Across many rivers and the sprawling plains of the continent—8,000 kilometers west of Arsenonu, the ancient cradle of civilization—rose the great city-state of Eko. Known as the city that never sleeps, Eko dazzled with majestic buildings that stretched toward the heavens while standing firmly rooted on its coastal ground. A cool ocean breeze perpetually mingled with the bustling energy of the streets, where merchants hawked their wares and fishermen exchanged instructions as they cast their nets. The weather was cool and inviting—a constant promise of new hope for its citizens.
Eko was famed not only for its dazzling urban landscape but also for its mastery over the surrounding waters. Revered as the "king of the ocean," the city-state was believed to have been specially blessed by Olokun the sea goddess. Once every four weeks, all of her citizens gathered beneath the full moon to offer heartfelt tributes in her honor. At the height of its power, Eko, although modest in land area, was recognized as a great empire. Its control of the surrounding water bodies and its dominant export of seafood had endowed the state with unrivaled wealth. This prosperity enabled the city-state to maintain a well-trained, battle-ready army and to adopt weaker, poorer states as vassals—exchanging protection and security for loyalty. Diplomatic ties with the Oyo Empire, the Nri Kingdom, and other powerful states further solidified Eko's standing.
In the heart of the city, within an architectural wonder adorned with gems and precious stones, stood the palace of the Oba—the emperor of Eko. If the architectural masterpieces of Eko were the stars, then the palace was unquestionably the sun that outshone them all. No luxurious element present in the palace could be found elsewhere in the city. Inside, the air was thick with incense and the subtle tension of politics. Courtiers moved with ethereal grace over mosaic floors beneath chandeliers fashioned from the teeth of sea beasts and monsters. Tall, formidable walls provided a sense of security, and the palace also doubled as a temple dedicated to the worship of Olokun.
Oba Adediran, the sovereign of Eko, ruled his domain with a presence both imposing and serene. Clad in indigo robes that shimmered like the tides and seated beneath a canopy crafted from whale bone and silk, he exuded the authority of the deep ocean. His circlet, a crown of sea-born gems, and his skin—possessing the luster of deepwater stone—imbued him with an almost mythic gravity. His eyes, slow and crushing as the tides, spoke volumes without the need for raised voices. When he did speak, it was as though entire fleets moved at his command; when he remained silent, nations held their breath. To his people, he was not merely a ruler, but the living embodiment of the storm—a pact between Eko and the bountiful, yet unpredictable, sea.
During one such day amid the constant hum of palace life, a servant burst into the throne room, shouting, "Kabiyeesi! Ekaaro!" The sudden intrusion halted the flowing court as all eyes turned to the servant. A court official demanded sternly, "Kilode? How dare you intrude so rudely in the presence of our king?" As murmurs of discontent echoed among the sea people, another official declared that such insolence should be met with punishment.
Before any diplomat from a vassal state could speak further, Oba Adediran cut through the rising cacophony with measured authority. "Young man, do not chase trivialities in broad daylight and disturb my court," he chided, his voice calm yet unyielding. The servant, undeterred, delivered his news: "Kabiyeesi, may you live long. I bring news from the hinterlands—one of the Supremes of our continent has vanished."
Immediately, the room erupted in a clamor as the weight of the announcement took hold. Ambassador Olodi, representing the kingdom of Ikorodu—a vassal state of Eko—stepped forward with urgency in his tone. "My Oba, if I am correct, 'Supremes' refers to the strongest and most powerful nations and clans. For a Supreme to vanish suggests that the balance of the world has been upended."
A murmur of shock rippled through those gathered. Oba Adediran's eyes shone with a mix of curiosity and foreboding as he contemplated the implications. "According to your report," he said slowly, directing his words at the servant, "the only Supreme in the hinterlands is associated with the Okoye clan. And it appears the great Okoye have fallen."
A second servant corroborated the news in hushed tones: "Yes, Kabiyeesi—it is said that weeks ago a bloodbath reduced the clan to ruin. The former homeland of the Okoyes is now a wasteland—a battlefield shrouded in mist, where nothing living is found within a thousand kilometers. At night, visions of that brutal encounter haunt any who dare approach."
The Oba adjusted his robe with calm elegance. After a moment of contemplation, he ordered a palace guard to dispatch messengers to summon the Council of Omi, the ancient body known as Àwọn Alákóso Omi. This venerable council, as old as the primordial waters that first brought Eko's ancestors ashore, played a crucial role in the governance of the state. Renouncing personal vanity, its members were known solely by their honorific titles, titles passed down through noble families bound by their loyalty to the royal lineage.
The administrative structure of Eko was clear and unyielding: the king ruled in close partnership with the Council of Omi; beneath them, a lower council of diplomats from the vassal states, military commanders, and wise ones—each personally promoted by the Oba—to form his cabinet; and further down, local chiefs who managed the everyday affairs of the city-empire.
As the palace guard rushed off to deliver his commands, Oba Adediran dismissed his court and retired to the inner sanctum. There, in the quiet of the inner court, he awaited the arrival of the Council of Omi to discuss the unsettling news. Unbeknownst to him, a vast political storm was gathering over Eko—a tempest that would challenge everything he had built and test the mettle of the empire under his rule