In the heart of obiaroku, our ancestral kingdom, power flowed from one generation to the next—an intense force that was difficult to control, yet impossible to abandon.
My father's journey began in the complexity of a polygamous household, where relationships were fluid and tensions simmered behind polite expressions. His lineage was firmly anchored in the rule of my grandfather, the late King, whose short reign left a lasting impact on the kingdom, defined by strict discipline, unwavering order, and a firm sense of justice.
My grandfather was a man of few words and even less compassion. He ruled with an iron hand, treating family and subjects alike without preference. His punishments were swift and often harsh, causing the people to fear his judgments as much as they revered the gods.
Beneath the palace, a hidden prison existed—a pit where offenders were buried alive, their bodies trapped for hours, days, or even weeks, with only their heads visible above ground. It served as a stark display of the king's justice, a cruel reminder to all, survival was a rare chance, with an occasional splash of cold water being their only hope in the limbo between life and death.
One night, my father, the king's eldest son and heir, found himself in that very pit. His crime: a seemingly insignificant mistake—using his father's treasured Saturday night powder without permission. The earth swallowed him, leaving only his head above ground while the weight of the soil crushed his body. Time became a blur. Hours dragged into days until he finally lost consciousness. Only then did the king order the guards to dig him out, showing the same cold indifference he did with any other offender.
It was just one of many moments that revealed how foreign mercy was to my grandfather's reign.
The palace felt dominated by his presence, its cold stone walls bearing the same chill as his command. My grandfather sat upon his throne, his face emotionless, unmoved by the fear he inspired.
Word had reached him of a quarrel between two of his wives—a violation that required immediate action. He summoned them to the royal chambers.
His cold gaze fixed on the accused."You are charged with treason."The king's voice cut through the stillness, firm and unrelenting."Speak the truth now, and perhaps my judgment may be more lenient."
The wives averted their gazes, exchanging anxious looks, fully aware of the seriousness of their predicament. An oppressive tension filled the air, each woman gripping her skirts tightly, as if fabric alone could provide stability in this moment of fear.
One of the wives, her voice barely more than a whisper, spoke up."Your Majesty, we are but humble servants within your vast kingdom. Our only desire is to serve you. Please forgive our shortcomings."
The king's face darkened."Enough, lies will only deepen your troubles. Speak now, or suffer the consequences."
The accused wife trembled, her heart pounding."I don't understand, Your Majesty. I am innocent. I have always been loyal to the crown. Why would I betray you?"
Stepping forward, the accusing wife's voice was steady, though laced with accusation."But you were the last one seen near the treasury. Even the guards can testify to it. Admit it. You stole the jewels while the rest of us were attending the feast."
The accused wife's eyes widened in shock, her expression pleading."That's a lie. I went back to my quarters to rest. You know I would never do that."
"Rest?" the other interrupted sharply."You expect us to believe that you wandered off on your own while everybody else was attending the banquet? Your excuse is weak, and the royal jewels don't just vanish into thin air."
The king leaned forward, his gaze unreadable."If you speak the truth, then you have nothing to fear. But if there is even the slightest deception, then your fate is sealed."
The accused wife's breath came faster."I swear, Your Majesty, you must believe me. I am innocent. This is a vile scheme born out of jealousy."Tension hung heavy in the room, ready to snap at any moment."Enough," the king said. "I am not a fool. Somebody has betrayed me, and I will uncover the truth."
"I don't know what you accuse me of, Your Majesty," she cried. "I swear I am innocent."
Her insistent denial only hardened the king's expression. His eyes narrowed with fury as he spoke the words that would decide her fate."If you will not confess, then we shall search for the truth ourselves."
At his command, the guards left, returning moments later with the missing jewels in hand. The wife's heart sank as they displayed the glittering evidence, claiming to have found it in her quarters.
Shocked and terrified, she cried out,"No, please, Your Majesty. This is a lie."
Her pleas fell on deaf ears.
The guards bound her tightly, hoisting her above a pit where flames had already begun to flicker to life. The fire hissed and crackled beneath her, sending waves of heat toward her body. The scent of burning wood mixed with the palpable tension in the air as the fire's hungry tongues licked closer, ready to consume her.
Desperate, she screamed,"Your Majesty, forgive me. Please spare me this torment."
But the king, unmoved by her pleas, responded with cold finality."Your confession comes too late my love, even the gods cannot alter my decree."
As the flames crept closer to her skin, her agonized cries filled the palace—a painful chorus of suffering and regret. No amount of begging could change her fate. The king's judgment was unyielding, and in that moment, his cruelty was clear to all who watched.
That day would be remembered throughout the kingdom—the day justice was meted out by fire. As the flames consumed her, the legacy of brutality left by my grandfather only grew stronger in the minds of those who witnessed the scene.
The king's ambition matched only his cruelty. His conquest stretched far beyond the borders of obiaroku, leaving behind lands subjugated and spirits crushed. As he returned from his latest victory, the kingdom felt the presence of his triumph—imposing and palpable. His dominion now spanned vast territories, serving as an undeniable display of his ruthless strength.
Tales of his feats circulated across the land, stirring a blend of awe and fear. For many, his authority seemed unbreakable, a force impossible to resist. Yet beneath this intimidating façade, unrest was brewing—simmering and growing among those closest to him. Unseen by the king, rebellion was approaching, sparked by the arrogance he had fostered through years of domination.
As night fell and the army settled into camp to rest before continuing the journey back to the kingdom, Swahgu, the chief guard, approached the king's private tent. His steps were firm, defiance glinting in his eyes with the same unyielding resolve few would dare to show. He prepared to speak words that could easily cost him his life.
"Your Majesty, your conquest has stretched the kingdom to its breaking point. While your victories are undeniable, they have planted the seeds of revolt—even among those who once stood by you."
The king scoffed, dismissing the warning with a flick of his hand."My campaigns have only brought glory to this land. The people stand in awe of my power and thrive under the prosperity it secures."
Swahgu's eyes steeled as he advanced, his voice heavy with weight."What you see as glory has become a burden too great for the people to bear. You speak of glory, Your Majesty, but what is so glorious about the merciless slaughter of women and children, villages burned to the ground, families shattered, and our land stained with blood?"
The king's face contorted with fury, his eyes blazing."How dare you preach to me about mercy? I have brought strength and purpose to this land. The weak must fall for the strong to reign. You are but a mere guard. Who do you think you are to question your oath?"
Swahgu stood his ground."No, Your Majesty. It is you who has strayed from your duties. You were crowned to safeguard this kingdom, not to destroy it. The people no longer see you as their protector. They see a tyrant—"
"Traitor!" the king roared.
His grip tightened on his sword, rage radiating from him."You dare oppose me? I have elevated this kingdom to new heights. You speak of the weak and innocent as if they matter. They are mere pawns—disposable. Your cowardice and pathetic compassion make me sick."
Swahgu's voice became cold, reflecting the king's fury."This is not compassion. It is justice. Your relentless thirst for power has made you blind. You have become a blight to the kingdom, and the people will no longer keep silent."
The king's face flushed with rage, veins throbbing at his temples. His hands shook on the sword, though he had not yet drawn it."Bow down to me now, or I will have your head."
Swahgu met the king's fierce stare without flinching."If my death is what it takes to make you realize the truth, then so be it."
At Swahgu's command, men who had once served the king with steadfast loyalty now aimed their weapons at him. Their eyes shone with treachery as they closed in.
The king sneered, feeling trapped."Do you think a lion is afraid of a bunch of ants? Today, I will show you why I am the king of this kingdom."
In an instant, the silence shattered. The clash of steel rang out as battle erupted around them, cries of defiance mingling with the king's roars of fury. Though he fought back with formidable skill, the tide turned swiftly against him.
Wounds opened across his body. Blood poured with each strike. His once-powerful limbs began to fail, and cold sweat glistened on his brow as he struggled to rise. Defiant to the last, he glared up at Swahgu—but before he could speak, a spear struck with lethal precision, piercing his throat.
Blood filled his mouth as he crumpled to the earth, lifeless. In that final moment, the once-unbreakable king lay still, his body drenched in the blood of his own downfall. His ruthless ambition had betrayed him, and his death marked the beginning of a new era.
The kingdom, still trembling from the upheaval, stood on the edge of change, waiting to see what kind of future might emerge from the ashes of rebellion.