Year: 1885
The coughing had worsened through the year.
Akenzua heard it through the palace walls--a wet, rattling sound that grew more frequent as the months passed. Blood on his father's lips. Fire in his lungs.
But there was no time to wait for death.
"The Itsekiri delegation arrives tomorrow," Osarobo reported. "Chief Olomu is leading it personally."
"Chief Olomu?" Akenzua looked up from his father's bedside. "He's Osaro's ally."
"He was. But the British have been pressuring the Itsekiri hard. Olomu's traders are losing money. He's ready to negotiate--but he wants guarantees."
"What kind of guarantees?"
"The kind that require your presence. Not a messenger's."
---
The alliance ceremony took place in the palace's eastern hall.
Chief Olomu arrived with twenty men--warriors, not diplomats. Their presence was a statement: we come as equals, not supplicants.
"Prince Akenzua." Olomu's bow was shallow. "Your father's illness is... regrettable."
"My father still rules. And he has authorized me to negotiate on his behalf."
"Then let us negotiate."
The terms emerged through hours of careful bargaining. Trade preferences. Military cooperation. Reduced tribute in exchange for naval access at Warri.
But Olomu had one more demand.
"A hostage exchange. My youngest son stays in Benin. Your brother stays in Warri."
The hall fell silent.
"You want Oronmwen as a hostage?"
"I want assurance that Benin won't betray this alliance once you have what you want." Olomu's eyes were cold. "My son for your brother. Equal stakes."
Oronmwen stepped forward. "I'll go."
"Brother--"
"This alliance serves Benin. I can serve Benin by making it real." Oronmwen met his eyes. "You said you wanted me to have purpose. This is purpose."
The weight of the decision pressed down. Send his brother into potential enemy territory--or lose an alliance that could determine everything.
"The exchange will be temporary. Six months. Then we renegotiate."
"One year."
"Eight months. Final offer."
Olomu smiled. "Agreed."
---
The oath ceremony followed.
Ancient words binding both parties. Blood drawn from Akenzua's palm and Olomu's, mixed in a ceremonial bowl.
"Break this oath, and the ancestors curse your line. Honor this oath, and your children's children will prosper."
Olomu drank first. Then Akenzua.
The alliance was sealed.
But as the ceremony concluded, Olomu leaned close.
"Your father is dying. Everyone knows this. When he's gone, Osaro will move against you. My alliance is with Benin--not with any particular Oba."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning I'll support whoever sits on the throne. If that's you, we have an alliance. If it's someone else..." He shrugged. "Warri serves its own interests."
"Then I'd better make sure I'm the one sitting on the throne."
"Yes. You'd better."
---
Three days after the ceremony, word came from the Ijaw.
"Chief Ombo of the western channels has refused our approach." Osarobo's voice was flat. "He's signed an exclusive agreement with British traders."
"Can we change his mind?"
"He's already received payment. Substantial payment. And British gunboats now patrol his waters."
One of the delta chiefs, lost to British influence. The consequences were immediate--trade routes that now required British permission, intelligence networks that suddenly went dark.
"What about the other Ijaw chiefs?"
"Watching. Waiting to see what we do about Ombo."
"Options?"
"Economic pressure. Cut off his access to Benin markets. Make his British alliance costly."
"That takes time."
"The alternative is military action. Which would unite the other Ijaw against us."
The trap of limited options. Ombo had calculated correctly--Benin couldn't respond forcefully without making things worse.
"Economic pressure. But visible. I want every Ijaw chief to see what happens when someone chooses the British over us."
---
That night, Akenzua sat beside his father's bed.
Adolo was fading faster now. His breathing came in shallow gasps. But his mind remained sharp.
"The Itsekiri alliance. I heard."
"You heard about the hostage exchange too?"
"Oronmwen volunteered?" Adolo's lips twitched--almost a smile. "He's braver than I gave him credit for."
"He wanted purpose."
"Everyone wants purpose. Few are willing to pay for it." Adolo's hand found his son's wrist. "The Ijaw chief. Ombo. You handled that correctly. Pressure without force."
"It feels like defeat."
"It's patience. Different thing." The grip tightened. "You're ready. More ready than I ever was. Whatever the fever did to you--I'm grateful for it."
"Father--"
"Don't interrupt dying men. It's rude." A wet cough interrupted him. When it passed, his voice was weaker. "Expand. Don't just defend. Take Warri completely--make it Benin's port. Take the delta channels. Take the northern rivers. Build something the British can't simply swallow."
"I will."
"And protect them. The bronzes. The art. Everything our ancestors made. Don't let the Europeans take our memory."
"I promise."
---
Olomu's son arrived the next day. A boy of fourteen, trying to look brave.
Oronmwen departed for Warri that evening. He embraced Akenzua briefly at the gates.
"Keep yourself safe," Akenzua said.
"Keep yourself safer. I'll be fine--Olomu needs this alliance. You're the one facing Osaro."
"The council session is in three days."
"Win it. For both of us."
The gates closed behind him. Akenzua watched until the delegation disappeared into the darkness.
"You trust Olomu?" Esohe asked quietly.
"I trust his self-interest. He needs Benin's support against British pressure. As long as that's true, the alliance holds."
"And when it's no longer true?"
"Then we'll have other alliances. Other options." He turned back toward the palace. "Loyalty is never permanent. Only interests are permanent. We just have to make sure our interests stay aligned."
"That's a cold way to see the world."
"It's the only way that survives."
---
The end came three days later.
Akenzua was reviewing military reports when Idia appeared at his door.
"It's time."
They walked to the royal chamber together. The healers had gathered. The priests chanted softly.
Adolo lay still, his breathing barely visible.
"My son. Come closer."
Akenzua knelt beside the bed.
"I've done what I could. Held things together long enough for you to be ready." Adolo's voice was barely audible. "Now it's your turn. Expand. Survive. Make them remember us."
"I will, Father."
"And trust your wife. She's stronger than you realize."
"I know."
Adolo closed his eyes. His breathing slowed. Each exhale seemed to take longer than the last.
Outside, rain began to fall.
And then, quietly, Oba Adolo of Benin was gone.
---
The death drums began at midnight.
Akenzua stood at the window, listening as the message spread across the city. Somewhere in Warri, Oronmwen would hear those drums. Would know his father was dead.
Would know the succession battle was beginning.
Osarobo appeared from the shadows. "Osaro is already meeting with his allies. They're planning their challenge."
"Let them plan. We have the Itsekiri alliance. We have Oronmwen showing the council that the royal family is united--even when it means sending a prince as hostage."
"The loyalty isn't solid. Olomu made that clear."
"No loyalty is solid. That's why we keep building. Keep expanding. Keep creating reasons for people to stay aligned with us."
Outside, the rain continued. The death drums echoed across the city.
A king was dead. A prince was hostage in a foreign court. An alliance was sealed but uncertain.
And the real battles were just beginning.