Khisa stood before the blacksmiths, watching as the forges roared with heat. Sweat glistened on their skin as they hammered away at molten steel, shaping it into the tools that would carry them into the unknown.
"I need weapons," he said, his voice commanding. "Not just any weapons—the best you have ever made."
The blacksmiths exchanged glances before nodding, listening intently as he continued.
"For myself, a double-sided axe—one with balance, reach, and strength. It must be sharp enough to cleave through shields but durable enough to withstand countless battles."
One of the smiths, an older man named Mwinyi, frowned. "That's a heavy weapon. Even for a warrior like you."
Khisa nodded. "Then make it so that only I can wield it properly."
Mwinyi grunted in approval before gesturing for a younger apprentice to start gathering materials.
"And for the others," Khisa continued, "They will come request what weapons they wish we also need many daggers and arrows. We need enough to fight any enemy up close or from a distance."
"What of armor?" another smith asked.
"Stronger than before. Make it light, but capable of stopping arrows and bullets. Use everything we've learned from the slavers' weapons."
The smiths murmured among themselves before Mwinyi spoke again. "This will take time, but we will do it."
Khisa nodded in approval.
Later that day, he called Ndengu and Naliaka to his hut. They arrived quickly, their expressions expectant.
"I need you both to speak to the others," Khisa said. "Tell them to request weapons. Not just any weapons, but the best. They should go to the army's weapon shed and look at what weapons they wish to wield."
Ndengu raised an eyebrow. "Some of them might not be strong enough to wield such weapons."
Khisa met his gaze, unwavering. "Then they will learn."
Naliaka smirked. "Understood."
While the weapons were being forged, Khisa turned his focus to the land.
He gathered the farmers near the river, standing before them as he gestured toward the fields.
"Our strength is not just in our warriors, but in our food supply. Without it, we are nothing," he began. "We must ensure Nuri never starves, even in the worst droughts."
He then demonstrated advanced irrigation techniques, using stones and clay to create channels that could store and redirect water. He taught them how to dig trenches that would carry water from the river to their crops, ensuring a steady supply even in dry seasons.
"Water is life," he reminded them. "Control it, and you control the future."
Next, he spoke to them about preserving food—smoking meat to make it last longer, drying fruits, and storing grains in sealed containers to prevent spoilage.
Some of the elders nodded approvingly, murmuring about how such knowledge had been lost to time.
"If we do this right, Nuri will never suffer from famine," Khisa told them.
Despite all his preparations, not everyone was at ease with his departure.
The twelve men and eight women that made up his squad were still young warriors. Even then, they had fought, trained, and bled together. Yet, for all their confidence in battle, this journey into the unknown stirred unease.
"I've never been this far from home," one of the warriors, a woman named Zuberi, admitted as they gathered the night before their departure.
"None of us have," Ndengu added, leaning against his spear. "We've always fought for Nuri from within its borders. But now… now we go out, with no certainty of what we will face."
Naliaka crossed her arms. "Are you afraid?"
"No," Zuberi said immediately, but the hesitation in her voice was enough to make some of the others exchange glances.
Khisa, who had been listening in silence, finally spoke.
"This is more than just a journey," he said. "This is about shaping the future—not just for Nuri, but for all those who will come after us. If we succeed, we set the foundation for something greater than any of us. If we fail…" He let the words hang.
Silence fell over the group.
Then, Ndengu straightened. "Then we don't fail."
A slow, determined nod passed between them all. Whatever uncertainty they carried, they would bear it together.
That night, before resting, Khisa accessed the system within his mind.
"Ayaan, I need the best weapons training manuals you have. The hardest, the most advanced. I need my warriors to learn."
A brief pause. Then, the response came.
[Processing request… Compiling optimal training programs.]
[Weapons training manuals acquired: Advanced swordsmanship, spear combat, dagger mastery, survival combat.]
[Additional recommended materials: Strategy, leadership, and survival training.]
Khisa nodded. "Give me everything."
[Confirmed. Uploading data…]
As the knowledge settled in his mind, he exhaled. His warriors would not just be skilled in combat; they would become strategists, survivors, and leaders.
They would be prepared for anything.
As he walked through the village the next morning, he heard the whispers.
"He is taking our young warriors. What if they never return?"
"Who will protect Nuri if danger comes while he is gone?"
"He has done much for us, but this is reckless."
Khisa heard, but he did not stop to argue. He had made his decision.
However, at one point, he saw an elderly woman, one of the village weavers, watching him with sharp eyes.
"You remind me of your father," she said. "Always running toward danger."
Khisa offered a small smile. "He survived."
The woman nodded. "Then may you do the same."
Two months passed in preparation.
On the eve of their departure, the entire village gathered. Fires burned high into the night, warriors danced, and elders spoke prayers for their safety.
Nanjala held him longer than anyone, her hands firm around his shoulders. "Come back alive," she whispered.
"I will," Khisa promised.
Lusweti pulled him aside. "Are you sure about this?"
Khisa smiled. "Yes. And when I return, I expect Nuri to have doubled in size and strength. You must develop beyond what even I could imagine."
Lusweti let out a rare laugh. "You think I'll let you come back to a weaker kingdom? I'll surpass your expectations."
Khisa grinned. "Then I look forward to it."
At sunrise, Khisa and his twenty warriors mounted their horses.
The village stood in silence, watching them. Some with pride, others with tears. They carried only their weapons and water, leaving behind everything else.
Lusweti watched them disappear over the horizon, the dust of their journey rising in the golden morning light.
As they vanished into the north, Lusweti turned to his people.
"The boy has placed his trust in us," he said. "We will not disappoint him."
And with that, he got to work.
The government needed to be structured. Leaders needed to be chosen. The expansion of Nuri had to begin in earnest.
Khisa's journey had begun.
And so had Nuri's next chapter.