The sweet aroma of alcohol wafted through the tavern, as men and women of various ages chattered while downing wooden calabashes of the finest palm wine in the city. Joy filled the air, and music rang from the tavern's garden, accompanied by the rhythmic movements of fine ladies. Their skirts, threaded with the greenest banana leaves, swayed like snakes to the catchy traditional sounds played on the xylophone. At the instrument, bare-chested, strong brown men frantically hit the wooden bars with passion and enjoyment.
The tavern was brimming—easily the busiest in the entire city. All major government officials regularly dropped by to sip on the famous palm wine. It was the tavern's main attraction, bringing both recognition and profit to its owner. He extracted the sap used to produce the drink from Raffia palms. Wine played an important role in many ceremonies: weddings, birth celebrations, funerals, and more.
Mr. Redu, the tavern's proud owner, had served at some of the most prestigious events hosted across the kingdom, earning a name for himself.
His influence brought him close to men of illustrious status—ranging from merchants to ministers. Whenever such figures visited, Redu led them to an isolated floor where he personally entertained them.
He was currently in such a situation, sitting alongside two elegant men: a notable from Nkap and the Royal Chief Guard. The three chatted freely and eagerly over matters of the kingdom.
"What did you just say? The king's daughter disappeared?" Redu asked in shock, not expecting such dreadful news.
"As you heard. I was present at the report on her disappearance," the head guard said, downing his calabash. "It was said she vanished in the forest of Ruandera, attacked by a group of mercenaries. The investigator believes she's being held captive in Ankh." He slammed his calabash onto the table and signaled for more wine.
"That must be the case. It's the most logical claim," said the plain-looking middle-aged man beside him. He wore Kente robes and glistening jewelry. "They've probably kept her captive for ransom. Our kingdom is wealthy. Losing some gold is nothing to us."
"The king wouldn't agree with you, Sidiki. He flew into a fit of rage when he heard the news," the Chief Guard countered. "You know how impulsive he is, don't you?"
"What did he do? How did he react?" Sidiki asked, confused. In his opinion, King Donkeu Sichom was too wealthy to be fazed by ransom demands. He elegantly sipped his wine, waiting for the answer.
"He threw golden jars across the Royal Hall in his fury, shouted at all of us, and threatened war against the Ankh kingdom. Scared senseless, none of us dared retort or advise him. It was Cynthia Amida Sichom, his beloved concubine, who mollified him. Only then did he regain full composure." Otti's eyes dulled at the memory of that terrifying day. "I fear he'll send a letter of threat to Ankh. That won't end well."
Sidiki's eyes lit up at Otti's words.
What Otti failed to mention was how he and the other guards had been threatened with death by the king. Ever since the passing of his cherished spouse, King Donkeu had been mentally unstable. The very thought of losing his daughter drove him into near madness. It had taken the intervention of Amida to calm him. Afterward, he decided to consult the all-knowing Kinte for divine guidance.
"Our king is indeed impulsive, Sir Otti. I heard stories of him wedding his concubine on the spot, against all ministerial advice. Is that true?" Redu, who had stayed silent till now, suddenly interjected. Being friends with prestigious figures of Gold Land, how could he not have heard such rumors?
"Yeah, that happened. It was in the Ace Kingdom where he..." The three men continued their lively discussion.
Elsewhere, in a vast oval lounge, two men sat facing each other. Surrounding the lounge were various sublime sculptures, crafted from different materials. Some were pure gold, while others were made from bamboo sticks. They depicted all manner of figures: snakes, elephants, tigers. Mystery and holiness hung thick in the air, as the artwork stood imposingly within the room.
Sitting cross-legged on an Amacansi woven from the greenest grass was an elderly man. His gaunt, wrinkled figure barely managed to stay upright on the mat. Despite his frail body, his bright brown pupils contrasted his age—full of life and vigor as they locked onto the figure before him.
"Divine Ancestor, I require consultation," said a strained-looking, slender man dressed entirely in gold. Devotion was etched deeply on his face as he stared at the elder.
Without a word, the elderly figure reached his sickly, wrinkled hands toward the pouch tied at his thin waist. Three green stones emerged in his palm.
"Si… Nzambe… Lwa… Ka… Te sa'at," the elder muttered unintelligible words, waving his hands left to right, then right to left.
In the silence—under the scrutiny of the slender man—he cast the stones onto the floor. His eyes shut tight, his body shuddered as he entered a trance-like state.
"Oh, Ancestors, bring me knowledge," he whispered. The process repeated a dozen times before he abruptly stopped.
His pupils sprang open, staring at the slender man with unsettling intensity.
"Have you found anything, Divine Ancestor?" the man finally asked, losing his calm under the elder's gaze.
"She is safe," the elder rasped, exhausted. "The spirits haven't revealed her whereabouts. However, if no external force interferes, she will sit on your woven mat within a month."
His words were akin to gold to the slender, beautiful man.
The Divine Ancestor was a venerated figure in Gold Land. Rumored to shine light upon darkness, invoke rain in times of drought, and strike down evil-doers with thunder, his legend spread far and wide. Though stories about him were often absurdly exaggerated, there was truth beneath the gossip.
All-knowing Kinte, master of spiritual science and the invisible world, could read between the lines of fate and extract vital information. To the king and royal court, his knowledge was indispensable for the kingdom's protection.
"You sent a threat to Ankh, didn't you?" Kinte frowned, sighing as he set his precious stones aside. "Your impulsiveness and lack of spiritual discipline are a constant source of trouble for your people," he said, his voice stern, gaze frosty as it fell on Donkeu Sichom.
Silence followed as Donkeu lowered his head, facing the ground, saying nothing. He knew better than to challenge Kinte's words.
"When young, kings and royals of foreign kingdoms undergo spiritual initiation," Kinte continued with elegance and dignity. "Through it, they gain protection and power. They accomplish impossible feats and are venerated by their people."
The Divine Ancestor's tone grew cold. "You, Donkeu, focus only on wealth and fail to—"
But Donkeu had stopped listening halfway through. Kinte could tell.
"Excuse me for the trouble, Ancestor. I have urgent matters to attend to," Donkeu Sichom declared, hastily rising and exiting the lounge.
Startled, Kinte shook his frail head from side to side.
"Poor child… may the ancestors be graceful," he murmured softly, grief clouding his tired eyes.