"Why did you gather us today, Steward Zogo?" a chunky old man with a shoulder-length beard asked curiously. "I abandoned crucial duties for this meeting. It better be important," he complained, still breathless.
The elder was visibly vexed. He had been in the middle of critical affairs when the elder meeting signal rang throughout the city. Sweaty and irritated, he rushed his plump frame through the busy streets to the secret garden. Now seated on his wooden chair, he gasped for air as he vented his displeasure towards Steward Zogo.
Beside him sat eight other elders. Each wore a different expression—some bored, others tense, some simply curious—as they waited for Zogo's words.
Standing at the center of the garden was a man darker than charcoal and taller than most trees. His face was calm, almost unreadable, and his lengthy arms remained crossed behind his back. A crimson textile was tied elegantly at his waist, falling like a sash, leaving his broad, dark chest exposed to the sunlight. The air around him felt heavy—grand, mysterious, and commanding.
"You'll soon understand why this meeting was called," Steward Zogo said, fixing his gaze on the chunky man. "But first, report on the state of our kingdom."
"Cough! Cough! Hmm… Our economy is thriving," the chunky man finally said after some thought. "The people lack nothing, local businesses are booming, peace reigns over our lands… Overall, the kingdom is in a great state."
"Correct," Zogo nodded. "And you, Yeso, how goes the work of our missionaries?" He turned to a square-headed man seated next to the chunky elder.
"Ah! Perfect, perfect," Yeso replied without hesitation. "The people respect and glorify Ra. Furthermore, they follow the Three Principles of Ma'at. Crime is at its lowest, while spiritual enlightenment is at its highest."
Zogo nodded again, clearly pleased. "Good news."
He slowly walked over to an empty wooden chair and sat down with a certain regal grace. After a pause, he spoke: "We've received a letter of threat from the Gold Land."
Gasps rippled across the garden.
"What? A threat? Are they mad?" Angry whispers slithered among the elders like snakes in the grass.
"We have to retaliate! Who do they think they are?" barked a gray-haired dwarf with a fiery temper.
He was one of the newly appointed elders, responsible for construction and architecture. Before his elevation, he was hailed as one of the kingdom's most accomplished architects. His ingenuity had given rise to colossal, authentic temples across the land. However, his legendary skill was only rivaled by his rotten disposition and volatile temper. Like a cornered tiger, he pounced whenever the kingdom was threatened—Gold Land was no exception.
"Calm down, Brother Joh. We know nothing about their motive yet," Tam intervened, his large eyes bulging as they turned toward the dwarf.
"Calm down? They think of us as weak prey! Do you want to be trampled on?" Joh snarled back, his voice rising with every word.
The two elders quickly descended into a shouting match, their voices clashing like cymbals as veins bulged on their faces.
"Shhh!" hummed Steward Zogo, raising his hand.
His voice may have remained cool, but both men froze instantly, well aware of his unforgiving methods.
"I haven't even disclosed their motive. Why all this noise?" Zogo said calmly.
"Ostensibly, Princess Reloua is being held captive by us. They've given us three weeks to return her… or else conflict may arise." He revealed the letter's content, throwing the council into deeper confusion.
"Oh! That explains why she wasn't at the convention last week. She really did disappear," said Odili, the elder in charge of education, now enlightened by Zogo's words.
"That's impossible! I would've known if the princess were in our kingdom. Let alone… held captive," announced Ramon, a robust-looking man responsible for law and citizen protection.
Again, the garden filled with chatter and heated debate as the elders weighed possibilities. Steward Zogo silently observed them from his chair, analyzing their every word.
"That's a made-up lie. It's just an excuse to initiate war. Don't be fooled!" Joh roared, flailing his little hands in anger.
"They wouldn't lie about something so grave. Their young miss must truly be missing for them to act this outrageously," Tam countered again, proving that water and fire couldn't coexist without boiling over.
"She did disappear," Zogo finally interjected. "But the odds of our citizens being responsible are negligible. As Tam said, people here lack nothing. They wouldn't risk peace for so little. And as Yeso mentioned, Ra is respected, Ma'at is followed. Our people are righteous. They wouldn't commit such hideous acts. Either she had an accident or was attacked by her own people."
Zogo stroked his beard, eyes closed, reflecting carefully before speaking again.
His words, always rare and measured, carried the weight of truth and silenced the entire panel. All elders nodded, acknowledging his judgment.
"What do you propose we do, Steward?" asked Odili, the youngest among the elders. Her bright green eyes glimmered with curiosity.
"Our goal isn't war. Hot tempers only lead to ruin," Zogo said, shooting a cold glance at Joh. "Ramon, order your subordinates to search every corner of our land. Meanwhile, I'll notify Donkeu Sichom that his daughter isn't with us. If he insists and acts violently… then we retaliate."
"Yes, Steward. I'll begin the search immediately," Ramon said as he exited the garden.
"The meeting is over. You're all free to leave," Zogo declared, standing. His crimson skirt fluttered as he disappeared into the distance.
---
Moonlight gleamed on the marble walls of a modest lodge, casting silvery reflections over a small, serene lake nearby. The night was hushed; no voices dared to disturb the stillness. The lodge lay deep within the forest, hidden and guarded.
Though small, the lodge was undeniably luxurious. Ten hunchbacked men stood outside, guarding the entrance with fierce dedication. In their hands were weapons of death—adamantine spears, iron swords, and daggers forged from the finest steel. A foul stench of blood lingered around them like a warning.
Inside, a tall dark-skinned man sat on a bamboo chair, listening with utmost attention to a sickly figure lying in bed.
"Zogo… Your decision was right. As always, you'll manage to resolve this," croaked the weak voice of the middle-aged man on the bed. His tone was soft but filled with the wisdom of a ruler long burdened.
"Thank you for the praise, Sir King," Zogo replied with a genuine smile.
The ever-composed Steward, a man who held immense authority over the council of elders, now behaved like a loyal son before the ailing king.
To Zogo, this man was more than just a sovereign. He was a father figure, a guide, a symbol of everything righteous and just. He was King Takam, the true king of Ankh—a ruler who had dedicated his life to serving his people. Unfortunately, his declining health now confined him to this modest lodge.
"Have you figured out who the traitors are? Cough! Cough! COUGH!" the king wheezed painfully. "My younger brother… he aims for a throne that isn't rightfully his. He knows my condition… That's why he acts so brazenly. I fear he's already corrupted some elders for political support. When I die… he'll fully reveal his hand."
His voice trembled as he spoke, overcome with sorrow.
His younger brother had always harbored jealousy, always worked in the shadows against him. The envy had only intensified when Takam was chosen as heir. Deep down, Takam even suspected that his current illness wasn't entirely natural.
"I have my suspicions, Sir King. Once I confirm, I'll act," Zogo reassured him, his tone steady.
Zogo understood more than anyone the sacrifices this king had made for Ankh. This task was a small price to repay that debt.
"And the children? Were you able to evacuate them? Are they safe?" the king asked, his once handsome but now fragile face looking up at Zogo with desperate hope.
"Yes, Sir King. The three are fine. I made sure to erase all traces of them. Your younger brother won't be able to act against them," Zogo promised, standing tall.
"Excellent… When the time comes… open the seal I gave you. Inside is the name of my successor. Though I suspect… you already know who it is." A weak laugh escaped the king's throat before another round of coughing seized him. Sweat poured from his forehead as the pain intensified.
"Keep an eye on them, Zogo… Make sure they're initiated when the time comes. They… they will bring even more light to our Five Lands." His voice softened as he smiled weakly.
Zogo bowed deeply at the king's words. "Consider it done, Sir King."
"Our bloodline… truly owes you, Steward. You and your descendants… will forever live in peace in these lands." The king raised his trembling hand toward the sky, finalizing the unspoken pact between them.
"I need rest now… Exit the room…" King Takam whispered as his eyes closed, surrendering to sleep.
Zogo nodded and quietly left the room, the weight of his new responsibilities pressing heavy on his broad shoulders.