Under the pale glow of the moon, nestled atop a terraced garden overlooking the city of Andara, three figures sat cross-legged around a low wooden table. Bamboo torches lined the perimeter, casting warm orange flickers across their faces and rustling the leaves of the tall baobab trees surrounding them.
The man seated at the head of the table was no ordinary noble. Draped in silk robes embroidered with golden thread, his slender fingers adorned with gemstone rings, he was none other than Prince Tak of Ankh. His high cheekbones, foxy amber eyes, and a constant sly grin made him a figure both admired and feared across the kingdom. Tak had a dangerous reputation, the kind of man who offered you tea while plotting your downfall.
Tonight, his pupils glinted with expectation as he studied the two men seated before him. Both were among the finest tacticians in the kingdom, lured into his web of politics with promises of wealth and future titles.
"What do you guys think?" Tak asked, his voice light, almost playful, but with a sharp undertone that made even casual questions feel like tests. He gestured toward the papyrus scroll spread open on the table, displaying a hand-drawn map of Ankh's royal provinces, with strategic locations marked in red ink.
Odoro, a man with a wild, round brown afro that bobbed with every movement, scratched his chin. Though his clothing was simple compared to Tak's extravagance, his reputation as a master of psychological warfare was well earned.
"Sir Prince," Odoro began cautiously, "The plan is indeed insidious, but a single misstep could drag us down to ruin. Proceeding with caution is paramount."
Kite, the second advisor, nodded his bald head in agreement. His skin gleamed under the torchlight, and a deep scar ran from his ear to the corner of his mouth—a relic from the old civil skirmishes. Unlike Odoro, Kite was a realist and often approached politics like a chess match.
"I agree, Your Highness. Let us brainstorm further before committing to action," Kite said.
Tak let out an exaggerated sigh, resting his elbow on the table and letting his cheek fall into his palm. "I'm aware there are flaws. That's why I called for this meeting. I didn't gather two of the brightest minds in Nubia to watch you both waffle in fear." He let the words hang in the air, sharp and challenging.
Odoro flinched inwardly but kept his smile. He had been around Tak long enough to know that their prince had a temperament as unstable as the desert wind. Praise could turn to rage without warning.
Seeing Odoro's hesitation, Tak turned to Kite. "You start. I expect insight, not excuses."
Kite sat straighter, folding his hands atop the table. "Firstly, we lack critical information about Princess Reloua's disappearance. We don't know whether she is alive, returned, or even if her disappearance was part of an internal palace plot. If we send a ransom letter without confirmation, we risk exposing our true intentions."
Tak's amber eyes narrowed, a sign that he was pleased but thinking further. "Go on."
Kite tapped the map. "Let's wait two weeks. If she doesn't resurface, send a threatening ransom letter demanding a ridiculous sum. King Donkeu is impulsive. His anger will serve us well. The distraction will create disarray at court. Perfect for our next move."
A slow smile curled Tak's lips. "Excellent. That's the kind of thinking I like."
Turning his attention back to Odoro, Tak raised a single brow. "And the second scenario?"
Odoro swallowed hard. "Before I answer, may I ask something, Your Highness?"
Tak twirled the stem of his wine cup, swirling the dark liquid within. "Go ahead."
Odoro's voice lowered. "Why do you believe your brother isn't fit to rule?"
The air thickened. The joviality drained from Tak's face like water slipping from a cracked jar. His smile vanished, replaced by cold calculation.
"He lacks ambition," Tak finally said, each word slow and deliberate. "He is mild, soft. When others come to devour our lands, he will fold, and we'll become vassals or worse." His tone was venom laced with frustration.
Odoro felt the danger but pressed on with measured courage. "Then, Sir Prince, why seek help from Mura? Asking Bakar for assistance is like sleeping beside a lion. Mura does nothing for free. Their appetite for conquest is no secret."
Tak's gaze darkened to obsidian. "Are you calling me foolish?"
Odoro shook his head vigorously. "Never, Your Highness. Merely questioning the long-term strategy."
Tak slammed his cup on the table, making Kite flinch. "Silence!" His voice cracked like a whip. "Kite, what about you? Are you as faithless as Odoro?"
Kite bowed deeply, his forehead nearly touching the bamboo floor mat. "No, Your Highness. Claiming the throne is your divine right. How it is done matters less than the outcome. Moreover, the Throne of Ankh carries with it the blessing of the Ancestors. Once you sit upon it, the enthronement rites will unlock spiritual insight and power. Managing Mura will become child's play with such gifts."
Tak inhaled, calming himself. Kite knew just what to say.
A sly grin returned to the prince's lips. "Odoro, you're lucky I value your tactical mind. Be more like Kite." He stood, pacing the edge of the terrace. From his vantage point, the prince could see the distant outline of the Muran borderlands across the night horizon. Fires flickered there—campfires of armies perhaps, or villagers. Either way, it fueled his ambitions.
"At dawn, send an envoy to Mura. Request elite warriors. If we make our move, there will be no room for error."
Odoro stood and bowed. "Consider it done, Sir King."
Tak turned to Kite, his foxy pupils glinting dangerously. "And you… find my brother's children. I want no future threats to my reign. Kill them, on the spot, quietly."
Kite bowed lower. "Understood, Your Highness."
The night deepened. The garden fell into an eerie silence, broken only by the distant hoot of an owl. Tak stood under the moonlight, watching Andara sleep below, unaware that the first act of a bloody coup was now set in motion.