Of course, he dared not speak it aloud. He had known the decree would come, but he had not expected it so soon.
"You leave in two days," his father declared.
The prince's head snapped up. "Two days? What?!"
He did not mind serving the Emperor, and two days was nothing but - How could he say farewell to his lovers so suddenly?
The king mistook his expression for reluctance to leave the palace.
"I know, my son. By now the decree must have reached the neighboring kingdoms. We must waste no time."
But the prince's mind was elsewhere. 'No, Father, you don't understand. My darlings… why can't I take them with me?!' he wailed inwardly, his heart breaking.
> The night before the prince departure.
Lying on his bed, the prince let his thoughts wander. He was ready. The journey ahead might hold doubts and dangers, but he welcomed them — the thrills, the battles, whatever fate chose to place in his path. Most of all, he was eager for the company of beautiful men he might encounter along the way. The thought curved his lips into a smile, and with that smile lingering, he drifted into sleep.
---
**Hours into the night, the prince's brows twitched. In his dream, he stood in the middle of a vast forest, the trees so tall they seemed to pierce the heavens. The air was still, thick with silence. He turned slowly, searching the strange place, until his eyes caught sight of a figure in the distance.
He stepped forward, but no matter how much he walked, the figure never drew closer — always just out of reach. Then, without warning, the figure turned.
An old man stood before him. His pupils were clouded white, his hair grey as ash, a staff gripped firmly in his hand. The prince was certain he had never seen him before, yet curiosity stirred deep within him.
"Who? Who are you?" the prince demanded.
The old man's lips parted to speak—
—but the prince's eyes flew open. He was back in his chamber, breath uneven, heart racing. He looked around the familiar room and frowned.
" What sort of dream was that…?" he muttered to himself."
^
^
The palace of Irele did not wake with songs. No drums thundered, no griots rehearsed verses of glory. Instead, silence reigned — an uneasy silence that clung to the red walls like mist before a storm.
The first Prince sat alone in his chamber, the flicker of a single oil lamp casting shadows across his face. Where others might have wept at leaving, his expression was unreadable, his dark eyes fixed on the ancestral mask that hung above the doorway. He had decided - he was going to Oyo- the central kingdom to begin his journey.
He pondered the dream he had — what meaning it carried, and whether it was tied to his journey.
The emperor's decree had reached Irele two nights ago. Six months. One crown. One throne. One life to be spared.
He rose, fastening the straps of his leather sandals with steady hands. Unlike the princes of other kingdoms, he had no loyal council fussing over him, no crowd of servants whispering blessings. His kingdom trusted power, not prayers.
A soft knock came at the door. His mother, the Olori queen, entered. Her presence filled the room — majestic, stern, a woman whose beauty had long turned to steel. Behind her was the king.
The prince prostrated greeting his parents.
The queen smiled faintly and lifted him.
" Omo oba, dide - Child of a king, rise. "
The prince stood up and embraced his mother. " Maami- mother. "
Her hand patted his back, her eyes bright with tears she tried to hide. She knew he was strong, the finest warrior in the kingdom, but what mother does not worry for her son — no matter his strength?
" Do not abduct any man back home. " She teased softly, knowing her son too well.
He smiled mischievously. " I will bring back home the most beautiful man in Oyo Empire. "
The king cleared his throat. His voice was not needed; his presence alone shifted the air.
" Omo mi- my child. " he said, his gaze hard upon the prince. "You are leaving not for pleasure, but for destiny. Remember this. The emperor's decree is no child's game. Disciplin yourself. " his voice rumbled, steady as iron.
The prince lifted his head, lips curving into the faintest smile. " Father, a man without desire is but a hollow shell. Even warriors crave wine after battle. Why then should I be shamed for craving beauty? "
The king's eyes narrowed, thunder flashing in them. The prince lowered his gaze respectfully, but his words lingered in the air like smoke.
" What lies before you is not a hunt, not a bed of lovers. It is war disguised as trial. Six months will strip the weak from the strong, and the emperor's eyes will weigh every step you take."
The prince bowed his head, hiding the faint curve of a smile that tugged at his lips.
The king's voice sharpened. " Do not test me, boy. You may wear a crown one day, but until then, you are still my son. You will walk this path with honor. Not for yourself alone, but for Irele."
Silence pressed between them, heavy with unspoken things.
" I hear your warning." The prince answered at last. " I will not let pleasure blind me to duty. But"—he paused, his smirk tugging wider—" if the empire places before me both a crown and a man worth keeping, who says I cannot claim them both? "
The queen hid a chuckle behind her hand, though her eyes betrayed both pride and worry.
The king's scowl deepened. " Your tongue will one day cut you deeper than any sword, boy. See that it does not."
The prince bowed, hiding the mischievous gleam in his eyes. "I will remember, Baba. "
At last, the king stepped closer, resting a hand — heavy, calloused, and sure — on his son's shoulder. "Remember this. A throne is not won by desire, but by discipline. And if you must carve your way through blood, do it with your head held high."
The queen's hand brushed the prince's cheek, gentling what the king's words had hardened.
"You will not fail me, my son. " she said, her voice cool, like a blade across stone. "You were not born for weakness. You were born to rule. And if another prince stands in your way—" she paused, her eyes narrowing—"cut him down."
The prince bowed his head. "Yes, Mother."
But in his heart, a question stirred:
' And what if power was never enough? What if the throne demanded more than blood? '
The prince lifted his gaze to both of them. The mischief faded, replaced by the steady calm of a warrior ready to face whatever came. The oil lamp flickered, shadows dancing upon the ancestral mask.
>
>
To be continued