The air in the shabby inn was thick with tension. The wooden walls, warped with age, barely held up against the salty breeze from the coast. Akolo sat at the center of the dimly lit room, his warriors gathered around him, their faces a mix of frustration and uncertainty. They had spent the day scouring Kilwa for any weaknesses, and what they had discovered was valuable—but what ca next would decide everything.
Kibet, the sharp-eyed warrior, was the first to speak. "The harbor is barely guarded," he reported. "They're so sure of their control that they don't even bother watching it properly. Most of the guards are either asleep or gambling."
Another warrior, his knuckles still swollen from a brawl earlier, grunted. "And the city patrols? Useless. Half of them are drunk in taverns or wasting coin in brothels. The Sultan and the foreigners thinks no one would dare challenge their rule."
A younger warrior hesitated before speaking. "I asked a fisherman about secret routes out of the city. He ntioned an abandoned land to the north, covered in ruins. People avoid it, believing it to be cursed, but those desperate enough use it to escape."
Akolo nodded slowly, deep in thought. Mshale, seated beside him, exhaled. "Then we send word to Nuri before the Sultan moves. Right now, he doesn't know where our kingdom is. That's our greatest advantage. But if we're not prepared when he finds us, we're finished."
Akolo leaned forward, his expression hard. "We need a distraction. A big one."
The warriors frowned, exchanging glances.
"What do you an?" Kibet asked.
Akolo's gaze swept across the room. "We need to make such a ss that the Sultan has no choice but to expel us from Kilwa. If we get kicked out, one of us can slip away unnoticed and make the journey back to Nuri."
One of the warriors scoffed. "So, what? We act like undisciplined fools? Drunken troublemakers?"
Another warrior, arms crossed, shook his head. "That's humiliating. We're not so wild, undisciplined brutes."
Akolo's expression darkened. "Would you rather die with your pride intact? Or would you rather fight another day? We are warriors, yes, but war is not just about strength—it's about strategy. If bearing humiliation today ensures Nuri's survival, then I will eat dirt."
Silence filled the room.
Mshale, ever the diplomat, sighed. "It's not ideal, but Akolo is right. The Sultan sees us as nothing more than simple n from a backwater kingdom. Let him believe it. Let him underestimate us."
One by one, the warriors nodded, albeit reluctantly.
Akolo stood. "Good. Now let's make them regret looking down on us."
That night, the city's taverns and brothels descended into madness.
The Nuri warriors spread out, each choosing a different place to cause trouble. They picked fights over the smallest slights—a spilled drink, a misplaced elbow, even a look that lingered too long.
In one tavern, a Nuri warrior sat at a table near the center, drinking quietly. A Kilwa nobleman, draped in rich silks, sneered as he passed. "I hear you n are from Nuri," he said, his voice thick with disdain. "A kingdom of drears, is it? How quaint."
The warrior's grip on his cup tightened.
The noble smirked. "Enjoy your ti here while it lasts. Once the Sultan tires of your presence, your little kingdom will crumble under Kilwa's might."
The warrior shot to his feet, sending the table crashing to the floor. His fist t the nobleman's face before anyone could react.
All hell broke loose.
Guards rushed in, only to be t with swinging fists and broken chairs. Elsewhere, another Nuri warrior accused a patrolling guard of staring too long at him, provoking a loud and violent scuffle. In a brothel, a warrior insulted a noble's pride, turning a playful taunt into a full-blown brawl.
The chaos spread like wildfire. The people of Kilwa were enraged. The noblen, humiliated and furious, began demanding the Sultan remove these barbaric troublemakers from their city.
By morning, the Sultan sat on his gilded throne, his ministers lined at his side. He was already in a foul mood, having been woken early by angry reports of the previous night's mayhem.
When Mshale and the other delegates entered the grand hall, the Sultan barely concealed his disdain. He let his gaze linger on them, his lips curling into a sneer.
'Look at them,' he thought. 'Uncouth savages, trying to act civilized.'
He tapped his fingers against the armrest of his throne, pretending to consider his options. In truth, he had already decided—he would make an example of them.
He let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in mock disappointnt. "I welcod you into my city as guests," he said slowly, his voice dripping with condescension. "And yet, your n behave like wild animals. Brawling in taverns. Disrupting the peace. Insulting noblen."
He leaned forward, eyes gleaming with amusent. "Tell , Mshale—does Nuri have no discipline? Or are all of your people this... unruly?"
Mshale felt his fingers curl into fists, but he forced a smile. He could feel the eyes of the court on him, waiting for him to snap, waiting for him to beg for forgiveness.
He bowed slightly. "I deeply regret their actions, Your Majesty. I take full responsibility."
The Sultan chuckled. "As you should." He leaned back, feigning generosity. "But I am not without rcy. I will allow you to remain... for now. But your warriors will be expelled imdiately."
Mshale swallowed his anger, keeping his voice steady. "I understand, Your Majesty. We will comply."
The Sultan smirked, believing he had humiliated them.
The warriors gathered their belongings, playing their part perfectly. They rode toward the gates with slumped shoulders, their movents slow and reluctant.
But hidden among them, one warrior slipped away into the ruins north of the city. The mont he was clear, he mounted a waiting horse and galloped westward.
Francisco de Alida watched the scene unfold from the shadows, his sharp eyes taking in every detail. The Nuri warriors were clever—he had to give them that. They had caused enough chaos to be expelled, but not enough to provoke imdiate violence. It was a calculated move, one that the Sultan, blinded by his own arrogance, failed to recognize.
Alida's lips curled into a smirk. Interesting. These n are not the undisciplined savages the Sultan believes them to be.
As the warriors made their way out of Kilwa, one among them had broken away, moving carefully into the ruins. Alida's instincts flared. This was no accident. The warrior was heading sowhere important.
He turned to his five most trusted soldiers, n who had served with him through countless campaigns. "Do you see that?" he asked in a low voice.
One of his n, a wiry veteran nad Duarte, nodded. "A ssenger. Heading west. He's trying to get away unseen."
Alida exhaled slowly. "Which ans there's sothing out there worth warning." His fingers drumd against his belt. "The Sultan thinks these n are fools, but we know better. Wherever that man is going, it is important."
Another soldier, Rodrigo, frowned. "Should we intercept him?"
Alida shook his head. "No. If we capture him, we'll alert them that they've been discovered. No—our goal is to follow. Find out where he's headed." His expression darkened. "And if possible... find this 'Nuri Kingdom' before the Sultan does."
The n nodded in understanding.
Alida's voice dropped to a whisper. "Move quietly. Keep your distance. If they suspect they're being followed, they'll lead us nowhere." He narrowed his eyes. "But if we play this right... we might just get there before the Sultan even realizes what's happening."
His soldiers nodded again, slipping into the crowd like shadows. Alida watched them go, a slow smile forming.
Let the Sultan play his little gas. I have my own plans.
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