Iroh has seen things. And done stuff. And he knows knowledge. And he speaks in foreshadowing.

"We're making good time. The fleet is in order," Zhao said, laying out the maps. Iroh had seen them; they were woefully inaccurate. Many of them referenced parts of the city which didn't exist, or places which were mirrored, smaller, or larger than they actually were. If Iroh really wanted to, he could have drawn up a proper map from memory, but he had no inclination to. The Water Tribes had been good to him. They helped him make sense of a difficult change in his life, even if they did so without knowing who he was. He would not betray them, especially not to an irreverent madman like Zhao.

"How many are the fleet?" Iroh asked.

"The White Dragon Fleet was supposed to be one hundred twelve ships, but four came down with engine failure as we launched," Zhao said unhappily. Iroh smiled inside. His decision to 'hire' those Whalesh 'mechanics' hadn't worked as well as he'd hoped, but every ship not in the fight was good news for Iroh. Zhao smiled. "Of course, that leaves us with a fortuitous number of ships. I dare say, this will be a blessed expedition."

"If you say so, Zhao," he said. Iroh glanced around the room. For the first time, Iroh and Zhao were alone. The other generals and captains were dealing with their own issues. "Why are you going to the North Pole? It is a fools errand. There are hundreds of waterbenders waiting there."

"There are, but they won't be of consequence," Zhao said, dismissively. Iroh scowled. Could Zhao really be that much of an idiot? Iroh would like to believe so, but Ozai didn't suffer idiots well or gently. "And we'll be heading to the North Pole because that is where the Avatar is heading. I was not lying to you when I brought you back into the fold. The Avatar has to learn waterbending, before all other elements, and the only place with a suitable teacher would be in the North."

"Where did you hear this?" Iroh asked. He knew more about the lore of the Avatar, amongst many other topics, than anybody alive. That Zhao could hold this sort of information was a little confusing. Zhao smirked, and pulled a wide scroll out of a drawer. He opened it. And kept opening it. Paper furled away, almost like magic, unceasing and unending, out of its roll to an impossible length. And on this paper, Iroh could recognize the names. Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen. Avatars, all of them. But the names went on. Susano, Touph, Uamannaq, Hiatsu. Dozens of names, of Avatars from a millenia ago. No, not dozens, hundreds. Iroh's eyes went wide. "What is this?" he asked.

"Several years ago, I found a library which is said to exist in the schism between the physical and spiritual worlds. This great library held every piece of information which ever existed. There were a few things I managed to bring out with me. This was one of them," he opened the scroll even more. It probably could have covered the entire floor of the room, if it had been spread out more carefully. The last name, before the paper stopped unfurling, was in red ink. "It is a history of every Avatar to ever exist. From the very first; Huitzilocticlan. The pattern always runs the same. Fire, air, water, earth. From the beginning, and forward through the ages. He cannot learn in any other order. A firebender would have to learn air before water, and then earth. This current Avatar is an airbender, so before he can learn earth or firebending – as though anybody in the world would teach him firebending – he will have to learn waterbending. And the North is the only place in the world which still has waterbenders.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that," Iroh said idly.

"It doesn't matter what you think," Zhao said, testily. He began to roll the scroll back up. It took a while. "In truth, this document has about outlived its usefulness. It's told me everything I need to know about the Avatar; I won't be paying any 'spirit price' for something that's worthless."

"You would not dare," Iroh said, his anger welling up. "If you destroy that document, you are destroying an irreplaceable part of Fire Nation history. You are destroying the proof that even with our struggles and strife, we were still great even when our nation was weak and suffering. It will be treason of the highest order, and I will make sure you find punishment for it," he said. He leaned a bit closer. "In this world, or the next."

Zhao paused, a surprised look on his face. Then that smirk came back, but this time, it was much less steady. "I wasn't going to destroy it. Let it collect dust somewhere, while Wan Shi Tong fumes for an eternity."

Iroh knew Zhao was lying. He placed the scrolls back in the hidden chamber. "You said that wasn't the only thing you learned," Iroh said.

"I also learned the physical bodies of the spirits of the Sea and Moon. When I said that the waterbenders would not be of consequence, I was not being arrogant."

Iroh moved so his back was to the dresser. A twist of his fingers, then he moved away. "I suppose you won't elaborate until the time is right?" Iroh asked. Zhao smiled.

"You'll know what you need to, old man," he said. "And you'll need to know it, when it happens. Now, if there's nothing else?"

Iroh gave Zhao a nod, the grandest courtesy he could allow, and moved out of the room, his hands tucked into his sleeves. He wandered into the bowels of the ship, stopping briefly in a corridor outside an empty room where an Imperial firebender was practicing his movements and breathing.

"Are you well, nephew?" Iroh asked quietly. The firebender turned, and pulled off his helmet. Zhao's face was battered and bruised, and had changed from weeks of lacking his usual care. His face bore a sparse beard, and his usually shaved head was now covered with a short layer of dark hair. The tail he wore now hung down the back of his head. "I was worried."

"I am alright, Uncle," Zuko said.

"You were badly hurt," Iroh said. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"

"This is the last chance I have to get the Avatar before Zhao. I have to take it," he said, putting the death's-head helmet back on. He paused, briefly, and pulled out the plate on the front. "You didn't need to do this, Uncle," he said quietly.

"No nephew of mine is going to stow away on an enemy ship without backup," Iroh said. Zuko made a face at the word 'enemy' but otherwise, gave a small, relieved smile.

"Thank you, Uncle," Zuko said.

At the end of the hall, Iroh could hear a door being wound open. "Somebody's coming," he said. Zuko put his mask back on. "Stay hidden until we reach the North Pole, and I'm sure the Avatar will be yours."

Zuko nodded, and went back to his forms. Not the flashy, offense driven forms of most firebenders; no, Zuko was moving through the forms which Iroh used. Forms of defense and counterattack, forms which allow a prudence of force. Forms which the modern age forgot. Iroh smiled. "Good luck," he said to his nephew, as he walked down the hall. He reached into his sleeve, and felt the long, but unnaturally warm casing of a spirit scroll. Zhao would not be needing it anymore. And there was much Iroh was eager to learn. Because he didn't have much time. The Siege of the North was coming. The Avatar was waiting.

Arnook stared into the distance. The horizon was dotted with those ships. Those great metal behemoths with which the Fire Nation commanded the seas. Well, they told themselves that. Many from the capitol didn't know how something made of metal could possibly float, but then again, most of the people he had inherited rule over still believed that sneezing was a spirit trying to invade one's nose. He had other concerns. "Move us closer. See if they're willing to parlay."

"Of course," Pakku said, sweeping his arms forward. The gentle wave took the punt forward, until it came close to the prow of the largest ship, the one which steamed well ahead of the others. Both the High Chief and the master waterbender stared upward. "I still think this is a foolish idea."

"It may be foolish, but I'm not willing to throw my people into war without first trying to find a peaceful solution," Arnook said. He cupped his hands to his mouth and began to shout. "I seek a parlay with the master of your ship!"

A tirade returned to Arnook, one he had absolutely no idea the meaning of. It was all in Huojian, arrogant and a bit angry. Then, when Arnook was sharing a worried glance with Pakku, a second, more gravely voice sounded. "He is willing to talk," it said in fluent Yqanuac.

"You address High Chief Arnook of the Northern Water Tribe," Arnook shouted. "Why have you assembled this fleet? What is your purpose in these waters?"

Another tirade, and a man in red and black armor stood upon the edge of the prow, gesticulating furiously. The response, in that other voice, wasn't nearly so violent. "He says he's here to conquer your nation and exterminate your way of life. I'm really very sorry about this."

"Is there some sort of agreement we can come to?" Arnook asked. Pakku just shook his head. "Surely, there is some sort of concession..."

"I wouldn't try that. Zhao is a very impatient and easily goaded man. He'll probably try to assassinate you in the next few minutes," the gravely voice said. Pakku and Arnook shared a look. Who could possibly be so brazen as to say those things on the enemy's vessel?

"I think somebody is playing with our minds," Pakku said.

"Either that, or they have a prisoner aboard who is translating for them," Arnook said. He turned back to 'Zhao' and the ship. "Who are you? Are you a prisoner on this ship?"

"I'm just an old traveler, who's been away from the North Pole for a very long time. And a prisoner... I guess I am, but you shouldn't worry about that. They're loading the catapults now, so you'd better get out of here. But say something loud and angry before you do so they don't get suspicious," the voice returned.

Arnook and Pakku shared another look, then Arnook turned one last time to the ship. Modulating his voice to sound furious, he shouted. "Don't worry! I'll send somebody to rescue you if I can, and deal with that tyrant Zhao!"

Pakku then began to bend the punt back away from the fleet, but after only a few moments, a streak of fire leapt into the sky, arcing down toward them. Pakku blindly cast up a hand behind him, and a plume of water shot straight up, engulfing the fire ball, before snapping into ice and dragging it down. "With that, Chief Arnook, I think it's safe to say you've received a declaration of hostility."

"We should get back to the walls. They'll be at our gates by the afternoon," Arnook said. He shook his head. "Why is it that everybody defaults to warfare?"

"Because that is the age we live in," Pakku said.

"Are your students up to the task?" Arnook asked.

"The Avatar has grasped all of the necessary rudiments to be a proficient waterbender. If I could, I'd invest more time in that girl, Katara. She was not exaggerating when she called herself a prodigy."

"And the rest?"

"The rest will do their duty," Pakku said. "If we can hold until nightfall, well, we'll show the Fire Nation that they set with the sun, while we rise with the moon."