Chapter 63: National Level Scandal
The dense Earth Kingdom forest was a tunnel of cicada song, a ceaseless hum that vibrated through the humid air. Overhead, the canopy was a thick, verdant ceiling, filtering the sunlight into dappled patterns on the dirt path below. Zuko's company moved in a quiet, disciplined column, the only sounds their weary footsteps, the rustling of leaves under tread, and the occasional creak of pack mules burdened with their supplies. They had disembarked at a small, unassuming port a week prior and had been marching inland ever since, pushing deeper into the enemy territory.
At the head of the column, Zuko and Azula walked in an almost synchronized silence. Their faces were impassive, unreadable stone, offering no hint of the tumultuous waters that churned beneath their composed exteriors. Behind them, Sergeant Rin stomped along, his heavy boots kicking up dust, his eyes perpetually scanning the treeline. Beside him, Ensign Lee moved with a lighter, more precise step, his gaze often fixed on the ground, as if contemplating the very earth beneath his feet.
The silence between the two men was a fragile thing, stretched taut by unspoken thoughts. Rin's mind was a tangled knot of suspicion, festering since the night he'd overheard sounds from the Prince's quarters on Crescent Island. He'd tried to dismiss it, to bury it under the weight of duty, but it clung to him like the oppressive humidity.
"This is an emperor's folly, this march," Rin grumbled, breaking the quiet. He didn't look at Lee, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. "No scouts. No advanced patrols. Just walking straight into the heart of their goddamn territory."
Lee adjusted the strap of his pack. "The Crown Prince's strategy dictates a rapid, direct advance. To slow for extensive scouting would compromise his projected timetable for reaching the Northern Air Temple."
"His projected timetable is taking us through a blind alley," Rin retorted, finally glancing at Lee, his eyes narrowed. "And his strategies… they've been getting stranger, haven't they? Since Nan-Hai. Since that business on Crescent Island."
Lee's expression remained neutral. "The Prince sustained a grievous injury at Nan-Hai, Sergeant. It is natural for a period of readjustment. And his counsel with the Fire Sages was a matter of spiritual significance."
Rin snorted, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Spiritual significance. Is that what we're calling it now? Because last I checked, the Fire Sages weren't known for brokering… private audiences between the Crown Prince and his sister in the dead of the night."
Lee stopped, causing Rin to halt abruptly beside him. The other soldiers continued to march on, creating a small, temporary space between them and the main body. Lee's voice, though still calm, held an edge of something akin to reprimand. "Sergeant, you leap to conclusions based on auditory impressions in the dead of night. The Crown Prince is entitled to companionship. To infer further, to accuse him of… incest… is a weighty assumption, and frankly, treasonous."
Rin's face darkened, a flush rising from his neck. "Treasonous? I know what I heard, Lee. Those weren't the sounds of concubines or handmaidens. That was him and his sister. The damn princess herself. I heard her. Clear as a summer sky." He leaned in, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "You heard it too. Don't lie to me. You were there. We were there together."
Lee's gaze flickered, a momentary tremor in his usual composure. "Yes we were there. But the sounds of a dwelling are often distorted in the quiet hours. It could have been any number of women. Or perhaps the Prince was… indulging himself with his attendants again. A common practice for one of his rank."
"Indulging himself?" Rin scoffed, running a hand through his short, bristly hair. "With Princess Azula's voice? Don't try to polish it up with your fancy words, Ensign. We both know what we heard. That wasn't just indulgence; that was… fucking. And it was them."
They resumed their march, the argument simmering with each step.
"And if it was?" Lee said, his voice lower now, almost a murmur against the cicadas. "What does it mean, Sergeant? What purpose does it serve to dwell on such a thing?"
"Purpose?" Rin threw his hands up, then quickly lowered them, remembering their proximity to Zuko and Azula. "The purpose, Lee, is that it's the Royal Family. This isn't some common whorehouse tryst with a stable girl. This is our Crown Prince and Princess. If word of this ever got out, if just one whisper escaped these damn trees, it would shatter his reputation. It would be a scandal that would make previous Fire Lords look like saints!"
"Precisely why discretion is paramount," Lee countered, his usual formal tone tinged with a new, grave seriousness. "We are soldiers, Sergeant, not gossips. Our loyalty demands silence. Unless the Prince himself chooses to address this… situation… our duty is to obey and protect."
"Protect him from what? His own damn self?" Rin scoffed. "How long has this been going on, Lee? Is this why he's dragged us halfway across the Earth Kingdom on this wild goose chase, to hide what he's doing with his own sister? Is this a punishment? Or a distraction?"
Lee sighed, a faint, almost imperceptible sound. "Those are questions, Sergeant, for which we possess no answers. And conjecture is a dangerous path. Our mandate is to follow orders, not to psychoanalyze the royal family. If this… relationship… exists, it is a private matter between them. Alarming as it may be, it does not impede his command, nor does it diminish his capabilities as a warrior. He won Nan-Hai, remember? He killed Fong."
"He won Nan-Hai with barely a hair on his ass left, and he walked away half-dead. And Azula's credit to him felt… staged," Rin muttered, his voice trailing off. "Like she was trying to prove something. To us. To herself. To him. No, Lee. This isn't just a private matter. This is a rotten core that could crumble everything."
The argument continued in hushed, tense tones, carried by the rhythm of their march. It was an argument without resolution, a loop of accusation and denial, of gut instinct versus rigid protocol. It persisted through the afternoon sun and into the deepening shadows as dusk began to fall, painting the forest in hues of purple and grey.
Finally, as the last rays of sunlight bled from the sky, Zuko signaled a halt. They had reached a small, natural clearing, ringed by ancient, towering trees. Orders were barked, and the soldiers, weary from the long day, set about making camp. Fires were quickly kindled, their flickering flames casting dancing shadows that seemed to distort the very air around them. Rice was put to boil, and meager rations of dried meat and hardtack were distributed.
Rin and Lee sat by one of the smaller fires, picking at their food, their conversation still simmering beneath the surface. The exhausted chatter of the other soldiers, the crackle of the wood, and the distant calls of night birds filled the air, but their own voices remained low, almost conspiratorial.
"What if it comes out?" Rin whispered, tearing a piece of meat with his teeth. "What then? Do you think the Fire Lord would just… ignore it? Or would he burn them both alive?"
Lee paused, his eyes reflecting the firelight. "Such a scenario is… unconscionable. It would destabilize the entire nation. It cannot be allowed to surface."
"So we just pretend it's not happening?" Rin pressed, his voice rising slightly before he caught himself. "We just ignore the fact that our prince is… is fucking his sister? What kind of loyalty is that?"
Before Lee could respond, a sudden, piercing whistle cut through the night, shrill and unexpected. It was not the call of a bird, but something sharp and artificial. Then another, and another, from all directions.
Confusion rippled through the camp. Soldiers started to look around, their hands instinctively going to their weapons. But it was too late.
Ropes, thick and dark against the fading light, snapped down from the trees. Nets, woven with surprising strength, dropped with terrifying speed. Smoke bombs hissed, spewing thick, acrid clouds that blinded and disoriented. Tripwires, almost invisible in the gloom, sprang up, sending men sprawling.
Chaos erupted. A soldier cried out, entangled in a net. Another stumbled, his weapon clattering to the ground as a rope snaked around his legs. The ambush was fast, brutally efficient, and utterly overwhelming.
Rin, roaring in surprise and fury, managed to draw his dagger, only for a heavy impact to slam him against the rough bark of a tree. The wind was knocked out of him, and before he could recover, thick, fibrous vines were expertly wrapped around his arms and torso, pinning him tight. He struggled, grunting, but the bindings were impossibly strong.
Lee, reacting with scholarly precision, tried to duck and roll, but a figure materialized from the smoke, seizing him from behind. A rough hand clapped over his mouth, another expertly twisted his arms behind his back, and a gag was quickly tied. He could only watch in muffled horror as his comrades were subdued.
Even Zuko and Azula, who fought with a ferocious, almost desperate intensity, were caught off guard. Zuko unleashed a torrent of fire, forcing several attackers back, while Azula's lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the shadowy figures. But they were simply outnumbered, assailed from all sides by unseen foes using cunning traps and surprising coordination. A heavy net sprang up, entangling Zuko mid-lunge, while Azula, her blue fire flickering defiantly, was swarmed, ropes and bolas wrapping around her limbs until she, too, was brought down with a frustrated snarl.
The struggle was over in a matter of moments. The camp, which had just moments ago been a scene of tired camaraderie, was now a tableau of defeated, disarmed, and bound Fire Nation soldiers. The smoke began to dissipate, revealing silent figures moving among the fallen.
Then, slowly, from the treeline, the attackers stepped out of the remaining wisps of smoke. They were not hardened Earth Kingdom soldiers, but a motley crew of ragged teenagers and young adults, their faces smudged with dirt and streaked with camouflage paint. They carried no formal uniforms, only patched clothes, and their weapons were a collection of hooks, ropes, and sharpened sticks, makeshift but clearly effective.
Their leader emerged, stepping onto a fallen log in the center of the clearing, surveying the captured Fire Nation soldiers with a smug, almost theatrical grin. He was a boy, no older than Zuko himself, with wild, dark hair that framed a sharp, angular face. A pair of well-worn hook swords were strapped to his back, glinting faintly in the firelight. A tiny grass straw in his mouth.
He stood there, silhouetted against the dark trees, his chest puffed out, a defiant fire in his eyes. He pointed a finger at the bound soldiers, his voice ringing with youthful bravado, carrying clearly through the now quiet forest.
"I'm Jet," he declared, his smirk widening. "These are the Freedom Fighters. And tonight, Fire Nation scum, you've marched into the wrong forest."
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