Something was terribly wrong. But Onochie had yet to finally conclude on what the problem was. He did not know what he'd particularly done to deserve the cold shoulder Ozioma had given him earlier in the morning, which had resulted in his eventual walk back to his palace seeming like the longest trip he had ever undertaken in the entirety of his existence.

They'd met at another one of their many hiding places in the premise of a pawpaw-tree miles away from the palace before the clouds began to glow with heavenly light. It had been dark as the sun had not yet resumed its job and was still taking its rest.

Still, in the plodding shadows of the unlit day, he could make out her countenance. There was no doubt that she was unhappy. That was indeed what he first noticed. It could not have slipped past him as Ozioma was an open book when it came to her emotions.

Onochie gave his best efforts to appease her but they all went to waste and amounted to empty nothings. There had barely been enough time for their meeting, him getting the break to dissect his actions could not have been feasible. Now, however, he was occupied with noughts and could count, as long as was possible to, all he might have done to offend her.

After racking his brain, Onochie noted only a scarce number of logical answers to be plausible. The foremost one, un-leisurely swimming between his trains of conceptions, to the question 'why?' was that she could have been resentful because he did not call for her in the four days following the attempted murder on his life.

It was a reason that made sense, but it made her out to be inconsiderate. Surely, she did not expect him to be up and on his feet immediately after the shock of almost being poisoned. She couldn't have thought the incident had no impact on him, could she?

Today was the fifth day after the ruckus, and it was when he'd come to the realisation that he'd, at last, gathered the courage he needed to face her. He was finally certain he had his emotions under control.

The fear that had been plaguing him no longer had the strength that it once held to tighten its choking stronghold. Through sheer perseverance, he'd snatched away its power and come out as he wanted: on top, victorious. For this reason, he'd felt brave enough to face her.

Now, Onochie knew Ozioma. He'd been with her for quite a long time to be aware of her likes and dislikes. Specifically, he knew this of her, that she was not a woman who fancied weak men. She'd affirmed so herself on countless occasions. He was, therefore, aware that he could not let her see him in his worst state. Everything would be over if she did.

Ozioma would hate him if she realised how weak his emotions made him, and how broken he was on the inside. No one could fix him, not even her. And he most certainly did not blame her for not doing so.

It was not his woman's duty to glue his fragmented pieces back together, rebuilding them to the former state they once were when he was only a child. He had that responsibility himself, yet he'd failed. So then, how could he blame someone else for not being successful at what he'd not in any way come up to scratch with?

Love was not meant for redemption. It was only that, love. If redemption, by chance, did come by, then it was an extra to the one who was saved. But it was by no means an end goal. Making reclamation an end goal would be admitting that true love was a thing that could be forced.

Onochie did not believe love to be an all-encompassing and perfect entity that erased pain, sorrows, and struggles. There was nothing of the sort that existed. He'd not and was sure he'd never see such a case. His pain was his and his alone to bear, as were his burdens.

Lazing in his chambers, Onochie felt the stifling heat pressing down on him from all corners of the room. As he turned on his bed to find a position that suited him better, he let his thoughts wander, returning to what he presumed to be the cause for Ozioma's anger.

He recalled that she did ask him why he did not call for her earlier. Knowing fully well what the outcome of telling her the truth would be, he'd become tongue-tied. He was unable to come source a single excuse that would mollify her. There was no guarantee she would be placated either way, as she was convinced that he'd pushed her away in such an adverse time instead of requesting for her to comfort him.

What Ozioma did not know was that she did not hold that much power over the negative emotions that often tore him apart. Though she was the sole woman he loved, she could not change everything he felt so easily. When they came, he had to suffer through them at his own pace. There was no speeding up or fastening the process.

Nevertheless, the resulting cold-shoulder she gave him hurt deeply. It was almost like she'd chosen to shun him, and it made him miserable. He'd initially been excited to be with her after an ostensibly endless period of separation between the both of them. But, her sour attitude had burst the inflated balloon of happiness he'd been floating on. He wasn't yet recovered from his disappointment at their meet.

A heavy sigh lifted Onochie's chest up high before lowering it back down at the stifling heat and a pesky fly, which had been buzzing about for far too long without a plan to stop its disturbance. It was difficult to focus on anything else other than the humidity that made him feel as if he was being squeezed by the neck. It was a wonder that he could still breathe.

Seconds scurried by, melding into minutes and moments as he lay on his back on the bed made from the softest down and feathers of the plumpest ducks. The plucked plumages shut in the sewed casing for the mattress, and his two pillows made for swollen, comfortable pieces that foster restful sleep.

Using the feathers of ducks in making mattresses was far more common among the royals than the cherished downing of birds. Downs were softer and did not have quills like true feathers, which could poke at and sometimes injure a sleeping person. They, however, were more tedious to gather and not as much in abundance as feathers.

In the past, Onochie had been gifted with a mattress made solely from downs. The only complication came afterwards when the bed began to lose its shape. It became clear that feathers were better at retaining their form than downs.

Onochie so suggested that there be a mixture of both in his sleeping instruments. The pillows could be made of only feathers to prevent unnecessary use of downs, while the mattress would be composed of eighty percent plumes and twenty percent downing. As a preventive measure against abrasions, the downs had to be at the top, above the feathering.

A smile brightened up Onochie's face as he recalled how successful his involvement with what he'd wanted to become had been. He'd gained respect from the workmen who had not thought of blending both fillings as he did, and it'd made him the happiest he'd been in a long time without Ozioma by his side.

It was late afternoon, and the evening was steadily approaching. Onochie was not pleased as he wished time would dawdle instead of rapidly bounding away like a hare.

The duty demanded of him—being the king—before the end of the day was not one he enjoyed participating in. In fact, he loathed the very thought of hunting. His presence was only to fulfil all righteousness as he'd never taken and probably would not ever take the job as seriously as he should.

Sadly, it was not a responsibility he could shirk off or avoid as it was an old and well-known tradition in the village. If he desired to change it, he would surely be met with opposition from all angles. Unfortunately, Onochie was not ready to deal with a single one of the meddlesome chiefs who pretended to sincerely serve, attend to him and have his best interests at heart.

Liars, they all were. Iwegbuna was the biggest one of them all. His tongue was coated with honey, yet everything that came out of his filthy mouth spun out to be lies. Recently, the lower-ranked chiefs had followed in his footsteps, exhibiting behaviours of pure, unadulterated deceit, dishonesty and duplicity.

Luckily for the king, he saw through their masks and made sure he did not give room for their double-dealings and hypocrisy. Their tricks could work on those under their rules but not on him. He'd been fooled enough in the past to make a priority of himself not permitting a repetition of similar incidents. It would be impolitic of him if he let them outmanoeuvre or and outwit him.

The only person he'd purposely let outplay him was Ozioma. In the silly games they often engaged in with each other, he allowed her to win as he'd realised that she delighted in triumphing over any obstacles in her way and thus enjoyed winning more than he did. Making her happy made him happy in return, so he cleverly conceded defeat each time she battled him.

Then again, his games with Ozioma were trivial. His victories from when he ousted her did not bring him joy. It probably was because she was a person he cared deeply for. Claiming a set from her would not leave him tingling with the unfamiliar energy of unmitigated satisfaction like it did when he went against the head chiefs and was able to dismiss their dissents rationally.

It was not frequently that he vanquished his foes so easily. Usually, his opinions were tossed aside—since he seldom knew what was being discussed or what was required of him as a king who'd learnt the basics of ruling only when he'd been forced by the queen mother—before they were even presented.

Only recently had he begun to put more effort into being a ruler. The change in his countenance especially came from the day he'd discovered that his woman being in love with a facet of him that was formed from the perfected vizard he wore outwardly was a trouble fit to worry him.

He could imagine the impression that would cross Ozioma's face if she ever found out any of his secrets. His mind conjured up an image of anger and disbelief merging on her graceful face. It was not a sight he wanted to be directed at him, and so he'd decided to change and become more of the man she thought him to be.

At least, her expression would be a display different from that she showed today while they'd tarried under the tree. Though it was as transparent as fine glass that anger was the primary emotion she'd been experiencing, something else in her attitude caught Onochie's attention.

Underneath the building rage was an unsettling emotion; he initially found it remarkably hard to decipher. Even when he'd identified the emotion for what it was, he could not understand why such that did not complement her was eating her up from the inside. Naturally, it was a surprise to Onochie that in accompaniment to Ozioma's anger was a sheen of guilt she failed at hiding.

Two knocks on the door to his room stole Onochie's attention, pulling him up to a sitting position. He waited for the guard stationed outside to announce who his visitor was, and as expected, it was one of his personal maids.

"Greetings, Eze. I have come to prepare Your Majesty for the event of today." Clasped beneath her arm was a calabash half-filled with Nzu with which she would be drawing designs on his body.

Before the hunt, this ritual was important as patterns of the white chalk were thought to ward off evil luck. Thus, they were commonly seen to be worn by hunters and warriors.

In the coming event, the king would be both a hunter and a warrior in the eyes of his people. Being a warrior meant that he would successfully lead his men into the unwelcoming clutches of the forest and return back safely with them.

On the other hand, being a hunter required the king's stealth, knowledge, wisdom, skills and agility. He was expected to bring back assorted animals that he'd hunted down to prove his bravery and courage.

"Go on." Onochie nodded at her, trying his best not to stare too hard at her and unintentionally force awake the lust from his teenage days. He'd only managed to put the devouring lust to sleep when he met Ozioma.

If it were to come alive, he was unsure whether or not he would be able to reign in the rambunctious emotions when he needed to. The servant was beautiful and pleasing to the eyes. Very, very pleasing. But Onochie had made a promise to Ozioma that he would always be faithful to her.

Moreover, he was far more mature than he'd been days ago. The attempt on his life had aged him past the nineteen dry seasons he'd seen and counted with his very eyes. He'd become so much more experienced in such a short time as a result.

Despite his best efforts, Onochie could not help but, in the slightest, intently watch the maiden as she trailed her fingers across his face, smoothening grainy pellets into white planes that spread their wings on the live canvas, his flesh.

It was virtually muscle memory, the way she gently and swiftly glided the chalks rounded tip over the bridge of his nose and all around the borders of both his eyes. Maybe it truly was. After all, though still nameless to Onochie, the maiden was the only servant he'd permitted to touch his face since he became king and had done so uncountably. She was very proficient at what she did, so the job became somewhat of a permanent assignment for her.

"Excuse me, Your Majesty. I must move closer than I am right now." There was an anxious look on her face as she spoke, and Onochie knew it was only because she was scared of him becoming irritated at the proximity between them. He'd thrown a fit about it the last time she'd prepared him for the hunting, and she'd obviously been on the receiving end of his anger.

Guilt settled like a thick mantle on the king at his previous actions. He could not even remember the cause of the ebullition of emotions that day, yet the experience, he could testify, had left a lasting effect on the woman before him.

"You are free to do so. I apologise for my actions the other day."

She was evidently flustered by his words as she stammered through her response. "I...I...I... My king...I... You do not need to apologise to your servant for such. I...I do not deserve such action from you, my lord. Please, I am sorry for any impertinence you might have discerned from me."

Onochie was once again dumbfounded by how speedily those under his rule took the blame for faults that were not theirs whatsoever. It was obviously due to his position as a king. Weirdly, he was not sure he'd ever get used to being treated about short of a god. And he was not sure he'd ever stop being ill at ease whenever the situation called for such formalities.

"My lord?"

"Do what you need to do quick. I want to be left alone."

Her eyes protruded out, widening like those of a chameleon as she scrambled to finish the markings. "Yes, of course, my lord. I will be done very soon." She asserted. Onochie sighed wearily.

༄༄༄

The hunting dogs barked at all in their sight with reckless abandon. Onochie wished there was a way he could plug his ears or maybe even rip them out to block out the noise that was permeating into his soul. This was reason number one, among a thousand others, why he hated hunting. The chronic cacophony of deafening sounds from the wretched, although useful animals, could wake the dead and simultaneously drive a sane man to lunacy.

They had to be fed first before heading into the fields. No game would be caught if the hounds continued on their howling and snarling. In that case, they would become more of a liability than an asset as they were meant to be.

"My king, may you live long and may your reign be as eternal as the gods bless you with the strength to lead your people."

"Thank you, Kamalu." Onochie gave him a genuine smile. It was not often that he received sincere blessings from one who actually cared about him and not just his position as king. Kamalu was one of the few people who had his best interests at heart. "How are the preparations for the hunt going?"

"We are right on track, Your Majesty. We have the weapons and traps ready. All the men are assembled outside the courtyard, waiting on your instructions, my lord."

"What about my horse?"

"It is ready to go as well, my lord—brushed down and saddled for you, Your Majesty. It is waiting outside with the men. I ordered them to inspect its feet for any injuries and to wrap up any which has as much a single cut on it."

"Good. That sounds good." Onochie commended the hard work of the chief guard. He had attended to the careful execution of all the tasks he had to direct in due time as usual, and Onochie was well pleased. "The mongrels are quite stubborn today, are they not?"

"Yes, my lord. They do not want to stop their barkings even though they are being fed."

"Might they need more food?"

"I am not sure, Your Majesty. They might. I will speak to one of the guards responsible for feeding them and instruct them to increase the dogs' portion. We will then observe what happens."

"Perfect." Onochie's attention was on the snarling beasts forcefully straining against the thickly braided ropes securely fastened to a pole, and which jerked them back when they rushed farther than the length of the ropes would tolerate. He concluded with a shake of his head that he preferred them locked up in their cages. They were satisfactorily quiet then.

The dog-trainer served a pound of raw flesh to the side, and Onochie could not help but arch an eyebrow at the thought that immediately trundled through his head.

Since the dogs were raised on uncooked meat and nothing else, he wondered about the extent of the damage that could be released if they ever were released from their cages and set on one who was a stranger to them. It would be a profound disaster.

"We leave soon when I mount my horse. Make sure to shut up in the cage any dog that will not cooperate even after needed force is applied."

"You instructions have been taken, Your Majesty." He bowed as he stalked in the direction of the rabid animals.

It was time to depart. Onochie's palms sprung wells of unneeded water, a sign of his nerves being highly strung, as he swung on the horse with the help of a guard who was responsible for boosting him into his saddle. "Onwards!" He yelled, and thirty men along with ten quieter dogs followed on foot after his trotting horse into the dark forest.

Participating in a hunt did not never make him almost sick with anxiety. It was challenging not to fall into the habit of doing so when he was continuously expected to prove himself. The problem was Onochie had not once proved himself.

From ages to ages, the palace was redecorated with the prizes the king regnant won in his hunts. Relics were formed from the skeletons and furs of precious animals the monarch killed and brought to ruin with his two hands.

In Onochie's palace, more than ten assorted kills decorated the available corners of the room. However, there was not a single one that he'd killed himself. Kamalu was the one who brought them all down.

The king of Zoro had never successfully shot an arrow in his lifetime, as he'd found it impossible to learn the techniques associated with doing so. He was a failure at hunting games. This was not the same for Kamalu, who was the best hunter in all of Zoro. His utter loyalty to his master led to him volunteering to help Onochie keep his honour and reputation by making all his kills for him. They only had to keep their secret flawlessly hidden.

There was much to be afeared of in the forest. And once his men had dispersed into their stations, metres from his own position, Onochie could check on his mental list what animal he was most scared of at that moment.

On a normal basis, maybe he wouldn't have been so afraid, and the animal wouldn't have been so high up on his list. But it was different when a wild pig was outstaring him as if in a glaring contest that Onochie wasn't sure of when or how he'd gotten into. Its beady, unintelligent eyes regarded him with cruel intention. No longer on his horse and without an inkling of what to do, the king turned around and ran.
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A/N: Hey loves, I made a change to the title of the book and this is because I am thinking of making a sequel. The ideas I have are too many to cram into one book, especially as my concepts for the Zoro fiction books were to all be short stories. Notwithstanding, things might still change anytime. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Please do vote and comment!💛