Meanwhile, deep within the forest…
Two spies cloaked in red and black, their faces wrapped in cloth, dropped to their knees as their master approached.
"Prince. " they said in unison, heads bowed low.
"Speak," came the command— a deep, measured voice, calm but edged with authority.
The first spy raised his head slightly. " The rumors are true, my prince. The First Prince has left his palace."
The man before them smirked.
" Beeni, Kiniun ti jaja kúrò ní ilé rẹ- Yes, The lion has finally left its home.…" he murmured.
The second spy began, "And as for the other prince— "
"I know. " the figure cut him off sharply. " He left his palace few days ago. I am well aware."
Turning his back to them, he faced an enormous iroko tree, its umbrella canopy blotting out the stars. His voice was low but firm.
"Stay low. Stay hidden. Do not act until I call for you. That is all. Leave."
"Yes, Prince. " the spies replied, vanishing into the shadows like smoke.
Left alone, the figure placed a hand on the iroko's rough bark. A faint smile curved his lips.
"Let us see... " he whispered, " how the game unfolds…"
.
.
.
The sun had barely risen when Wale stepped out of the inn where he had passed the night. The air was crisp, tinged with the faint fragrance of blooming flowers that lined the cobbled streets of the central kingdom. A cool breeze brushed against his skin, chasing away the last traces of sleep, and he stretched his arms as though embracing the day itself.
"The center kingdom is indeed beautiful." he murmured to himself, a smile breaking across his face. "No wonder everyone desires to come here."
He let his feet carry him through the bustling town, his eyes sweeping over stalls overflowing with fabrics, spices, and trinkets. The scent of roasted plantains drifted on the wind, mingling with the chatter of merchants calling out their wares. For Wale, each turn of the road was another story waiting to unfold.
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the same town, another story had already begun.
Mola sat in the lively courtyard of a popular inn, his back straight and his eyes fixed on the young woman serving guests. Her hair- short but beautiful , and her soft steps reminded him of flowing water. He leaned forward slightly, his voice smooth as velvet.
" I heard the last piece of meat has been sold. " Mola said, his eyes twinkling with charm. " But you know, I doubt that. I saw some taken to the back not long ago. Beautiful lady, surely you would not deny a poor man like me a taste? Also… " He paused, letting his gaze linger deliberately. " …your hair looks so beautiful and shiny."
The words hung in the air, but it was not so much his compliment as it was the sight of him— his flawless features, his radiant smile— that sent a blush rushing to her cheeks. She looked away, flustered, and scurried off, her heart beating faster than she wished to admit.
Mola leaned back in his chair, his lips curved into a faint smile, his confidence unshaken.
Beside him, a young man chuckled softly. " Master, you really know how to make your way with people. "
Mola glanced sideways at him— Idowu, his attendant and slave, ever faithful and sharp-tongued- just like himself.
" They were going to cheat us." Mola said with quiet disdain.
"What would they do with all those meats they hid anyway? Isn't it better to sell them and profit? What do you think, eh Idowu? "
"You are right, Oga- Master. " Idowu replied, though his tone carried a hint of doubt. " But… maybe someone bought them all. That is why they will not sell to us. "
Mola waved his hand dismissively. " I do not care. I asked for meat, and meat I shall get. That beautiful lady won't fail me. Let us wait. " His smile returned as he sipped leisurely from his cup of wine.
Not far from him, Wale finally stepped into the inn. He stopped for a moment to take in its beauty. Flowers framed the walls and windows, filling the place with color and fragrance. The tables bustled with people from different lands, their laughter and conversations mingling into a warm hum.
" So this is why it is so famous. " Wale muttered with a grin.
He chose a table and sat, signaling to one of the servants. " I will like ila soup and a plate of meat. " he said, dropping a few glittering coins onto the table.
The servant's eyes widened at the sight of the payment. He hesitated, swallowing nervously. " Yo… Young master, we have run out of meat. But if you like, I could get you fish. Very delicious fish! Freshly caught today— our best—"
But Wale was not listening anymore. His eyes had strayed to a nearby table where a female servant was setting down two steaming bowls of meat. His stomach growled, his mouth watered.
' Ah… so that's where all the meat went.' he thought.
" O ṣe- Thank you. " he heard the man at the other table say, his voice rich and smooth.
Recognition struck Wale like a spark and his lips curled into a knowing smirk. The man sat with casual grace, every gesture an unintentional performance. Even from a distance, his beauty drew eyes like moths to firelight- that same arrogant expression
Wale's lips curled slowly into a grin. " Of course. It is him. " he murmured under his breath.
Wale's grin widened. Scooping his coins from the table, he rose, ignoring the servant's babbled apology about the lack of meat and strode confidently to the table. The crowded inn blurred into background noise — laughter, clinking cups, the sharp tang of palm wine, roasted yam smoke drifting from the kitchen — all dimmed beside the flame of the man he had stumbled upon again.
He strode straight to the familiar figure. Without hesitation, he slid into the empty opposite seat; uninvited and unbothered.
He leaned forward, smile stretching wide, voice rich with playful mischief.
"Ah… Arewà. We meet again "
(Arewa- A beautiful person)
Mola did not lift his gaze immediately. He set his cup down with careful precision- only then did he look up.
Wale's grin was waiting for him, bright, unashamed, relentless.