Prologue

//New author present. First time writing anything substantial so I figured I'd give it a go at a fanfic first and make my way into an actual novel. The main character will be someone I'll use layering an actual novel should you guys find him interesting enough.

I'll be posting one chapter a day and another over on P@treon. Link to that P@treon will be at the end of this chapter and at the end of every fifth chapter.

Hope you enjoy.

I'm also really bad a t starting so do bare with this awful first chapter. It's in no way indicative of future chapters.

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He honestly thought he had died. Though it was completely fair for him to think so.

There wasn't too many ways that one was surviving a point blank magic attack, an unknown spell brought into existence from a few hundred elves. No matter what way you looked at it, Cinq should have kicked the proverbial bucket, his life ended by the very war he himself had initiated.

It almost made him feel afraid when he first opened his eyes.

Death was something he could deal with, or rather it was the absence of any immediate problems or even existing that he could deal with.

What he wasn't prepared to tackle was the biting cold that was encompassing his entire frame, a freezing temperature that was akin to a sharp burn. He wasn't prepared to deal with the lack of familiarity to his nearest surroundings, the battlements and clashes of war being replaced with a gray steel floor. He definitely wasn't prepared for the group of red armored individuals standing around him when he eventually heaved himself into a crouching position. There were around half a dozen men, five of which were garbed in black and red armor, the only exception being a kindly looking older gentleman in mid to late 50s donning a reddish brown tunic.

Spears were drawn and held close to his throat, preventing Cinq from making any sudden movements aside from shifting his weight every so often.

(("Where...am I?")) The white haired youth questioned, completely disregarding the sharp instruments hovering around his jugular.

From his squated stance on the icy steel, Cinq took in his surroundings, blue hues flicking from ground to sky, surveying the land.

He was at sea, that much was noted right from the jump, the vast blue expanse dotted with large chunks of ice being a clear giveaway. He could hear the sloshing of the waves against the sides of the boat as it cut through the water, feel the rocking of the boat as it shoved aside sizeable pieces of frozen liquid. The cold air nipped at his nose, the smell of salt thick in every single breath Cinq took, giving off an almost fishy smell that lingered far longer than he would've liked. The sky above was almost cloudless, allowing the suns rays to illuminate everything beneath its fiery gaze, even giving a slight warm up to the youths soaking wet frame.

"I'm wet," Cinq noted aloud, touching his black poncho with the tips of his fingers.

"Yes. Because we pulled you out of the water."

Tensing up slightly, his hand shooting towards the left side of his lower hip, Cinq turned towards the person who had spoken up.

Clak. Clak. Clak.

The sturdy footsteps seemed to resonate around the area as the speaker approached, steps that could almost be counted as stomping with how fierce and heavy each one was. Though the person themselves didn't seem to be too menacing, only standing at around a solid 167cm, the way they carried themselves gave off an aura of unyielding command and hostility. Face twisted into a seemingly permanent scowl, the youth took in the new arrival with a soft curiosity, his hand unfurling from the hilt of his own dagger.

The new arrival was dressed in a similar fashion the ones holding Cinq at spear point, donning the rust colored uniform but in a slightly different way. Unlike the other men, the young man didn't have any sort of head guard, his face on full display for the world to see. Shaved head with the remaining hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, a rough looking scar covering his left eye, and light golden hues that carried various unknown emotions.

It was quite apparent who ran the ship, but that made it all the easier for Cinq to get to the bottom of things.

"Who are you? And what were doing floating in the water?"

Cinq ignored this question entirely and rose up onto his own two feet, choosing to ignore the weapons and their wielders, turning his attention the one in charge. "Are part of the White Ravens? Or perhaps another resistance altogether?"

The scarred teenager halted in his tracks, a look of confusion on his face, clearly having no clue as to what Cinq was referring to.

"Prince Zuko," The old man from earlier, the same one now pouring what appeared to be a pot of tea cut into the conversation before the scarred man could fully react. "Be patient with the young man. Let him warm up and get comfy before we start badgering him."

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There were just so many things wrong with the situation Cinq found himself in that he didn't even bother to count them all. He just knew that things were completely different from what he himself was used to.

For starters, he was at sea.

Before being zapped with what could only be acknowledged as the world's strongest spell, the white haired youth had been in the midst of a raging battlefield. Two sides exchanging blood, sweat, and tears in an effort to protect their own ways of life, risking their own skins in order to stop the other party from feeling any sort of victory. From their position within the middle of the largest kingdom in the world, the fight had taken place hundreds of kilometers away from any significant bodies of water, let alone one that was cold enough to cause frostbite and freeze over large portions of the surface.

Yet here he was, looking over the sides of a large grey sea vessel trudging through the artic waterway.

There shouldn't have been a spell in existence that could pull that off.

Teleportation spells were common and quite frequently used, but only to transport objects, not living things. The amount of power necessary to complete such a task would have required a decades worth of magic and even longer preparation.

(("A different spell then?")) Cinq pondered as he watched frozen lumps of liquid bump into the ships stern. (("One with an entirely different approach?"))

But even if he took that general line of thinking, it would only lead to more questions than it answered.

Where was he? How'd he get there onto the ship? Who were the people controlling the boat? Why was he even still alive? Was there a way to get back into the fray? A way to get back into the war?

So many questions circulated through the young man's head, his mind running through every conceivable answer and logical explanation. He was so lost in his thoughts that he completely missed when the scarred man from earlier walked up next to him, the one known as Prince Zuko. Around an hour had passed since Cinq had first awoken from his slumber and the youth had admittedly spent the last ten or so minutes just staring over the sides of the ship, mixed up in his own contemplations.

It made sense that he would be slightly startled by anyone's approach, especially after being left alone for so long.

"I don't think we ever asked you for your name," Zuko said, moving to stand next to Cinq, also looking out at the passing sea. He seemed much calmer and far less angry than when Cinq had first interacted with him.

"I don't think you did," Cinq confirmed, neither agreeing nor rejecting the prince's indirect request for a name. "Rather you mostly just held me at spear point."

"Then who are you?" Zuko asked it directly this time, a slight frustration sliding into his speech. "What were you doing in the water? How did you get there?"

Cinq just let the demanding inquiry hang on the air for a bit, still not completely certain on how to answer. Most of the questions that had been shot at him were queries that he himself had yet to figure out, leaving him unable to satisfy any of Zuko's curiosity. At the same time, he still wanted to give the Prince something to work with for the time being, at least until he himself was able to piece together what the hell was going on. He didn't want to fully lie and get called out should the lie be insufficient or lack enough data to be considered truthful but he also couldn't tell him any of the truth since he had absolutely no idea whom he was dealing with.

There was literally only one possible direction for him to take.

"My name is Cinq," the white haired teen answered, flicking his dark hues towards the scarred Prince. "Unfortunately, that's all I'm able to remember at the moment. I won't be of much help I'm afraid."

"You don't remember who you are?" Zuko asked in incredulity. "Then what about the White Ravens? Did you just make those up?"

"White Ravens?" Cinq questioned, giving a slight frowned. "What exactly is that? Some sort of animal?"

Zuko let out an angry grunt, throwing his hands towards the ground. Turning around on his heels, the young prince stomped away, leaving the boy standing where he was. Though not having said much to each other, Cinq was beginning to understand the explosive man's personality, or at least a good portion of it.

"You'll have to forgive my nephew," a kindly voice interjected, drawing Cinq's attention away from Zuko's retreating back. "He's not used to having guests aboard the ship."

The old man from before, the one who had stopped Zuko and his men from pointing sharp sticks at him, made his way forward. Still donning the same tunic from before, the man appeared quite amiable and more than a bit amused.

Standing at about 167cm with gray hair tied up In a bun at the top, the first thing Cinq took note of was the man's rather unique hairstyle. Having also seen a similar look on the overly emotional Prince, the white haired youth couldn't help but wonder how they had even gotten their hair to look like that in the first place. Unlike the unruly Zuko though, the elderly man gave off an air of warmth and kindness, a feeling that had been lost on the company Cinq usually surrounded himself with. Though, to be fair, constant warfare did little to encourage positive emotion.

Giving the man a sign of acknowledgment, the adolescent respectfully bowed as the gentleman stopped before him.

"Greetings sir. It's an honor." Cinq stood up straight once more. "I've been meaning to thank you for earlier.

"Thank me?"

"If it wasn't for you, I'd probably still be on the floor being threatened with violence."

The gray haired man waved his hand, letting out a soft scoff. "Think nothing of it. Prince Zuko might seem like a hothead but..."

"But...."

"No, he's a hothead," the man said, completely backtracking. "But he has a good heart. He wouldn't have held you like that for too long. He was just being cautious."

"Right."

"Where are my manners," the man smiled. "I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Iroh."

"My name is Cinq. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance."