[A/N: A shoutout to my latest patrons Zero0020, Atta and Mp4Life. I appreciate it.]
Chapter 39: Kuvak's Interrogation
The silence stretched long after the knock. For a heartbeat or two, nothing stirred but the soft rustle of the brazier's dying flames.
Then the door creaked open.
Admiral Kuvak stepped in like a shadow pulled from stone. Tall and broad, dressed in the deep crimson and black of Fire Navy command, he radiated an aura of discipline so absolute it made the very air seem sharper. His hair was tightly pulled back into a warrior's topknot streaked with grey, and his neatly trimmed beard framed a face that looked like it had never forgotten a single order issued or disobeyed.
"Your Highness," Kuvak said with a deep bow of the head. "I am relieved to see you conscious."
Zuko nodded faintly. "Admiral."
Hinaro turned toward the elder officer. Her expression gave nothing away.
Kuvak's eyes flicked to her, and though his voice remained courteous, it was colder than before. "If you would allow us a moment of privacy, miss."
Hinaro's jaw tightened. She glanced once at Zuko.
Zuko didn't speak, but the slight tilt of his head gave the command without needing to say it.
She bowed faintly and slipped out, shutting the door behind her with a click that echoed like the closing of a vault.
Only then did Kuvak move fully into the room. He walked to the edge of the low table near Zuko's bed, hands behind his back. Not sitting. Not yet.
Zuko watched him, still reclined on his bed but now propped higher on his cushions. The pain had dulled but hadn't left.
"You're limping," Kuvak observed, eyes scanning Zuko's posture. "They told me you took quite the beating. Against… King Bumi, was it?"
Zuko nodded slowly. "It wasn't a fair fight. Or maybe it was. Depending on how you define fair."
Kuvak hummed. "You're lucky to be breathing."
Zuko let out a faint chuckle that never reached his eyes. "Yeah… that makes two of us."
The Admiral gave him a long look before turning to face the corner of the room. For a moment he simply stood there, back to Zuko, as if gathering his thoughts.
Then, without turning, he spoke again.
"Four nights before your appearance in Nan-Hai… do you remember what you did that evening in the capital?"
Zuko's eyes narrowed slightly. "Is this an interrogation?"
"No, Your Highness. This is an inquiry. A necessary one." Kuvak turned now, voice calm and precise. "You vanished. Without notice. Without clearance. In the middle of the night. You commandeered a vessel not designated for your personal use. You took little to no staff, no official papers. Just a skiff."
Zuko didn't reply.
Kuvak's tone remained diplomatic, but the weight behind each syllable was undeniable.
"Then, four days later, you appear in Nan-Hai. Mid-siege. You request reinforcements and military supplies. You behave as if nothing had happened. Even Princess Azula didn't know of your disappearance. Or so she claimed."
Zuko shifted his shoulders slightly, feeling the strain in his ribs.
"I didn't take official leave," he admitted. "Because it wasn't official business."
The admiral blinked once. Slowly.
"That… is not a satisfying answer, Your Highness."
Zuko tilted his head, his golden eyes now narrowing. "Then maybe you're asking the wrong question."
Kuvak raised a brow. "Then what is the right one?"
Zuko leaned forward just slightly. "You want to know if I'm loyal. If I'm acting in defiance of the Fire Lord. If I'm... still fit to command this fleet."
"Are you?" Kuvak asked flatly. The cordiality now hung by a thread.
Zuko exhaled. "I didn't go AWOL. I had... matters to settle. Ties to bind. Loyalties to test."
"To whom?"
"To myself," Zuko said. "And to the Fire Nation."
Kuvak studied him for a long time. The silence was thick. A needle could've fallen and been heard across a crowded courtyard.
At last, the Admiral folded his arms.
"You've inherited more than just a title. This division, this campaign, it isn't a toy. Five thousand men. Twenty-five ships. These are not pieces in some game of yours, Prince Zuko."
Zuko didn't flinch. "You think I don't know that?"
Kuvak's gaze was steady. "Then prove it. Not just to me. To them. To the people you command."
Zuko smirked faintly. "I already am."
Kuvak didn't return the smile. He finally moved, pulling a sealed scroll from his coat and setting it on the low table beside Zuko's bed.
"Latest reports. Movements along the Nan-Hai border. You'll want to read them."
Zuko glanced at it, then back at Kuvak.
"Do you still think I'm a threat?" he asked.
Kuvak paused at the door, his hand on the frame.
"No," he said. "But I think you're something else entirely."
And with that, the Admiral left.
The door shut behind him with a quiet thud, but the weight of the conversation lingered like the last ring of a gong after it had been struck.
Admiral Kuvak stood just beyond the threshold, in the hallway lined with steel and lacquered wood. Torches burned gently in the wall sconces, casting flickers of amber light against the deep red Fire Nation walls. His face, stern as it always was, remained unreadable, yet his pace was slower than usual, thoughtful, measured.
He didn't immediately head toward the officers' wing or the mess hall. Instead, he walked past the rows of rooms, silent, mostly empty now after the last few days of bloodshed. His boots echoed faintly down the corridor, a rhythmic sound that matched the clipped edge of his focus.
As he turned the corner toward the strategy chamber, a figure emerged from the opposite end of the hallway.
"Admiral Kuvak," said a composed voice.
He stopped.
Princess Azula stood there, arms folded over her chest, her golden eyes gleaming like sharpened daggers in the firelight. Her hair was tied high, not a strand out of place. Her uniform, crisp and noble, made her look like she had just stepped out of the palace instead of a province under siege.
"Your Highness," Kuvak replied, with the briefest of bows. "What brings you to the halls this late?"
Azula's lips twitched slightly, not quite a smile. "I could ask you the same. Sneaking in to check on my brother under the veil of night. How suspicious."
The Admiral said nothing for a beat.
"Everything I do, I do in the name of our nation," he replied calmly.
"As do I," Azula answered smoothly. "But we both know Prince Zuko is not... simple. He leaves the capital without orders. He appears in Nan-Hai during an invasion. Then he suffers a catastrophic loss at the hands of an old madman. It begs the question."
Kuvak tilted his head. "And what question would that be?"
Azula's smile faded just enough to show her true intent. "Whether the crown prince is still in control... or whether he ever was."
Kuvak didn't flinch.
"You've been watching him too, haven't you?" she asked. "That's why you delayed your full arrival. You were waiting. Watching. Evaluating."
"I do what must be done to ensure the Fire Nation prevails," Kuvak said. "Regardless of who wears the crown."
Azula's eyes glinted. "And if the wrong person ends up wearing it?"
Kuvak didn't answer. That was answer enough.
She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper that dripped with veiled sharpness.
"Do not mistake my brother's theatrics for power. He has his plans, yes. But you and I… we are both far more... reasonable."
Kuvak raised a brow. "And yet, I serve the prince. As do you."
"For now," Azula whispered.
Their eyes locked like drawn swords, two sharp blades testing the other's edge.
Finally, Kuvak nodded faintly. "Then we'll both watch... very closely."
And without another word, the Admiral stepped around her and vanished into the shadows of the corridor.
Azula remained where she was, unmoving.
Behind her, a soft footstep padded into view.
"I assume you heard everything?" she asked, not looking back.
"Yes, Princess," Mai said, stepping beside her. "Ty Lee is still in her quarters."
"Let her rest. She needs the sleep," Azula muttered. "We've got a lot of pieces on this board. And I intend to control every single one."
She turned, the flame-lit hallway stretching before her like a long corridor of possibilities. Of power.
"The Admiral will play his role," Azula said. "So will my dear brother."
She smiled, though it lacked any warmth.
"Everyone always does."
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