The Wrath of the Unchained
Chapter 50 - The Weight of the Crown

Chapter 50: Chapter 50 - The Weight of the Crown

The war dragged on for weeks, each day bringing more casualties than the last. The air reeked of sweat, blood, and damp earth, a constant reminder of the endless cycle of violence. Supplies were running dangerously low on both sides, but the Kilwa soldiers suffered the most. Their desperation was evident in the way they fought—erratic, reckless, fueled by hunger and dwindling morale.

Beyond the command tent, the Nuri warriors sat in clusters, their armor caked with dried mud, their once-proud spears now chipped and dulled. Some whispered prayers to their ancestors, others stared blankly into the fire, lost in thought. A few sharpened their weapons with mechanical precision, their movements fueled by muscle memory rather than purpose. Doubt lingered in their eyes—how much longer could they endure this? How many more would die before it was over?

Inside the tent, Lusweti sat across from General Simiyu, both men visibly worn. Simiyu’s face bore new scars, and Lusweti’s hands, calloused from years of wielding weapons, now clenched into tight fists.

"King Lusweti, this war needs to end soon," Simiyu said, his voice low and heavy. "Our warriors are exhausted. Even the strongest among them are reaching their limits."

Lusweti exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "I know that, Simiyu. Do you think I want to lose any more men? Most of them are still young, thrown into a war they never imagined. But we cannot back down. Until Almeida and the Sultan are taken care of, this war will not end."

Simiyu sighed, rubbing a hand over his weary face. "I understand. The scouts should be returning soon. If they bring good news, we move ahead with the next phase of the plan."

Lusweti leaned back, running a hand through his hair. "Once this war is over, we need to develop better communication. Waiting days for messengers is costing us precious time. But we will not be complacent. Until the last sword is sheathed, we stay on guard."

A disturbance outside the tent signaled the arrival of the scouts. They stumbled in, breathless and covered in dust, their eyes wild with urgency.

"We found Mshale and the other delegates," one of them reported, his voice shaking with anger. "They were tortured. Akolo lost his leg—he might never be a warrior again. But they fought hard for us. They refused to break."

Lusweti’s stomach churned with fury. He had suspected as much, but hearing it confirmed reignited his rage. His people were treated like animals, their resilience mocked. His hands trembled, not with fear, but with the need for vengeance.

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling. "Khisa warned me long before he left. He saw this coming. I wonder what he would do now."

He turned his gaze back to the scout. "Tell me everything you saw."

"The kingdom is unprotected. The Sultan sent nearly all his soldiers to the battlefield. He only has a handful left guarding him, even the delegates were left defenseless."

Lusweti nodded, a plan already forming in his mind. "And Almeida?"

"He is the only one left with an actual military force in Kilwa. Mercenaries, weapons—he has them all. We saw them moving large barrels into his fort. We don’t know if it’s gold or something worse."

Simiyu tensed. "They don’t seem to know about the tunnels yet, but we should assume they will. We can’t afford to be reckless."

Lusweti stood, his posture rigid with resolve. "We need to infiltrate now. I’ll take a team and move immediately."

Simiyu’s eyes widened. "You want to take on an entire mercenary force? Hundreds of soldiers? Lusweti, you are not invincible."

Lusweti’s gaze hardened. "And what do you suggest? Sit here and fight the Kilwa soldiers indefinitely while Almeida tightens his grip? Our people will keep dying. We will fail."

Simiyu’s voice rose, frustration evident. "Nuri cannot afford to lose you! Prince Khisa is not here. We don’t even know if he will return. If you die, who will lead us?"

Silence stretched between them. Outside, the warriors murmured among themselves, their whispers carrying the same question. If Lusweti fell, what would become of Nuri?

Lusweti placed a firm hand on Simiyu’s shoulder. "My friend, I have to do this. This is not about glory. It’s about securing a future. If Almeida kills me, someone else will rise. Because of my son, our people are learning. They are adapting. We will not be exploited. Nuri will grow, with or without me."

Simiyu swallowed hard. "Lusweti—"

Lusweti gave him a small, tired smile. "Nuri is already a beacon of hope. Every warrior bearing our flag fights for that hope. One day, those who enslave us will see us as equals. Until then, I must do my part. Even if it means going to the coast alone to carve a path for our future. Trust in your King, Simiyu."

Simiyu’s eyes burned. For the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to feel something other than exhaustion—pride, faith, determination. "Then I will hold down the fort here, my King. Kilwa will not push us back. Finish this. Raise the flag of Nuri on the coast."

Lusweti nodded. He knew Simiyu would not fail him. Now, he just had to make sure Almeida never lived to see another sunrise.

"Shouldn’t you take Duarte with you? If anything he might be useful by fooling Almeida and buying time." Simiyu suggested.

The portugese man had seamlessly integrated himself into the Nuri army, the people were now seeing him are a brother in arms. He has been slowly proving himself by saving as many Nurians as he could.

"No, Duarte will be more useful here, Almeida is a cunning man, there is no doubt in my mind that the mercenaries he sent will cause trouble. Have Duarte deal with them."

"As you wish,I will have him keep an eye on their movements, they might even think he is on their side and feed us information."

Lusweti laughed patting Simiyu on the back, "Now you are thinking like a true strategist. Then I will leave everything to you general."

He gathered ten of his best warriors and disappeared into the night, shadows against the moonlight, racing toward destiny.

Time was ticking.

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