Raizo looked at her. "Something wrong, Princess?"
His tone was light—too light. Like he was asking if she liked the weather.
"Maybe you could observe the bare minimum decorum and take off your mask in front of a crowned royal?" Her voice was a glacier dipped in acid.
"Oh. Right," he said sheepishly, which somehow made it worse. He pushed back his hood first, revealing typical Fire Nation hair tied into a small ponytail.
No pomp, no style—just function. Then the mask came off with a clean, practiced motion.
Beneath it?
A face that matched the rest of the upper-class rabble.
Sharp cheekbones, straight nose, symmetrical features.
Azula had grown up surrounded by people who looked similar. But his face felt different, something new.
And the eyes.
Brown.
Not black.
Subtle, but enough to register on her mental radar.
So did something else.
A flash of movement revealed a small axe hidden under his cloak.
Handcrafted.
Definitely not standard military issue.
It disappeared almost immediately, but Azula saw enough.
"What do you think?" Raizo asked, flashing her a grin that she immediately wanted to slap off his face.
"It'll do for an escort," she said coolly, brushing him off with a wave.
But deep inside… she was still burning.
Although he suited her purposes for now, Azula knew better than to trust appearances.
It would've been far worse if he had started fawning over her, putting on airs like some of the sycophants she'd encountered—even among battle-hardened veterans.
One sentence of common sense, and suddenly they were heaping her with empty compliments, either hoping to impress her or angle for a promotion. She couldn't stand people like that.
They were impossible to work with.
Then there were the opposite types—the pampered sons of noble families, forcibly shoved into ranks they hadn't earned.
At best, they might flare up with a bit of fire in a fight, but the moment true danger arose, they'd flee behind the backs of real soldiers.
Still, they strutted around, spinning tales of heroism as if they were war-hardened officers.
According to them, send just three of their kind to Ba Sing Se, and the city would fall in a month.
Of course, most people weren't so black and white.
More often, these extremes mixed together in different proportions, all trying to present the best version of themselves in front of her—Princess Azula.
Some even had the audacity to imagine a future with her. A marriage. A noble alliance.
As if she were on the hunt for a husband like every other dim-witted aristocratic girl her age.
Ridiculous. The thought of putting Azula, marriage, pregnancy, and motherhood in the same sentence made her stomach turn.
Ugh.
Her destiny was to be the greatest—to conquer the world, not to waste away like the rest of the noble class.
In that regard, Azula had far more respect for the common folk.
In their ranks, outdated gender roles had long been buried, and men and women served equally in the military—no questions asked.
"Do you know the purpose of our campaign?" she asked sharply, narrowing her eyes and locking onto her subordinate's gaze.
"Mmm… we take Ba Sing Se," Raizo replied with a casual shrug, "and if we're lucky, maybe catch the Avatar too?"
"Hm." That was all Azula said. The secondary goal was obvious, but she'd expected him to repeat the mission as it had been relayed, not offer speculation.
A proper soldier stuck to orders, not guesswork. "And I assume you have ideas on how to do that, of course?"
"Nope," he shrugged again, nonchalant.
"It's repeating," Azula noted internally. "Either he's nervous… or that's just a habit."
"Well," Raizo continued, "we'll figure something out. All I know is that Ba Sing Se's got big walls. And since we're not exactly titans, we're not about to punch straight through."
He paused for a second, then he continued. "So, we'll adapt. Maybe we'll spark a revolution—there's always some oppressed underclass waiting for an excuse—or maybe we'll quietly assassinate the king and make it look like an accident. Who knows? We'll see."
"Go give the order to set sail," Azula said, her eyes drifting toward the sea. "Then return. I want to see what you're worth in direct combat."
"As you command, Princess," Raizo replied with a faint smirk, offering a playful salute before turning toward the captain's quarters.
His expression shifted the moment his back was turned—emotionless, unreadable.
Azula narrowed her eyes as she watched him walk away.
What an… interesting specimen.
He was useful, no doubt, but something about him unsettled her.
That flippant attitude toward war.
The casual way he spoke of revolution.
That strange mention of "titans."
She'd be keeping a very close eye on him.