Chapter 36: Shuihan Exit
The morning sun spilled through the inn's paper screens, painting the low wooden table in stripes of gold. Steam curled from a ceramic teapot, mingling with the scent of fried dough and salted fish. Mariko picked at her rice, her chopsticks tapping the bowl in a rhythm just shy of impatient. Across from her, Keru sat rigid as a spear, his eyes flicking to the door every time footsteps creaked in the hallway.
Then it swung open.
"Look who survived," Yogan announced, sliding into the room with a grin. His robes were rumpled, his hair still damp from a hasty wash, but his eyes were bright, alive in a way they hadn't been since Daiyo. Behind him, Rilo loomed like a storm cloud, his usual scowl softened only slightly by the bundle of steamed buns tucked under his arm. Haru and Kenshiro trailed after, their postures stiff, their silence louder than any apology.
Mariko arched a brow. "No Talia?"
Kenshiro winced. Haru stared at his hands.
Rilo dropped the buns onto the table with a thud. "She's at a friend of mine's. Said she'd rather swallow live eels than share a roof with these two." He jerked a thumb at Haru and Kenshiro, then snatched a bun for himself. "Can't blame her."
Keru poured tea with deliberate calm. "And the rest of you?"
"Alive. Mostly." Yogan collapsed onto a cushion, snagging a piece of grilled fish. "Moi threatened to skin us if we touched his tomatoes again. Lian threatened worse."
"Charming," Mariko muttered.
"You're one to talk," Rilo said, nodding at the scrolls piled beside her, Jian Ye's rejected proposals, still sealed with the Earth King's broken wax insignia. "How'd the great diplomacy mission go?"
Mariko's chopsticks froze mid-bite. Keru exhaled through his nose.
Yogan whistled. "That bad, huh?"
"He called the Earth Kingdom's terms 'parchment insults,'" Keru said flatly.
"And I called him a blowhard," Mariko added. "So we're even."
A beat of silence. Then Haru, of all people, snorted into his tea.
Yogan leaned forward. "So what now?"
Mariko met his gaze. The unspoken truth hung between them: 'We failed. Shuihan's slipping away.' But before she could answer, the inn's door banged open again.
Gan Ye stood on the threshold, his armor gleaming, his face unreadable.
"City Lord's summons," he said. "All of you."
The room went still.
Rilo wiped his hands slowly on his trousers.
Gan Ye's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Breakfast."
Gan Ye's smile didn't waver, but his knuckles whitened around the doorframe. "The City Lord doesn't like to be kept waiting."
Rilo took a deliberate bite of his bun, chewing slowly. "Then he should've invited us earlier."
Mariko's chopsticks clattered against her bowl. "Rilo."
"What? I'm eating." He licked grease off his thumb. "You two go ahead. We'll catch up."
Gan Ye stepped inside, shutting the door with a soft click. The air in the room thickened. "My father was… impressed by your work yesterday. He'd like to thank you personally."
"How noble," Rilo said, reaching for another bun. "Tell him to write a letter."
Keru's teacup hit the table with a sharp tock. "This isn't a joke. If Jian Ye is offering an audience…"
"Offering?" Yogan snorted. "More like summoning." He leaned back, balancing his chair on two legs. "What's next, engraved invitations for our executions?"
Kenshiro smirked. "I'd prefer mine in red. Matches my blood."
Haru groaned. "Spirits save me from idiots."
Mariko massaged her temples. "Gan Ye isn't asking you to kneel. He's giving us a chance to fix this."
"Fix what?" Rilo's voice dropped, cold. "Your mess?"
Keru stiffened. Mariko's cheeks flushed.
Gan Ye cleared his throat. "The mess, as you put it, involves pirates, trade routes, and a city on the brink. You helped save Shuihan yesterday. My father wants to discuss how that alliance might… continue."
Yogan whistled. "Alliance? Big word for 'please stop making us look bad.'"
Kenshiro raised his tea in mock toast. "To Rilo, savior of blowhards."
Haru kicked him under the table. Kenshiro yelped.
Gan Ye's patience frayed. "You're guests here. A little courtesy wouldn't kill you."
Rilo shrugged. "Neither would letting us finish breakfast."
Mariko slammed her palms on the table. The dishes rattled. "Enough! Every second we waste, Shuihan slips further away. Jian Ye hates the Zhen Earth Kingdom. If he's willing to talk, we go."
Silence. Even Yogan's smirk faded.
Keru added quietly, "This isn't just about politics. It's about survival. Your friend Moi's fish shack won't last if Shuihan closes its ports."
Rilo's jaw tightened.
Gan Ye seized the opening. "Come when you're ready, then. But come." He turned to leave, then paused. "And Rilo? However you feel about lords and politics… my father doesn't give second chances."
The door closed behind him.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Yogan poked his congealing rice. "So… we're going, right?"
Kenshiro threw a bun at him.
The silence after Gan Ye's departure was thick enough to choke on.
Keru's fingers tightened around his teacup, the porcelain creaking under the pressure. His voice, when it came, was low and frayed at the edges.
"We don't have the luxury of pride."
Mariko's head snapped up. "What?"
"You heard me." Keru set the cup down with deliberate control, his eyes locked on hers. "With all due respect prince, you stormed into that audience hall yesterday like you were still in the royal court, tossing insults like they were coins. And now you're surprised Jian Ye won't grovel?"
Mariko's nostrils flared. "I didn't ask him to grovel. I asked him to listen."
"No, you demanded." Keru's voice sharpened. "You treated him like a stubborn child instead of a man who's spent years watching his city bleed for a kingdom that sends scrolls instead of soldiers."
Yogan whistled under his breath. Kenshiro, for once, stayed silent.
Mariko leaned forward, her palms flat against the table. "And what would you have had me do, Keru? Bow? Beg? The Zhen Earth Kingdom…"
"...is one of dozens,"* Keru cut in, "and the only one you care about is the one with your father's seal on it."
The words landed like a slap.
Haru shifted uncomfortably. Rilo's gaze flicked between them, calculating.
Mariko's voice dropped to a whisper. "You think I don't know that? You think I haven't spent every day since I left that palace trying to prove I'm more than just his daughter to be married off to some fat war lord?! Why do you think I ran away in the first place!!?"
Keru didn't flinch. "Then act like it."
A beat. The air between them crackled.
Yogan cleared his throat. "So, uh… more tea?"
Mariko ignored him. "Respect isn't surrender, Keru. If we let every petty lord spit on the Zhen banner, what's left? A hundred squabbling city-states, each one weaker than the last. Is that what you want?"
"I want to survive," Keru shot back. "And right now, survival means swallowing our pride long enough to keep Shuihan from sliding into open rebellion."
"By bending the knee?"
"By being smarter than our enemies!" Keru's fist hit the table. The dishes jumped. "Jian Ye isn't some bandit king. He's a man with an army, a fleet, and nothing left to lose. If we push him, he'll push back, and the Earth Kingdom won't send reinforcements in time to save us."
Mariko's lips pressed into a thin line. "Then we remind him what the Earth Kingdom offers. Stability. Trade. Protection."
"Protection?" Keru barked a laugh. "Where was that protection when the pirates burned his docks? Where was the Earth Kingdom when his messengers were slaughtered on the road?"
"You're defending him now?"
"I'm being realistic!" Keru dragged a hand through his hair. "You want to win? Then stop acting like a princess and start thinking like a diplomat. Jian Ye doesn't care about your title. He cares about results."
Mariko's eyes flashed. "And what would you know about diplomacy, Lieutenant? Last I checked, your job was to follow orders, not give them."
The room went dead silent.
Keru's face darkened. "Fine," he said, standing abruptly. "Let's go. Let's march into that palace and let you remind Jian Ye exactly who he's dealing with. Maybe he'll throw us in the dungeon instead of the gallows. A kindness."
He turned for the door.
Rilo spoke for the first time. "Sit down."
Keru froze.
"You're both right," Rilo said, picking at a bun. "And you're both idiots."
Yogan grinned. "Oh, this'll be good."
Rilo ignored him. "Mariko's right, you let one lord spit on the crown, others will follow. Sets a bad precedent but on the other hand Keru's right, you can't bully a man who's already lost everything." He shrugged. "So stop yelling and start thinking."
Mariko crossed her arms. "And what do you suggest?"
"We play his game," Rilo said. "But we cheat."
Keru's brow furrowed. "Meaning?"
"Meaning we let Mariko be the princess. And we let you be the soldier." Rilo's smile was razor-thin. "But we don't let Jian Ye forget who saved his city yesterday."
A slow understanding dawned in Keru's eyes.
Mariko hesitated. "You're saying we remind him he needs us."
"I'm saying we walk in there like we own the place," Rilo corrected. "Because right now, we do."
Yogan raised his cup. "To cheating."
Kenshiro clinked his against it. "And owning things."
Haru sighed. "We're all going to die."
The table fell into a charged silence after Rilo's words, the weight of strategy settling over them like a fog. Steam curled from forgotten teacups. Kenshiro poked at the last bun, uncharacteristically quiet. Even Haru had stopped scowling, his fingers drumming an uneven rhythm against the wood.
Then Yogan leaned back, his chair creaking.
"You're both scared," he said, voice light but eyes sharp. "Just of different things."
Mariko's jaw tightened. "I'm not scared…"
"Yeah, you are." Yogan swirled his tea, watching the leaves settle. "You're scared that if Shuihan walks away, it proves your father was right. That you're just a spoiled princess playing diplomat."
A muscle twitched in Mariko's cheek.
Keru opened his mouth, but Yogan cut him off with a glance.
"And you?" He tilted his head. "You're scared that no matter how hard you try, the Zhen Earth Kingdom will always be too slow, too arrogant, too late to save the people you're sworn to protect."
Keru's hands stilled.
"But here's the funny part," Yogan continued, setting his cup down with a soft click. "As Rilo mentioned, you're both right. And you're both wrong."
Rilo snorted. "Airbender wisdom. How enlightening."
"Shut up, Rilo," Yogan said cheerfully. "You're scared too. You're just better at hiding it."
Rilo's smirk faded.
Yogan stretched, arms behind his head. "Mariko thinks respect is something you demand. Keru thinks it's something you earn. But Jian Ye? He thinks it's something you take." He nodded toward the window, where the distant spires of the lord's estate gleamed in the morning light. "And right now, he's got a city full of people who'll follow him straight off a cliff if he tells them the Zhen Earth Kingdom pushed them."
Haru frowned. "So what's the solution? Surrender?"
"No," Yogan said. "You remind them why they need you."
Mariko's brows drew together. "How?"
"By not doing what Rilo suggested but be what the Zhen Earth Kingdom hasn't been." Yogan's voice lost its playful edge. "Present. Useful."
Keru exhaled slowly. "You're saying we offer aid. Not promises."
"I'm saying you stop arguing about banners and start acting like people who give a damn." Yogan shrugged. "But what do I know?"
Kenshiro burst out laughing. "Modest, aren't you?"
"Always."
Mariko studied Yogan for a long moment. Something unreadable flickered in her gaze, respect, maybe, or the dawning realization that the airbender saw more than he let on.
"Fine," she said at last, pushing back from the table. "We'll do it your way."
Keru stood, rolling his shoulders like a soldier preparing for battle. "Then let's go. Before Jian Ye changes his mind."
Rilo smirked. "About time."
As they filed out of the inn, Yogan lingered for a heartbeat, his gaze drifting to the horizon.
"Hey," Kenshiro called from the doorway. "You coming or what?"
Yogan grinned. "Wouldn't miss it."
And with that, he followed them into the morning, toward a reckoning none of them were truly ready for.
---
The gates of Lord Jian Ye's estate stood open, flanked by two rows of guards in polished armor, their spears raised in salute. The courtyard beyond was a sea of color, silk banners rippling in the breeze, petals strewn across the stone path, and the low hum of a reed flute weaving through the murmur of gathered officials.
At the center of it all, standing atop the palace steps, was Jian Ye himself.
He was taller than Mariko remembered, his broad shoulders draped in robes of deep emerald and gold, his beard neatly trimmed, his expression unreadable. But it was his eyes that struck her, sharp as flint, calculating.
And they were fixed on Rilo.
"Rilo of the Southern Water Tribes," Jian Ye announced, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "Shuihan owes you a debt."
A hush fell over the crowd.
Rilo, to his credit, didn't flinch. He stood with his arms crossed, his stance loose but ready, as if expecting a trap. "Didn't do it for you."
A murmur ran through the officials. One of the guards stiffened.
Jian Ye's lips twitched, not quite a smile. "No. You did it for the people on those docks. Which is why the debt stands." He raised a hand, and a servant hurried forward, bearing a lacquered box. Inside, nestled on crimson silk, was a dagger, its blade curved like a crescent moon, its hilt inlaid with mother-of-pearl.
"The Tide-Cutter," Jian Ye said. "Forged by our finest smiths. A token of gratitude."
Rilo eyed the weapon. "I've got knives."
"Not like this one." Jian Ye's gaze didn't waver. "It's said the edge can part water. A fitting gift for the man who froze an entire wave."
A beat. Then Rilo reached out and took the dagger, testing its weight. "Huh."
The crowd exhaled. The tension eased, just slightly.
Jian Ye's attention shifted to the rest of the group. "Princess Mariko. Lieutenant Keru. Welcome back." His tone was polite, but the edge beneath was unmistakable. "I trust you've reconsidered your approach?"
Mariko lifted her chin. "We're here to talk. Properly this time."
"Good." Jian Ye's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Then let us feast first. Business can wait."
He turned, his robes sweeping behind him, and the crowd parted like a tide.
Keru leaned toward Mariko, his voice low. "This isn't gratitude. It's a show."
Mariko nodded. "For the people. They see their lord honoring a hero, while the Zhen Earth Kingdom watches from the sidelines."
At her side, Yogan whistled softly. "Smart. Makes us look like guests instead of opponents."
Kenshiro grinned. "Or like hostages."
Haru elbowed him. "Shut up."
The great hall was a spectacle of opulence, long tables laden with roasted duck, spiced crab, towers of fruit glistening with honey. Wine flowed freely, and the air was thick with the scent of sandalwood and salt.
Rilo was seated at Jian Ye's right hand, the place of honor. The lord's generals and advisors filled the rest of the high table, their eyes sharp with curiosity.
Mariko and Keru were placed farther down, flanked by guards who were just a little too attentive.
Yogan, ever observant, nudged Kenshiro. "Notice how none of them are drinking?"
Kenshiro glanced at the cups in front of the officials, all full, untouched. "Poison?"
"Or a test."
At the high table, Jian Ye raised his cup. "To Rilo. May his strength never waver."
The hall echoed the toast. Rilo didn't drink.
Jian Ye arched a brow. "Not thirsty?"
"Not stupid," Rilo said flatly.
A ripple of laughter, nervous, forced, spread through the room. Jian Ye's smile tightened, but he didn't press.
As the feast wore on, Jian Ye leaned toward Rilo, his voice dropping so only those closest could hear.
"You've seen the state of things," he murmured. "The Earth Kingdom takes, but it doesn't give. Shuihan could use a man like you."
Rilo tore a piece of bread with his teeth. "Not interested."
"Not even if I told you a certain fellow by the name of Kezin was spotted near our borders?"
Rilo went very still.
Jian Ye's smile was razor-thin. "Thought that might get your attention."
Mariko, sensing the shift, tensed. "Something's happening."
Before Keru could respond, the great doors at the end of the hall swung open.
Gan Ye stepped inside, his armor gleaming, his face grim.
"Father," he said. "It's time."
Jian Ye rose, his cup raised once more. "To new beginnings."
And with that, the guards at the doors moved, not toward the group, but to block the exits.
The feast was over.
The real negotiation was about to begin.
The moment the doors slammed shut, Mariko was on her feet.
Her chair screeched against the marble floor, cutting through the murmurs of the court like a blade. Every eye snapped to her, Jian Ye's advisors stiffened, the guards' hands drifted toward their weapons, and Gan Ye, standing at the threshold, let out a barely audible sigh.
"Enough."
Her voice didn't rise. It didn't need to.
Jian Ye turned slowly, his cup still raised. "Princess Mariko. Did you not enjoy the hospitality?"
"I've seen better performances at peasant puppet shows," she said, stepping forward. The guards moved to block her path, then hesitated when Keru rose beside her, his fingers twirled a little.
Mariko didn't stop. "You want to declare independence? Fine. But do it like a lord, not a bandit laying ambush."
A shocked inhale swept the room.
Jian Ye's smile hardened. "And how would you have me do it, Princess? With a politely worded letter to your father? A ribbon-cutting ceremony?"
"With honor," she shot back. "You parade Rilo as your hero while you bar the doors like a thief in the night. What does that tell your people? That Shuihan's strength is just borrowed steel?"
Rilo, still seated at the high table, snorted into his wine.
Gan Ye stepped forward, hands raised in mock placation. "Father. Perhaps we should…"
"Stay out of this," Jian Ye snapped.
"Ah, but I can't." Gan Ye's tone was light, but his eyes were sharp. "You see, the Princess raises a fair point. If we're to be an independent city-state, we'll need trade partners. Burning every bridge with the Zhen Earth Kingdom leaves us open to other Earth Kingdoms. Which to me seems… shortsighted."
Jian Ye's grip tightened on his cup. "You forget yourself."
"No," Gan Ye said, smiling. "I'm reminding you of reality."
Mariko studied him, the way he stood slightly apart from his father, the deliberate looseness of his posture. He's playing both sides.
She seized the opening. "Gan Ye's right. You want freedom? Then act like you can afford it. Close your ports to the Earth Kingdom, and who will fill your granaries when the pirates return? The Water Tribes?" She scoffed. "Or will you beg the Earth King for scraps when winter comes?"
Jian Ye's face darkened. "You overestimate your leverage."
"And you underestimate mine." Mariko pulled a scroll from her sleeve, the same one Jian Ye had rejected the day before. "This isn't a demand. It's an offer. Reduced tariffs for five years. Military aid against coastal raiders. All in exchange for one thing."
A beat.
"What?" Jian Ye bit out.
"Your signature." She tossed the scroll onto the table. "On a treaty. Not surrender."
For a long moment, no one moved.
Then Gan Ye laughed, a bright, startled sound. "Well. That's one way to do it."
Jian Ye's glare could have melted stone. "You find this amusing?"
"I find it bold," Gan Ye corrected, strolling forward to pick up the scroll. "And boldness is what Shuihan respects." He skimmed the text, then glanced at Mariko. "You'd really give us this?"
"If it keeps the peace? Yes."
Jian Ye snatched the scroll from his son's hands. "This is a trick. The King would never do this. You don't even have permission for it."
"The King isn't here," Mariko interrupted. "I am. I don't need his permission to get the job done the way he trusted me to do it."
Silence.
Rilo leaned back in his chair, arms crossed. "Damn. Didn't know you had that in you, Princess."
Keru's lips twitched.
Gan Ye clapped his hands together. "Well! Since we're all being so reasonable today…" He ignored his father's murderous look. "…why don't we adjourn to the council chamber? Discuss this like civilized people?"
Jian Ye exhaled through his nose. "Get out."
"Gladly." Gan Ye gestured grandly toward the door. "Princess? Your escort awaits."
Mariko didn't move. "The scroll stays."
Jian Ye's jaw worked. Then, with a sharp jerk of his chin, he dismissed the guards.
The doors creaked open.
As the group filed out, Gan Ye fell into step beside Mariko. "That," he murmured, "was either the stupidest or bravest thing I've ever seen."
She didn't look at him. "Tell me when you decide which."
Behind them, Jian Ye's voice carried like a whip crack. "Gan Ye. Now."
Gan Ye sighed. "Duty calls." He bowed, ever the dutiful son, but his smirk lingered. "Try not to start a war before breakfast."
And with that, he was gone.
---
The audience chamber was colder than before. Gone were the silks and music of the feast, only stone, steel, and silence remained. Guards lined the walls, impassive and unmoving. Every step Mariko took echoed like a drumbeat against the floor.
They were all there, Mariko, Keru, Yogan, Rilo, Haru, Kenshiro. Even Gan Ye stood near the throne dais, his jaw set, arms folded as if bracing for a storm.
And at the center, seated beneath the Shuihan banner, was Jian Ye. His armor glinted under the lanternlight, the gold accents of his pauldrons dulled by shadow. A scroll lay open in his lap, the same treaty Mariko had offered.
He didn't look at It.
He looked at her.
"You asked for a decision," he said, voice like gravel sliding down stone. "So here it is."
A breathless hush fell over the room.
"I refuse."
Gan Ye flinched as if struck. "Father…"
Jian Ye silenced him with a glance. "You begged for diplomacy. You stood here and made promises, waved scrolls, offered aid. But where was your kingdom when we needed it? Where was your king when pirates turned our waters red?"
Mariko stepped forward. "We're here now. That must count for something."
"It counts for too little, too late," Jian Ye said coldly. "Shuihan is no longer part of the Zhen Earth Kingdom. As of this moment, we declare ourselves an independent city-state. Free from Zhen law, free from the Kingdom shackles. We will chart our own path."
Keru's face paled. Haru cursed under his breath.
"No," Mariko whispered. "You can't…"
"I can. And I have." Jian Ye stood. The sound of his armor rising sent a ripple through the room. "The council has been informed. Couriers will ride by dusk. The King will hear of this from my hand, not yours. Shuihan will not be bartered away like cattle."
Gan Ye took a step forward. "Father, please. If you do this…"
"Enough." Jian Ye's voice cracked like thunder. "You've brought enough shame already."
His gaze swept over the room, then settled on Mariko and Keru.
"You are no longer welcome in Shuihan," he said. "Your titles, your privileges, revoked. You will leave this city by tomorrow's end, or be escorted to the border in chains."
Silence. Then the slow clatter of bootsteps, Jian Ye's guards stepping forward on either side.
Gan Ye turned, desperation plain in his voice. "Father, don't, please, listen to them. Listen to reason…"
Jian Ye raised his hand. The guards halted. "My decision is made."
Mariko's hands clenched at her sides. She wanted to scream. She wanted to fight. But something in Jian Ye's eyes stopped her. A hardness deeper than politics, older than pride.
Pain.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
Jian Ye didn't respond. He turned his back on them and walked toward the stairs behind the throne.
"Escort them out," he ordered.
Gan Ye reached for him, voice cracking. "Father…"
But Jian Ye didn't turn around.
As the guards moved in, Keru put a hand on Mariko's shoulder.
"We'll leave," he said. "But this isn't over."
And with a final look at the city they had tried, and failed, to save, they turned and walked out of the hall.
The heavy doors of the audience chamber thudded shut behind them.
Mariko didn't flinch at the sound—but her fists remained clenched at her sides, knuckles white. The guards escorting her and Keru said nothing, their armor clinking with each measured step as they led the exiles down the grand corridor.
Behind them, footsteps echoed softer, Rilo, Yogan, Kenshiro, and Haru trailing a few paces behind. No one had said anything since the dismissal. Not even Moi, who usually couldn't resist a grumble.
Then Gan Ye's voice cut through the silence from behind.
"I'll try to speak with him," he said, not moving from the chamber doors. "Maybe… maybe there's still room to shift this. Don't wait for me."
He met Mariko's eyes briefly. "I'll find you all later."
Mariko nodded once, stiffly, before turning away.
The guards peeled off as they reached the outer threshold, nodding as a signal they were no longer obliged to follow. Keru exhaled sharply as they stepped into the daylight flooding the hallway.
"Well," he muttered, "that could've gone better."
Mariko didn't respond.
"I mean," Keru added, "he didn't order us executed. So technically, that's a win?"
"That's not funny," Haru said, arms folded.
"It wasn't a joke."
Kenshiro rubbed his temples. "Can we not have a philosophical breakdown in the palace corridor? I haven't eaten since sunrise, and I'm still leaking seawater from places I didn't know I had."
"We were just exiled," Mariko said flatly, stopping mid-stride and turning to face them all. "From one of the last bastions of Earth Kingdoms's diplomacy in the southern territories. I think I'm allowed to be slightly upset."
"Just slightly?" Rilo murmured.
Mariko gave him a withering look. Rilo raised both hands in mock surrender.
Yogan, who'd been unusually quiet, glanced at her with a soft sigh. "You did what you could. Jian Ye already made his mind up before we even walked in."
"He didn't have to exile us," she said, voice lower now. "He could've just refused the offer."
Kenshiro nodded. "True. But city lords and pride? That stuff doesn't run on logic. It runs on wounds and politics."
There was a pause.
Keru rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, so… what now? We just walk out of the palace and stare at each other?"
Kenshiro's lips twitched into a grin. "We go back to the inn. Order the strongest thing that doesn't taste like burnt seaweed. Sit on crooked stools. And complain like tired mercenaries."
"Drinks?" Haru asked. "That's your brilliant plan?"
"It's not a plan, it's coping."
"I'd prefer a fight," Keru muttered.
"You always do," Haru said.
"Because fights don't pretend to make things better."
Rilo smirked faintly. "Drinks it is, then. A round of cheap ale and bad decisions."
"Fine," Mariko sighed. "But I'm not drinking anything orange. I learned that lesson once in Yingshao."
"Orange?" Keru blinked. "What kind of drink is orange?"
"A mistake," she replied.
Yogan chuckled softly, then started walking again. "Inn it is."
The group shuffled out of the palace corridors, their shoulders just a little heavier, their steps dragging with a mix of defeat and reluctant camaraderie. Outside, the city bustled, unaware that history had just shifted behind gilded doors.
And somewhere beneath the weariness, the shared sting of exile stitched them closer than any battle could.
***
The morning sun climbed slowly over the ridgelines of Shuihan, casting pale-gold light across tiled rooftops still slick with dew. Beyond the city walls, the mist clung to the riverbanks like a lingering breath, not quite ready to leave. Vendors were beginning to stir, their carts creaking along stone paths, while the calls of early hawkers floated lazily through alleyways like songbirds half asleep.
Inside the old inn near the market square, sunlight slanted through the warped windows, catching on dust motes and casting a warm haze over the long table near the back. The room still smelled faintly of spilt ale, old wood, and last night's regrets. A wobbly fan creaked above them, doing little more than redistributing the shared suffering.
Rilo sat slouched in a chair, his head cradled in one hand while the other hovered motionless over a bowl of congee he had yet to touch. His hair, which usually draped in controlled waves, was a wiry nest of salt and sleep. His eyes were half-lidded, betraying a man who had declared war on liquor and lost spectacularly.
Across from him, Kenshiro sat with his chin resting on the table edge, chewing dry toast like it personally wronged him. He'd removed his tunic at some point during the night, where it ended up remained a mystery, and now wore only his undershirt, crumpled and stained by something orange that none of them dared ask about.
Haru slumped beside him, silently nursing a steaming mug of ginger tea with both hands like it contained divine secrets. Every few seconds, he grimaced as if the mere act of existing was offensive.
Yogan looked oddly chipper by comparison, though the faint squint in his eyes betrayed an internal migraine playing drums behind his temples. He spooned rice into his mouth with mechanical precision, like a monk reenacting breakfast from memory.
And Keru, poor Keru, was flat on his back on the bench, an empty cup resting on his chest like a tiny tombstone. He groaned, long and low, as if each breath had to pass through layers of shame.
Rilo exhaled. "Someone poisoned me last night."
"That's what alcohol is, genius," Haru muttered.
"No, this was targeted. I swear my bones are sweating. Spirits help me, my ribs are trying to crawl out of my skin."
"I think you challenged the bartender to a duel," Yogan added, voice calm as ever. "She wasn't impressed."
"I complimented her," Rilo groaned.
"You said her sake had 'all the subtlety of a shovel to the teeth,'" Kenshiro offered from the table edge. "She said that's exactly how her grandmother taught her to brew it."
"I stand by my words," Rilo whispered, pressing his forehead to the cool table. "The shovel won."
Keru wheezed from the bench. "Someone tell the innkeeper to kill me."
"Nope," Haru said, sipping his tea. "You have to live with what you did."
"What did I do?"
Yogan smirked faintly. "You tried to climb onto the kitchen counter to 'become one with the noodles.'"
Rilo let out a weak laugh. "I thought that was Kenshiro."
"I tried to join him," Kenshiro muttered.
Rilo sat up slowly, grimacing as if the motion cracked something inside him. "Okay. But we all agree this inn is cursed, right? Because everything hurts. My spleen is arguing with my liver. My toes feel judgmental."
Yogan poked at a fried dumpling. "I warned you not to order the purple one."
"Why was it purple?" Haru asked, more to himself than anyone else.
"No one knows," Yogan said. "Some say the chef was weeping when he made it."
"And we ate it anyway," Keru sighed. "Like fools."
Silence hovered as they each attempted to continue chewing, sipping, or breathing.
Then Kenshiro blinked and looked around. "Where's Mariko?"
Everyone paused.
Rilo squinted toward the stairs. "Did she come back with us last night? I don't remember."
"She did," Yogan said, wiping his mouth. "She was singing about moons and broken treaties."
"Right," Haru said slowly. "And then she climbed onto the table."
"I remember that part," Rilo murmured. "She did some kind of... interpretive dance? With a serving tray?"
"That wasn't a dance," Keru mumbled from the bench. "That was a threat to rhythm itself."
Kenshiro grunted. "She sang three verses of a song that doesn't exist. I'm still not sure if she made it up or if it was summoned from the Spirit World."
"She has a singing voice like a sick sky bison," Rilo added helpfully.
Keru groaned. "That's insulting to the sky bison."
Yogan raised a hand solemnly. "I still hear it. In my dreams."
They all paused, eyes distant, as if remembering some shared trauma.
"She's on the rooftop," Keru finally said, dragging himself upright. "Went up there just before sunrise. Said she needed to... 'feel the wind and dance the sorrow away.'"
Kenshiro blinked. "Is that poetic or just drunk?"
"With her, it's both," Keru said.
"I hope she doesn't fall," Haru muttered. "Not out of worry, just… she might take a chimney down with her."
"You know what scares me most?" Yogan asked quietly, sipping his broth. "That she danced better drunk than I do sober."
"Don't admit that," Rilo said. "We'll lose respect for you."
"You barely respect me as it is."
"We're trying," Haru offered flatly.
Kenshiro finally sat up straight, brushing crumbs from his face. "Alright. So we agree: nobody drinks whatever that purple thing was again. We give the bartender a formal apology, or bribe, and we make sure Mariko doesn't leap into the street shouting about national independence."
Keru rubbed his temples. "Too late. She already shouted 'Vive Shuihan!' at sunrise."
"Oh Spirits," Rilo said, slumping again.
Kenshiro sighed and gestured at the table. "Eat what you can. Then someone go drag the revolutionary diva off the roof before she starts a rebellion with bad choreography."
---
The morning air was cool, at first.
Mariko lay on her back atop the flat stone rooftop of the inn, a crooked pillow of bundled straw beneath her neck, her eyes squinting up at the pale blue sky. She groaned, an ugly sound somewhere between a whimper and a curse. Her head throbbed. Her throat was dry as parchment. And her limbs felt like they'd been run over by a cabbage cart.
She dragged one arm across her forehead, blocking the sun as it crested the eastern ridge. The golden light was sharp, judgmental, and far too alive for her current state.
"Ughh... spirits help me," she muttered. "Why did I think plum wine was a good idea?"
The breeze whispered softly across the tiled rooftop, ruffling her loose hair and cooling the sweat at her temples. She would've appreciated it more if it didn't make her feel like she was being gently peeled by a ghost.
"My bones are dry," she complained to no one. "My mouth is dry. My soul is dry. Is this what death feels like? I smell like regret and vinegar."
She tilted her head slightly, squinting at the spreading sky, the quiet hum of the city beginning to rise beneath her. Rooftops stretched out in terracotta hues, smoke curling from distant kitchens. It was peaceful. Beautiful, even.
And unbearable.
That sun, that cruel, merciless star, was climbing higher, pouring light into her face like a punishment. She groaned again, flinging her arm across her eyes.
"This was supposed to be my moment," she whispered bitterly. "My last chance to prove to Father I'm more than a political dowry in a silk dress."
Her voice was hoarse now, bitter with something deeper than wine.
"I wanted him to see me. Not the role. Not the crown. Me. Mariko. The woman who bled for diplomacy. Who learned five languages, rode warhorses, endured dull courtship banquets from stone-faced noble sons. I gave everything just to stand in that chamber."
Her jaw tightened. "And now... it's all gone."
She let her hand fall against the tile.
"He'll marry me off the moment I get back. Some sniveling princeling from Xuhai or Da'en, and I'll smile and pretend I'm grateful while he uses my name to stabilize some border treaty."
She sat up, groaning again as the movement nearly knocked her vision sideways.
"Spirits, I'm going to vomit in someone's laundry."
Then…
A voice. Calm. Unhurried. Yet sharp enough to freeze the blood in her veins.
"Well... things aren't going so good for you, are they, Princess?"
Her breath caught.
She spun on instinct, staggered to her feet, one hand reaching behind her for the knife tucked into her sash, a habit from travel, not court life.
On the far edge of the rooftop, just beside the raised lip of stone, stood a figure.
Wrapped in dark robes.
A hood shadowed his face, but even at this distance, she could feel him watching her. Measuring her. His height was barely taller than hers, and he stood utterly still, too still. Like a silhouette painted onto reality.
"Who are you?" she demanded, voice cracking.
The hood tilted just slightly.
"Who I am doesn't matter, Princess."
The voice was smooth. Almost polite. But beneath it, something coiled and cold slithered.
"What matters... is that I've been hired to take your life."
Her heart stopped.
A chill rolled down her spine, her mouth drying in an instant. The blood in her legs turned to smoke. Her lips parted to scream, but no sound came. Just a flicker of horror as her mind caught up to the words.
Before she could react, the figure vanished.
Just, gone. No puff of smoke. No bending. One moment there, the next, a blur at the edge of her vision.
Her instincts screamed. She twisted to her right, and saw it.
A shimmer of light in the air. A flash, silver and sudden, arcing toward her neck.
Too fast.
But then…
CLANG!
A burst of sparks exploded in front of her as steel met steel. The blinding flash forced her eyes shut.
When she opened them again, she saw…
"Gan Ye?!"
He was standing between her and the assassin, arm raised high, sword locked against the attacker's curved blade. His feet skidded back on the tile, bracing under the force of the impact.
Gan Ye's face was tight with strain, eyes burning with focus.
"Stay out of this, boy," the hooded figure said.
He pushed forward. Hard. Gan Ye's boots scraped against the stone as he staggered back two steps.
But he didn't fall.
Instead, with a quick breath and his free hand, he slammed his palm against the rooftop tile beside him. A slab of earth rose up behind the assassin, fast and sharp, aimed like a hammer at the enemy's back.
But the hooded figure didn't even glance.
With his off-hand, he reached beneath his cloak and drew a second weapon, another sword, identical in curve to the first.
Both blades were wicked, ivory-colored with an unnatural gleam, shaped not like sabers or katanas, but like elephant tusks, each one gently curved inward with sharp, hooking ends. Elegant. Deadly. The kind of shape meant to pierce and drag. Assassin's weapons. Not meant for defense.
With a flick of his wrist, the second blade shattered the stone tile mid-flight, splintering it into dust and shards without so much as a grunt.
"I am warning you, boy," the assassin said again, stepping forward with both swords now glinting like fangs in the morning light. "Leave."
Gan Ye didn't flinch. He tightened his grip on his sword and shifted into a low stance, the polished steel now shaking in his hand from the earlier blow.
"Mariko," he said, eyes never leaving the enemy. "I think you better find your friends."
The edge of his voice was calm, but beneath it, a tension was rising.
A promise of blood.
Mariko stood frozen for half a second more, still gasping, her hand hovering near her own blade, unsure whether to draw it or scream.
Then she turned and ran.
Behind her, Gan Ye took one last breath, and lunged.
[AUTHOR'S NOTE: As some of you may have noticed there is a sort of back and forth between the Zhen Earth Kingdom and just the Earth Kingdom. As we all know, the story takes places a very long time ago and the four nations haven't been established as we know it. There is only one air temple so far, as many of you may have noticed there are a lot of earth kingdoms and not a single whole earth kingdom we have later on. The water tribes are only in the south and there is northern water tribe. As for the fire nation, there is a reason I haven't introduced them yet in the story. Part of the reason why there haven't been any fire benders too besides obviously Mun Lao. Any way I hope this can explain some things to you guys. If you have additional questions about it please feel free. Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]