The maid's name is Kiyi. Her family hails from Hira'a and none of her line are firebenders going back three generations. She has neither siblings nor first cousins that firebend, either. There are two firebending second cousins that she is aware of, but their bending can be traced back to the other branch of their family tree, not Kiyi's branch.
More to the point, Kiyi is twenty-three years of age and she has just thrown her first sparks. It's unheard of. It's less than an hour after Agni's latest work of wonder. A work of the Sun Spirit, who is the granter and source of firebending, through which the maid had walked to reach his suite.
"It gave off heat -- a lot of heat -- but it didn't burn. Just like the guard said Agni had promised. I saw others reach for the flames while we were walking through the halls," Kiyi stammers through her ongoing explanation, "It was -- Everyone smiled when they touched the white flames. I --" The maid flushes and fidgets in place.
"What is it?" Ozai asks, mindful to keep his tone gentle instead of letting his exasperation show. The servant is nervous as it is. Acting on his irritation with being placed on mandatory bedrest while Caldera is in an uproar won't help the situation.
"I -- It could be nothing. I, I thought it was nothing, but..." The maid tucks a loose lock behind her ear before once more clasping her hands together and quickly wetting her lips. "I've listened some to firebenders when they talk to each other. About, um, inner flames and seas of chi, and, well..." Kiyi squirms. "Walking through the flames was, was warm. On the inside. And tingly. It felt like, like infatuation, or giddiness, or awe, or nerves -- the good kind. I've heard some of the other women use the phrase 'a bellyful of butter-dragonflies' for the feeling. Does... Does that make sense?"
Iroh has an odd look on his face. It's one Ozai recognizes.
"You just realized something."
Iroh startles and glances at him as if caught. After a second's hesitation, the older man nods from his place at Kiyi's side. "I did," he admits, "I noticed a similar stirring in my chi as I walked through the flames filling the palace halls, but I did not think much of it. Why would I? To be surrounded by Agni's power in such a manner is bound to affect an inner flame."
"By Agni," Ozai corrects absently, "He is fire. If he takes control of a flame, it becomes a part of him."
At least he thinks that's what Tui had meant to convey when explaining spirits' natures and essences last night. Either way, Agni had used those flames to build the manifestation still burning overhead, and the streams of fire had felt like Agni even before they had joined together in the sky. Regardless of any details that may or may not be within man's mental grasp of spirit natures, however, there is a thought niggling at the back of his mind and distracting him.
"Would I have I seen you at any point in the past two days?"
The maid blinks at him with wide eyes. "I, I was recruited as one of the message runners for the war meeting the day before yesterday," Kiyi says, "It isn't my normal role, but the meeting was called suddenly, and almost a third of the staff is down with monsoon fever, so... So I was assigned the role of runner, though none of us were used."
No, things had gone off track before anything had been decided that may have required a message runner. Once there had been messages to send, he had instead charged General Shiro to instruct the scribes, General Masao to inform the rest of the war council, and the trio of young sages to bring word of the events back to the capital's temple. He hadn't made use of any of the servants to run messages.
But he had realized before the meeting began that he could locate every servant there by their inner flames. Some inner flames had burned hotter than others, but he distinctly remembers being able to match all of the servants present with some sense of an inner flame.
He hasn't paid the ability much attention over the past few days -- much like a firebender's sense of Agni's position in the sky, it is easily ignored unless it is needed -- but he can't think of a single person he has encountered in that time whom he did not sense to possess an inner flame. That doesn't line up with his childhood memories of the palace and its staff. Some of them have to be nonbenders. Come to that, he's almost certain a few of the generals that had attended the meeting aren't firebenders, now that he's thinking about it.
"About how many of the staff would you guess to be nonbenders?" Ozai asks.
"P-perhaps half, my lord?" Kiyi says, glancing between him and Iroh as if seeking direction.
Iroh frowns. "The census for the last handful of decades places the numbers of firebenders and nonbenders as roughly equal in the nation," he says, "It could only be expected that the pattern would continue to the palace staff. Outside of the Imperial Firebenders, of course."
"Of course," Ozai agrees, unable to resist rubbing his temples as his exasperation with the whole debacle grows.
The weakest inner flames he's felt over the past two days, the ones that felt more like banked coals than open flames, could those be potential benders rather than recognized and trained firebenders? Is the whole nation's worth of nonbenders actually potential firebenders with banked inner flames? Could the stirring of chi that Kiyi and Iroh have described experiencing be enough to change a person's inner flame? Is it permanent?
Even now, Kiyi does not feel like a strong bender. Iroh is a bonfire compared to Kiyi's small candle of an inner flame.
But even a small flame can swiftly become dangerous if left unattended. The new firebenders will need instruction in basic control before they can become a danger to themselves or others, and a program for them will take at least some time to put together. Until then...
"Maid Kiyi," he says, doing his best to ignore the young woman's fearful flinch, "thank you for telling us what you can about your firebending. I'm tasking you with spreading word through the palace that all nonbenders are to remain close to competent firebenders, in case they throw their first sparks in the next few days. Also, have a team put together to see about cleaning up my bedroom and fixing any damage. You are dismissed."
"Yes! R-right away, your majesty! Thank you!" She bows quickly to him and Iroh before all but running to the doors to make her escape.
As soon as the maid is gone and the doors are once more sealed behind her, Ozai lets his head fall into his hands and groans loudly. There is a moment's delay before he hears Iroh's footfalls cross the floor, followed by the rustle of wrinkling silk and the older man's quiet grunt as he reclaims the chair beside him.
"So, every nonbender that touched Agni's flames may now be a firebender?" Iroh muses.
"That's my theory so far," Ozai agrees in a grumble and lets his hands drop into his lap. Quibbling further over the semantics of 'Agni's flames' versus 'Agni' himself isn't something he has the patience for currently. For all he knows, they amount to the same thing and the entire point is moot. Spirits are weird. "I think I just figured out something else about the heraldship."
"Oh?"
Ozai sighs, leaning back into the chair's cushioning. "'And the Fire Lord raised up an army of men. He instilled in them the full power of fire, and they were victorious over the enemy,'" he recites and then asks, "How many times are those words repeated in our texts of the old Fire Lords? How are we sure those passages only refer to training, and that they don't begin with something far more basic?"
Iroh's eyebrows climb high on his forehead. "You believe Maid Kiyi's circumstance was once more common? That our nation has a history of nonbenders becoming firebenders after reaching adulthood?"
Ozai hums an affirming note. "Just before the last war meeting, I realized I could sense other firebenders' inner flames. Now, I'm wondering if it isn't possible that I could bend them, turn those who were once nonbenders into firebenders." He grimaces as he adds the obvious reversal, "Or dampen an inner flame, if necessary."
Iroh had looked uneasy before, but now he pales. "You would strip the inner flame from a firebender?" he asks in undisguised horror.
Ozai can't meet his brother's eyes and turns away. "It's all theoretical right now, anyway. I'm in no hurry to try it."
He remembers how Father had shivered for months before his body had adjusted after Aang had removed his bending, and that had just been the physical toll of the loss. It isn't something to inflict upon someone lightly.
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"It's blasphemous!" Iroh yells, "Agni's gift is not yours to take away!"
Ozai faces Iroh with a fierce scowl and snaps. "I am Agni's Herald! If I have the ability at all, it would only be because Agni has given it to me! How could using an ability he gave me be blasphemous?"
The older man shakes his head in disgust. "If you will not see it for blasphemy, then I hope you will at least have mercy upon any who earn your ire and allow them a swift execution, instead."
The Fire Lord slumps back into his chair and pinches the bridge of his nose. "As I said, I am in no hurry to try it." He won't promise not to use it, though. As distasteful as the thought is, if he does have such an ability, then there may one day be a circumstance where it is the best option, even if he cannot imagine such a situation today. Still, he doesn't want to keep arguing over what amounts to untested theories, and they have work to do. "You have the day's schedule?"
"Yes," Iroh says with poorly contained malcontent. He fishes the scroll in question out of his sleeve and offers it to the Fire Lord.
Ozai accepts the rolled rice paper. "Thank you." He skims the lines of precise characters.
Iroh pours himself a new cup of tea as the Fire Lord reads.
"Alright," Ozai says, leaning over the arm of his chair to lessen the distance between them and holding the scroll out for the other man to see, "the meeting just before lunch can be cancelled. I still want you to evaluate Zuko's firebending today. Minister Daiki will have to reschedule if he's serious about petitioning for more funds."
"Daiki is known to be easily offended," Iroh cautions as he takes his own turn to look over the scroll's contents.
"I know, but Agni wasn't wrong," Ozai says, "There isn't a ready heir. I know Zuko and Azula are both too young regardless, but they haven't been prepared for the throne like you and Lu Ten were. They were the fourth and fifth in line until recently, and no one ever expected them to need --" He cuts himself off with a sigh. "Never mind. We'll go over that some other time that isn't your first day as regent. What matters is that correcting the heir apparent's bending is more important than Daiki's pettiness, and I'm not willing to put it off any longer than it already has been."
"As you wish, Fire Lord."
"As for lunch itself, send an invitation to the temple for the sages to come early, including the Head Fire Sage. I have a feeling that more people will have been affected than the palace staff, and the temple is probably in the best position to help any new firebenders, but we'll need to talk to them about setting up the program."
"We?"
"Your input could be valuable, and I'm not cancelling our lunch just because I need to squeeze a chat with the sages into the schedule somewhere." Iroh squints at him in thinly veiled disbelief. Ozai meets it with a deadpan. "You also threatened to force me through tea appreciation lessons. I'd hate to deprive you of the opportunity."
Iroh fails to stifle a startled laugh and Ozai smirks back.
"Now," the Fire Lord continues, "the day's first meeting is with the silk guild. They need to be told that negotiations are being opened to end the war and that the orders of under armor will likely see a steep decrease in the coming years. Don't cancel or reduce any of the current orders -- We don't know how long negotiations will actually take. -- but they need to be able to start planning for a peace-time economy. Make it clear that whatever happens, we will still be buying under armor -- We will not be demilitarizing entirely, no matter what the other nations or the White Lotus think of it. Too many outside parties are looking for revenge for us to consider that, even if we were inclined to do such a thing. -- but future orders will be at lower quantities than they have been previously. Let them know that they will be free to seek other opportunities for their surplus silk. Depending on how negotiations go, Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe markets might be available to them in the next few years.
"The next meeting is with..."
----------------------------------------
Azula skips down the halls ahead of Zuzu, who sulks as he follows in her trail.
Yesterday, a servant had told her that Father now expects to breakfast with her and Zuko every day going forward. Today, a servant had informed her and her brother that today's breakfast would be served in the Fire Lord's suite. It isn't often that either of them has the opportunity to glimpse the interior of their father's private sanctuary, let alone be invited inside.
One of the guards outside the Fire Lord's suite knocks on the doors and announces them before allowing the two youngest royals entrance into the set of rooms. She hears voices off to the right before she sees anyone.
"Continue," Father instructs placidly.
"It is only Prince Zuko's evaluation and lunch with the Fire Sages after that," Uncle Iroh replies.
Azula's nose scrunches. No one had mentioned the old fuddy-duddy would be here to spoil breakfast with Father. At least Zuzu is sometimes amusing. But what was that about an evaluation for Zuko?
She can feel the way Dum-Dum has frozen behind her. It's not something he had known about, either, then.
Azula spins on her heel just long enough to stick her tongue out at her brother and watch his instant indignation before darting into the room. "Father," she greets with a bow. "Uncle," she acknowledges because court manners demand it.
"Father, Uncle," Zuko copies, a step behind and a second late, as usual. She sees her brother offer a second bow to their uncle out of her periphery. The action is technically unnecessary now that Uncle no longer outranks them, but Father makes no comment about the needless act, and so neither will Azula. There are more important things to consider, anyway.
Such as the unusual sight in front of her.
Father is dressed in naught but sleep pants and a light robe meant for leisure. His hair is unbound and its new, shorter length leaves the ends to brush his shoulders. His posture is relaxed and he sips absently from the teacup in his hand. It is the most casual she can ever recall seeing her father. She's not sure she likes it. Ever since the spirits interfered in Father's and Zuko's Agni Kai, Father has been acting strange.
Uncle Iroh is, for once, not sipping tea, though there is an empty cup at his elbow and some suspicious stains down the front of his robes. The old has-been is crouched over a small scroll littered with annotations and he holds a brush in his dominant hand as he scans over the cramped writing.
"Azula, Zuko," Father says, drawing her attention away from further observations, "Please, sit." He gestures at the backless couch across the table from him and Uncle Iroh. "I'm sure the servants will be in with breakfast soon."
"Children," Uncle greets them with a strained smile, but returns to his earlier conversation with Father immediately after, "Is that everything?"
"I think so," Father says, "Even if it isn't, it will have to be enough. We're out of time. You need to get ready for your first audience."
Azula steals the spot closest to Father and Zuko is apparently too nervous about whatever upcoming evaluation he has to complain about the slight.
"It is an extensive amount of notes," Uncle sighs, "I hope I will be able to remember them all."
"You'll do fine. Just get everything moving in the right direction. I'll fix any discrepancies later." Father frowns. "I'd like to think you don't need this reminder, but don't do anything that would catch Agni's ire. The Fire Nation needs to be your priority while acting as regent, not the White Lo--"
"Brother," Uncle Iroh interrupts the Fire Lord. Azula's eyes widen in shock and she barely stops her jaw from falling open into an unseemly gape. Beside her, Zuko gasps and stiffens. "Almost a solid third of your notes have been warnings against attempting to win favor from or for my associates. I have received that particular message quite clearly."
"Your 'associ--' Ah." Father glances at her and Zuko. "Yes, them, right." He sets his teacup on its saucer and rubs the back of his neck as if goat-sheepish. "You're right. At a certain point, I either trust you to do this or I don't. Go. Before you're late."
What was that? It had been terribly unsubtle, whatever it was.
Uncle rolls up the scroll and tucks it into his sleeve. He stands and bows. "Thank you, Fire Lord." And then another bow for her and her brother. "Prince Zuko, Princess Azula," he says as a farewell.
"Uncle," she returns mechanically.
Zuko doesn't manage that much.
Uncle Iroh leaves swiftly.
Azula wills herself to shake off her lingering shock. "Uncle is acting as regent today?" she asks, struggling to keep her tone mild rather than incredulous. Posing any question to the Fire Lord is always a fine balancing act, and often better avoided altogether, but she needs answers after what she has witnessed.
"Only for the morning," Father answers, an irritated twist to his lips, "Agni forbade me to return to my duties before noon."
"You spoke with Agni again?" Zuko asks.
"He's been a fairly consistent presence since he first made himself known to me," Father says, irritation giving way for something closer to resignation.
This is her opportunity. She has been rehearsing this speech in her head for the past hour, concise as it is, making it as perfect as she can. She will not chicken-pig out now. It is unfortunate that Father does not seem to be particularly happy with the Sun Spirit's continued interference, but perhaps her news will be enough to sway his opinion.
"I spoke with Agni," she announces, voice clear and back straight.
Father does not seem surprised by her declaration, but he does ask, "And what did you speak to Agni about, Princess Azula?"
She draws a preparatory breath and smiles, sharp and fierce. This is her moment.
"I greeted the Sun Spirit and was recognized. I danced in the fire of Agni's pre-dawn sun --"
"You told me not to call it dancing," Zuko mutters behind her. She ignores her brother and his petulance.
"-- and I found my flames."
Azula holds out a hand and ignites a small, precise, concentrated flame of unwavering blue above her palm. Her form is impeccable. Her accomplishment is undeniable.
Father laughs.
Her control falters shamefully before she snuffs the flaring fire. This is not the reaction she had been anticipating, when she had been revelling over her latest success in Mother's garden. Father was supposed to praise her prowess, not laugh.
"I'm sorry, Azula. I shouldn't laugh. I just -- I hadn't expected -- I didn't think --" The Fire Lord giggles and shakes his head, covering his mouth with one hand and taking a long, calming breath in through his nose. He lowers his hand and manages not to break into further tittering merriment at her expense. "We all thought you were weeks, possibly months, away from attaining mastery. I should have known better than to expect you to keep to anyone else's time frame. Congratulations, Azula of the Blue Flame." He reaches out and tugs on one of her bangs again, as is one of his new, inexplicable habits. Softer, he says, "Well done, Little Dragon."
This is not the reaction she had been hoping for, but... She does not particularly mind the gentle hair pulling, nor the unexplained endearment that nonetheless hints at a future fierceness and power that would make any enemy think twice. What's more, Father's eyes are glowing with pride as much as they are from being spirit-touched, and his smile is soft with easy affection like Mother used to have for Zuko. It inspires feelings in her like the warm sparking of her chi in the instant before she bends, the elation of a new achievement, and the satisfaction of a perfectly performed kata. It's a heady cocktail of emotions.
Hesitantly, although she will never admit as much aloud, Azula allows herself to smile in return.