Admiral Chan. A stern soldier and not the world's greatest father. Approximately one week after Commodore Chan's departure to visit the dragons.
The commander of the Eastern Fleet sat in his office reading reports.
His son had disappeared yet again without providing much warning. Though such behavior had become routine by now, it still caused him concern. Sometimes—very, very rarely—the officer even regretted that the boy had finally gotten his act together and transformed from a wastrel into a promising warrior.
At first, the admiral had been overjoyed.
Chan Senior harbored no illusions about the role he had played in shaping his son's character and personality. First came his wife's death. Then the retirement of his predecessor and the urgent need to familiarize himself with his new responsibilities in the fleet. For the first eight years or so, he simply had no time for his child.
After that...
After that, he'd simply grown accustomed to the arrangement and pushed all responsibility for raising his heir onto the servants.
By the time he realized that this could lead nowhere good, it was already too late.
The changes in Chan Junior's character around his fifteenth birthday had seemed like a gift from the Spirits themselves. But the consequences of those changes… As a soldier, he was proud of such a worthy representative of his family. As a father, however, receiving report after report detailing the Herald's latest engagements against superior enemy forces filled him with fear for his son's life.
So far, the boy had always managed to emerge unscathed, but how long would his luck possibly hold?
And then there was the matter of his heir's personality…
No, Chan had proven himself a serious and responsible young man, but certain tendencies from his wastrel days still lingered.
Just where had he gotten that from?
Never mind his fondness for female attention. The admiral himself was hardly innocent in that regard. Xiu and Laniing, Lintao's daughters, were far more than mere servants—they were also his concubines.
But a dozen women?
And Kyoshi Warriors, no less?
Worse still, their leader, that Suki girl, seemed to have rather ambitious plans regarding his son, despite the vast disparity in their stations! Being a concubine was one thing. Perfectly acceptable. But she clearly wanted more. The daughter of a fisherman from some forgotten island at the edge of the world and the son of an admiral?
Chan Senior let out a deep sigh and took a sip of tea.
And his son seemed completely oblivious to it! Some of the finest maidens in the Fire Nation were practically being offered to him. Better yet, with another dozen or two negotiations, a few agreements, and a couple months of effort, he could have been assigned—admittedly with some assistance from the admiral himself—to accompany Princess Azula herself. And then he might have had a chance!
Though...
Given the crown princess's reputation, serving as her escort was unlikely to be any easier than hunting pirates and Earth Kingdom warships.
As for Chan Junior's supposed obliviousness, the admiral had begun to harbor doubts.
During their time ashore, he had noticed that Toph Beifong followed the Herald around as though tethered to him. She was constantly talking to him, arguing with him, laughing with him.
Yes, she was still very young and would not come of age for another two or three years. But she was also the sole heir of Lao Beifong—a man whose wealth could rival that of the Fire Lord himself.
The war might alter that reality, of course. But probably not by much. After making a few inquiries, the admiral had easily learned that the merchant already maintained considerable trade with the colonies in the Earth Kingdom. More recently, his representative—who had found himself in the Fire Nation Archipelago, not without Chan's assistance, incidentally—had concluded several direct-supply contracts that promised to make the merchant even wealthier.
"And what do you think, Falco?" the admiral asked his hawk, who was currently occupied with a Matter of Great Importance—preening his feathers. "Even if it's only a ghost of a chance, becoming related to the Fire Lord's family is an awfully tempting prospect. On the other hand, there's the far more realistic possibility of joining forces with the largest merchant house in the world. Ah, why can't a man have both and take everything?"
"Kurrr? Kurr!" replied the hawk. The problems of these foolish two-legged creatures, incapable of even taking to the air, were beneath his tail feathers. Besides, what was there to think about? "Kurk!"
"You think so? And just how do you imagine that working?" The admiral shook his head. "Chan turned out to be a much craftier boy than anyone expected, but pulling that off would require twisting harder than a snake on a griddle."
The hawk offered no reaction to the remark. His opinion had already been given. Whatever nonsense these wingless creatures came up with afterward was hardly his concern.
"Fine. First things first—I'll have a talk with the warrior commander."
Not seeing any reason to delay, the commander of the Eastern Fleet set out to conduct a "heart-to-heart conversation" with the young woman. He knew that she had been sharing a room with his son, a fact that already irritated him due to its blatant disregard for proper traditions. Reaching the appropriate chamber, he did not bother knocking before entering.
What he found inside, however, was nothing he could ever have anticipated.
The room was rather crowded despite its respectable size. After all, the quarters had never been intended to accommodate a dozen young women. Yet that was not what stunned the admiral.
It was the oppressive gloom hanging over everyone present.
Young Beifong sat quietly in a corner with her back against the wall. Two of the warriors were openly weeping in each other's arms. And the person he had come to lecture sat motionless, staring blankly at a scroll in her hands.
Tears streamed down her cheeks.
"What is going on here?" the admiral demanded of the Kyoshi Warriors' leader, who seemed trapped in a daze.
She raised her eyes to him and silently extended the scroll.
Gripped by a sudden sense of dread, the admiral began reading the lines written in his son's hand. If there was one thing he could recognize anywhere and under any circumstances, it was Chan's handwriting. After all the reports that had crossed his desk, it was impossible to mistake.
(End of Chapter)
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