The cushion rested flatly beneath him, his upper back felt sore, and the flames behind him rose and fell like the bow of a ship during a storm, turning the pleasant heat on his back into thousands of tiny pin pricks that reminded him of the sensation of insects crawling along his skin. And that said nothing about his rear. He shifted again, no longer caring if anyone saw his discomfort. The motion brought temporary relief, but it was soon replaced by a shiver down his left shoulder blade as the flames receded sharply. He glanced to his father, the man's face impassive, his back rigid enough to be made of stone. Regardless of his facial expression, the tumult behind him announced the Fire Lord's mood with all too detailed clarity. Another shift and the padding of the cushion shifted a bit farther, denying relief and deepening the discomfort of the already sore muscle. His father received another quick look, though nothing came of it. If this is what he had to look forward to on a day to day basis as Fire Lord, he'd follow his uncle's lead, abdicate to Azula and spend the rest of his days drinking tea and flirting with women.
He looked down at the two rows of men seated before him, seemingly arranged in alternating order of young and old. Zuko exhaled softly and quickly, bringing momentary stability to a small portion of the inferno. That discontinuity was no act of serendipity. Both rows started with an officer from the navy, then gave way to two from the regular ground force army, switched again, and continued in the same dual pattern until the last four men came into view, their faces obscured by the shadows the fire. All were old, none were respected. Ministers Yi, Ten-Ong, Lin, and Qin. Treasury, Trade, Agriculture, and War. Zuko shook his head. Empty titles for empty men. The first post had long since been in the hands of General Yu, who seemed to have a knack for spinning two coins out of one from between his fingers. The second had been rendered rather superfluous since the Fire Nation had developed what might be considered an unsavory reputation outside its borders. So it was in an official capacity. The third...Zuko thanked Agni for the swift, wet spring and the high, hot summers. The vast orchards of trees with fruit so ripe they burst in his mouth when he bit into them, fields of golden wheat that could swallow the palace guard and still have room to sway freely, and the fisheries, so rich and expansive the fishers said a blind man could stab at the water and come out with a meal. The only rule, from the lips and hand of the Fire Lord himself, set the bound on the amount that any ship could harvest, and no captain or net hauler questioned that limit while a navy ship loomed against the horizon.
And Qin. Relentlessly innovative and endlessly stupid. As an engineer who had been dissatisfied with maintaining and repairing ship engines, he had risen to the notice of his superiors by first attempting to make those same engines more efficient through the introduction of impurities into the metal parts that would make them contain heat more readily. The subsequent design change had culminated in the failure of the engines of an imperial cruiser several kilometers from shore, leaving the crew stranded for three days before a scouting vessel had reported their dilemma and a rescue operation was mounted. That incident had perturbed Admiral Xi's smoothly running operations for the span of three hours and had brought Qin to the Fire Lord's attention. He had been brought before Lord Ozai, stuttering and stumbling, visions of the burning sword and Agni's gaze widening his eyes and, as Zuko sometimes heard Admiral Xi say, always in the presence and earshot of crowds, loosening his bowels.
Regardless, Ozai had ignored the stench of fear, literal or otherwise, and, as often happened when a strategic advantage presented itself, allowed his curiosity to stay the motion of steel and fire. 'One month', he'd said, 'One month to create something which will give us an advantage in the war effort, or your head will decorate the walls outside the Burning Tower." And if he'd held his bowels until then...Every old acquaintance at the Technical Institute had been hounded in a rush, every working graduate recruited under the Fire Lord's authority to create "a new weapon of war." It had all been theater; Qin had taken an old idea, a child's toy, the balloons released on the eve of the Fire Festival to mimic the stars, and expanded it a thousand fold. The first demonstration of Qin's "marvel of engineering" had taken place in the courtyard at high noon, the vehicle only large enough for two, its builder and a helmsman, the latter who had in mid flight overshot the flames in an attempt to demonstrate the balloon's ability to pick up speed, igniting the interior and sending be balloon and its passengers crashing to the ground.
Yet there Qin sat, at the end of the room, wringing his hands, as he always did when he slowly gathered the courage to make his voice heard to the Fire Lord. Zuko snorted, the flames rising again. So he has an idea. He wondered how many revisions whatever scheme he'd drawn up had gone through before it was deemed ready to be brought up before council. His balloon design had immediately warranted the attention of a dozen engineers and craftsmen, all working at a feverish pace to redesign the engine and make the shell more flexible and durable. In the end all parties were placated; Qin kept his head, however questionable the value of its contents, and the Fire Lord received not only an edge in the war effort, but an official whose political ambitions exceeded his ability to make them manifest, and whose crude ideas could be refined into viable implements.
The flames receded to a steady state. Zuko looked towards Xi, watching his hand sweeping across the painted waters surrounding the upper edge of the map. The monthly disaster report from the North Pole. Three more ships gone, entombed by ice and lost in the black waters. He'd only ever been as far north as the upper edge of the Fire Nation, and even there the waters held the green tinge of life near the coast and reefs. Beyond that, he knew only second hand, from the detailed reports of the navy admirals, to the whispered hyperbole of returning soldiers, all ending in the same grim pronouncement that once a man broke the icy sheet, nothing could help him. That had been over a year ago. Then Commander Xi had made a hasty return to the capital from the front, arriving to report the death of his superior, who had been "split cleanly in half from forehead to neck by a disk of ice as thin as any blade." Ozai had been unmoved, the flames remaining unperturbed, dismissing the act as stupidity paid for for neglecting to wear a helmet in the heat of battle. And out of that mishap, Admiral Xi had gained his title and present position, gesticulating over the toy board like an overly privileged child playing at his war games.
Xi was careful with his toys though, which was much more than could have been said for the late Admiral Quin. Zuko would always remember him as the man who had worn an overly elaborate helm, decorated by twin flames of polished gold flanking a cleanly cut ruby which caught light and turned the stone into the sun at dusk. And a shame that the original helm was mislaid and the reproduction wasn't a comfortable fit. He looked at Xi's face and his glance was returned, briefly and without meaning.
"I see no way of breaking their defenses, short of pure attrition." He lowered his hands and looked first to the Fire Lord, who remained still and silent, and then at his fellow commanders.
General Yu spoke first, his hands folded in front of him. "If I may be so bold, Admiral Xi, but I see no point in extending our siege of the North Pole, unless, as you say, we're in the position to commit the bulk of the navy to "win by attrition." He ended the statement with a low trill; he might have been tasting some exotic wine from the southern isles, the flavor completely foreign to his tongue. The flames remained at their low ebb. Zuko kept his breath slow and steady.
Xi frowned as other voices started to rise.
Admiral Lin pushed forward as if to display himself on the table. "My forces are patrolling the eastern coast of the Earth Kingdom and keeping the transport of supplies to their troops by the sea routes in check."
"And mine the western coast." Admiral Ki interjected.
Lin leaned farther in. "Our fleet is spread out too thinly as is. Redirecting every available ship towards the North won't serve our cause in either case."
"I never suggested anything of the sort, Admiral." Xi addressed Ki, but kept his glare at Yu the entire time. "I simply meant to give a candid account of the situation." Again he looked around. Lord Ozai said nothing, but Zuko felt the flames rising.
Yu chuckled as though the entire discussion really was a child's war game. "Nor did I intend to suggest that you implied anything of the sort. I simply meant to make the next realistic conclusion that in lieu of such a tactic, we have nothing to gain by devoting quite substantial forces to a siege that isn't giving way to any new ground."
"So what do you suggest?" Xi knew the answer, but he couldn't stand being lead into a conclusion.
Yu shrugged. "That should be obvious. We accept our loses and withdraw. The bulk of the forces in the South will reinforce those around the Earth Kingdom, with a small detachment remaining in Northern waters to monitor the situation."
Zuko's breath stopped momentarily, but the flames behind him spiked all the same. He looked at his father, whose face held nothing, and whose body had become as rigid as his back. And still he said nothing. The chorus beneath him attempted to compensate.
"So we capitulate to a Water Tribe victory?" Lin was all but crawling over table to get to Yu, his voice sounding strained.
"I won't give support to retreat. The precedent it sends would be unacceptable."
'Weakness, 'cowardice, 'madness', all meshed into a cacophony that Zuko ignored. He let his eyes wander between Yu and Xi, both as silent as his father. It was as if Xi couldn't decide whether he should openly smirk, or acknowledge the general's lack of reaction as a sign that he was far from outmaneuvered, so he let his lip curve and straighten as he heard the words around him.
The heat on his back had finally evened out into a comfortable sheet, and Zuko almost wished that Yu would say something else inflammatory, rather than standing and waving his hands for calm, which Ozai reinforced with bright, searing flame that Zuko could feel towering over him. No one fears a breathless dragon.
Yu waited another moment. "You again think too rigidly. You speak of cowardice and weakness? Tell me, what does it appear as when we've conducted a failed siege for over a year, loosing over a dozen cruisers in the process? That is not a demonstration of strength, but one of impotence."
Now this is getting interesting. Yet not heat rose along his back. His father was listening, for the moment, and no one dared disrupt that process.
Xi looked less certain, but his voice lost none of its weight. "A withdrawal would embolden not only the Water Tribe but the Earth Kingdom as well. Our raw strength isn't the only thing that keeps our enemies subdued. It's also fear. Fear of our pervasiveness, and our relentless pursuit of victory in battle."
And our relentless incompetence, apparently. He would have agreed with Xi six months ago, when the lose of ship and man had still been borderline acceptable for an effort of this magnitude, but since the incident of Blackwater, the loss of four cruisers in one battle, even Xi's caution hadn't offset the tone of any of his reports. He knew what was on the lips of every officer present. Another Ba Sing Se.
"Certainly. However I see little difference between the level of impotence conveyed by withdrawing or continuing to have our naval blockade repelled and slowly dragged to the bottom of the sea."
General Chen nodded. "Admitting you don't know how to use a sword and facing momentary derision is better than making a pretense at skill and removing your foot."
Yu laughed. "Well said. Though I would say we've removed more than a foot so far; we're working our way up through the leg, I think."
The heat flared again, and Zuko almost winced at the sudden burst. "If you're suggesting that we commit the bulk of our naval forces to push the siege in the North, do so. If I want lame jests and snide banter, I'll send for a mummer."
Knowing he had overstepped himself, Yu bowed his head. "My apologies, Lord Ozai. In lieu of withdrawing outright, I do believe a concentrated force would be our only other course of action. However, I consider the conquest of the Northerners of be of secondary importance to our efforts in the Earth Kingdom. The Water Tribe is completely ineffectual outside of their fortress; they have no navy of any significance, and their industry is limited by their lack of mineral resource and skill with fire. Their city is built upon and out of their element, a weakness that unfortunately becomes a strength in that environment, but they hardly pose the same threat as the Earth Kingdom." He folded his hands again, calmly surveying the scene before him. "The North makes a pretty prize, I'll grant you, but one that would be better seized with a powerful, decisive strike, rather than a lethargic, cumbersome grab." Xi nodded his head slowly, seemingly satisfied. Too easy. Zuko looked at him and the admiral simply shrugged, tilting his head towards his counterpart. Point and counterpoint, then. He'd have a word with the admiral later. In the meantime, his thoughts thoughts found no echos of skepticism or disagreement, and all eyes were trained on the Fire Lord, but they could have been trying to decipher the thoughts of the court painter's rendition for the good it would do them. Zuko let his breathing slow. The heat along his back fell and rose slowly with the rhythm of a heartbeat, the pinpricks washed away by what felt like a pressure from the tide of his blood. And then Ozai spoke, and the pressure relented, and Zuko knew the decision before the words left his father's mouth. He didn't focus on them, nor on Xi and Yu; he saw Qin in the back, hand clenched, face pale, on the verge of announcing himself. When he spoke, he had to reiterate himself a second, then a third time to be heard over the clamor of the order for .
"My lords," he shouted, "there is still the issue of our efforts in Ba Sing Se."
Yu smiled cordially, always one to ride on the pleasure of a victory. "Well I suppose we have to deal with both our large scale...difficulties today."
Chen spoke before Qin could reply. "Our efforts there won't be so easily remedied by the application of more force."
"We do remember history, general." Xi was as cordial as Yu had been, though he looked bored with the topic.
"History is a patient instructor, though, always willing to repeat lessons to her pupils." Yu spoke thoughtfully, tracing his finger around the lines of black ink that were the wall of the Earth Kingdom capital. "Still, I believe we all learned our first lesson well enough, and I, for one, am disinclined to repeat this one."
Xi's eyes narrowed. "Says the man who just suggested the largest siege force in Fire Nation history."
Yu smiled. "Two different lessons, I'm afraid, as we have distinct advantages in the latter situation."
"Oh? Would you care elaborate?" And here comes the point. Zuko tensed, much like his father, leaning towards the general and admiral.
"But you already know, general, at least in the same way we all do." He looked up. "Prince Zuko's oft mentioned but as of yet unknown informant within the walls of Ba Sing Se."
There was a general murmur and suddenly Zuko was the center of everyone's attention, including, by the way the heat of the flames shifted, his father. Zuko merely nodded. "General Yu is right. I do have an informant in Ba Sing Se, and they're the reason for our current, though tentative alliance with certain members of the Dai Li." An alliance that's beginning to wear thin.
Xi nodded. "Most recently we were able to prevent the massacre of two of our battalions on the information that was provided to us through the Dai Li, though we have yet to act on the alliance in any truly meaningful way within the city."
"I've previously suggested that we attempt to leverage the Dai Li into overthrowing the Earth King." Yu paused. "Am I correct in my understanding that the Dai Li are indeed the power in the city?"
"The Dai Li control the city proper, but they're still loyal to the Earth King."
"And we have your word on this, Prince Zuko?"
Zuko shrugged. "You do. Though if you're not convinced then by all means send your own informants into the city. I'd be curious to see what they manage to find." If they manage to find the Dai Li before being crushed under a rock.
Admiral Zhen spoke for the first time. "I've tried, on numerous occasions, to infiltrate the city and place an agent close to the Dai Li, or at least to an official who has connections to them, but with no success."
"The Dai Li know and trust my agent only insofar as they are able to closely regulate the information that's relayed back to us; they won't stretch that trust any farther than they already have.
Yu conceded. "So the small fraction of insurgents doesn't wish to test their luck more than they already have."
Nor do you, apparently. "Simply spoken, but true." He turned to Zhen. "I understand your skepticism, but it wasn't easy getting an agent in with the Dai Li, and maintaining their trust is no small feat either."
"Trust," Yu mused. "What trust do you really have with the Dai Li, Prince Zuko?"
"Trust was the wrong word. The Dai Li maintain this relationship as long as they find it beneficial, just as we do."
"Remind me again, what is the benefit to the Dai Li?"
Zuko played along. "They want to remain in control of the city, general, and so they keep the Earth King in ignorance. There's little better way to do that than to ally yourself with those who can surely the ruse."
Yu smiled. "Ah. So a stalemate, then. As is the present case with the North Pole."
Zuko returned the expression, mimicking the icy cordiality he'd seen Azula wield with the flourish and precision of a sword. "So it would appear." But you should know better, general, or I suspect your head would be adorning a particularly sharp spike.
Zhen snorted, but said nothing; Zuko couldn't tell whether the sound was meant for him or Yu.
"But surely you can divulge something to us, Prince Zuko. The identity of your agent, at least." Yu swept the room with his smile. "We can trust each other with that, at least."
Zuko almost burst with laughter at that, but schooled himself at the last moment. Xi and others were not so disciplined, letting their derision fill the chamber. Even Qin could be seen chuckling nervously, his fellow ministers shrinking even farther into the background of memory and attention. Ozai was again stone, the flames throwing shadows across his face, like ethereal scars. Zuko saw the molten golden eyes of that inhuman mask shift towards him, and he inclined his head, the gesture so minuscule it was missed by all else.
Then the flames rose again, snuffing out the sounds of the chamber until Ozai's voice rose to fill the vacuum again. "My son's strategy in Ba Sing Se has served us well thus far. If it proves ineffectual in the final conquest of the city, so be it. For the moment it serves our purposes. The navy will converge on the North Pole by the end of the month, and before the moon has fully waxed, we will have conquered the last of the Water Tribe."
No one needed to be told that the council had adjourned; Xi and Yu stood nearly simultaneously, while Qin still wrung his hands in frustration. Chen and Zhen were the next to rise, sweeping out of the room after the three ministers. Zuko heard Yu speaking to Xi as he turned towards his father.
"I would suggest placing Zhao in command of a portion of the fleet. He's proven quite effective on the battlefield, and he's capable of inspiring loyalty amongst those who serve under him..." His voice trailer off as the two exited the chamber.
So Zhao is Yu's new puppet. How long will he dance to that tune before he realizes that the strings form a noose? "Father, do need me for anything else?"
Ozai shook his head, the flames still emphasizing every hard angle of his face. Zuko stood and bowed, quietly moving towards the chamber door, where Qin caught him by the arm.
"Prince Zuko, if I might have a brief word?"
Zuko sighed and followed the minister down the hall, the afternoon light shinning off the red tiles. Qin stopped at a gap between the decorative columns that flanked every window.
"What is it, minister? I don't have much time for sneaking around through the palace." He briefly remembered chasing Azula around the courtyard and through the halls, always losing in the end because she had the corridors committed to memory. He smiled in spite of the man before him, though he earned no comment.
"I was unable to be heard at council, as you know, but I do have a plan."
Will it involve unintentional explosions? "Go on."
"No one is yet going to admit it outright, but we're never going to be able to penetrate the walls of Ba Sing Se with manpower alone." His hands writhed with excitement. Zuko was reminded, absurdly, of two pale sea creatures fighting each other. "So I have a notion." He reached into his pocket, producing a neatly folded sheet of paper and handing it to the prince. "I urge you to examine the plans I've come up with and show them to your father. If implemented, this could tip the scale in our favor."
Zuko considered telling the minister that the ashes could take his plans, but simply tucked the paper into a pocket of his shirt with a nod. "I'll look at them and take your request into consideration. If there's nothing else..."
"Oh, certainly Prince Zuko." And with a bow the man left, moving with a jerky gait.
After watching Qin disappear with the same curious fascination that he'd observed the man's hands, Zuko turned and walked towards his room, the scent of blossoms wafting around him, the heat playing along his skin. His chambers were set in the east wing, overlooking the courtyard and pond, giving a pristine view of the ocean and the rising sun. There were ash blossoms blowing in through the open window now, settling on the floor and furniture. His bed, the chairs, the desk were all made of the wood of the ash trees, black and light and hard, catching and holding the sun like molasses. Out of curiosity, he took the paper from his pocket, handling it as though it were old and frail, instead of thick and fresh. He unfolded it on his writing desk, the design surfacing square by square until he saw the schematic, the lines of ink cleanly absorbed into the surface. He traced the lines with his finger, reading the details explaining each component, examined the enlarged, intricate illustrations of the smaller components. Finally he refolded the paper, just as methodical as before, and replaced it in his pocket. If his sister were present to examine it, he would simply have burned the paper, confident that its contents would remain intact. Win the war? No, but for Azula...He took a fresh sheet from the corner of the desk, then the ink well from the other corner, dipped the iron tipped pen and began his message. And her face, the look on Azula's face when she found out what was happening. That would be the beginning of a victory.
