The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 14: Black Sails, Red Sky

The sun had descended into a deep orange bruise just above the ocean’s edge. The light spilled in long, bleeding streaks across the black rock coastline, catching in the wet edges of stone like the gleam of polished obsidian. The water whispered quietly against the crags, soft, deceptive.

Zuko stood at the edge, hands behind his back, his silhouette crowned by that sinking fire in the sky. Beside him, Rin crouched by the little skiff they’d used to sneak ashore days ago, tight-bodied, efficient, checking its lines for stress fractures. Behind them loomed the squat shape of the metal patrol ship, a narrow chimney still letting off the faintest curls of white smoke from its evening maintenance cycle.

The air was cool now. Bracing. With just a whisper of coming winter in it.

“They’ll have noticed by now,” Rin said, rising from the skiff and wiping his hands on his sash. “Tutanaki’s command post, I mean. You left with two, came back with an extra pair. Then vanished again.”

Zuko didn’t answer at first. He narrowed his eyes toward the sea.

“Let them wonder.”

“Only so long before they report up the ladder,” Rin added.

Zuko nodded once. “Bunch of idiots.”

Just then, footsteps behind them, careful on the uneven rocks, armor clinking faintly beneath worn boots. Rin turned first, smirking before the shapes even resolved fully.

Jee led the way, cloak fluttering gently in the breeze, a leather satchel slung over one shoulder and his hair freshly tied back, though his face looked like it had aged another year in the last few hours.

Behind him came Lee, crisp and perfectly composed even here on jagged ground. His posture never slouched, not even when navigating a narrow outcrop slick with salt.

And last came Hinaro, grumbling under her breath, very much not in her Kyoshi Warrior uniform anymore.

She wore Fire Nation field attire, the sleeveless officer-style coat cinched high, red sash tight at the waist, and tight-fitting black trousers tucked into dark boots. Her hair was pinned back into a high topknot, the attempt at regulation form undercut by the multiple strands falling loose against her jaw. She tugged at her collar like it was trying to strangle her.

“This thing itches,” she muttered, eyes narrowed, yanking at the seam near her ribs. “And who in their right mind designs clothes without pockets? What am I supposed to do with my hands, fold them like a noble’s wife and wait to be told when I can breathe?”

“You are breathing now,” Lee answered coolly. “And projecting with impressive volume for someone claiming to be strangled.”

“I swear, if you quote military garment protocol at me again…”

“I wasn’t going to,” Lee said, with the faintest sniff of self-superiority. “I was merely going to observe that discomfort is often the result of unfamiliarity, not flaw. Many new officers report similar complaints. Typically resolved within twenty-four hours.”

“I’ll resolve it with a bonfire,” she muttered. “On your bunk.”

Jee sighed aloud as they reached the black sand strip leading to the patrol ship. “I’ve had wounded soldiers complain less than the two of you do married.”

Rin let out a short laugh and raised an eyebrow. “Already fighting like an old couple. Didn’t waste a single day, huh?”

Jee smirked. “If they’re already threatening property damage, we’ll call it a success.”

“I can still hear you both,” Hinaro growled, tugging her sash so hard the knot slipped.

Lee straightened his back. “Our disagreements are purely surface-level. A typical adjustment curve.”

“Oh sure,” Hinaro muttered. “You make it sound like a bad weather report.”

“Statistically,” Lee replied, “a strong majority of Fire Nation naval marriages show significant verbal friction within the first seventy-two hours, especially in arrangements of duty-based union. We are, in fact, well within the bounds of normalized behavior.”

“Spirits above,” Rin muttered. “He even quantifies arguments.”

Zuko exhaled slowly, turning away from the horizon for just a breath.

“Enough.”

The tone was gentle, but sharp enough to freeze the ripple of humor among them. Rin went silent. Jee straightened his coat. Even Hinaro folded her arms instead of throwing another jab.

Then Zuko tilted his chin slightly, eyes narrowing at the sea.

“We have company.”

All heads turned.

There, just at the edge of the orange-blued light, a shape had begun to emerge. No paddleboat. No merchant barque. A ship, massive, dark, sharp across the water like a drifting blade. Its hull was thick, armored at the bows, and its masts were lined with tattered black sails that reached like claws into the sky. There were no signal flags. No lanterns lit.

It was gliding toward them like a ghost. No sound. Just shadow.

Jee’s voice cracked the silence.

“Isn’t that…”

But he didn’t finish.

Rin did.

“Tsu.”

Zuko’s lips thinned. “Captain Tsu.”

The name dropped like lead into the dusk.

“I guess it was about time,” Zuko added, softly. “It’s been a while since we ran into him.”

The wind seemed to shift. The waves came gentler, too gentle.

Lee stepped forward, squinting. “Should I signal the base? Reinforcements from the main guard tower could arrive within four minutes if the wind favors them.”

Zuko turned his head. “Why?”

Lee blinked. “Forgive me, but Your Highness, our last encounter with the Tsu Pirates nearly ended in death. Statistically, our squad suffered eighty percent incapacitation. Four naval ships were sunk. A quartermaster’s division annihilated. I had assumed, based on standard risk assessment, you might desire strategic support.”

“He’s right,” Jee muttered. “The last time we crossed paths with Tsu, we barely got out alive.”

“And I lost a ship,” Rin added. “A good one.”

Hinaro frowned, scanning their faces. “You guys just wiped out two pirate crews on this island. Fire and blades in the street. You’ve got soldiers, firebenders, a prince, and you’re worried about one ship?”

Lee turned to her, voice measured but sharp.

“If those that attacked had belonged to the Tsu Pirates, Kyoshi Island would not be standing. With or without our presence. What we faced in the village was…an insect swarm. This…”

He nodded at the looming vessel, which was now inching closer, its sails rippling like wings of a waiting predator.

“This is a dragon.”

Even Hinaro went quiet then.

Zuko didn’t speak for several seconds.

He watched the ship draw closer. Watched the sails breathe. Watched the hull rock gently like a coffin drifting on black ink.

This was not in his calculations.

He had planned for uprisings. For Azula’s interference. For Nan-Hai’s inspections. Even for the White Lotus.

But not Tsu.

The last time they’d met, it had taken firebending beyond discipline. It had taken luck, blood, and betrayal. Tsu was not like the others. He did not fight for gold. He fought for something else.

Zuko’s hand rested quietly on the hilt of his sword.

The sky darkened another shade.

The sea, once quiet, now whispered like an audience waiting for the curtain to rise.

The massive pirate ship had slowed, anchoring just beyond the breakers. From its side, a smaller paddleboat was lowered, wood creaking against rigging as four arms steadied it into the waves. Five figures stood aboard it, small in silhouette but growing clearer with every push of the oars.

The tiny vessel cut across the dying light, gliding toward the rocky beach like a knife across wet cloth.

Jee shifted first, crossing his arms and watching with narrow eyes.

“What do you think he wants?” he muttered under his breath, voice just above the surf.

Rin didn’t look away. “Tsu never wants just one thing. That’s the problem. Sometimes it’s gold. Sometimes it’s territory. Sometimes it’s just to see who flinches first.”

“Or bleeds first,” Jee added, voice dry.

Beside them, Lee adjusted the edge of his uniform coat, eyes never leaving the approaching boat. “Whatever his intent, I must stress the statistical recklessness of greeting him without a full garrison. We are operating with a severely reduced perimeter security force. The remainder of our company is…”

“...busy with the wedding,” Rin finished. “Ironic timing.”

Lee pressed on. “With respect, Your Highness, I recommend we signal the Hall and call down the second company. At least ten men, minimum firebending capability in case…”

“Be quiet.”

Zuko’s voice wasn’t loud.

But it cut like drawn steel.

Lee froze mid-sentence, mouth still open.

Zuko turned to him slowly. The dying sun lit one side of his face in orange, the other shadowed in dark firelight.

“I said be quiet.”

Lee closed his mouth and swallowed.

Zuko stepped forward, arms behind his back once again, the wind catching the tips of his coat.

“You’re worried. Good. That means you’re thinking. But stop panicking.”

He didn’t look at Lee when he said the next part.

“I’m here. That’s all the backup we need.”

The paddleboat came closer, almost within range of leaping onto the rocks now. The creak of its oarlocks echoed through the dusk.

Then Zuko turned his head again. Not toward Lee this time, but toward Hinaro, who had been gripping the edge of her sash like she meant to unspool it into a whip.

“Hinaro.”

His tone shifted. Lower. Commanding.

She blinked, the tension in her hands frozen.

“Whatever happens in the next few minutes,” Zuko said, “you are not to speak. No outbursts. No reactions. Not a word.”

She opened her mouth. Closed it.

He turned to Lee next, voice like carved stone. “Keep your woman quiet.”

Lee nodded. “Understood.”

“I mean it,” Zuko added, softer now, but with far more weight. “No matter what’s said.”

And then… they arrived.

The paddleboat scraped against the rocky shallows, the front corner bumping against stone. A heavy-booted man stepped out first, grabbing the mooring line and pulling the vessel inward like it was made of cloth.

Captain Tsu.

Just as Zuko remembered him.

Towering, broad-shouldered, with a neck like a tree trunk and arms thick with tattoos of fanged coins, cracked helms, and curling waves. His brown mane of hair spilled loose behind his back, caught in the sea air like a dark flag. Rings dangled from both ears. A saber sheathed across his back shimmered with dull black iron. And between his fingers, clenched loosely, was a thick cigar, smoldering slowly.

Smoke curled around his jaw as he stepped forward onto the stone, boots splashing through shallow tidewater.

The four pirates behind him followed.

Two of them were what one might expect, brutes, muscled like oxen, each carrying twin axes strapped to their backs, shoulders wide enough to blot out sky. Their eyes were dull, unfocused, the kind of men who only needed one order: Kill.

The third was wiry-thin, with hollow cheeks and sharp, darting eyes, like a rat that had learned to wear boots and speak in words. His ribs could be counted through his shirt, and his belt was a tangle of knives. His movements were twitchy, like someone who expected to be stabbed at any second, and might stab first just to feel less nervous.

And then there was the fourth.

He stepped from the paddleboat like he’d descended from a royal ship. No armor, just a loose black coat cinched at the waist, revealing a silver embroidered vest beneath. His hair was jet-black, long and flowing, reaching past his shoulders, and perfectly brushed. He had a clean jaw, an elegant nose, and deep, dark eyes that looked through people instead of at them.

He was not smirking.

He was not smiling.

But his hand, always, rested on the hilt of the curved sword at his waist, thumb just beneath the guard, as if waiting for someone to speak too loudly.

He was not young. Not old. The kind of man who had bled enough to no longer feel anything at all.

Jee muttered under his breath, “Well. Spirits above…”

Zuko didn’t turn. “Well he’s new. You know him?”

Jee nodded once. “That’s Irah. Former captain of the Midnight Corsairs. They say he buried his last crew for blinking during a duel.”

Zuko didn’t blink.

The five pirates stood before them now, still, like wolves that had been allowed into a garden and were trying to decide if it was a trap.

Then Tsu exhaled smoke and smiled.

“Zuko.”

Zuko stepped forward by a single pace. “Tsu.”

The pirate nodded once, wide cigar still hanging between his teeth. “Didn’t think I’d find you on a beach playing sentry. You’ve moved up in the world.”

“You’ve stayed exactly where you always were,” Zuko said.

Tsu grinned wider. “Where I like it.”

Behind them, Rin stood loose but ready. Lee’s eyes flicked between Irah and the thin pirate, cataloguing weapons, foot positions, pressure angles. Hinaro hadn’t breathed in ten seconds.

Then Jee stepped forward, half a grin on his face. “Well, damn. Irah. Didn’t think you’d crawl out of whatever corner of the world you disappeared into.”

Irah looked over at him, eyes calm.

“Jee.”

“Still alive, I see.”

“You as well,” Irah replied flatly. “Unfortunately.”

The two didn’t move to shake hands. But they didn’t draw blades either.

Tsu blew another cloud of smoke. “Relax, boys. If I wanted your heads, I’d have taken them before I docked. This ain’t a raid.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed.

“Then what is it?”

Tsu’s grin faded just slightly.

“That’s what I came to tell you.”

[A/N: Read 15 to 20 chapters ahead available right now on .com/saiyanprincenovels.com.]