96 AG
The fire hawk arrived at dawn, its plumage streaked with ash, and heat shimmer rising from its wings as it landed atop the blackened post outside the command tent. The seal it carried bore the emblem of the capital.
Han removed the message and unfurled the scroll with a practiced hand, his brow creasing slightly as he read the formal commendation. There were lines of congratulation from higher command, mentions of honor, strategy, and the swift subjugation of the northwestern region.
The town of Gaipan had surrendered without a single Fire Nation life lost in the final operation. To the court, it was a decisive, clean victory. To Han, it was far more complicated. He rolled the scroll back into its case and placed it on the edge of the table before settling onto the stool beside it.
The inside of the tent was already warm from the morning sun, and the scent of fresh parchment mingled with the lingering bitterness of last night's fire. He reached for the pot of bitterleaf tea, left steaming nearby and poured himself a small cup, taking a slow sip without looking at anything in particular.
He knew it had been the right decision. A flood would have devastated the valley, wiped Gaipan off the map, and drowned not only the remaining defenders but also every civilian sheltering behind those walls.
The threat had been enough. Lin had calculated it with terrifying accuracy, from the amount of rain in the area to how quickly they could potentially take the dam out. Luckily it was not needed as the reaction of a cornered garrison was almost immediate; the surrender came swiftly after her warning was delivered, and with it, the last resistance in the northwest fell quiet.
Still, something about it left a sour taste in his mouth. He had given the order, that much was true, and he had trusted her to come up with a plan to take the town. It had been his campaign, his sector, and his responsibility.
The Red Company had carried out the mission flawlessly, but the method, the threat, the coldness of it all felt wrong for him. From the academy days, he had been taught to value honor, and to respect the enemy and the battlefield.
Han had seen men burned alive, watched comrades crushed by stone, and had once held the broken pieces of a commander's helm after an ambush shattered their line. None of that had made him feel this way, but for some reason, the lack of emotion in the young Captain managed to disturb him in the end.
Throughout the campaign, he felt that he could rely on her to follow his orders. She was one of the few officers under his command who needed no supervision, who anticipated terrain, logistics, morale, and tactics with the ease of someone born to command.
But there were times, brief and unwelcome, when he found himself wondering whether she was really a human or something artificially made, even spirits were less disturbing. The teacup had gone cold in his hand. He set it aside and moved to the front of the tent, pulling aside the flap to look across the camp.
The soldiers of the Red Company had settled into a new rhythm, no longer under constant attack, no longer forced into night marches through hostile terrain. For the first time in weeks, there was a stillness to their work. The wounded had been tended to, new supplies had arrived, and they were once again focused on their training and the polishing of their battle tactics.
The new orders he had just received though, would mean that there would be no more battles for a while. His orders were now to consolidate and build. High command had been informed of her progress and that of her company, and they had deemed her a resource far too valuable to keep out of combat.
So, with his new orders, he was finally parting away from having them close by, and he could now focus on more administrative tasks, probably keeping the peace and ensuring that the region would serve as a foundation for colonial development.
Small Fire Nation villages would be seeded throughout the cleared territory, their progress guided by bureaucrats and overseen by military officers like himself. Engineers would arrive next, along with surveyors and cartographers. Fortified roads would be cut through the land, connecting the colonies to ports along the western coast.
It was work that demanded patience more than strength, and Han welcomed it. He had no desire to keep the Red Company under his command, nor to test himself against the unease that always followed when Captain Lin returned from a mission with blood on her hands and not a flicker of doubt in her eyes.
He could spend the next few weeks attending to infrastructure, ensuring the new colonies were secure and putting his thoughts in order. He could go days without hearing reports of burned barricades or flooded garrisons.
Han let the flap fall closed and returned to his maps, already adjusting the lines to reflect the new priorities. He would mark the future townships, assign construction detachments, and draft a new patrol schedule for the border roads. It was work that grounded him, even if he knew it would not last.
Captain Lin, on the other hand, had other orders to go south under someone else's command. And perhaps, if fortune was kind, she would be someone else's problem for a whole while.
The briefing arrived as the camp settled into dusk, carried not by courier, but by an officer whose eyes flicked with unspoken urgency. Lin accepted the sealed scroll and broke the emblematic wax with a gentle press of her thumb.
The brazier at her side hissed as she adjusted the coals, casting flickering shadows against the canvas walls. She unrolled the message and read in silence, her eyes tracing each line without a visible reaction.
The next assignment was clear. The Red Company was no longer under Major Han's direct command. They were to redeploy to the southern front and join Colonel Mongke of the Rough Rhinos in preparing an assault on Chin Village, a major settlement perched atop the cliffs of the southern coast.
The report detailed that an initial offensive had already failed spectacularly. The colonel's troops had been repelled and forced into retreat, and unless reinforced, another attempt would not be possible for months.
Her transfer orders indicated that, due to limited naval availability, their departure would be delayed. Fire Nation supply lines to the southern front were stretched thin, with the war effort still consolidating gains across several fronts. It would take nearly a month before the transports assigned to her company were redirected north to collect them.
Lin folded the scroll carefully and set it aside, then spread regional maps across the desk, anchoring them with stacked gauntlets and loose ingots. Her fingertips traced the path westward, until she paused at Pohuai Stronghold, marked firmly just ahead of their march.
The fortress, once known as Pohuai Depot, had grown into a Fire Nation military hub under Colonel Shinu's command, housing supplies, troops, and notably, the Yuyan Archers. She leaned back, shadows dancing across her calm expression, as she considered what this meant.
The stronghold was not merely a depot; it also acted as a prison and had railroads to reinforce their forces with Fire Nation weapons and armor. That it hosted the Yuyan Archers was also praised, as they were renowned for their stealth, precision, and unerring focus.
Even if they were not benders, they were still trained killers, shaped by discipline, capable of erasing targets before they were seen. Their methods had long set them apart from typical Fire Nation tactics.
Their strength lay in subtlety and speed, in positioning, discipline, and accuracy. Lin had read field reports describing their precision and success in eliminating high-valuable targets when they were called upon.
The Earth Kingdom hadn't yet widely used ambush and long-range engagement tactics, but training her soldiers against such opponents would sharpen their instincts in ways no drill formation could.
If you could evade their arrows, you could train your instincts to react faster to incoming volleys. If you could strike a Yuyan before being struck yourself, then even a sudden ambush in enemy territory would hold no fear. She began listing exercises in her mind.
Daylight maneuvering drills, silent approach formations, squad rotations under live fire, and even rapid recovery under terrain pressure. She would need to adjust their rations slightly and recalibrate their marching schedule, but the benefits were undeniable.
A full month of structured movement and resistance training, followed by real-time adaptation drills under Yuyan supervision, would elevate the company's survivability on every front.
Lin reached for her side drawer, pulled out a clean scroll, dipped her brush in ink and began to write the orders she would circulate at dawn. No soldier in her company would remain idle, and the task would prepare them to march as soon as possible to the west and to Pohuai Stronghold. By the time the ships arrived, the Red Company would be sharper than ever.
She set the brush aside, stood, and stepped outside the tent into the crisp night air. The camp had quieted. Most of the fires had burned low, and the guards kept their distance, giving her a wide berth out of habit. She looked towards the horizon, at the forests they would soon leave behind and the long trail that would take them to their destination.
Her soldiers would train until they could react without thought, until instinct overrode doubt. The next time they were sent to fight, there would be no margin for error. She would prove to the Fire Nation how a truly elite force should operate, and where others failed, they would succeed.
The march west to Pohuai Stronghold began under a grey morning sky, the clouds low and threatening rain, their silence echoed by the measured pace of the Red Company as they departed the camp swiftly.
Lin had issued the route and formation orders the night before, designating lead scouts, rotating supply units, and adjusting pace schedules for optimal load management. By the time the sun rose, the company had already moved several kilometers into the dense woodlands, their footsteps muffled by damp soil and moss-covered roots.
They advanced in three columns, tight enough for control but spaced to allow maneuvering. She walked at the front, not out of pride or ego, but because it was the only way to maintain the tempo she desired.
She could feel the condition of the path in her knees and ankles, and when the ground turned soft, she adjusted the pace long before anyone behind her needed to ask. Her officers took note, as they always did.
The rain came lightly, then steadily, but no one stopped to draw up their hoods or complain. Their cloaks grew heavier, their boots darker, yet the march continued unbroken for six days and five nights.
By the time the stronghold came into view beyond the final slope, the company had shed whatever tension remained from their previous campaign. They arrived not as victors seeking rest, as the garrison was expecting, but as a force ready to deploy immediately.
The towers of Pohuai rose without flourish, utilitarian and reinforced with black stone that glistened under the weight of clouded light. Narrow rail lines entered through the lower gates, and steam hissed rhythmically from the freight terminals as supply wagons moved in and out of storage vaults.
Lin observed the flow of motion before giving the signal to begin establishing their external camp. They would not quarter inside to avoid friction or unnecessary confrontations. Even if ordered to do so, Colonel Shinu was not rumored to be an accommodating officer.
The stronghold had changed over the years. What had once served as a depot and border outpost now functioned as a critical node in the Fire Nation's northern infrastructure. Under Colonel Shinu's command, it had become a distribution hub for weapons, armor, fuel cells, and logistical personnel.
She spent the afternoon finalizing the exercise schedule, cross-referencing terrain charts and rewriting patrol rotations to accommodate the new purpose. Her company would not conduct drills in rank and file. They would be split into small units, given maps and parameters, and deployed into the forested slope west of the stronghold.
She briefly wondered if they could handle an exercise against them using stealth as well, keeping torches and bending to a minimum. Their objective would be to move silently through designated paths for a set duration while remaining undetected. The archers, would be granted full freedom of movement, would track and mark them. Hits would be delivered with blunt, chalk-dipped arrows and documented at the end of each session.
A squad of them returned to Pohuai three days after the Red Company's arrival, their presence marked only by nothing more than the sudden appearance of masked figures moving through the southern checkpoint without a word.
Lin watched from the stone overlook as the archers passed through the open yard, their steps unnaturally quiet on gravel and tile, their movements free of hesitation. Each bore a longbow crafted from black wood, curved blades at their hips, and quivers designed for rapid switching between arrow types.
Colonel Shinu had accepted their proposal for a joint training once that squad returned ensuring they wouldn't lack personnel at any time. Once the exercises started, she joined in as well, there was a lot of expectation going forward, she even sensed excitement among the archers , who had never faced their own troops.
As expected, the first trial went poorly for her company. Although many never got hit, losing more than 50% of their force was always considered too great a loss. Half the company returned before the halfway mark, red streaks smeared across their backs, shoulders, and arms.
Some were tagged within minutes of departure. Others believed they had made the full circuit, only to be revealed by hidden marks applied without their noticing. Although this first exercise was a failure, she remained confident her men would adjust quickly.
These were not tests of pride or obedience. They were assessments of perception, pressure, and adaptation, skills at which they were already proficient. She spent the evening reviewing field notes, modifying the exercise paths, and rotating squad members to prevent pattern dependency.
The following day, roles were reversed. Her soldiers became the hunters, instructed to locate and approach static archer positions within a limited timeframe, still without using firebending. The likelihood of success remained low, but against all odds, when on the offensive, her company fared much better.
Each iteration stripped away comfort and replaced it with attentiveness. When her soldiers stumbled, they began to crouch sooner. When they lost sight of a path, they scanned for trails instead of pressing forward blindly.
Some began listening for the silence of birds or the subtle shift of weight in leaves. Others noticed that the archers never left footprints when they moved across packed earth, and tried to mimic their patterns with limited success.
Lin took note of everything she could from her usual observation point. She recorded who adjusted fastest, who remained stiff, and who needed to be reassigned or retrained. She compiled the data nightly; it wouldn't change squad leaders or promotions, but some arrangements to the whole composition were necessary.
The people she had chosen as her lieutenants had proven themselves deserving of that promotion already, and they continued to excel in the exercises. Those who adapted slowly were pulled into accelerated cycles, without exception.
Her logistics staff, support runners, and even the engineers responsible for maintaining their weapons and occasionally constructing bridges and support defenses were cycled through shorter observer rounds to experience the tension firsthand.
By the end of the second week, the Red Company already appeared seasoned and experienced. Conversations dropped to whispers by default. Footfalls fell closer to tree roots and stone edges than to the center paths. Eyes followed ridge lines rather than resting on the road ahead.
Lin stood one evening at the edge of the high watchpoint, arms behind her back, as the last of the training parties returned from the far woods. Her soldiers walked with quieter steps by default, without being ordered to, and were highly aware of their surroundings.
A smile found its place on Lin's face as the sky above the stronghold had begun to clear.
Zhou had never underestimated the Yuyan Archers. He had read the same reports as everyone else and listened to the same stories shared quietly over mess tables and in barracks bunks. They could strike from distances too great to see, their arrows never missing, and their presence on a battlefield meant someone had already been marked for death.
But knowing something in theory was never the same as standing in the woods and realizing that an ally standing right beside you had just been killed without even seeing who had fired. When he returned to camp with the rest of his squad, still glancing over his shoulder as if the archer might be waiting to correct the shot, he remained silent for a long time.
The training began with controlled objectives, simple paths, simulated patrols, and no firebending allowed. But simplicity was only ever the shape of the problem, not its substance. The Yuyan operated with stealth as their primary focus, then obviously precision and speed.
Zhou prided himself on his spatial awareness, his ability to read enemy movements and position his squad to respond accordingly. But in this environment, his instincts felt blunted, and although he adapted to it quickly and managed to only get hit once during the whole two weeks, he lost more squad members than he could count by hand, and his squad was only 20 members.
At the beginning, they had tried to track them down, but the archers cleared their path and left no traces to follow. Staying alert all the time was exhausting. Someone would inevitably make the mistake of getting comfortable, and that is when the archers strike. It was both humbling, and infuriating.
The company as a whole adapted quickly, thanks to the captain's influence. Her presence alone demanded improvement and the squad that she led and those close to her performed better. She never shouted, never corrected anyone publicly, but her advice was always received with open ears and her orders carried out without question.
From the moment they arrived at Pohuai, she reshaped the rhythm of their training. Where others might have settled into the routines or slacked off a bit to rest for their next campaign, Captain Lin pressed them into battle focus, making them more aware of terrain, posture, and breath control.
Zhou had always admired her control, but this was something else entirely. Even during breaks, she sat near the edge of the training field, analyzing what could be improved, her gaze occasionally flicking toward an officer, calling them to her. She offered advice and shared her opinion on what she thought would work best for next time.
Even when she wasn't nearby, Zhou found himself correcting his strategy and remembering her advice to analyze further. His squad had begun mirroring the same habits, some more consciously than others.
It had been nearly three weeks since their arrival, and to say he was tired would be an understatement. That fatigue that settled in the muscles of the shoulders and legs, where tension accumulated without flaring into pain, compounded by the stress of having to be alert almost every hour of the day.
On the morning of their final training rotation with the archers, Zhou awoke earlier than usual. The camp remained dark, though a pale glow hinted at the coming dawn beyond the eastern ridge. He dressed quickly, rolled up his bedding with practiced efficiency, and stepped into the cool air, with the familiar weight of anticipation tightening across his chest.
Today's exercise was a cooperative simulation. Firebenders and Yuyan would operate together in mixed squads, moving through a simulated assault scenario within the deeper ravines west of the stronghold. It would be the first time in weeks that they were permitted to use bending in an active engagement, and even then, it was to be tightly regulated to prevent them from hurting each other or the forest resources.
Zhou welcomed the restriction. It reminded him of the early days at the academy, when instructors emphasized precision before strength, forcing cadets to strike candles without disturbing the surrounding air.
He was assigned to a five-person team, two archers, two firebenders, and himself as squad leader. They received their map with brief instructions. They would coordinate with two other squads to eliminate a designated target structure and exfiltrate without being detected by rotating patrols planted across the hills.
Zhou memorized the map in case it was lost, and adjusted their initial route silently. The archers observed him without comment, and he appreciated their discipline. As the exercise began, they moved low, taking advantage of natural depressions in the ground and shaded cover beneath the tree canopy.
He sent the archers ahead in intervals, as scouts. When they returned, they would communicate by hand signals rather than words, indicating guard positions and obstacle placements. Zhou communicated with one of his firebenders by light taps on the shoulder, redirecting their pace each time new information arrived.
The mission proceeded smoothly. They reached the target structure without incident. It was a reinforced signal tower constructed for the simulation out of wood, and they disabled it efficiently, as Zhou lit one of the arrows from one of the archers and they just had to watch as it sailed to the target from a distance once they knew no one was looking directly at their position.
Once they confirmed it was down, the squad pulled back in two arcs, avoiding detection by the decoy guards, and they reached the extraction zone ahead of schedule. When the signal was given and the exercise concluded, Zhou exhaled for the first time in what felt like hours.
He returned to camp late in the afternoon, muscles stiff but steady, breathing low and controlled. The other squads had returned as well, some successful, others clearly marked and withdrawn from the exercise before reaching their targets. Lin stood near the central stone platform, hands behind her back, speaking quietly to the training overseer, her eyes half-focused on the returning units.
Zhou did not expect praise; their captain would often either give you advice if she thought there was something obvious to improve or a promotion directly to lead one of the squads. But this time, she merely nodded in his direction and continued speaking with the overseer.
It felt like one of his biggest achievements to date. Elated, he then moved toward the supply tent to begin preparing his gear. Their departure was imminent as the ships had already been signaled to anchor the following day.
He was pleased with his performance, and, if the spirits were favorable enough, he would be able to rest aboard the ship on their way south.
AN: I personally do not like using flashbacks, so I'm doing some lore-building for the first few chapters and show the whole characters before the juicy parts show up, for those like me who like that. I hope you enjoy them, do let me know what you think so far.
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