The sea breeze carried the scent of salt and tension as a massive Portuguese carrack emerged on the horizon, its crimson cross flapping on the sails like a challenge. It cut through the waters of Malindi’s port, heading straight for the docks without waiting for approval.
Within minutes, three Nuri naval patrol ships surrounded it in formation. From one of the sleeker vessels, Captain Musa barked out through a long bronze speaking horn.
"Unidentified foreign ship, state your name, purpose, and origin. You are entering sovereign waters. Turn back or prepare for escort."
On the deck of the carrack, the emissaries exchanged amused glances. The lead diplomat, António Fernandes, stepped forward. Clean-shaven with calculating eyes and a robe too fine for this humidity, he raised his own voice in return.
"I am António Fernandes, emissary of His Majesty the King of Portugal. We come in peace, with royal seals and terms for trade with King Lusweti of Nuri. Lower your weapons. We are not here to barter with sailors."
The Nuri navy did not flinch. Their ships, smaller but faster and forged with layered hulls of seasoned timber and iron reinforcements, were not to be dismissed. Every sailor stood alert, hands on spears, arrows nocked in bows. Others with guns pointed at them.
Musa smiled coolly. "This is not Europe, Senhor Fernandes. You will dock under escort or not at all. We will sink you right here and we will be praised for it."
António sneered, but he complied. The ship was guided into port under the watch of two navy ships, Nuri flags billowing above them like silent sentinels.
As the emissaries descended the gangplank, the mood in the port soured. Townsfolk stared from the edges of the marketplace and rooftops, whispers rippling like wildfire.
"They have the same flags as the ones who took my brother."
"Is the king mad? Why let them back?"
"I heard he’s bringing back the slave markets. Maybe we’re next."
"No. Lusweti would never."
"They said the same about kings before him."
"That might be true, but no one had fought for us as much as King Lusweti. I was here when Kilwa was freed, I saw the fire, the bodies, the chains. He would never take us back there. If they are here, then the King has a plan, he will never bow to them." An older blacksmith said clutching his fist.
Vendors stopped calling their wares. Children were ushered away. A few older women hissed openly as the emissaries passed, one spitting near their boots.
The emissaries held their heads high, but the glares pierced like daggers. They had been powerful once—feared. Now, they walked through a crowd that remembered everything.
"How dare these cattle look at me like that?" António sneered.
Inside the royal audience chamber, the tension grew thicker.
King Lusweti sat at the high end of the long table, flanked by General Malik, Mzee Kombo, and two ranking navy officers. António and his companions entered, offering deep bows that lacked sincerity.
"Your Majesty," António began, smooth and confident. "Portugal wishes to extend the same hand of friendship we have offered the King of Abyssinia. We bring not only weapons and ships—but partnerships, protection, and the path to unimaginable wealth."
Lusweti did not respond. His eyes studied António like a man measuring a snake.
António pressed on, unshaken. "Reopen the slave markets, allow us to build forts on strategic points of your coast, and grant us priority in trade. In return, we will provide your kingdom with the best firearms in the world, training, and naval support. Your people can work under our infrastructure, and your coffers will overflow."
General Malik scoffed quietly. Mzee Kombo tapped his staff once.
António raised a hand. "We’ve seen your people—they are capable, but overworked. Wouldn’t they benefit from your kingdom having more wealth? If you could build five cities in the time it takes to build one? We offer you not conquest—but acceleration. Your military will see better weapons and better ships. Portugal’s knowledge is yours."
Lusweti finally spoke, voice low but clear.
"Sounds like a dream," he said. "But it’s yours, not mine."
The room fell quiet. Read complete version only at novel⦿fire.net
Lusweti stood. "This deal favors you far too much. You want soldiers in my waters, forts on my land, and chains back on my people. And for what? Some ships I could build in a year? Guns I’ve already improved upon?"
António’s smile flickered. "We are offering a hand, not a threat."
"No, you’re offering a leash," Lusweti said. "Here is my compromise: no slaves. Ever. Fair trade—palm oil, ivory, gold. No forts. Your merchants will register with our guilds. You trade under our terms or not at all."
He leaned forward. "The only thing you have that we want is access to your markets. That’s it. Your ships and weapons are useless to me. This knowledge you brag about, is outdated already. My ships are a hundred times better and faster."
António’s face darkened. "Your Majesty, this pride may cost you. We are not without options."
Lusweti narrowed his eyes. "Neither are we. You may leave now."
The Portuguese tried to salvage the deal, but it was done. The king’s will was iron.
They were escorted out, scowls deepening with every step. At the docks, António whispered to his second.
"They will regret this humiliation. I will see this kingdom in ashes, and that arrogant king dead beneath my boots."
In the royal gardens, under the shade of a lone baobab tree, Lusweti stood alone. He stared out at the harbor, where the galleon disappeared into the dark.
Mzee Kombo approached slowly.
"You handled that well," the old man said.
Lusweti gave a small nod. "They came offering gold wrapped in blood. I’ve seen too much to mistake it for anything else."
"They will come back. Stronger. With more ships."
Lusweti was quiet for a long moment.
"Yes," he said softly. "But fear is not the same as surrender. The will come with their full force, but we will be ready. They will be sunk when they get here."
Mzee Kombo smiled. "Then Nuri is still safe."
They stood together in silence as the sea swallowed the last of the Portuguese sails.