Father's trust came quietly.
No ceremony. No announcement to the court. Just a summons to his war chamber, the smell of ink and scorched metal heavy in the air, maps spread across a table like flayed skin.
"You will join the military," Ozai said, as if stating the weather. "Not as an observer."
I inclined my head. "Understood."
"You will be given troops," he continued. "A small command. You will learn discipline, logistics, and obedience. Power without structure is useless."
I almost smiled.
He was right.
And for once, his intentions aligned with mine.
I was placed aboard a warship within the week.
Not a flagship—too visible, too ceremonial—but a hardened transport vessel used for rapid deployments and coastal assaults. Iron-plated hull. Rows of firebenders drilled daily on deck. Discipline was enforced with heat and pain.
And waiting for me at the rail, arms folded, eyes sharp and tired, stood General Jeong Jeong.
Even before he spoke, I felt it.
Restraint.
His fire burned differently from most Fire Nation benders. Controlled, yes—but not hungry. Not proud. His presence reminded me of a sealed furnace: immense heat, deliberately contained.
"So," he said, regarding me without bowing, "you're the Crown Prince."
"I am," I replied. "And you're General Jeong Jeong."
A flicker of surprise crossed his face. Then something like amusement.
"You've done your homework."
"I intend to survive," I said calmly.
That earned a short, humorless laugh.
Jeong Jeong did not teach firebending the way palace instructors did.
There were no shouting drills. No competitions. No obsession with raw output.
Instead, he made me stand.
For hours.
On the deck. On the shore. In the rain. In silence.
"Fire is life," he said one evening as the sun bled into the ocean. "And like life, it destroys when mishandled."
I already knew this—but I listened anyway.
He taught me redirection, suppression, compression. How to reduce flame to near invisibility without extinguishing it. How to shape heat without ignition. How to bend fire away from something instead of toward it.
Advanced techniques.
Dangerous ones.
I learned them with ease.
Jeong Jeong noticed.
"You don't fight fire," he said quietly after watching me replicate one of his most guarded techniques on the first attempt. "You negotiate with it."
"Yes," I answered. "Fire is not rage. It's intent."
For the first time, he truly looked at me.
Not as royalty.
Not as a weapon.
But as a student.
Lightning bending intrigued him.
I didn't advertise it—but I didn't hide it either.
When I demonstrated controlled generation—slow, clean, stable—Jeong Jeong went very still.
"That knowledge was never meant for children," he said.
"I'm not one," I replied.
He didn't argue.
Instead, he taught me how not to use it.
When to withhold power. When killing would create more resistance than surrender. When fear was more useful than ash.
Lessons most Fire Nation generals never learned.
It took only a few weeks to reach the colony.
An Earth Kingdom city lay inland—fortified, stubborn, supplied by mountain routes and river trade. Not large enough to be famous. Not small enough to be ignored.
Perfect.
I disembarked with my troops beneath a smoke-darkened sky. Rows of soldiers stood at attention as I stepped onto the dirt, boots crunching against scorched earth. Officers bowed. Messengers waited.
For the first time, command settled onto my shoulders.
It felt… natural.
I took control of a sizable force—firebenders, infantry, engineers. Enough to take a city.
Not enough to waste.
I dismissed half the shouted suggestions within minutes.
"Siege is inefficient."
"Burning the fields will slow us later."
"A frontal assault will cost too much."
They stared at me.
I was young.
I was royal.
And I was correct.
I spent the night with maps.
Elevation. Wind patterns. Supply routes. Civilian density. Morale estimates. Earthbender concentrations. Defensive formations.
By dawn, I had a plan.
Not to destroy the city.
To take it.
We would sever supply lines first—quietly. Precision strikes on key routes using small, mobile fire teams trained to suppress, not incinerate. We would use heat manipulation to weaken stone supports, collapse gates without explosive force. Smoke—not fire—to sow confusion.
And when the defenders panicked…
We would offer surrender.
Jeong Jeong reviewed my strategy in silence.
Finally, he said, "You don't think like a conqueror."
"No," I replied. "I think like a ruler."
He closed the map.
And for just a moment, I thought I saw something like hope flicker in his eyes.
As the sun rose over the camp, soldiers moved with new purpose. Orders flowed smoothly. Fires burned low and controlled.
I stood at the edge of the camp, blue flame flickering faintly around my hand before I extinguished it.
This was my first campaign.
Not my last.
And as the Earth Kingdom city loomed in the distance, walls catching the morning light, I knew one thing with absolute certainty:
The war had just learned my name.