubt in response to her delicate query. Yet the Dai Li's expression remained implacable, carved in the familiar rigidity of conviction. Nothing could unsettle his unwavering vision of the world.
"No exceptions," he said, a subtle edge of offense in his tone as if her very question intruded upon the sacred duty of meting judgment upon traitors among the brocade ranks. "And how can you presume the mother acted purely to provide for her children, rather than for herself? I mean no disrespect, but your worldview is tethered to a small, inconsequential island. A crime is a crime, no self-serving rationale absolves it unless the merit sufficiently balances the transgression. Law is imperfect, yes, but it can still be refined and enforced with rigor and fairness. As an old Earth Kingdom philosopher who would contrast the prevailing teachings of the Earth Sages would assert humans are inherently corrupt. Mortal flesh is weak, indolent, selfish. Without clarity, we are no better than wild beasts. Even the most virtuous can die. But the law, if preserved correctly, endures indefinitely." He paused, eyes narrowing as if to weigh her reaction. "I have seen what festers beneath this city. What you witnessed, your fleeting encounters is merely the surface. The truest form of human nature manifests in its fallibility. My own eyes would assert that nothing is more grotesque than that." He pushed back the remnants of his meal and exhaled sharply. "Would you believe there are mothers who would sell their own children for a morsel of bread? Tell me, what would you do if confronted with them?"
She already had met such people before entering Ba Sing Se's walls. In her heart, maternal love is sacred and unconditional, a belief she clung to with the tenacity of old scars. Yet she knew better than to deny that suffering could twist that love into something unrecognizable.
Her silence drew no reprieve.
"There is no such thing as unconditional trust," the Dai Li said, his calm voice dripping with bleak inevitability. "No safeguard exists against betrayal aside from flimsy integrity, hollow honor, and childish oaths. Such notions are illusions and should never be relied upon. Even kin are subject to scrutiny. Under the heavens, treachery rests nowhere."
This apathetic doctrine is hard to swallow, a merciless critique of values Mayumi held sacred. But these words also came from a Dai Li, the very agents her mother had warned her about.
"And the traitor and outlaw you just executed?" Mayumi stated dangerously, a dangerous edge to her tone. "Neither renounced their love."
"Watch your tongue, for I tolerate no embellishments in praise of a traitor. Zhao Jingzhong was weak, surrendering clandestine manuals for negligible fleshly indulgences. Such sedition defies redemption. It is a shame he escaped the extensive sessions I had in mind."
Images of the Inquisitor's methods flickered unbidden in Mayumi's mind. A mere execution would have been mercy, she imagined far darker fates. She might not be Shan the White Scholar, but even a warrior can rely on the power of simple eloquence.
"As for that lowly outlaw," the Dai Li continued, irritation sharpening his words. "She sealed her lips in defiance, hindering the eradication of sedition against this city. One can only speculate how many others who were taught our techniques were shielded by her silence. She complicated our search."
Despite the reasonableness of Mayumi's assumptions, the Dai Li remained obstinately fixed on his own conclusion that the outlaw's actions stemmed from solely defiance. Among daofei, clandestine societies are the norm, and it was hardly unthinkable that one of their own might willingly offer their life to shield the collective from the reach of authority. Yet to the Inquisitor, even acts of apparent selflessness were merely another form of gratification. Rather than mourning the loss of a companion, he reduced the woman's sacrifice to blind obedience to a tangled, antiquated code of honor practiced by petty criminals. In his cold appraisal, there was no space for genuine affection, only ritual and vanity.
"Regardless of our perspectives, that woman preserved herself from interrogation," he said. "Ordinary outlaws are more susceptible than heretical seditionists when properly catechized."
"You could have also used Zhao Jingzhong as a bargaining chip," Mayumi offered carefully, each word measured to avoid giving him cause for arrest. "In the end, that outlaw and Zhao Jingzhong truly loved one another. Though I disdain such tactics, it would surely have compelled them."
A tense silence stretched. To this Dai Li, coercion left no room for genuine sentiment, only calculated advantage.
"You are naiver than I supposed," he said sharply. "Their loyalty will fade. There is no substance in what you call love."
Mayumi could not help but wonder, what upbringing produces a man so utterly indifferent to what others hold sacred? Is every Dai Li forged this way, unyielding and impervious to what most consider human?
"Do not be so hasty to judge me for disposing of a traitor," the Dai Li continued, unmoved by the Kyoshi Warrior. "After examining a copy of that Firebending seditionist's absurd journal, I must say your mother Akahana's actions were measured and justified."
The words struck Mayumi with the precision of a blade. Both knew that invoking Akahana as precedent is almost unassailable, if Huo's recollections of the past could be trusted at all. Yet the man wielded the uncomfortable truth without hesitation, exploiting it like a weapon.
"Your own leader acted as duty demanded," he said. "For someone unseasoned in quelling sedition, who does not yet grasp the cost of tolerating heterodox teachings, she addressed the threat decisively."
Mayumi's gaze faltered. Slowly, she spoke, each word weighed with the gravity of her own experience. "There is no honor in slaying those you have nurtured." The thought pressed upon her, she and Orihime now occupy the same mantle Akahana once bore, guiding the next generation of warriors.
"Indeed, there is not," he conceded, but devoid of any apology. "Yet traitors must be terminated, by one means or another, particularly when they imperil the harmony of the realm. Your mother required no persuasion. The foolish chronicler of the journal made clear her intent to slay the elders of your village and usurp the local customs. With a cohort of newly converted zealots to support this asinine quest, no fanaticism exceeds that of the novices. Your mother acted swiftly, separating duty from sentiment. Objectively she prevented greater loss."
Once again, Mayumi found herself speechless. Unlike the man before her, she could scarcely entertain the notion that any of her fellow Kyoshi Warriors, trusted and dependable, could ever betray all she had sworn to defend. Perhaps the chapter detailing Akahana's execution of the converted trainees, the very ones her mother had mentored, was intentionally omitted from the instruction of the youngest generation.
Finally, the Dai Li offered his last statement, one that perhaps is far more reasonable than what most would like to believe.
"If all the world punishes transgressions without regard for friendship or kinship, perhaps wars and chaos would be less rampant in the present," the Inquisitor mused as they walked out of the unassuming bazaar. He tossed a morsel of food to a stray yellow dog, which accepted it with graceful humility. "The so-called noble virtues of kings and Avatars are meaningless when applied selectively, for they are mostly guided by personal favor rather than fairness. Even you must concede that our shared founder, despite her flaws, was far more impartial than her three successors. That trio have repeatedly corrupted justice under the guise of fairness, slighting this realm by valuing their own personal ties with thieves and oath breakers alike. At least those three are now dead, as they should be."
That final part, Mayumi offered no rebuttal despite fully aware that one of the incarnates have rescued her own village during the great conflict of the past. Even she, raised in the veneration of the Avatars, could not wholly refute his indictment against the three successors who did not live up to Avatar Kyoshi's blunt yet simple fairness that prioritizes the common folk. The trio of recent incarnates had permitted wars and suffering to fester across the Earth Kingdom, being lenient toward foreign invaders who slaughtered the innocents and indifferent to the realm's fracture. At least in the current era of warring states, Kyoshi Island had been spared, both because of its meager resources and lack of strategic value. Even better, they at least honor an Avatar who had not brought utter ruin to the entire realm.
Their walk resumed toward the Upper Ring. As always, the Dai Li vanished into the cityscape, leaving her alone. The rhythm of his departures had become predictable, instinctively she slipped back into the unassuming courtyard residence.