Year: 1880
The council session began with a confrontation.
Akenzua entered the outer court to find his usual seat occupied—by one of Osaro's nephews. The young man lounged against the carved back, expression carefully neutral.
"You're in my place."
"Am I?" The nephew didn't move. "The seating arrangements were changed this morning. Chief Osaro felt the council needed... reorganization."
The court watched. This was a test. A public challenge.
Akenzua could demand his seat back—and look petulant. He could accept another seat—and look weak. He could make a scene—and confirm the whispers about his instability.
"The prince seems confused." Osaro's voice carried across the court. "Perhaps the fever affected his memory of proper protocol."
"Perhaps the Chief forgets who outranks whom in matters of protocol."
"Protocol serves the kingdom. Not individual vanity."
The Oba's voice cut through. "Enough. The prince will sit in the seat assigned by the council administrator."
A seat at the far end. Away from the throne. Away from the center of power.
Akenzua walked to the assigned seat. Every step a humiliation. Every eye measuring his response.
He sat.
Osaro smiled.
---
After the session, Osaro cornered him in the corridor.
"Prince. A word."
"You've made your point, Chief. What more do you want?"
"I want you to understand something." Osaro's voice was low, reasonable. "I'm not your enemy."
"You just humiliated me in front of the entire court."
"I reminded you of your place. There's a difference." Osaro stepped closer. "You've been moving too fast since the fever. Making changes. Asking questions. Building... whatever you're building with the smiths and the street children."
"You've been watching."
"Of course I've been watching. That's my responsibility—to watch for threats to the kingdom."
"And I'm a threat?"
"You're a disruption. The kingdom has traditions. Structures. Ways of doing things that have worked for generations. You want to change everything, based on fever visions no one else can verify."
"The Europeans are coming. The changes I'm making—"
"The Europeans have been coming for two hundred years. They've taken the coast. They've established trading posts. And yet Benin survives. Because we don't panic. We don't abandon what works chasing shadows."
Akenzua paused. The argument wasn't stupid. It wasn't evil.
"You think caution is enough."
"I think caution is wisdom. I think a boy who woke up from a fever with impossible knowledge should prove that knowledge before demanding the kingdom follow him." Osaro's eyes were sharp. "Earn trust. Don't demand it. That's not tradition—that's common sense."
"And if I earn it?"
"Then we'll talk. Until then..." He gestured back toward the council chamber. "You'll sit where you're assigned."
---
The Portuguese mission occupied a modest compound near the edge of the city.
Akenzua arrived in disguise—plain robes, no coral beads. His burned arm still ached from the forge explosion.
Father Domingos was working in the garden. A man in his fifties, dark-skinned, features that suggested mixed heritage.
"Prince Akenzua. I didn't expect a royal visit."
"I'm not here as a prince today. I'm here as a student."
Domingos set down his trowel. "What do you want to learn?"
"Everything. European military doctrine. Industrial processes. Political systems."
"That's a large order."
"I have time. And motivation." Akenzua touched his burned arm. "People have already died for what I'm trying to build. I need to make sure their deaths mean something."
---
The study was small but carefully organized. Books lined every wall.
"I was educated in Lisbon," Domingos said. "Returned to Africa twenty years ago. These books traveled with me."
Akenzua scanned the shelves. Military history. Economics. Industrial processes. Exactly what he needed.
"You're not a typical priest."
"My father was a merchant. He believed education was the foundation of power."
Akenzua selected three volumes. Military organization. Industrial development. European diplomacy.
"Why help me? You're European."
"I'm African. Born in Cape Verde. Educated in Europe. But African." Domingos's voice hardened. "I've watched Europeans treat this continent like a carcass to be divided. The Church sent me here to convert souls. What I've seen has converted me."
"Converted you to what?"
"To believing that Africa deserves better than conquest."
---
Three weeks later, Akenzua returned. And then again. And again.
The conversations grew longer. Domingos explained European military doctrine.
"They win not because their soldiers are braver. They win because their systems are better."
"What systems?"
"Organization. Logistics. Coordination. A European army in the field is never more than days from supplies. African armies fight until their supplies run out."
"How do we match that?"
"You can't. Not directly. European industry produces in a month what African craftsmen make in a year."
"Then what's the alternative?"
"Asymmetry. Don't fight their battles. Fight your own. Make the cost of conquest higher than the profit."
"But eventually they come anyway."
"Eventually, yes. Delay only buys time."
"What solves the problem?"
"Unity. A federation too large to conquer. A nation with the population and resources to match European empires. That's what your vassal territories represent—the foundation. The Itsekiri at Warri, the Ijaw controlling the delta, the Urhobo in the interior, the Isoko connecting your trade networks. All of this must eventually become one unified state."
"How long?"
"Generations. But the work starts now."
---
The message arrived while he was at the mission.
Osarobo found him in the garden, face grim.
"Prince. Bad news."
"Tell me."
"The Oba has restricted your access to the treasury. No more funding for personal projects without council approval."
The words hit like a blow.
"On whose recommendation?"
"Chief Osaro presented a report. Unusual expenditures. Payments to smiths. Purchases of foreign materials. The council voted to require oversight."
All his projects—the forge experiments, the intelligence network, the weapons development—required money. Without treasury access, everything stopped.
"The vote?"
"Twelve to eight. Your father abstained."
Abstained. Not defended.
"What does this mean practically?"
"It means every purchase goes through the Iwebo Society. Through Osaro's administrators. They'll know everything you buy. Everything you build."
Akenzua sat heavily on a stone bench.
"He outmaneuvered me."
"He's been doing this for twenty years. You've been doing it for weeks."
"What do I do?"
"Find other sources. Allies with resources. Ways to work around the restrictions."
Father Domingos approached quietly.
"I heard. The prince has suffered a setback."
"The prince has lost access to his own kingdom's treasury."
"Then the prince needs alternative resources." Domingos paused. "The Church has funds. Limited, but available for... educational purposes."
"You're offering to fund my projects?"
"I'm offering to invest in Benin's survival. The amount is modest—perhaps enough to continue some experiments. But it's something."
"Why would the Church help me prepare to fight Europeans?"
"Because the Church has survived many empires. It will survive this one too." Domingos met his eyes. "And because some of us remember that Christianity began as a faith of resistance."
---
Akenzua returned to the palace after dark.
His mother was waiting.
"I heard about the council vote."
"News travels fast."
"Bad news always does." Idia studied him. "You've been hurt. I can see it."
"Osaro took my funding. My access. My ability to build anything."
"He took your formal resources. That's not the same as everything."
"It feels like everything."
"It's not." She sat beside him. "Your father—do you know why he abstained?"
"Because he doesn't support me."
"Because he's watching. Seeing what you'll do when you're blocked." Her voice softened. "The Oba who raised you would have crumbled at this setback. The person you've become—what will you do?"
"Find another way."
"Exactly. That's what your father wants to see. Not success handed to you. Success earned despite obstacles."
"And if I fail?"
"Then you weren't ready. And neither was the kingdom." She stood. "But I don't think you'll fail. The son I have now doesn't know how to give up."
She left him alone with his thoughts.
Osaro had won this round. The seating. The treasury. The public humiliation.
But the war was longer than any single battle.
Akenzua would find another way. He always did.
---
END OF CHAPTER FIVE