2025-02-09 07:09:04Darius's Rant
The library was quiet, its towering bookshelves casting long shadows across the room. Shakur stood near the window, his face impassive as Darius stormed in, slamming the heavy oak door behind him. "I have always known you to be a failure!" Darius roared, his voice echoing through the room. "And now you're determined to drag me down with you, aren't you?!" Shakur flinched slightly but quickly composed himself, lowering his gaze to the floor. "What does it take to kill one man? Months? Months, Shakur! Do I have to spell it out for you?" Darius's frustration was palpable, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. Shakur hesitated, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words came. His mind raced for an excuse, but nothing seemed adequate under Darius's searing glare. "This-this isn't_" "Shut up!" Darius snapped, cutting him off. don't want to hear another excuse. Fix it. That's all. Fix it!" He stormed out, the door slamming shut behind him. Shakur stood in the silence that followed, his face a mixture of embarrassment and suppressed anger. He muttered under his breath, his lips curling into a smirk. "Time will tell," he said to himself, his tone laced with deceit. The Village Brawl The air buzzed with energy as a crowd gathered in a dusty square. Two boys, their faces smeared with sweat and dirt, circled each other, fists raised. "Kill him!" a man shouted, thrusting his fist into the air. "E no reach!" another voice countered, drawing laughter from the onlookers. The boys lunged at each other, their movements clumsy but fierce. The crowd roared, some shouting names, others hurling taunts. Nearby, women carried baskets of goods, sparing the fight only a passing glance. Life in the village moved on, indifferent to the chaos. Debating the Next King Not far from the brawl, a group of youths huddled under a large baobab tree, their voices rising in heated debate. "I can't wait for Prince Lucian to take the throne," Caden said, his voice filled with admiration. "The progress he'll bring to this kingdom will be unmatched!" "Right? The way he carries himself-with so much pride and confidence, " another added, her eyes shining. "I wish I'd been born into the royal family." "Can't wait for the coronation," a girl interjected with a laugh. "My designer's almost done with my dress." A young man in the group frowned. "1 would've preferred his younger brother. He's more civilized." The group fell silent, their gazes turning to him in unison. He shrugged and looked away, realizing he'd crossed a line, and mumbled “nevermind The Palace Preparations The grand hall of the palace was abuzz with activity. Advisors, council members, and military leaders surrounded Prince Lucian, their voices blending into a cacophony of plans and proposals. "The cocoa plantations have halted production," the High Chief began, his white robe gleaming under the sunlight streaming through the tall windows. His gold chain, adorned with a tiger-shaped pendant, swayed as he spoke. "This must be addressed urgently. It's one of our primary sources of revenue." Lucian listened intently, nodding occasionally. He was already formulating strategies to revive the plantations, a task his late father had left incomplete. His mother stood nearby, her presence a steadying influence as Lucian prepared for the responsibilities of kingship. "We have unfinished wars to resolve," the War Chief interjected. His deep voice commanded attention. "The Panseke conflict remains unresolved. They'll never rest until they reclaim what they believe is theirs." Lucian leaned forward, his expression hardening. "How do we ensure the lands and their people are fully ours?" he asked, his tone decisive. The War Chief smirked. "They've been leaderless since the war began. We could impose a ruler of our choosing." The council murmured in agreement, but one voice broke through the noise. "And what if all this fails?" Darius asked bitterly, his tone sharp. He leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed. "Conflict doesn't always have to end in bloodshed. We can negotiate, find common ground. They're not savages." Lucian turned to him, his jaw tightening. "And how do you propose we negotiate with people who've been fighting us for years?" "We've never tried diplomacy properly," Darius replied, his voice gaining strength. "We could offer them terms, show them we mean peace."Another council member nodded. "The prince has a point. The last war cost us dearly, including the king." Lucian's eyes flashed. "And yet, here we are, holding the land. That's not the result of peace-it's the result of strength." The debate raged on, the council splitting into factions. Some supported Lucian's aggressive stance, while others leaned toward Darius's more diplomatic approach. The Divide As the council session ended, the advisors filed out, their voices low as they murmured about the day’s arguments. The room still buzzed with tension, the battle of words leaving behind an invisible but undeniable crack in the foundation of Lucian’s rule. Lucian remained seated, his hands gripping the arms of his chair. He couldn’t sit on the throne until the coronation, but already, the weight of leadership pressed heavily on his shoulders. His vision for the kingdom was clear, yet the resistance—even from his own brother—was a thorn in his side. Darius lingered near the doorway, watching Lucian in silence. There was no satisfaction in their dispute, only a growing sense of frustration. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. “You can’t rule by force alone, Lucian. Fear will hold a kingdom together… until the moment it doesn’t.” Lucian didn’t turn to face him. He simply exhaled, shaking his head. “And peace will hold it together until someone stronger comes to take it.” Darius studied his brother for a moment longer before stepping out into the corridor. The divide between them had never felt wider. And the kingdom? The kingdom was watching.
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