A Slave’s Ascension

Chapter 6: Goodbyes

Akunna’s body lay wrapped in white cloth, resting in a grave. A few villagers stood around her, singing sorrowful songs. Their faces were heavy with grief, but they sang to honor a brave woman who had fought to protect her son.

Ikenna stood apart, tears streaming down his face. He clenched his fists, trying not to cry, but it was useless. His body shook with sobs. He wanted to be strong, not to show weakness in front of the men who had killed his mother, but the pain was too much.

Obinna noticed him from afar. Ignoring the curious looks from his soldiers, he walked to Ikenna and placed a hand on his shoulder.

Ikenna stiffened. For a moment, he wanted to push the man away. But something about Obinna’s steady presence calmed him. He leaned into the touch, his sobs quieter now.

The soldiers were surprised by his actions and whispered among themselves.

"Why’s the general doing that?" one asked.

"He’s acting like the boy isn’t a hostage," another muttered.

Onyeka, Obinna’s brother, heard the comments. A cold, hard, murderous stare from his one good eye was enough to shut them up. He might not be as strong as his brother, but he was also a force to be reckoned with. He hadn’t achieved his position through nepotism but by his own hard work. The soldiers gulped and fell silent.

Turning back to face Obinna and the boy, Onyeka too wondered what his brother was doing, but he suppressed his questions for when they were in private. For now, he would stand by his brother and present a united front.

The burial ended, and villagers slowly dispersed. Ikenna wiped his face, trying to hide his tears. Obinna glanced at the mound of dirt that now covered Akunna’s body.

“It’s time to leave,” he said firmly.

Ikenna clenched his fists. The sorrow inside him twisted into something stronger—a spark of defiance that would not die.

Obinna saw the change in his eyes, but it didn’t bother him. Everyone needed a reason to keep pressing forward in life, and he knew that anger could be a great motivator.

"I just pray his anger doesn’t consume him," Obinna thought.

“Go and stand with your people,” Obinna instructed. He gently pushed Ikenna toward the gathered villagers.

Ikenna was surprised by the action and found himself reluctant to leave Obinna’s side. He might be angry and raging inside, but somehow Obinna's firm and steady aura made him feel safe. Despite himself, he found that he liked the man, even if he didn’t want to. In the end, he did as instructed and went to his people.

Obinna calmly walked to the front of the gathering and turned to face the villagers. He could see the pain, terror, and uncertainty in their eyes. Mothers clutched their children tightly, while the men exchanged wary glances. He felt a pang in his chest for being the cause of their suffering, but such was the way of the world. The strong ruled, and the weak served.

Obinna's voice was steady but commanding as he began, "I know your hearts are heavy today. You have lost loved ones, homes, and the life you once knew. But hear me now, and hear me well—your lives are not over. They have merely changed."

The crowd murmured uneasily, but Obinna carried on.

"You are now citizens of the Kingdom of Orlu, a budding but strong empire destined to rule this land. I will not lie to you—your status will be that of a lower caste for now. But you are citizens nonetheless. That means you will enjoy certain rights and privileges, including protection from external threats and access to trade and resources under our rule."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Some villagers exchanged glances, their expressions conflicted.

"But citizenship comes with responsibilities," Obinna continued, his tone hardening. "Every family will give up one child to the empire, preferably male. If a family has no male child, then a daughter will be taken as insurance."

A gasp rippled through the crowd. Mothers instinctively pulled their children closer. Some of the surviving men muttered angrily under their breath.

Obinna's eyes hardened. "This is not negotiable. These children will be trained, educated, and raised as loyal subjects of Orlu. Their lives will be in service to the empire, and their presence will ensure your obedience and hard work."

He let the weight of his words hang in the air before continuing.

"I know what you are thinking—that this is a punishment. But it is not. It is an opportunity. Work hard, pay your tributes, and raise no rebellion. In time, your status will rise, and your children will return as honored members of the empire."

Obinna swept his gaze across the crowd, his voice unyielding. "But defy me, and your suffering will be tenfold. I do not tolerate betrayal. The empire does not tolerate betrayal."

The villagers stood frozen, their faces pale with shock. Some wept openly, while others stared at Obinna with barely concealed resentment.

"Now, you may wonder what you have to offer the kingdom," Obinna said, his tone shifting to a more practical note. "Let me be clear: your village sits on fertile land rich with valuable resources. Your clay deposits will be used for pottery and construction. Your blacksmiths will forge weapons and tools for the empire. Your palm oil and raffia trees will fuel trade and craftsmanship. And your copper deposits will be mined for currency and metalworks."

The crowd's eyes flickered with recognition at the mention of their resources. Many had never thought of their land as valuable beyond survival.

"You are not weak," Obinna declared. "You are not useless. You are now part of something greater than yourselves—a kingdom that will shape history. Accept this, and you will thrive."

He took a deep breath, his voice dropping to a softer tone. "The burial of Akunna reminded me that even in war, dignity must be preserved. You have my word that your customs and traditions will be respected, as long as they do not conflict with the laws of Orlu."

Obinna gestured to Onyeka, who stepped forward, his presence cold and commanding. "My brother will oversee the selection of children. Once chosen, they will be escorted to the capital for training."

The villagers looked defeated, their spirits bruised but not entirely broken. Obinna knew they would resist in their hearts, but with time, they would adapt—or perish.

"Remember this," Obinna said as he turned to leave. "Your loyalty is not just to the empire but to your children now in its care. Think carefully before you act."

He added, "Say your farewells and goodbyes, for tomorrow we depart for the capital."

The crowd remained silent as Obinna and his men walked back toward the chieftain’s compound.