Dead. That was exactly how Onochie felt on the inside. And maybe on the outside too. He willed his limbs to move, but they were not in the mood to listen to him. This was a problem. He had somewhere to be, even though he'd preferred it by far if his destination was anywhere but where he should be. It was to his disquietude that wishes were not horses and men could not fly.

For how long had he been seated, staring down the door? If an outsider were to peek in the palace, they would probably think that he was in a fight with the wooden barrier. His burning glare was the kind one directed at their enemies though so far, the door had done nothing wrong but to exist.

He'd had his eye on it, contemplating whether to walk through it or not for hours past. He did pace around doubtlessly in those many moments. As of now, the soles of his feet were vehemently protesting against his wish to employ them in wearing down the floors of the palace room once again.

"What should I do?" He threw open his hands and legs then pushed his head back against the rest of his chair like a man who had lost all hope. While he was quiet, the wheels in his head were spinning noisily. He counted through hundreds of useless excuses that he could make use of to escape his plight, none seeming to succeed in doing the necessary job.

Then all of a sudden, as if placed in his mind by an unseen being, a solution to his predicament appeared. With how simple and straightforward it was, Onochie had to wonder why he had been troubling and beating himself up over what he could have easily put to rest with a few spoken words.

He was the king, wasn't he? All he had to do was announce that he was not in the mood for another meeting and let them all know that he wished to retire to his chambers for the day—night?—as it was not yet time for darkness to blacken the skies. However, evening was already softly falling as he'd waited out the better hours of the day, courtesy of his cowardice, after Chief Okorie's exoneration.

No one would hold a cutlass to his neck if he decided not to address his men as he'd promised. But, he reckoned, that he'd only be running away from his problems as usual. What king acted the way he did? Probably none. How was he to lead his people when he could not muster courage and bravery when it was needed? He preferred to gallop away, abandoning whatever mess had been made when things got tough as if he had no backbone.

Be a king! He admonished himself. Why was it so difficult for him to be one? What would it take for him to become the man his people would be proud of? He was still decades away from becoming who they thought he was. Would he ever measure up to their expectations? He wasn't so sure.

But then again, he'd promised himself that he'd do better and work tirelessly towards the goal he had pressing on the wrinkled corners of his mind, folding in on him. That was a step forward. Refusing to perform his duties all because he was worried that his guards had lost faith in him as their leader would be taking two steps backwards.

It would be no exaggeration to conclude that doing so would be too much of a regression. He could not afford such a fallback anymore. Not at this point of his reign where it was clear he was being targeted and could no longer trust those who administered to him. Not that he'd ever trusted them in the first place, but that was beside the point. The point was that he needed to toughen up, or his throne would be snatched from under his feet.

That was an old nightmare of his. He'd dreamt it at least a thousand times, beginning from the day he became king. Although his fears had very few chances of coming true, they'd troubled him nonetheless. He'd tossed and turned and worried and fretted about a scenario where another child who happened to be of his father's seed would one day show up in the palace and take over the crown. 

Of course, this was implausible. And maybe even impossible. He was his father's only son. The previous king had found it difficult to conceive a child with all of his wives. It was not the women's fault; everyone knew. For there were no miscarriages or premature births or any birthings at all. There was absolutely nothing. The oracle confirmed the women to be blameless as it did not condemn them to death when they were brought before it.

At a point, it was thought that the king was incapable of ever having progeny. This rumour spread widely and quickly through the kingdom. The people began to slowly lose confidence in their king. His loyal subjects were heartbroken that none of his bloodlines would take over after his death.

A question widely asked among the nobles was the need for the king's ascension on the throne? The Eze was not of a royal bloodline. He was a lowly peasant who saved the previous king before himself and was rewarded with the position of being the king's right-hand man.

When the former king, King Ndukwe, was on his death bed, he made a decision that had never been marked in the whole of Zoro's history. Instead of announcing his brother as the next heir for the throne, he appointed Anozie, the son of a mere blacksmith. Though the main reason or motive for the king's decision was never publicly announced, there was no doubt that the king had grown to love and cherish the man who saved his life and was repaying him for his kindness.

In between the transmission of this line of reasoning, however, talks slipped about the king hating his brother and thus deeming his own kin unfit to be a ruler. It was especially backed up by the king's previous refusal to make his brother head chief. He preferred that the title went to one who was neither of his blood or bones.

Notwithstanding, the commoners were joyed. It pleased every man and woman on the street that someone of their status was the heir apparent and would eventually become the king of Zoro. Never had it been done before, but before their very eyes, history had been conquered and was being forced to rewrite itself.

This was why those who were not of royalty desperately wanted Eze Anozie's bloodline to continue on the throne. They wanted a ruler who understood them and was ready to listen to their pleas and not pompous men from noble backgrounds who neither cared nor bothered to pay attention to their people. Many of such kings had reigned in the past, and the people of Zoro were wary of whoever was to sit on the throne, specifically when they had no ties to the commoners.

The unofficial verdict that Eze Anozie would not produce an heir brought grief to those who supported his reign but not to all. In fact, more than a few were glad to hear such speculations. Plans were made to overthrow the king. This was the beginning of the throes in the royal household.

Chief Nwakaozo, the head chief at the time, was the foreman, silently leading forward the movement to dethrone the Eze. His sights were set on becoming the king himself, and he adopted deceitful techniques and practices to win people over to his side, including the Eze.

It wasn't until later that the king realised that he was being manipulated. According to stories Onochie had heard from his mother, the Eze discovered the truth almost too late. It was a relief that his discovery was not a week later when the second third, youngest queen conceived a child.

She was sent away to her parents in order to keep the child a secret as soon as the pregnancy began to round her features, fattening her cheeks and swelling out her stomach. She was ordered to deliver the child in secret before returning to the palace.

This was how Onochie was born. For the first years of his life, he was raised as a child without any ties to nobility. He ran the streets that other children did without any help, bumping into the same obstacles that palisaded their ways. Then, he was the same as any child of Zoro. He had nothing with which he trumped over any commoner. This reality was the same until the deaths; it was the palm-wine tapper first, and soon after, his father kicked the bucket.

Everything whirled around a complete three-hundred and sixty degrees afterwards. It was not possible for all that Onochie knew to remain the same. Even though he was to continue growing away from the palace, he was now the crown prince, deserving of the best privileges known to exist.

Yet, he never felt like he belonged on the throne. No, he never conceded himself as deserving the throne. And as he reached adulthood, this doubt sprouted throughout his being, debilitating him when he needed to be most confident in himself and his capabilities.

It so was one of his many nightmares that in no distant time, another child of his father would show up and challenge him for the throne on the basis that he had not done a job of ruling up to the mark for a son of Anozie. Many nights he'd trembled over his actions being deemed fair-to-middling.

He still hadn't gotten over the fear, but it was to his relief that the nightmares had stopped. It wasn't exactly pleasant to dream of an imaginary brother plunging a cutlass into his gut and peeling everything he owned and loved from him. His life would be over if that happened. In such a case, there was no chance that he would sit back and watch. Though he had no experience in battling, he'd have to fight.

"My king!" The heavy doors swung open, the very act startling Onochie to the point of almost falling off his throne. He made to correct his statue, right his pose by putting in efforts to conceal his initial shock, but instead whacked his ribs against his wooden chair. Kamalu's hawk eyes, which had caught the scene bulged visibly, and he scurried to the king.

"Ugh..." Onochie groaned under his breath, pressing our air through his lips as he'd smashed the slender bones quite hard.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

"Fine. I am fine." He quickly supplied a reply to disguise the sharp pain pinning him to his seat. It took a few seconds before he found his body willing to wobble to a stand. "I know what you are here for. You need not tell me." He shook his head as he set out for the courtyard. Even though he'd not been the most willing beforehand, he did not need anyone to remind him what he was required to do.

There was no doubt that Kamalu meant well by doing so, but he could not continue repeating this act. It injured the king's pride and made him feel like he was a babbling toddler still learning to make use of his feet in walking. Kamalu ought to know better. But he didn't, and it was because Onochie did not want to hurt him by mentioning that such a well-meant gesture was one that he detested.

"Come with me already," he beckoned on Kamalu, who was somehow lingering behind him. Was there something that he wanted to say or ask or do? Onochie'e eyes skimmed the surface of the guard's inscrutable countenance and found nothing. Maybe he should not be worrying about something so trivial, he supposed and set his head high as he headed for the next quest he was to conquer.

The courtyard was brimming with able-bodied men. Zeal and vigour hung in the air like the fragrance of the furry hairs of goats being singed off during festivals meant to honour the gods. Onochie could almost touch the careless ardour, feel the advancing vitality, garner the teeming energy. It was everywhere, within his reach.

He could not help but be proud. His men. They were his men. Lost in the precious moment, his fear of them coming to see him as less than was forgotten. His anxieties fleeted away out of his grasp. He was not sure when he let go.

Peering down at the kneeling men from his pedestal, the king was ready to face his troubles whether they would swallow him whole or not. It no longer mattered. All he had to do was face them.

"My king?" Kamalu whispered from his own crouch. "Are you alright? Or have we offended you?" He was alright. Why wouldn't he be? And he wasn't offended. Why would he be? It seemed that his unresponsiveness had been taken for illness or perhaps anger.

"Rise, great men of Zoro." He bid them, his confidence at its peak. And then they rose. With more than a hundred eyes on him, Onochie withered. His tongue's weight multiplied by an infinite factor, turning it too hefty for him to budge into making sentences.

Where did his courage go? Why had it deserted him? His bravado was failing him, fizzling out, like water seeping out of the cracks of a calabash, to be replaced by a sanguine anxiousness that was draining his body of the strength that held it up, especially in his legs. His limbs were deadening, becoming dead weight, losing the life in them.

Onochie well-nigh squawked at the sharp pain that now shot up his spine. He was beyond tense, and his system had begun to malfunction as it did when he was faced with situations he believed he could not handle or were beyond his control.

He tried but could not remember when last he had fully been in control of his life. These days, it was as if he was merely floating on unexpected currents, stopping where they stopped, flowing where they flowed, without a say on the direction in which they hauled him. He could not help but hunger for power. Power over himself.

In his hands lay the authority to govern over many people. He had the responsibility to lead many, to direct what was to be done. Yet, he'd not been able to assume such a position of puissance over his life. He was still helpless when it came to fulfilling his duties and to ordering his ways.

Now, he tried to form a word or two, but his voice box had chosen the exact moment to pick up a fault. He knew it was because of the keen attention currently focused on him. When he first arrived in the courtyard, he'd not been instantly noticed by the men and had watched them mill about, making jokes and basking in one another's camaraderie.

They'd been too busy fraternising among themselves to espy their king making his way to the middle of their group. This meant he'd not felt the anxiousness he was experiencing presently and could not shake off.

But he had to be strong. For his kingdom. For his men. For himself. He could not hide under the umbrella of providence forever. He had to take his stand, arm himself and march into the melee. Otherwise, he would be eaten up and spat out by the raging war, an outcome he wanted to avoid by all means.

From his makeshift stage, Onochie towered over the men, and it gave him a teaspoon of courage. Maybe half a teaspoon. Notwithstanding the added courage was one he was grateful for, and he was ready to put it to good use.

"There is a saying I have been acquainted with since I was a child. Since I was a boy with a heavy tongue in his mouth, who had to force out words to lighten his load. It is this: that the owner of a house does not matter as much as the mud bricks that protect the dignity of the house itself. I know that you all are sometimes looked over, regarded as mere guards. But the truth is that you are the guardians of Zoro."

Onochie paused to stare them down in the eyes. He had to make sure that they knew he was serious and sincere. His honesty had to reach them. He needed it to. The times they were in were crucial, and he was desperately in need of men who would trust him and in whom he could return the firm belief of reliability.

It wasn't too much to ask, was it? True, he'd made mistakes in the past, but surely, that did not discredit him as a man who deserved openness and earnestness from good men. Men of candour. Men that he could count on. Men that he could entrust his life.

Slow down. He urged himself. Baby steps had to be taken before runs and then leaps. There was no time to let his thoughts stray from the present. There was a huge possibility that he would be meeting such men like Kamalu very soon. But that was not the destination he was headed for presently.

First, he was to steer them to his side. "Great men of Zoro!" He brought his voice many obvious notches higher that he was personally surprised by the sudden rise. Thankfully, his composure clicked back into place, finding its position like the opposite poles of two magnets longing for each other. He smiled self-assuredly, then hailed them again.

Throughout the courtyard, the vibrations of their cheers shook the ground. Onochie knew he had succeeded in hoisting up their spirits. He had worried for no reason. The men did not seem to remember the incident where he'd run from the boar. If they did, their actions did not communicate or give any signs of them viewing him as incapable. If anything, they were more in sync with him than ever.

"I am glad to see that we understand each other. Your roles in Zoro are immeasurable. The sacrifices you all made, leaving your families to serve your king, are incalculable. I am happy to have you as my men, now more than ever. And I want you all to remember your worth, to remember this day when I speak to you all as my brothers and not just men who are to protect their king."

"It might have been inexpedient for the important niches you all occupy in this kingdom to be noticed by others. But not anymore. There is no need for you to hide your great battle skills underneath your garments, skulking about for the sole purpose of keeping pace. Zoro is no longer hidden."

Zoro was indeed not an isolated village anymore, contrary to the literal meaning of its name. Onochie kept his gaze firm and steady, waiting for his words to sink into the men. It was important for them to realise the weight of their situation. Since Zoro was no longer hidden, it meant that it had also lost its power of invisibility. They could be involved in quarrels with neighbouring kingdoms, if they—the territories—happened to be hostile, as they had opened their borders to outside relations.

Of course, Onochie would do his best to prevent any sorts of harm from coming to Zoro. But he did not control the minds of humans. This was exactly why he endeavoured to source out alliances from the villages he'd sent Kamalu out to scout. In any case, he had to put his house in order and make sure his bricks were strong enough to withstand the wind and rain and hard sunshine that was soon to come.

"I will not force any of you to do what is against your choices, but I hope you make the right decisions." He announced, centring his feet on the stage, grounding himself before dragging in a hefty breath. "Your decisions will be important as you will be choosing whether to be a part of the groups known for combat inside and outside the village or solely for peacekeeping among the people. Note that you can only choose one group. It is either one or the other, never both. Now, those who choose combat move to the side of the general, Kamalu, and form a queue. Those, on the other hand, who are interested in peacekeeping move in the opposite direction."

A rowdiness that slightly disoriented Onochie ensued after his command. He stepped back to give the men time to think while he engaged his mind in patternless, mostly useless, musings. He was in the process of returning to his audience when a movement from the end of the courtyard encapsulated his attention. It was an entourage. One he knew well. Too well.

The queen mother was here.
•