Over and over again, the rams' horns were blown. The eerie sounds heightened Onochie's senses and drenched him with a straggling, cruel sadness. He never knew a day like this could ever come to pass. It was not a situation he'd ever imagined, though he probably should have. Maybe the shock wouldn't have been this much of a blow to him.

The entire truth was Onochie was completely inundated by the entirety of the calamitous situation, deluged even. On the outside, resting on his soft, padded throne, he appeared quiet, calm, and collected. But, there was no greater deception. Inside of him was an erupting volcano. All of his emotions were a jumbled up and disordered welter.

He could hardly believe that he'd been poisoned, or, rather, that an attempt had been made to end his life. Why would whoever hatched the evil plan to existence do such to him? What unforgivable wrong had he done that he deserved to die? Was it because of the manner in which he ruled? How was it that he'd been king for barely a full cycle, and they already wanted him gone?

His mind conjured up all sorts of explanations for the incident, but none of them sat right with him. Unsatisfied, he ventured into the realm of the what-ifs.

What if he had drunk the wine first, especially as he had been terribly thirsty moments before? What if both the egg and the wine had been poisoned to make the possibility of his death even higher? What if the busybody of a cockerel had not made itself known, at that instant, manifesting the opportunity of it becoming a scapegoat? What if? What if? What if?

Onochie rose his hand to his face, daring to tolerate the urgent trickle of a nervous laugh from his firmly, pressed lips at the cursed limb shaking like a leaf in the wind or, more accurately, in the likeness of a frail, trembling old woman's body. The rush that came with his fear and anxiousness lingered still, sticking as stubbornly as a slug to a branch.

Like a continuous clip in his head, he replayed all of his actions. Each time he did, he halted just before he turned over the miniature, yellowish calabash, spilling some of its contents to the ground. He paused at that moment and went down the possible road where he elevated the cup to his mouth and drank instead of the animal.

By the seventh replay he'd envisioned, Onochie could feel the burning bitterness at the back of his throat. It left a burning trail in its wake as it hurtled through the soft tracks of his mouth. The urge to throw up the little in his stomach was about impossible to restrain.

He shot to his feet, ignoring his disconcerting and consequent, swaying balance as he raced for his hut of convenience. Speeding past the heightened number of guards, now ultimately at alert due to the current situation's graveness, he made sure to wave them off without a word. He couldn't have said anything even if he wanted to.

Despite his signalling, several guards accompanied him through his private passage, which led to his target. He knew it would be easier for his mess to be cleaned up if it was made in his outhouse or, at the very least, close to the building as the ground that surrounded it was made of plain, brown sand and not the red earthen floor in his throne room, carpeted with the skin of dead animals.

When he was close enough to touch the house, his body reacted with relief, and the bile rose upwards from his stomach, spurting out with a force he could not restrain. He motioned the guards still hot on his feet to stay back as he curled up, vomiting violently.

"My king! Are you alright?"

There was no room for answering between his continuous retching, not even offering a nod in reply. All he could focus on was emptying his system. He'd never felt so horrible in his entire life. He heaved, the urge overtaking him once more.

The same guard spoke again. "Quick! Get some water. We need some water here!" Though the voice was quite familiar, Onochie could not recognise him who commanded through the haze of his unwellness, but he knew he had to be quite highly ranked to give order and be obeyed.

Sprinkles of water hitting him in the face moments later pointed out that the sent guard had returned. The gourd was reverently handed to him, and he made the most of it, rinsing out his mouth and pouring the rest of the water over his freshly cut head.

It was only after doing so that he stopped to wonder if the water could also be poisoned. He quickly wobbled out the thoughts by sharply shaking his head. Such reasoning had to be banished as he was fully aware that a king should not have the option of entertaining such weakly thoughts.

How did he expect to move on from this incident if he let it submerge and conquer him? True, it was one that caught him with his defences down. However, this was by no means a guarantee of his defeat. He had so much to prove to his people as their ruler, and even more to himself as a man he wanted to take pride in being.

There was so much he hadn't achieved yet. It would take more than a mere almost-poisoning to knock him down to his knees to the point that he would be unable to stand back up.

While the king gingered up himself with unspoken, still bent in the same position that he'd been for long minutes worn, the guards shifted about anxiously. Onochie understood that they were thoroughly worried about him. Most of them were honest men whose fathers had loved his father enough to pledge their lives and that of their descendants to the service of the crown.

Sometimes, he could not help but deliberate on why they themselves kept their loyalty to him. The oaths, after all, were made when their fathers were alive and not by themselves. Even more importantly, Onochie, in the kindness of his heart, would never force any of them to carry on the duties of their predecessors if it was not what they desired.

Therefore, at his inauguration, he'd demanded that any who wished to leave their positions in the royal troop was free to do so and could return to their homes, for the men were separated from living with their families and were only allowed to visit them while their abodes were permanently at the barracks built for them.

Notwithstanding, they could visit their loved ones anytime they liked and, when not on duty, could spend as much time as they had with their families. However, as soon as the king requested their presence, it did not matter where they happened to be, for not showing up to report to their master was not an option.

In the past, many guards were castrated, especially those who were mainly stationed in the palace. The previous Eze, Onochie's father, however, put an end to the practice after many years of fighting against the tradition.

It took the late Eze Anozie the first fifteen years of his reign, which were spent in a struggle with the elders and, more specifically, the chiefs, to ultimately abolish the practice. Now, neither the men nor women working in the palace were prohibited from producing their own offsprings.

Many years ago, the seemingly barbaric custom was put in place to prevent the intermingling of lineages outside the royal families. There had been cases where princesses were put in the family way by the guards assigned to their protection. Maidservants were also caught with the princes for whom they often carried their children and could so cast a claim for the throne.

Nevertheless, a rule was made not solely to halt the spurt of the many claims for the throne or to supposedly keep the princesses from holding on to their dignities. Royalty was made to marry royalty, primarily of the oracle's divination that they had unique blood protected by the gods. There could be no more breeding or coalescing between aristocracies and mere commoners.

For this reason, kings began to marry their sisters, distant relatives or members of the lower nobilities of their kingdom. There weren't many unifications between Zoro and other lands as most villages did not have an established monarchy.

A council of elders was frequently the highest form of authority available in neighbouring kingdoms. This was the beginning of Zoro's isolation from the rest of the outside world and the subsequent creation of a vast divide between its upper and lower classes.

Peasants were, in every case, successfully looked down on and frowned against. The reigning monarch steadily grew apart from his people, leaving matters that involved direct relation with them to his competent chiefs. This act soon became a norm, to the point that the chiefs gathered enough power to make laws in the absence of the king or if he happened to be out of commission.

Onochie detested the excessive amount of authority and influence the older men had. It continuously and would endlessly disturb him that they could throw about their weight without a higher force to account to. In contrast, they tied his hands with traditions and customs, forcing him to abide by their will. And he was completely weary of the issue.

"Your Majesty?"

"Yes," His voice was noticeably groggy, and he had to noisily clear his throat before giving the command. "Speak!"

"Shall we send word to the queen mother of your affliction, my lord?"

"Do not send anything to the queen mother!" He growled. Thinking about the useless, selfish chiefs had put him in a heated mood, and he was not ready to be pushed around by anyone else. What he'd had was enough.

"I am not afflicted, and even if I were, I believe it would be my place to decide on who should or should not be informed. Would it not?" He spun around, permitting the gourd to sail away from his hand, the unthought action resulting in a guard running after the object.

"Of course, Your Majesty. I am sorry. I overstepped my boundaries" It became obvious to Onochie why the voice had been so conspicuous to notice when he set his eyes on the man apologising.

"Ifediaso..."

"Ahh, you remembered, Your Majesty." His smug grin, which creased his forehead and his tribal marks into tinier lines, did not sit right with Onochie. "I did not have to remind you of it as you requested before."

"Yes. You are here," Onochie commented, unsure of how to phrase his inquiry.

Chief Okorie was already in custody as a prime suspect in the king's attempted murder since it was his offered wine that turned out to be spiked. And although he did not doubt Ifediaso's innocence more than he would the next man, he could not fathom why the guard who presented the poisoned wine was still allowed around him, close enough to request that his drink be brought. He found it unsettling.

"It appears that I am, my lord. The chiefs dismissed me as not being much of a threat as I was not the one who produced the wine. I only brought it as it was from the cupbearer, doing my job as you instructed. In all, the leading factor towards their decision was that I did not volunteer to bring you the wine. I was chosen and called forward by Your Majesty."

"A reasonable explanation." Onochie nodded curtly, making way for his palace while trying not to dwell on the reality that such a momentous decision had been made without his input.

There was no doubt that he needed a few moments of rest before he would have to face his council of chiefs. He dearly hoped that Kamalu would soon return from the search he'd sent him on. There was no telling what he would do without someone to talk him down, for he was not sure he was in the right frame of mind to address serpents in the skins of men.

༄༄༄

Kamalu did indeed return in time, a fact that was of solace to Onochie. He arrived in the palace hall not long after Onochie did, with the king sighing in relief at his only friend and the chief guard rejoicing at his master, hale and healthy and not lifeless.

"You have returned." Onochie managed to form a few words that were not choked up in his emotions after sending away the guards stationed at attention around the room.

He wished for a private discussion with the man who was like his own sibling. In all honesty, he would say a younger brother, but Kamalu loved to treat him as if he were a child still learning to walk on his own. There was no way he was the older one in their relationship. In any event, Kamalu was born years before he was.

"Your Majesty!" Kamalu rushed to the king who had stood up to welcome him and pulled him into a bone-crushing embrace, paying no mind to his cutlass, which clattered boisterously to the floor. "I was so worried. Are you alright? I am so happy you are not hurt, my king. I am not sure what I would have done. I am so glad..."

Teardrops brazenly plopped down Onochie's face, depriving him of the manliness that was expected of him. He could not identify why hearing those statements made him so emotional. Maybe it was because he had not heard anything of the likes since the whole debacle.

He'd been alone while the entire palace ran helter-skelter and in circles at the failed murder. No one had bothered to ask about his well-being when it was not a task required of them. Not a single soul had said that they were joyed he survived. Then again, why would they? He did not expect them to, as they were not his family.

The queen mother would have cared, but she was a woman who adhered to traditions too closely and too obstinately. She would not come to visit him unless it was their visiting day, or she was summoned to the palace. And Onochie, knowing how much she loved to worry despite her failing health, had no plans to invite her to the main palace only to let her leave sicker than ever and for his sake. He would not be able to handle the guilt.

"Close your eyes first, then turn around, Kamalu," Onochie commanded right as they disengaged from each other. He needed to recollect himself, starting by wiping away the stupid tears that did not seem to be intending on stopping their flow. No one had seen him cry, and even though he knew Kamalu would not view him any differently, he did not want him to be the first to behold him in that state.

"What did you just do, Kamalu?" He asked when he'd composed himself enough to vocalise his thoughts.

"I...I am sorry, my lord. I was too carried away. Please, I sincerely apologise. I plead you to forgive this servant who forgot his place and did what his master did not ask of him."

"You know that you could be punished for your action, do you not?"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will readily accept the punishment for my mistake." He did not sound too apologetic. Onochie noted. In fact, he could hear a smile in his voice.

"Look at me, Kamalu."

"My lord?" The man was smiling. Onochie frowned.

"What is the occasion for your good cheer, Kamalu?"

"It is nothing too momentous, Your Majesty. I am only pleased that the king is strong." His reply was pleasing to Onochie. The king hid a smile as he trod up the stairs leading to his throne.

"Well then, if you are this happy about me being in good health, it would only be me showing mercy to my loyal subject by forgiving your offence."

"I am grateful, my lord." Kamalu grinned even wider, light from the open windows illuminating the birthmark on his face so that he glowed like a divine being. Onochie shook his head disapprovingly, aware that Kamalu had been sure from the getgo that he would not be punished, especially not for consoling and being a companion to his king.

"You have news for me, I believe."

The atmosphere shifted to that of one minding a serious business as Kamalu prepared to give an account of the task he'd been ordered to do. "As we know, my lord, the growing forest around the kingdom serves as coverage for Zoro. It is the main element that closes us off from outside eyes."

"Mhm, go on."

"From what I noted, the derivation of the expanded growth was on purpose. There was a strange uniformity that could neither have been the works of nature nor at all blessed by the gods. It seems that there must have been a decree for purposeful grooming of the forest to the extent that it is right now."

"Alright... That could have been an edict from any of the past Ezes before me," Onochie mused, a ruminative look on his face. "I do wonder why hiding Zoro was ever one of the goals of a king. Should not progressing and building beneficial relationships with congenial kingdoms be more important?"

"I agree, Your Majesty. It is difficult to come up with a perfect reason why that should have been the best course of action concerning Zoro. Perhaps to protect the land against wars that it could have been roped into otherwise?"

"Perhaps so."

"That aside, I have even more news to share."

Onochie's eyebrows rode upwards ever so slightly. "Spit it out, whatever it is."

"In my careful search, I found a burial ground near the edge of Zoro."

"What?" His eyes widened as they zeroed in on the grim expression the guard wore.

"Yes, my lord. To be truthful, I will say that it was not so much a burial ground but a site for disposing of dead bodies."

"Why would such a dreadful thing be situated outside of the village? And dost my ears deceive me, or did I hear you report it as a place for disposing bodies?"

"That is exactly what I said, Your Majesty. It appears that dead bodies, from time to time, were thrown in a cavernous pit. There was no smell coming forth when I found it, but the freshly covered hole was far too suspicious to be left alone. So, I dug into it only to find the numerous bones and remains of human bodies."

Onochie dragged a hand down his face down in frustration. This was yet another matter added to his mountains of troubles to contend with. A mass burial of bodies? How could such exist? Why did it exist? And why was it only recently overlaid with dirt? Who was it that was making the efforts to cover up such a heinous secret? He wanted to lose his guts just dwelling on the thought of all those people being killed and buried in the middle of nowhere.

"What sort of trouble have we come across Kamalu?"

"I am not sure, my lord." His face was scrunched up as if in pain, but Onochie knew it was the image of what he'd encountered taking a toll on him. "Do you know of the legend, Your Majesty?"

"What legend do you speak of Kamalu?"

"It is one of the stories I was told as a child, my lord. I do not remember the beginning of the tale, but I do know the outcome. The way it ends is that the men and women who tried to leave the beautiful, perfect kingdom they were birthed in ceased to subsist afterwards. They all died." In his pause, Onochie fidgeted. "What if that story was of Zoro and not simply a fictional world?"

The king had no reply. His head spun without stop, as did his emotions while they ravaged him without mercy. This time, however, they were not a gallimaufry of intricate chaos, as he could pick them apart and deduce what the primary feeling tearing through him was. Anger.

Those were individuals who could have been his subjects, his people, and they were that. Dead. They hadn't even been accorded the respect that the departed deserved. They'd instead been thrown in a pit like the carcasses of mere animals. Onochie wanted all who had participated in the evil to reap a thousandfold of what they had sowed.

"My king? What do you think of, my lord?"

"The chiefs will be here soon," Onochie replied, concluding that the one thing he most certainly would not be doing was entertaining their nonsense.

As if he'd foretold the future, the doors to the palace opened and in came the messenger. He announced the approach of three chiefs sent as representatives of the whole council of chiefs. In unforeseen events like that governing the day, inviting all the extant chiefs would hinder the decision-making process, which had to be hasty.

Seconds after, Chief Iwegbuna, followed by two of his right-hand men, marched into the palace. Just the mere sight of the head chief caused Onochie to seethe in anger. The man was the exact embodiment of his nemesis. It was a good thing he was ready for him and his vices.

"Onye eze kaa nka mo!"

Really? Onochie thought. Did they genuinely want him to live long? He narrowed his eyes at the tall, slightly overweight men who shared the same statue as Iwegbuna. Their faces were not on the list of people or things he wanted to see. The longer they stood there with those mischievous smiles on their faces and the white wrappers tied on their waists that should be tainted black with their ugly sins, the faster he wanted to combust in rage.

"Your Majesty, we have detained the culprit, Chief Okorie. We are here to find out what our next line of actions should be." Iwegbuna was obviously the spokesman for the others. The men had not uttered a single word since their arrival, apart from their greetings, and it did not seem like they would be doing so shortly.

"Did you rejoice behind my back?" Onochie ignored whatever Iwegbuna had said as he had his own agenda. "Did you smile and laugh and hope that I would be dead? That I would not be here to partake of the gift of breath that only the living have?" He barked out a burst of loud, false laughter and the three chiefs' faces sampled on expressions of bewilderment.

"My king, we would never ever do that." Oh, they had functioning tongues?

"That is not what we, your loyal subjects, could dare to think of."

"My lord, we only care for your peace and happiness. There is—"

"You, Iwegbuna! Were you disappointed to hear that I was not without life? Were you sad that the sounding of the rams' horns was for a purpose other than my passing away? Does it upset you that I am still on this throne, in my palace, conversing with you all?"

"My king..."

"Answer me!" He yelled. "Answer me, great head chief of Zoro."

"I do not know what you expect of me, Your Majesty."

"Hoho! Now, he does not know what I expect of him." Onochie roared before turning to Kamalu, who had a hollowed scowl directed at the chiefs. Somehow, the man had handled his weapon without his noticing. Dependable as always.

"I will not waste any time here, so listen to me, chiefs of Zoro. This is my official order. First, release Chief Okorie immediately!" A soft mumble arose. "Silence! Second of all, prepare yourselves because Zoro's borders will be opened in seven days!"

"What? Your Majesty, this was not discussed with—"

"This gathering is now dismissed. Leave my palace!"
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A/N: The chapters may sometimes be this long, loves. Please don't forget to vote and comment!