Onyango rode like a shadow across the lowlands, the dawn a smear of gray behind him. By the time he reached the hidden base on the Kongo–Buganda border, he looked two days older — cloak streaked with mud, breath coming in hard pulls, eyes rimmed with fatigue. He dismounted without ceremony; there was no time for greetings. The small team waiting by the sapling watchtower straightened at his approach, relief and urgency mingling on their faces.
"News?" Korir asked, stepping forward. He had been given the task of passing messages to the church catacombs — the heart of their small, dangerous network.
Onyango unrolled a damp note and let the words fall between them. "Prince Khisa is in Mengo. He’s training Buganda’s levies. They are to act as bait. Our orders are simple — find the puppet master and remove him."
Korir’s jaw worked. "Simple," he echoed, but there was no mirth in it.
Onyango pushed off the saddle and spoke low. "You ride at dusk to pass the word to our teams inside the city. Zara must hear this in person. Move now."
Korir nodded and melted into the dim morning.
The road to the church kept Korir in the dark: narrow lanes, sickly moonlight, the occasional crack of a patrol’s laughter in the distance. He kept to the shadows, the soles of his boots touching earth with the silence of a stalking cat. The Kongo commander had sent troops into the towns to round up anyone looking like a courier or an ally. Fires burned in the distance, and frightened people murmured in the night — this was the sound of a kingdom being squeezed.
A patrol passed mere feet from him — two soldiers with muskets across their shoulders, breath steaming in the cold. They walked with the sterned confidence of men given a simple order: catch the suspicious, and be rewarded later.
"Have you heard?" one murmured, scraping a match off wood and lighting a cigarette between stiff fingers. "Lumingu says the traitors move like ghosts. He wants no loose ends."
"Good," the other answered, voice low. "He’ll snuff them. The king must be safe. The people will follow if he is firm."
Korir felt the words like a knife. They spoke of the same fear that made his heart hammer — fear for innocents, for the village mothers who hid their children in wells. He slowed, breath shallow, and the patrol passed, two silhouettes, two boots beating a drum of danger. For a moment he almost felt their eyes on him; he pressed himself into a doorway and waited until their shadows dissolved down the lane.
He moved again, slipping through alleys that smelled of wet refuse and frying oil, moving toward the church whose bell had not rung in weeks. At the side door, he paused, palms cooling on wood, and then he tapped the code: twice, pause, once — the rhythm the priest would not mistake.
The latch moved. A priest’s face, pale in the starlight, peered out, and then opened. Korir ducked inside.
The air in the catacombs was damp and smelled of wax and old stone. Torches guttered along carved niches, throwing the meeting place into a hush of flickering light. Zara rose as he entered, eyes sharp, chin lifted. Sarai and Faizah and Taban waited, each bearing the tired look of people who had spent weeks sleeping an hour at a time and spending the rest watching fires in the distance.
"You look terrible, the journey must have been hard," Zara said with a tight smile.
Korir let out half a laugh and then pulled himself together. He spoke quickly, the words clipped. "Prince Khisa is in Mengo. He trains the Buganda men. The plan is set: Khisa will draw Lumingu out. While he does, we take out the Portuguese backer."
Sarai barked a short, incredulous laugh, "We deserve a month long break after this."
"Enough," Zara said, folding her hands. "We understand the stakes. Lay out the plan."
Korir dipped his head and began to lay out what little they knew — rumors of ships, crates unloaded in the dark, men of foreign bearing seen at the governor’s compound. The catacomb air grew colder as the net drew tighter.
"What about the location?" Faizah asked. "We cannot strike what we cannot find."
Taban leaned forward, face thoughtful. "We will not strike blind. We draw on the towns near Mbanza — push rumors of Nuri’s strength. Feed Lumingu’s fears. He will act rashly, move his men to preempt a perceived invasion. He moves, we watch who moves with him and who remains. The puppet master will not expose himself to run-of-the-mill skirmishes. He will remain near the man he props up — either in Lumingu’s compound or in the palace."
"And the allies in the army?" Sarai asked. Her voice lost the laugh. "The army, they do not know the whole truth. They will not risk killing their king if we do not give them a way to turn. We do not know what lies they have been fed. The absence of the king has been well hidden, without him, the army will not turn on Lumingu."
"That is where the battle becomes political," Korir said. "The army is currently held in place with loyalty to the king, Once the war begins against buganda, General Kazadi and the king will infiltrate the army and seize control. The truth will be laid bare and Lumingu officially declared an enemy of the kingdom. Chaos will then erupt, forcing the army to pick sides, backing Lumingu into a corner." Find the newest release on novel·fire·net
Korir rubbed his face. "And the Restorers? Those Portuguese-trained units are a different problem."
Taban’s eyes were flat. "They are the link between Lumingu and his foreign backer. Likely paid, trained, and loyal to profit. Confronting them will be brutal. We must gather strength, pick the time, and use the towns to funnel them into choke points. Tell Onyango we will need every man he can spare to move into Kongo. We also need to reach some of the key soldiers, they will be the key to unraveling Lumingu’s hold on the army."
Zara nodded. "We need men who can pass and move like ghosts — get inside compounds, read the signals, and not be seen until it is too late."
Faizah tapped a finger on the table. "We also need contingency. If the assassination fails, we must be able to pull back without losing our people. Extraction routes, safe houses, and a signal."
"From our rescue missions, we have managed to map out several safe routes, if we can get more that would be great. But we don’t really have time to scour every inch of this kingdom, we are stretched thin as it is." Zara said her lips tightened.
"Alright then," Kiprop, who had been quiet stood up, " Korir, go back to Onyango and inform him of our need for reinforcements, since Prince Khisa is moving, we don’t have a lot of time, we need to locate the puppet master. Faizah, Mwinyi and Taban, your job will be to locate him, look for him in all of Lumingu’s estates, the palace and any other place with their allies. Zara and I will make sure Lumingu personally hears about the strength of Nuri, we will work on sabotaging their weapons and store houses, they will be distracted by all the chaos, which will make it easier for us. Once everything is in place, we will confront the Restorers and the puppet master here in Mbanza, while the others deal with Lumingu. " He said with finality.
"We have the hardest job, we are already tired and worn out, but one final push and we will be done here. Prince Khisa will be in the front lines, he put his own life on the line, our role is to make sure, they don’t lay a hand on his head. He is the future on Nuri." Zara said.
"The mission begins tomorrow, I will update the others. Get some rest, tomorrow we lay the ground work for our victory." Kiprop said and headed toward the King of Kongo.
The pieces were starting to fall in place.