The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 106: The Messenger and the Master

The war council chamber was a tomb of grim faces and echoing dread. Chief Arnook stood over the great ice-map, his finger tracing the predicted path of the red-tinted ivory ships that represented the Fire Nation armada.

“…scouts confirm it. The fleet has left Sharp Tooth Bay. They move with purpose. Our best estimate places them at our doorstep in thirty-six hours.”

A collective, silent weight settled on the room. Aang felt his stomach clench. Katara, sitting beside him, reached over and gave his hand a brief, firm squeeze before letting go. Sokka was uncharacteristically quiet, his brow furrowed as he stared at the map, his mind doubtless racing through a thousand flawed, desperate plans.

“We will implement the final defensive protocols at dawn,” Arnook continued, his voice a low rumble of inevitability. “The outer wall channels will be…”

The heavy pelt door to the chamber creaked open just enough for a single, nervous head to poke through. All eyes turned to the interruption.

It was a young waterbending student, no older than sixteen, his face a picture of acute anxiety. He had a perpetually surprised expression, wide-eyed and earnest, with a tuft of hair that stuck up in the back no matter how much he seemed to try and slick it down. His name was Poko.

Master Pakku, standing rigidly beside the chief, did not turn. “This is a closed council, Novice Poko,” he said, his voice like a shard of ice. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

“But, Master Pakku,” Poko squeaked, his voice cracking under the pressure of so many important gazes. “It’s… it’s kind of important. Sort of.”

“Define ‘sort of’,” Pakku replied, still not deigning to look at him.

Poko swallowed hard. “Well, it’s not ‘the-world-is-ending’ important, but it’s definitely more important than, say, someone forgetting to refill the seal-blubber lanterns. It’s maybe a… a ‘the-world-might-be-preparing-to-end-soon’ level of important?”

From his seat, Sokka let out a snort that he quickly tried to disguise as a cough. Katara shot him a warning look.

Pakku finally turned, a slow, deliberate motion that made Poko flinch. “Novice. You have three seconds to provide a coherent statement, or you will be assigned to latrine duty for the duration of the impending siege. One.”

Poko’s eyes widened in panic. “There’s a man!”

“Two.”

“Outside! He wants to see you! He said it’s urgent!”

Pakku’s eyes narrowed. “What man? A tribesman? A scout?”

Poko shook his head, his tuft of hair wobbling. “No, Master! He’s… well, he’s not from around here. He’s… drippy.”

A beat of confused silence filled the chamber.

“Drippy,” Pakku repeated, his tone flat and dangerously unamused.

“Yes!” Poko nodded vigorously. “Like, he just walked out of the ocean. He’s still soaked. And he smells like low tide. And he asked for you by name. He said, and I quote, ‘Fetch the old glacier who calls himself a master. Tell him the tide has a message.’”

A few of the younger warriors exchanged bewildered looks. Chief Arnook’s expression was one of profound impatience.

“This is a waste of our time, Pakku,” the chief grumbled.

“See?” Poko said, pointing a frantic finger at the chief. “That’s what I told him! I said, ‘Look, mister, Master Pakku is very busy preparing for the fiery doom of our entire civilization,’ and he just smiled this weird, soggy smile and said, ‘All the more reason to hurry.’”

Pakku stared at Poko for a long moment, as if trying to decipher a particularly frustrating puzzle. With a sigh that spoke of a lifetime of dealing with unforeseen irritations, he turned to Chief Arnook.

“With your permission, Chief. It seems I must go and deal with a… drippy man.”

Arnook waved a dismissive hand. “Make it quick.”

Pakku strode towards the door, his robes swirling. As he passed Poko, he clipped the young man lightly on the back of the head. “Next time, lead with ‘drippy man from the ocean,’ Novice.”

“Yes, Master Pakku! Sorry, Master Pakku!” Poko yelped, scrambling after him.

The door closed behind them, leaving the war council in a state of bewildered suspension. The terrifying certainty of the invasion had been momentarily sidelined by the utterly bizarre.

Sokka leaned over to Aang and Katara, a grin finally breaking through his anxious façade. “Okay, I’m officially less bored. A mysterious, drippy, low-tide-smelling man is a way better variable than Harold the judgmental icicle.”

Aang could only nod, the impending war momentarily forgotten in favor of a mystery that had just walked, dripping wet, onto their doorstep.

Poko led Pakku out into the night cold. Leading him to a shadowy building.

“He was just around here,” the young man said. Pointing to a narrow ally between two buildings.

Almost immediately the old master felt it. He sensed it. A familiar presence he had not felt in well over a decade.

From the shadowy keep of the alley walked out a man Master Pakku was sure he would never see as long as he was alive.

Seeing the giant of a man, he froze in step. The young Poko looked on confused.

“Master?” He asked slowly. “Do you know this man?”

Pakku didn’t respond to his young student. He was completely flabbergasted. Look at a ghost.

“It is good to see you uncle,” the man said in a deep raspy voice. Poke looked back and forth between the pair in confusion. Not believing the words he just heard.

“H-how is this possible?” Pakku struggled to speak. “Y-you w-w-ere exe-cuted…”

The man didn’t say anything. He just stood there in all his glory. 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.

“I escaped from the fire nation a long time ago uncle,” the man answered. “I have been occupying myself in the southern hemisphere. Recently however, was hired by someone very wealthy for business and that business has brought me home after all this years.”

“Tsu…. What are you talking about?” Pakku struggled once more.

“That’s Captain Tsu to you,” the man corrected. Yes this was indeed the infamous Pirate Captain. Captain Tsu.

He hadn’t been back in the north for damn near two decades. A lot of things happened back then, Things that had long been buried but were now about to come out to the public. Or would they?