General Kazuya Kai frowns down at the maps spread over the long table as he absently picks at the meal the kitchen staff sent in a few degrees ago.
Planning a retreat on this scale is not something any of them have experience with. The entire frontline will need to be recalled first so their troops do not become stranded with enemies on all sides -- that much is easy to figure out -- but then the support regiments and the supply lines likewise need to start falling back before they become the frontline, which they are ill-suited for. From there, it only gets trickier as the number of people and supplies begins to swell. Routing everything back to established colonies and the Mother Islands is nothing short of a headache-inducing puzzle. Too many troops through this area will draw attention and prompt attacks. Too many people stalled in that area could lead to food shortages. The ports can hold only so many ships, the ships can hold only so many troops, the colonies can only lodge and feed so many people, and on and on it goes. In short, this whole proposal is a logistics nightmare.
It would be easier to hold the line until Sozin's Comet is scheduled to return in three years' time and then use the comet's power to win the war once and for all. Fire Lord Ozai has already vetoed that plan, however. Some of his brasher fellow generals had voiced objections to ending the war before the return of Sozin's Comet, but they had all fallen silent under the Fire Lord's glare. Even if he were not the Fire Lord, it would be difficult to argue with a man possessing spirit-cursed eyes and Agni's Flames. More to the point, those fools are fortunate that whatever happened during the Fire Lord's meeting with the spirits seems to have tempered his bloodlust. It was only yesterday that Ozai had issued his own son an Agni Kai challenge for failing to hold his tongue during a war council.
"This will take at least a year to complete," he says, taking advantage of the current lull in the open-floor strategizing session the Fire Lord declared after the initial outbursts had settled, "If the goal is peace negotiations, our best option may be to start now, with the withdrawals. Retreating while enemy boulders are raining down on your head is difficult, to say the least."
"You would be the expert," Bujing snipes from across the table.
Kazuya Kai scowls at the other general. "Perhaps you would like to go to the Eastern Continent and take personal command over a theater, General Bujing? It may be your last opportunity to set foot on the field."
Bujing glowers at him but has no ready retort. Pompous, noble-born, officer-track busybody that he is, Bujing has never once seen combat from the frontlines. He's never been to the colonies, accepted an Earth general's surrender, witnessed the dead and dying after a battle, nor quashed rebellion in a newly conquered territory. He is both elitist and ignorant. The whole of the war is more theoretical to him than anything. Bujing hasn't lived it. His ilk frustrate Kazuya Kai to no end, and not only because he always falls on the wrong side of that elitist mentality, though that fact plays a large role. A colony brat with Earth in his veins could be nothing else in their eyes.
"Save your squabbles for your own time," Fire Lord Ozai says, almost casual in his speech. His thumb and forefinger find the point of his chin, as if they are searching for his missing beard, and he just as casually returns to studying the very same maps that the generals are referencing. And how strange it is to have the Fire Lord seated among them, almost like an equal if not for his place of honor at the head of the table. "If we can establish lines of communication with the various Earth kings and generals, and if they are willing to trust us, a mutual disengagement would be preferable." He briefly glances at his elder brother. Kazuya Kai's frown deepens. Iroh has been strangely quiet throughout the meeting thus far. "That won't be possible everywhere, however. Some will be impossible to safely message. Many more will suspect a trap."
"Perhaps," General Iroh breaks his silence, "our plans would be better served if we gave the field commanders more flexibility. A location and deadline. More detailed orders may prove to be a hindrance, especially if the facts on the ground change rapidly." A pause. "If it pleases the Fire Lord, as the end goal has been established, and the initial orders to cease aggressions and begin retreat to fortified locations will be sent out at the conclusion of this meeting, a selection of generals from this council could be sent to oversee the different theaters, as General Kazuya Kai suggested."
Kazuya Kai holds back a grimace as several of his fellow generals take the chance to send glares in his direction. He usually considers Iroh an ally but, in this instance, he has thrown him under the Komodo rhino to be trampled. (Unlike Iroh, who is retired from the field -- and those of Bujing's ilk, who are closer to being politicians than soldiers -- nearly all of the other generals on the council regularly serve in the war effort on the Eastern Continent, and being recalled to Caldera for a year to serve on the Fire Lord's council is the closest to leave that many of them will see until their retirements. It is therefore no surprise that they are less than pleased that Kazuya Kai's petty back-and-forth with Bujing has jeopardized their time with their families and away from the front.)
"I would be willing to oversee one of the theaters myself," Iroh finishes mildly.
The Fire Lord's attention jerks from the maps on the table to his brother, imperious mask broken for a moment in startled surprise and fully visible without the wall of flame separating the reigning monarch from the rest of the council.
"No!"
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Ozai grimaces. That was too much. The entire council is staring at him and he knows from past experiences that the light frown on Iroh's face hides a much deeper disapproval.
Almost absently, he lowers the curtain of fire behind him away from the ceiling. Again. Its height has been erratic all through the meeting. The obvious lack of control over his bending is embarrassing, possibly dangerous in the political undertones it creates, but there's nothing for it now. The only cure is practice and that takes time.
"You're retired," he says, but that reasoning sounds weak even to his own ears, so he tries something else, "If you think the best course is to send generals from the council to oversee the retreat, it will be done. But I need you here."
He's never been able to shake the idea that Iroh had been half looking for an excuse to join his son and wife in the spirit world during those first few years following the failed Ba Sing Se campaign. How else could he explain his uncle's behavior through that time frame? He'd aged rapidly in those years, ceased his training, neglected his exercise, and practically invited assassins by failing to challenge his brother over the widely suspected theft of the throne. The servants had whispered about nightmares and drinking. And all of that didn't even include Iroh's actions on behalf of the White Lotus -- some of which could be considered treasonous -- or his choice to actively seek out spirit knowledge and sometimes the spirits themselves! Accompanying his nephew on a fool's errand through enemy territories that wanted the Dragon of the West dead may have been among the least actively dangerous choices his uncle had made in those years. Allowing Iroh to run loose in the Earth Kingdom, as he is now and without the distraction of a nephew to care for, is an open invitation for disaster.
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"I recognize that it has been some time," Iroh says, his current tone is not far off from the tone his uncle had often used on the Wani when his temper had flared, "but I have a great amount of experience in moving troops and supplies. I am certain my presence on the Eastern Continent would only be of benefit to our efforts in reshaping the frontlines and fortifying the colonies."
Ozai stares down the older man with a scowl. "Leave us," he orders. The rest of the room's occupants are quick to obey and soon he and Iroh are alone.
"Why are you insisting on this?" Ozai demands in what could almost be called a hiss. The two spies stationed in the walls have not left their posts and he has no desire for anyone to overhear them, but his temper has never been particularly compatible with remaining quiet. "In front of the council?"
He can feel the weight of Iroh's judgement in the man's eyes and the stretching silence. Finally, in a soft voice that confirms he is likewise mindful of the ears in the palace walls, the other man says, "You did say that you wished for me to contact King Bumi of Omashu. Such a task can only be faster and more easily accomplished if there is not an ocean between myself and my correspondent."
"You're admitting you know him, now?" Ozai sneers, frustration getting the better of him. He draws a centering breath to calm himself.
"Whether I do or not," Iroh says, careful to confirm nothing, "you are convinced that is the case and it is your desire that I speak with him."
"Send a hawk!" he snaps.
"I am afraid that is not an option."
"Not an option, or just not one you're willing to --" Ozai cuts himself off as the obvious problem finally dawns on him. "You're worried about compromising the rest of the network." The Fire Lord scowls. It's a reasonable fear on Iroh's part. Just because Ozai says he wants to have access to the White Lotus for his own purposes doesn't mean his real goal isn't to destroy it utterly. There is no proof from Iroh's perspective that the request has been made in good faith rather than to set up a trap.
The older man's silence is confirmation enough.
"Send several hawks," Ozai says, "Use red herrings, codes, whatever it takes to assuage your concerns." The Fire Lord frowns as he considers his next words, "Not sending the message at all is still an option if you're that worried. Certain objectives would be easier to achieve with the White Lotus' assistance, but I can manage without them if I have to."
When Iroh next speaks, although his voice never rises beyond the volume of the rest of their whispered conversation, his eyes hold a clear challenge, "Am I to be a prisoner within these walls?"
"What?" Ozai cannot help but remember his sister the first time he had gone to see her after their Agni Kai.
"You seem intent on keeping me here."
"I need you here," Ozai argues, "and the last place you should be is anywhere near the Earth Kingdoms. They haven't forgotten the Dragon of the West. They'll want your blood, Iroh."
"I am touched by your concern for my well-being, brother," the man deadpans.
"What is your pr--" he again cuts himself off as he belatedly figures out the obvious for a second time in their conversation. The flame curtain and the sconces flare, his fists clench under the table, and Ozai tips his head back and breathes fire at the ceiling. Of course. Of course, Iroh not only doesn't trust him but he actively expects him to make an attempt on his life. The timing of Azulon's death was suspicious in the extreme, and Ursa's disappearance on the very same night was doubly so. Iroh would be a fool not to consider the possibility that he would be the next to fall at his ambitious younger brother's hands. Add to that the fact that Ozai has as good as told Iroh to his face that he is a burned spy...
Ozai regains his composure enough to consider the other man, recognizing the wary tenseness he had previously missed in the other's frame. He scowls. As justified as Iroh's behavior is, that doesn't stop it from being maddening.
"I'm fixing this. Now," Ozai declares as he stands, uncaring of the unseen listening ears. Iroh also rises to his feet. He refrains from falling into anything so immediately apparent as a fighting stance, but Ozai can see the other man's readiness all the same, now that he knows to look for it. "Give me the names of three generals among the council that you consider to be honorable men."
Iroh's brow furrows. "My lord?"
Ozai gestures at the hall beyond the throne room's main entrance and the sealed door. "Honorable names, Iroh."
Iroh hesitates. "Generals Shiro, Kazuya Kai, and Masao are good men of strong convictions and courage," he finally answers.
Ozai nods. Generals Shiro and Masao had continued to serve the Fire Nation after he'd taken the throne and he'd grown to respect both men. With the reduction of the military, only Shiro had remained a general, but Masao had gone on to lead the Caldera chapter of the Home Guard after the war. General Kazuya Kai's inclusion on Iroh's list is a bit of a surprise. Ozai hardly knows the man at all. Kazuya Kai had resigned early on in his reign, shortly after the colonies had been given independence from the Fire Nation. The majority of the general's family had been colonials and he'd felt that the Fire Nation's withdrawal of authority over the region was a betrayal to the citizenry living there. He hadn't been the only one to feel that way. Still, despite a rough start, Toph had said good things about him over the last two years. More to the point, if Iroh considers the man to be honorable, that's enough for Ozai.
Ozai strides over to the door and throws it open. "You three," he points at the clustered sages, "You, you, and you," he points at each of the generals in turn, "The rest of you, remain here."
There is a slight hesitation before the six men file through the entrance. Ozai doesn't try to discern whether it is surprise or fear that causes the delayed response. He's not sure he'd be able to keep a grip on his temper if the answer is the latter. A servant shuts the heavy door from the outside.
"You six are here as witnesses," Ozai says, "but first, I need your oaths that you will ensure the following oath of honor is enforced."
There are confused faces all around, including Iroh, though his eyes remain wary.
"Yes, your majesty," General Shiro says, the first to shake off his uncertainty and slip back into court manners. He bows over the sign of the flame, "On my honor, I shall see that the oath to which I bear witness is enforced in full. By this oath, I am bound."
The other five are quick to mimic Shiro. "On my honor," they chorus as they offer their own bows to the Fire Lord.
Ozai nods before turning to face Iroh. "On my honor," he begins, absently noting the clear surprise in his audience that he is offering an oath rather than demanding one from his elder brother, "no harm shall come to Iroh of the Fire Nation by my hand, bending, or command. I withhold my judgement over Iroh and his actions. Iroh shall henceforth be under Agni's authority alone. Should harm or death come to Iroh by any hand but Agni's, and should the shadow of doubt fall upon me, and should my faithfulness to my oath be cast into question, my right to the throne will be forfeit and Crown Prince Zuko will ascend to begin his reign as Fire Lord. Should this scenario come to pass and Prince Zuko has yet to attain his majority, a regent shall be appointed either by Iroh's living voice or as is indicated in Iroh's last will. By this oath, I am bound."
The badly concealed shock of the room's other occupants turns into open startlement as every fire in the room flares loudly, jumping high to scorch the ceiling.
"That isn't me," Ozai says with a frown as he meets their stares. It's the only warning the others receive before Agni steps from the wall of flames.
"Fire Lord," Agni snarls, "who gave you leave to cast aside your duties?"