6The impeccable precision of the tiled platform signaled it had been scoured and cleansed in earlier preparation for today. Crimson banners scripted with the Fire Nation's insignia were draped all over the balconies of the showground and four flags with the traditional coat of arms fluttered in the corners with what little burst of a breeze there was. Each of spectators had slipped into their most sumptuous red robes. The lord's wore their most elaborate armor with all the emblems of recognition they had earned. The ladies were adorned with glistening strands of globules; rubies, topaz, mandarin garnets, and black opals. They shifted uneasily and twirled their hair, gaze lowered to the tips of ftheir boots. The men sat stiffly, their posture as lifeless as that of a sculpture. All was right and ready for festivities; but no one dared to celebrate.
Where he longed for the favorable and well-welcomed approbation of the audience, ominous silence loomed over like a gray storm cloud. Today was the day. Before the finer entirety of the Fire Nation, his adversity would take place. Still crouching like coiled panther ready to strike, he inhaled sharply. Defeating the general would undoubtedly be challenging. He was a formidable opponent, and it wasn't an encounter the young prince looked forward to. However, with the superlative training he had gone through, that began at his early childhood, the general shouldn't be too much of a vital threat. Abruptly, the dreaded reverberation sounded, his acute hearing precisely focusing on its origin. The heir's heart chaotically throbbed in his chest and his stomach contracted relentlessly. The time had come.
He stood up and whirled around, throwing the maroon shawl wrung around his shoulders. Snapping his eyes open, he sprung into his paramount offensive position, casting his right arm forth and left arm partly behind, palms facing up. Smirking, the prince narrowed his golden eyes trickling with eager anticipation and confidently faced his opponent. A large burly figure turned to face him, the blazing orb in the background silhouetting his identity. He was equipped with broad shoulders, like that of a fierce woodland bear, and a powerfully built abdomen. His alabaster limbs were accentuated with bulging muscles able to crush any disturbances.
My beady eyes narrowed into slits at that one. Pathetic fool. With his eyes coerced into widening with fear and his mouth wrenched into a gape with shock. Dropping his arms, he trembled and stared helplessly at his adversary. He collapsed on to his knees, beseeching his opponent's mercy.
"I only had the Fire Nation's best interest at heart. I'm sorry I spoke out of turn!" he pleaded, modestly lowering his stare.
Dark hair flowing in the wind, the figure at the opposite ended of the arena angrily strode to the center.
"Rise and fight Zuko!" he hissed venomously.
"No! I won't fight you!" the prince wailed pitifully.
The figure treaded forward until it smoothly halted before the young heir. Glaring down he snarled," You will learn respect; and suffering will be your teacher!"
The prince lifted his head to face his father, his golden eyes bathing in tears, before his father hurled his hand forward and struck a deadly blow. The last thing the prince saw with his left eye was his father's fist, ablaze with a fire of the utmost magnitude, swiftly inching closer at him and the sheer expression of disgust that had befallen his face.
The force of the impact sent the screaming lad soaring to the other end of the platform, nearly falling down the stares. He let out a heart-wrenching cry as he buried his face in the tiles, silently sobbing. He cared not for the mortification or degradation, only the ignominious reputation he now held and the lost of the most important thing to him, his father. I proudly smirked, drawing my fist closer to my body in sheer approval, paying his pain no heed. All was well and righteous, here in the ways of the Fire Nation.
