Ten minutes later.
"Spirits, I'd rather storm the Pole all over again. How much longer is this going to take?!" The lamps in the chamber shifted to a dark blue hue. Damn it, I'd flared up again.
The master of ceremonies, however, couldn't have cared less.
"My apologies, Herald, but such is the ceremony. Next, after your introduction and the presentation of your award, you must take one step back and bow to the Fire Lord, after which..."
And half an hour passed.
"...and then..."
And another half hour.
"Have you memorized everything, Master Chan?"
I was beginning to understand why high-ranking officials were such malicious people and loved political intrigue. If they had to endure this at least once a month, while those of higher rank enjoyed privileges and simplified ceremonial procedures, then sooner or later you'd start climbing over people's heads just to avoid having your brain violated like this.
"Ahem. Yes, everything is clear."
He didn't seem convinced, but whatever. There wasn't enough time left for another round anyway.
"Excellent." The little man pursed his lips. "Please follow me."
I nodded, and we set off.
So this was what Hell looked like.
Dozens. Hundreds of gazes. Curious, thoughtful, ingratiating, openly hostile. My instincts were practically screaming that under no circumstances should I turn my back on people like these—and that it would be far wiser to cut them down with a sword or blast them with a stream of fire right away. Instead, I had to keep those instincts firmly leashed and politely bow and smile, smile and bow.
By the time we reached the designated balcony, I was ready either to jump off it myself (Hm. Actually, that might work in theory. I could slow my descent with fire jets. Flying on jets of fire was still well beyond me—I simply didn't have the control for it—but cushioning a landing? Why not?) or throw someone else off instead. Fortunately, there was no shortage of expendable people in the palace today; the place was packed with them.
I listened to Ozai's speech with only half an ear, concentrating instead on the moment when I'd have to step forward and present my "radiant countenance" to the crowd below. Before long, that moment arrived.
"...And now," the Fire Lord proclaimed in a strong, perfectly trained voice, "I present to you the man who secured for us a glorious victory, annexed new lands, and preserved the lives of many sons of the Fire Nation! Commodore Chan, Herald of Fire, Dragon Slayer!"
The instant I stepped forward, the crowd below erupted.
The entire square before the balcony was packed with people—tens, perhaps hundreds of thousands of spectators, and thousands of soldiers holding the cordon.
A true living sea, as though woven from scarlet flame.
My eyes could not find a single person dressed in anything other than traditional red garments. Scarlet and black merged into a single shifting, breathing tapestry whose roar was astonishingly reminiscent of a raging forest fire…
"You have proven your valor, your courage, and your loyalty through your deeds!" Ozai continued, somehow silencing the crowd as if by magic. "Therefore, in recognition of your service, I bestow upon you the title Dragon of the North! Bear it with honor! And..."
He raised a hand, calling for the crowd's full attention.
"...I entrust to you the greatest treasure of our nation!"
Wait...That definitely hadn't been part of the program.
"From this day forward, you are appointed adviser and bodyguard to my daughter, Princess Azula, during her upcoming journey to the Earth Kingdom!.."
A petite and strikingly beautiful girl stepped onto the balcony beside the Fire Lord. Dark hair arranged in an intricate style, a slightly upturned nose, amber eyes, and an expression of profound displeasure adorning an otherwise lovely face.
"Guard her well, Dragon! Protect her! And may the Earth Kingdom fall at your feet just as the North has fallen!"
And everything had been going so well...
***
After the conclusion of the official ceremony. Azula's chambers.
"Hn..." The princess looked me over with a decidedly unsettling squint. "So this is the famous Fire Herald? I thought you'd be a little taller..."
Don't tell me…
"...and broader across the shoulders..."
No!
Not this!
"....and have a few more scars."
"Spirits, how I hate that actor..." A groan of utter despair escaped my lips.
For a brief moment, the heir to the throne feigned surprise. Then she let out a thoroughly amused laugh.
Oh, come on... I can tell just by looking at her—she knows perfectly well what my measurements are. She's just messing with me!
"Well then," she continued with the same mischievous smile, "are your speeches at least as impressive as his?"
A menace. As if Toph hadn't been enough.
"Ahem... Well, there haven't been any complaints so far. The key is finding the right approach to the person you're talking to."
"Is that so?" Azula tilted her head, clearly inviting me to continue.
"Yes. As a rule, you can accomplish far more with a fireball and a kind word than with a kind word alone."
"What a practical philosophy," the girl snorted.
Well, if memory served me correctly, that was generally how she approached life herself.
"Unfortunately, intelligent and reasonable people are in desperately short supply in this world. Most individuals require additional incentives to persuade them to engage their brains. And, miracle of miracles, once those incentives are applied, kind words suddenly begin to find a much warmer reception in their souls."
I allowed myself a smirk.
Azula froze.
I doubted there were many people in her circle who dared permit themselves such expressions. Ceremony. Servile bows. Obedient faces that looked as though they had been cast from wax. Fear and ingratiation. Those were the things she'd grown accustomed to seeing from subordinates since early childhood. Even her friends, if memory served, treated her with extreme caution and deference.
And here some random upstart was joking and smirking right to her face during their very first conversation.
That alone was enough to throw someone off balance simply because it was so utterly unfamiliar.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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