The last of the delegation vanished beyond the horizon, leaving only dust in their wake. The people of Nuri stood in uneasy silence, their hearts heavy with uncertainty.
The whispers grew louder, spreading through the gathered crowd like dry grass catching flame.
"Have we not suffered enough?"
"Why must we bleed for people we have never met?"
"Kilwa is far. If their people fall, will the enemy even reach us?"
"The King should have protected his own first!"
The tension swelled, thick in the air like an impending storm. Some among them crossed their arms, their faces set in quiet resistance. Others looked down, torn between duty and doubt. A few, warriors by nature, stood rigid with their hands on their weapons, ready to follow their King without question.
Lusweti stepped onto the raised platform at the heart of the square. He saw their fear. He understood it. But Nuri was built on something stronger than fear.
He took a deep breath and spoke.
"When we built Nuri, it was not just for ourselves." His voice cut through the murmurs, firm and unwavering. "Each of you standing here has known pain. Some of you lost your families to war. Some of you were forced into chains. Some of you watched as your lands burned and your people starved. And yet, we stand here today."
The crowd listened, but their uncertainty lingered. Lusweti took a step forward, his gaze piercing through them.
"Nuri was not given to us. We fought for it. We bled for it. We carved this kingdom out of nothing and built it into a home. Not just for one clan, not just for one people—but for all who have suffered, all who seek freedom."
He let his words settle before continuing.
"Now, others suffer as we once did. Will we turn our backs on them, as others once turned their backs on us?"
A hush fell over the crowd. Some still looked doubtful. Others glanced at one another, as if seeing their own struggles reflected back at them.
"We are one people," Lusweti said. "We will not be the kind of kingdom that thrives while others perish. We will not stand aside and watch the innocent be slaughtered. As long as I am your King, I will not let Nuri be a forgotten name. We will be remembered for generations. We will be the beacon of hope we were meant to be."
A deep silence followed. Then, a single voice broke through.
"For Nuri!"
Another.
"For our people!"
The hesitation shattered. A roar erupted through the square, a wave of voices rising in unity. Warriors struck their spears against the ground. Elders nodded, their resistance melting away. The doubt was not gone completely, but for now, they trusted their King.
Lusweti stood tall, his chest rising with pride. His people were ready.
The warriors in the barracks quickly got to work, sharpening their weapons, practicing formations, reading strategies anything to help Nuri come out victorious.
Near the shade of an acacia tree, a group of young warriors sat in a circle, their spears resting against the trunk. Their bodies were lean and strong, their faces lined with the first traces of adulthood.
"I wish we were chosen to go with Prince Khisa," Kimani, a sharp-eyed Kikuyu warrior, muttered. "Who knows what kind of training he's going through right now?"
"He's probably doing something extreme," Owino, a broad-shouldered Luo, replied. "But will he even return in time for the war?"
Kamau, the quietest among them, shifted. "Of course, he will. He wouldn't abandon Nuri."
Owino scoffed. "Khisa is just a man. He is not invincible."
Kimani bristled. "Just a man? He is the reason we have this kingdom!"
"Don't act like he's the only one who fought for it," Owino shot back. "We have trained just as hard. We are just as capable."
The tension thickened. Kamau and the others looked between them, unease settling in their stomachs.
"Don't act like you would have survived half of what he went through," Kimani snapped, standing abruptly. "You think he was given his strength? You think he had it easy?"
Owino rose to meet him, their foreheads almost touching.
"You worship him like a god," Owino sneered. "We all fight, Kimani. You think you're the only one ready to die for Nuri?"
"Maybe if you respected the ones who paved the way, you'd be worth fighting beside," Kimani growled.
The first punch landed hard. The second sent dust flying. The other warriors scrambled back as the two young men rolled on the ground, fists swinging.
Before they could do real damage, a shadow loomed over them. A strong hand yanked them apart.
"Enough."
They looked up to see Ochieng, an older warrior, his face lined with years of battle. His voice carried the weight of authority.
"You fight amongst yourselves while your brothers prepare for war?" His eyes swept over them. "You think you understand strength? You think you understand battle?"
Silence. Kimani and Owino panted, their rage simmering.
Ochieng folded his arms. "I was there when Khisa faced warriors with armor that rendered our spears useless. I watched him outmaneuver men who had trained since birth to kill. He did not flinch. He did not hesitate. And he did not waste time fighting his own people over petty words."
The young warriors lowered their gazes.
"You do not have to worship him," Ochieng said, his voice softer. "But do not underestimate him. When he returns, his warriors will surpass even us."
A slow realization dawned on their faces. Kamau, still seated, spoke quietly.
"This war is our chance," he said. "To carve our own names into history. To stand beside the King and the Prince as warriors of Nuri."
The fight was forgotten. Determination replaced doubt.
Far to the north, the crackling fire cast long shadows across the exhausted warriors.
Their fingers bled from the bowstrings.They spent days using nothing but bows and arrows, hitting a target became instincts rather than pure skill. Their bodies ached from the day's relentless training.
Khisa sat cross-legged, staring into the flames. His expression was unreadable.
"The forest has nothing left to teach you. It is time we abandon the safety of the forest," he said suddenly.
The warriors stirred, confusion flickering across their faces.
"We fight every day just to stay alive," Ndengu muttered. "There is nothing safe about this place."
"Exactly," Khisa said. "The forest made you strong. But it is no longer enough. We must move north."
Naliaka frowned. "North? That's further from home."
Khisa's gaze darkened. "You have learned to survive. Now, you must learn to kill."
Silence. Some flinched. Others clenched their fists.
"I have taken lives," Khisa continued. "So have Naliaka and Ndengu. But the rest of you have not. That will change."
His voice was calm, but the weight of his words was crushing.
"We take lives not for pleasure, but because we must. Each enemy we kill is someone's son, someone's father. But we fight so that our children will never have to. Never forget that. Never let war turn you into a monster. "
The fire crackled, the only sound in the stillness.
"Tomorrow, we go north," Khisa said. "The lands will be harsher. The people more desperate. There will be no rest until we are ready."
One by one, his warriors nodded. The forest was behind them. War lay ahead.