The halls of the Sword of Ruin were moody in the way only Arzayan warships ever were. Where Ozai's Fire Navy had sturdy metal plates welded together with efficiency for a vast fleet, Arzayans polished every scuffed corner, placed every golden sconce on the glossy dark walls with unnecessary precision, and filigreed or engraved every non-structural surface they could get their grubby, intricately talented hands on. Whole families of Arzayans lived and died to practice painstaking whitesmithing in Her name. From plundered gold and dotted with their own mined gemstones, each gleaming angle and perfectly smooth surface was like an offering. It would be beautiful and inspiring if Arzaya wasn't a bloodthirsty maniac, but every culture has its flaws.
Honestly, even the ventilation covers were so naturally installed within the artful construction that they didn't stand out at all.
Completely unlike the smirking girl creeping beneath them.
Not that she looked shabby—she was a head-turner, and perfectly fit to boot, but in those sacred halls her girly white skirt and bright-eyed enthusiasm were as obvious as finding a twenty-foot long mongoose lizard in your tea.
She'd been sunning herself at the fore of the Empire-class battleship only a moment ago. There was a particular spot where, with some climbing ability, one could lounge around in direct line of sight to most of the bridge. Her bare feet were ghostly quiet, at least, after she'd spotted the captain looking rather busy with several new reports, and slinked off to the restricted and well-guarded cabins of senior officers. As easy as she breathed, when she heard footsteps suddenly from just around the corner, she disappeared down an intersection, then darted past two patrolling guards without a sound at all, scarcely an inch behind them.
She'd made it. She allowed herself a happy little sigh of relief as she centered herself, and then hopped up on her tippy-toes like she was born standing that way, and reached for just the right ornamental vent, with engraved dragons chasing the freshly polished gold trim.
Sliding her slender fingers just under the tail on the right side, just like the last time, she felt about for the latch.
"Huh…" she barely whispered.
She poked her fingers against a hard surface just to be certain. Something blocked her reach that wasn't there before. Squishing her cheek against the wall, she tried to get a look, but in the dramatic moody lighting Arzayans were so fond of she couldn't really see much.
Next she pulled herself up, using what barely qualified as handholds in the decorative design like it was nothing. Nearly her own height off the ground and crouched sideways like a gravity-defying but very frustrated crab, she tried seeing if it had been put back on at a different angle, but the whole thing had some new layer of metal since the last time.
The girl dropped down. She blinked at it, and gave a pouty little look like it ought to feel bad about disappointing her.
When she stepped back, hands on her hips, and really took a good look at the grate, she now saw the almost obviously out of place dark metallic bolts punching right through the spaces between detailed dragon tails. They weren't even evenly spaced, if it could be believed. It wasn't easy to annoy Arzayans enough to make them sacrifice decorum, so she was at least a little proud of herself. There were hurt feelings and scowls still visible in the 'fuck it, just make it work' angles of the bolts. It was almost worth not being able to use that stealthy entrance again just to see such a thing.
But not quite. "Aww…" she whispered. "I'm not trying to kill him."
She unnecessarily flipped backwards, and pushed off her hands to land leaning back on her heels against the glossy black wall, arms already partially crossed in a thoughtful pose that dispelled her only seconds-long pout.
"Maybe I could distract the guards," she murmured to herself. "Or look really upset!" she cheered herself on, like that was definitely the play.
She tilted away from the wall back onto her feet via no clear mechanism, turned precisely, and nearly walked straight into Captain Shoko.
"Eep!"
Captain Shoko stood, feet apart and planted so sturdily one might have wondered if they had to build the ship around her, and with her permission. Crisp attire as always, perfect posture, not a hair out of place. Her white glove clenched and opened slowly at the ruby-tipped pommel of her jian sword. All untouched by soot and oil, but ready for a splash of red to mix with her oozing menace.
She said nothing. Her face did not change. And when the girl took a breath, daring to speak, only the faintest twitch touched one corner of Captain Shoko's mouth, like she was daring her to try and talk her way out of it.
The girl was, unfortunately, way, way out of plausible excuses to be near Lord Arza's cabin again.
"So good to see you, Captain!" she went with.
Shoko continued to stare. She wasn't going to be the one to blink. Not this time.
The white-gloved hand by her jian eased, and pulled away. Not quite grasping it.
For a moment it looked almost disappointingly normal. Shoko took a breath like perhaps she was going to lecture her. Perhaps this would become another dry, one-sided exchange about restricted access and proper conduct and why climbing through ventilation shafts was not acceptable behavior aboard the Arzayan flagship, even for privileged noble girls.
Captain Shoko lunged.
Her kick came so fast it barely looked like a kick at all, just a hard blur of polished metal and dark cloth cutting straight at the girl's forehead.
She dropped flat in an instant, sliding under it so narrowly that the wind of it stirred the loose ends of her hair. There wasn't even time to think as she sprang back up, as Shoko was already there, closing the space with two sharp jabbing punches aimed high and then midline, not wild, not angry, each one precise enough to have been measured with a ruler first, trying her damnedest to back the girl against the wall where she'd have no more room to slip away.
Indeed, the girl twisted from the first, rocked back from the second, nearly lost her footing, but caught herself with one hand on the floor so smoothly it looked like it had been the plan all along, and she bounced sideways with more grace than anyone had a right to have while being ambushed in a hallway.
Captain Shoko's next attack came down like an executioner's blade.
A high vertical kick, driving from overhead to the deck with the same brutal line Raven favored when she wanted to split fire and air with raw force.
The metal-clad heel struck sparks off the corridor floor with a vicious CLACK that rang down the black walls and gold trim.
A split-second slower, and the girl would be lucky to be standing again that week. But she came out of the roll upright, hands lifted like she was posing, and smiling so brightly and confidently it almost made the decorative dragons scoff with disbelief.
"Nice try! For a secretary!" she cheered, chased with a shot of giggle, feet near silent as she sped into the dark.
Then she was gone.
Not vanished, exactly. Just suddenly very, very fast bare feet whispering over the corridor floor as she darted away around the corner in a streak of inappropriately bright colors and musical laughter.
Captain Shoko took one step after her, and stopped. She wouldn't suffer the indignity of scrambling after an insufferable debutante.
Her shoulders rose, and fell. A long, controlled sigh escaped her pale, perfectly straight nose. Arzaya would not approve of such a murder. Centering herself, she accepted it as a test of her faith. It was always easier that way.
She turned and strode the opposite way, straight to Lord Arza's cabin door, and up to the two guards posted outside, rotated hourly. Complacency was poison, and only a constant supply of fresh blood could wash it away. The two men were new enough to still stand ramrod straight at her mere approach.
"Lady Ty Lee was unable to infiltrate the vent, but after your shift, always check that the bolts are secure," she flatly said with zero introduction. They both nodded as she quietly went on, "I'll add it to the operations orders."
Captain Shoko hated wasting time, and turned on her heel before she was actually done sometimes. This was such a case, and she turned back, straightening spines a second time.
"You will not move from this position," she said. Her voice was perfectly level. "No matter what you see. No matter what you hear."
"Yes, Captain," both men said at once.
Her gaze sharpened.
"If she gets into Lord Arza's room again, I will hold you personally accountable."
A breathless silence.
More carefully than before, "Yes, Captain."
Captain Shoko regarded them for one final second, as if weighing whether their fear was evident enough to keep them up to her high standards. Then she turned on her heel and walked off down the shining corridor, every step just a bit too crisp to be composed, at least until she made it back to her tea.