Iroh

The war council chamber was suffocating. Not from heat—though braziers burned along the walls—but from the weight of expectation. Every general in the Fire Nation sat in a tight circle around the central table, their armor gleaming, their faces carved from discipline and ambition. At the head sat Fire Lord Azulon. And beside him, still untested in true war, sat Prince Iroh. He kept his posture straight, his expression calm, but his eyes moved—watching, measuring, listening.