Ezinne bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment of Nwadiebube’s order, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer. The tension in his posture, the subtle tremor in his clenched fist—it all spoke volumes. She knew Nwadiebube well enough to recognize the weight of his unease, even if he refused to voice it.
"Very well," she said softly, turning away to leave the courtyard. The branch in her hand pulsed faintly, as if resonating with her own concern. She would contact the Merchant of Death again, though she doubted even the strongest bodies could quell the storm brewing within Nwadiebube’s soul.
As she departed, Nwadiebube stood rooted in place, his gaze fixed on the faint shimmer of spectral energy still dancing in the air where she had vanished. His thoughts churned like a restless tide, each one louder than the last. Had he truly offended Ikenga, the god of nature and curses? The silence of the deity weighed heavier than any words could. It wasn’t a reprieve—it was a void. The kind that ate away at his resolve, leaving behind only uncertainty and dread. Every passing moment without a sign felt like a clock ticking down to something he couldn’t see, let alone prepare for.
His mind wandered to Osita. The clash between them felt inevitable, something written into the fabric of his life. He just hadn’t expected it to come so soon. Deep down, Nwadiebube knew why—it was his own actions that had hastened the confrontation. That realization should have filled him with regret, but instead, a strange acceptance began to take root.
If Ikenga’s punishment was coming for him, why not make use of the time he had left? Why not leave behind something great, something that would echo long after he was gone? The thought was both a defiance and a resignation. If his days were borrowed, he would spend them turning his kingdom into an empire, carving out a legacy his people would remember. To do that, Osita’s kingdom had to fall. It was a bold gamble, but if he succeeded, only the apelings would stand in his people’s way to mastering the continent and its riches.
A bitter smile crept across his face. He’d once been naive enough to think declining Yuki’s request for an alliance would win him favor with the apelings. But now, with his plans taking shape, he realized he would need their help after all. That alliance could be the key to securing his ambitions, even if it came at a cost he hadn’t fully measured.
Tomorrow, Zephyr was scheduled to visit. They were supposed to discuss the rising problem with Björn’s priests, but Nwadiebube had something else in mind. He’d been crafting a proposal, one that carried more risk than certainty. Given their strained relationship, there was every chance Zephyr would refuse. But if Zephyr agreed, it could shift everything. It would mean no need to ally with Björn’s followers and Yuki, no need to tread dangerous ground with a god whose influence was spreading like wildfire.
The next morning arrived with the faint glow of dawn spilling over the horizon. Nwadiebube stood on the palace balcony, his hands resting on the stone railing as he watched his people stirring to life below. Farmers carried tools to their fields, merchants set up their stalls, and soldiers patrolled the gates. Life went on, as it always did, indifferent to the weight of his decisions.
His thoughts swirled as he waited for Zephyr’s arrival. What would it take to convince someone like Zephyr? Their history was complicated, marked by uneasy "alliances" and moments of betrayal mostly on his side. Yet, Nwadiebube had to try. The stakes were too high to let pride or past grievances cloud his judgment.
When Zephyr arrived, it was without pomp or ceremony. The heavy doors of the grand hall creaked open, admitting a gust of cool air before closing again with an ominous finality. Nwadiebube sat alone, his hands clasped tightly, betraying the storm beneath his calm exterior.
The figure who entered was cloaked in shadow, his long mantle brushing the polished floor with every deliberate step. Zephyr’s piercing gaze swept across the hall, seeming to take in every detail at once, his presence as sharp and unyielding as a blade.
Suppressing the pounding of his heart, Nwadiebube rose to his feet. His expression is calm but his mind is a storm. He had rehearsed his words a hundred times, but now, as Zephyr approached, doubt crept in like a shadow.
"Zephyr," Nwadiebube greeted, inclining his head with measured grace.
The response was cool, almost mechanical. "Nwadiebube. You summoned me. Let’s not waste time."
A faint smile touched Nwadiebube’s lips as he gestured to the chair opposite him. "Of course. Please, sit. There is much to discuss."
Zephyr lowered himself into the seat without breaking eye contact, his movements fluid and deliberate. "This is about the priest of Björn," he said, leaning back, his tone even but edged with suspicion.
Nwadiebube nodded, his voice steady despite the tremor threatening to break through. "Yes. What I say may sound like a convenient excuse, but it is the only explanation I can offer."
Zephyr’s expression didn’t shift, but his silence was heavy, pressing Nwadiebube to continue.
"I, too, was shocked by the priest’s disappearance," Nwadiebube began, his voice tinged with carefully measured regret. "After our last conversation, I thought I had dissuaded him from taking drastic measures. Clearly, I failed to make him see the gravity of his actions."
Nwadiebube’s eyes glimmered with restrained emotion as he pressed on. "When I learned of what had transpired, I acted quickly to inform you, not only to clear my name but to prevent unnecessary conflict between our peoples."
Zephyr’s gaze sharpened, a faint glow flickering in his eyes. "What exactly did you discuss with the priest?"
Nwadiebube hesitated, his expression tightening as though reliving an uncomfortable memory. "He came to me seeking help," he finally admitted, his voice low. "His mission to expand Björn’s faith had faced resistance. The Apelings’ actions against his zealots—punishment for their blasphemy—had sown fear among the people. Many began distancing themselves from his faith, afraid of drawing your people’s wrath."
Zephyr remained silent, his face impassive as Nwadiebube continued.
"The priest grew desperate," Nwadiebube said. "In our final conversation, he proposed an idea. He believed it would break the fear your people inspire and restore faith in his god. I tried to dissuade him, to show him the foolishness of his plan, but..." He trailed off, spreading his hands in a gesture of helplessness.
His eyes locked with Zephyr’s, pleading for understanding. "Now, I can only apologize on his behalf for the chaos he has wrought."
Zephyr leaned forward, his glowing gaze narrowing. The pieces of the puzzle shifted in his mind, aligning closely with what he and Wulv had deduced. Yet, Nwadiebube’s version painted him as a mere bystander, devoid of responsibility.
"My brother Terra," Nwadiebube added after a pause, his voice weighted with warning, "whose clan the priest invaded, is enraged. The priest and his men stole a sacred branch, killing Terra’s people in the process. He was close to making a personal appearance in your kingdom."
Nwadiebube’s eyes darkened as he leaned in. "Had Terra come in his fury, your capital would have been reduced to rubble, replaced by a mountain of his making."
"The priest and his men are dead but that isn’t enough to appease my brother so tell me Nwadiebube, What am I to tell my brother when it was you who opened your gate to the priest of Björn leading to the current situation?"
The air in the grand hall grew heavy as Zephyr’s words lingered. Nwadiebube sat in silence, his practiced calm cracking under the weight of the accusation. His gaze faltered momentarily before he straightened, meeting Zephyr’s piercing eyes.
"I understand the gravity of your brother’s anger," Nwadiebube began, his voice steady but low, like a man treading carefully on thin ice. "And I take full responsibility for allowing the priest into my kingdom. It was a decision made with the hope of maintaining peace, not sowing chaos."
Zephyr’s expression didn’t soften. His glow intensified, causing the air in the hall to thicken, Nwadiebube found himself caught off guard as he took long deep breaths. "Hope for peace? Your actions have nearly brought a war to my family’s doorstep, Nwadiebube. Do not dress this as naivety when it reeks of carelessness."
Nwadiebube bowed his head slightly, his tone humble but not groveling. "You’re right. I underestimated the priest’s resolve and ambition. I thought I could control the situation, keep his influence contained. That was my failing, and I won’t deny it."
The tension in the room was suffocating, but Nwadiebube refused to waver. "What happened to Terra’s clan is unforgivable, and I will not diminish his pain. But if his anger were to fall on my kingdom, innocent lives would be lost—lives that had no part in this tragedy." He paused, his voice softening. "I am prepared to make amends, Zephyr. Whatever it takes to restore balance and honor."