Chapter Text
At twelve forty-two that afternoon, a shepherd with a long, red braid walked into the town's tea shop. It was called The Cuddly Kitten by its most distinguished of guests: the local townspeople.
"Good morning, Mr. Madsen."
Mikkel Madsen, the Mr. Madsen in question, looked up from his sweeping. "Good morning, Reynir. You do realize it’s afternoon, right?"
The young man, hardly more than a child by age (and possibly not more than such mentally), gaped at the older man. “It’s really that late?”
Mikkel nodded solemnly and grabbed a teapot - he always had one handy - pouring Reynir a cup. The boy slumped into the nearest chair as it was handed to him.
"I don't suppose you went to bed at a reasonable time last night?"
Reynir yawned and shook his head. "No. There were these two weird people who showed up at our door. They bought some red and black wool cloth." He sipped at the tea; it was cold, but still very good. "Then they had my sisters and mother help them with sewing. I don't think they were used to making their own clothes - it was exciting! After that I had to make sure the Wooly-pigs were where they needed to be for the night and by that point it was already pretty late."
Mikkel returned to his sweeping. "And how are they doing?"
"The strangers?"
"No, the Wooly-pigs."
"They're doing goo- er, well. Really great, actually!" The redhead said, grinning to himself.
"That will be one copper piece."
Reynir fished around in his pocket, a look of concentration on his face while Mikkel waited as patient as ever. Eventually a coin emerged and was handed over.
"Thank you," said Mikkel, returning to his sweeping.
The rest of the tea cup was emptied and Reynir sat up a little straighter. "You know, Mikkel..."
Mikkel raised an eyebrow at the younger man. Reynir smiled sheepishly back.
"This tea is really good. You could charge a lot more than a copper piece for it if it were hot."
Mikkel nodded. "Good observation."
"Sooo... why don't you?"
"Who says I don't?"
Reynir frowned. "But you only have cold tea?"
"Correction: I only give you cold tea."
"You give others hot tea?" Reynir asked. He tilted his head to one side.
"Mm-hm."
Reynir stared into his empty cup then watched as Mikkel slowly, calmly swept the floor. “You sure you don’t want any help with that?”
“As I say every time, I am perfectly capable of sweeping the floor and don’t require your assistance.”
"This town now belongs to the Fire Nation! Unhand all of your belongings!"
Both men's heads flipped in the direction of the open doorway leading to the street, Reynir's mouth hanging open in surprise and Mikkel's, while initially doing the same, soon traced a hard line. He led the way to the door, broom handle gripped firmly in his fists. Reynír creeped just a little behind, peering around his older friend's massive girth.
There was a commotion in the street.
Denizens were looking very bewildered and having intense, whispered conversations between themselves involving much hand-waving. A cart was on fire (and maybe a couple of crates, too). Two figures stood on the wooden platform in the town's central square wearing the black, red, and gold of a traditional Fire Nation uniform.
Mikkel sighed and began wading through the crowd of people firmly saying "Coming through", "Break it up", and "Let me through, please" until he reached the base of the platform.
Perhaps 'base of the platform' is misleading, because the structure only reached halfway to Mikkel's knee.
On stage right there stood a woman who, standing on the platform, was roughly a half-shin's length taller than the tea shop owner glaring at her. Her outfit, in a word, was ridiculous, and her hair was as red as the element that uniform was associated with. She did not seem to have noticed him at all.
"I repeat! This town now belongs to the Fire Nation! Unhand all of your belongings!"
“What is the meaning of this?” Mikkel asked the woman.
The woman didn’t hear, continuing to shout about the Fire Nation and how this acquisition would bring glory and honor and that the townspeople really should give up their possessions because she didn’t intend to give them a choice in the matter. The young man next to her, even younger than Reynir, did, however. He was wearing a similar, though less ornate uniform and turned his head to look at Mikkel; he stood on the platform, but was short enough that the extra height boosted him to barely above eye level. Most noticeably, he had the most perfect hair. It was golden in the sunlight and lay without a stray strand on his head.
"Uh, can I help you?" he asked.
Mikkel opened his mouth to answer, about to ask them to go on their merry way and paused, a thought occurring to him. "Yes, you can actually. You see that hill over there?"
The kid followed the direction of Mikkel's indication with his eyes, eyebrows drawing together in confusion. "...yeah?"
"Honor!" the woman shouted.
"Our town is poor and will not offer as much glory and honor as your captain seems to think it will."
The Fire Nation soldier nodded, mouth slightly agape.
"That hill is well known to our people. There is a cave beneath it and, in that cave, there is a large shiny rock. That rock is worth a lot of money. If you and your captain would be willing to withdraw your claim on our town, we would be perfectly happy to let you have that rock."
The soldier's eyebrows shot up. He lunged for the woman's sleeve and hissed "Captain Eide!"
Halfway through her present sentence the woman, apparently called Captain Eide, stopped to look at him. What? the look on her face clearly said. The male soldier just gestured vaguely at Mikkel.
The woman finally noticed the large man's presence. She glared at him.
He took a breath to speak.
"First rule of being ruled by us, everyone stands still and stays silent!" she barked, pulling out a large knife for emphasis.
Mikkel blinked in surprise. "What? What kind of rule is that?"
The knife came down in a cleaving motion and Mikkel put the only thing within reach between him and its gleaming blade: the handle of his broom.
The knife sunk into the wood with a gleeful thunk! and stuck there. Various townspeople and the soldier at the woman's side gasped in surprise.
"It's the first rule."
"Whoa, stop!" the soldier exclaimed.
"Oh, come on, Västerström, you've got to give the peasants a good scare. I bet these people have never even seen a Satomobile before!"
"Yes we have," Mikkel said. "There are two at the end of the street there."
The woman glanced briefly behind her. "Would you look at that - these people are civilized after all!"
"Captain Eide..."
"Not now, soldier, we're in the middle of conquering a town!"
"About that..."
"What did you do."
"What?!" he said, obviously smothering panic. "I didn't do anything! Th- this man had a great idea I thought you might want to hear!"
"Oh?" the woman asked suspiciously. "Let's hear it, then."
Mikkel posed the pair a question. "Which would you rather have: this town or a lot of money?"
She considered their options carefully. "That depends... How much adventure would taking the town involve?"
"We'll take the money!" interjected the soldier.
Captain Eide looked disappointed, but nodded agreement.
"Great! We'll leave first thing in the morning!"
"Hang on," said the woman said. "Why not go now?"
Mikkel gestured in the direction of the hill. "Because it's a day's journey to our destination, of course."
Her head swiveled to look and her jaw dropped open.
When she looked back, Mikkel had already returned to his tea shop, ready to get back to his sweeping.