Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

The Fleet

The first sign was not a banner.

It was the harbor going quiet.

Toph felt it before the others saw it: a deep, wrong vibration through the stone quays, too heavy for merchant ships, too even for a storm. She stopped mid-stride on the unfinished promenade and cocked her head.

"That's not a fishing fleet," she said.

Sokka was already squinting toward the mouth of the bay. "Please tell me that's Zuko."

It was anything but Zuko.

The Iron Dragon came out of the morning haze like a floating fortress. Black iron. Crimson sails the color of old blood. Cannons bristled along both flanks, each one large enough to punch a hole through unity tower. Behind it, a dozen lesser warships followed in a tight, disciplined line. No Fire Nation sigil. No Earth Kingdom colors. Only a crude mark burned into the mainsail: a coiled dragon devouring its own tail.

Katara's hand found Aang's sleeve. "They wouldn't. Not here. Not Republic City."

Aang did not answer. He was watching the ship's prow cut the water as if the harbor already belonged to it.

People began to gather along the docks. Builders. Traders. Families who had come here because the war was supposed to be over.

A child pointed. A woman pulled him back.

The Iron Dragon did not ask permission to dock.
It took the longest berth in the harbor, the one reserved for visiting heads of state, and threw down chains thick as a man's waist. Gangplanks slammed onto the stone. Fire Nomads poured onto the quay in red and black, faces marked with warpaint, weapons already in hand. They did not run. They did not shout. They spread through the crowd with the calm of people who had done this before.

Then he came down the gangplank.

Rokkun did not wear a crown. He did not need one. Dark, auburn hair to his shoulders, a short beard, scarred forearms, a red tunic cut for movement rather than ceremony. Twin swords at his hips. Rider spurs jingling. He walked as if the city had been waiting for him.

Sokka muttered, "Okay. I hate him already."

Toph sniffed. "He walks like he owns the ground. I don't like people who walk like that."

Aang stepped forward before anyone could stop him.

Rokkun saw him at once. A slow, almost pleasant smile found his mouth.

"There he is," Rokkun said, voice carrying easily over the docks. "The Avatar. I was hoping you'd be home."

Aang planted his staff. "This city is under the protection of the United Republic. You have no claim here."

Rokkun glanced past him at the unfinished towers, the half-built canals, the frightened faces.

"Funny," he said. "King Xuo seems to think otherwise."

Katara's eyes narrowed. "What are you talking about?"

Rokkun spread his hands, all easy charm. "Bin-Er is ours. The colonies are ours. Every scrap of Earth Kingdom land my people took is ours. That was the bargain. Peace for the Earth King. An end to the raids. All he had to do was admit what was already true." He tilted his head. "Republic City sits on former Fire Nation ground. Which makes it ours too. I'm not invading. I'm collecting."

Aang's voice hardened. "Xuo would never give you this city."

"Xuo would never give Zuko this city," Rokkun corrected mildly. "Different problem. Your Fire Lord forgot to mention a few things. Old friends. Old sisters. Old debts. The Earth King doesn't like being the last to know." He smiled again, smaller this time. "So he decided to handle the Nomad problem himself. And he did. He handled it by giving me what I already won."

Sokka stepped up beside Aang. "You bombed Bin-Er. You slaughtered a city and then called it a treaty."

Rokkun looked at him as if Sokka had commented on the weather. "I ended a war before it could start. You're welcome."

Aang's staff struck the stone. Wind stirred the dust at his feet. "Get off these docks. Now."

The Nomads along the quay shifted. Hands went to weapons. Above them, the Iron Dragon's cannons rolled on their mounts with a low iron groan, every barrel turning toward the heart of the city.

Katara caught Aang's wrist.

"Aang." Her voice was low, urgent. "Look at the ship."

He did.

The cannons were already aimed. Not at him.

At the houses. The market. The school still missing its roof. One volley would turn the harbor district into rubble.

"There are too many of them," Katara said. "And too many people who can't fight. If you start this here, they die first."

Aang's jaw locked. The Avatar State flickered behind his eyes like heat lightning and then, painfully, receded.

Rokkun watched the whole thing with open interest.

"Smart girl," he said to Katara. "I like her."

Toph growled. "Say that again and I'll put you through the quay."

Rokkun ignored her. He turned to the gathered crowd and raised his voice.

"People of Republic City. My name is Khan Rokkun. I lead the Fire Nomads. Your kings and councils made a mess of the peace and then pretended it would last. It didn't. Bin-Er learned that the hard way. You don't have to." He gestured at the Iron Dragon without looking back. "This city is under Nomad protection now. You will keep your homes. You will keep your work. You will keep your lives. What you will not keep is the illusion that the war is over and no one has to pay for it."

A murmur moved through the crowd. Fear. Anger. The terrible beginning of calculation.

Rokkun looked back at Aang.

"You've done enough saving for one lifetime, Avatar. Let the grown-ups run things now."

Aang took a step anyway. Katara's hand tightened.

Rokkun sighed, almost fond. "Put them in chains."

The Nomads closed in fast. Sokka swung once and was slammed to the stone. Toph stamped and the dock buckled, throwing two men off their feet before a third looped metal around her wrists and yanked her off balance. Katara sent a lash of water from the harbor; it froze mid-air when a line of fire cut across it.

Aang moved last. He could have scattered them. He could have torn the gangplank apart.

He looked up at the cannons instead, and at the people trapped between the Nomads and the water, and let the metal close around his wrists.

The chains were Fire Nation make. Old. Familiar.
Rokkun stepped in close enough that only Aang could hear him.

"Tell me something Avatar," he said, almost kindly. "You ever been inside a Fire Nation prison?"

Aang met his eyes. "I've been inside worse."

Rokkun's smile sharpened. "Not like this one."

He straightened and clapped Aang once on the shoulder, as if they were old acquaintances.

"Welcome to the new peace," Rokkun said. "Try not to make it difficult."

The Nomads dragged them toward the Iron Dragon. Behind them, Republic City watched in silence, the unfinished towers standing like a promise that had just been broken.

On the deck, Rokkun did not look back.

He already had what he came for.