Year: 1882
The alarm bells rang at dawn.
Not real attack—a test. Full mobilization drill. The first attempt to move all forces to defensive positions as if the British had finally come.
Akenzua watched from the command post as chaos unfolded.
"Third company reporting." A runner arrived, breathless. "They're missing half their equipment. The supply wagons never arrived."
"Where are the wagons?"
"Stuck at the northern gate. Traffic jam. Nobody cleared the civilian carts."
Another runner appeared. "Fifth company can't find their ammunition allocation. The quartermaster says the records show it was distributed. The company commander says it wasn't."
And another. "Seventh company marched to the wrong position. They're at the eastern wall instead of the western approach."
Two hours into the drill, nothing worked.
"Call it off." Akenzua's voice was flat. "This is worse than useless."
---
The circle gathered that afternoon. The mood was grim.
"Complete failure," Erebo said bluntly. "If that had been real, we'd be dead."
"What went wrong?"
"Everything." Erebo spread the incident reports across the table. "Communication breakdown. Supply failures. Navigation errors. Units that have never trained together trying to coordinate under pressure."
"The fundamentals aren't solid," Igue added. "We've focused on weapons production. Not the logistics that make weapons useful."
"Ammunition especially." Osarobo pulled out a separate report. "We have rifles. We don't have enough bullets. Current stockpile: twelve rounds per rifle. That's maybe two engagements before we're throwing rocks."
"Twelve rounds?" Akenzua stared at the number. "That's impossible. Production has been—"
"Production has been prioritized for rifles. Not cartridges." Igue's voice was defensive. "You said weapons first. We built weapons."
"I assumed ammunition was included in weapons."
"Assumptions kill armies." Erebo's voice was hard. "We assumed communication would work. We assumed supplies would flow. We assumed units could coordinate. Every assumption failed today."
---
Akenzua walked through the aftermath alone.
Supply wagons still blocked the northern gate. Soldiers milled around confused, their equipment scattered. Officers shouted contradictory orders.
This was his army. The force he had spent two years building.
And it couldn't march two miles without falling apart.
"Looking for problems?" Oronmwen appeared beside him.
"Problems found me."
"The drill was bad. But now you know."
"Know what? That everything I've built is illusion? That we can't actually defend against anything?"
"Know where the weaknesses are. Knowledge is the first step to fixing."
"We don't have time to fix. The Berlin Conference is two years away. After that, the British will move."
"Then we fix faster."
Easy to say. Harder to do.
The ammunition shortage alone would take months to address. The communication problems. The coordination failures. Every issue required resources they didn't have and time they couldn't spare.
---
The quartermaster's office was a mess of ledgers and excuses.
"Prince Akenzua. I can explain—"
"Don't explain. Show me the numbers."
The ledgers told a brutal story.
Rifle production: 62 per month.
Cartridge production: 500 per month.
Cartridges required for training: 300 per month.
Cartridges required for full mobilization: 1,200 per day.
"We're producing barely enough to train," Akenzua said. "And training uses most of what we make."
"Cartridge production is complex. The brass casings require precision work. The powder needs careful mixing. One bad batch and we lose everything."
"What would it take to triple production?"
"More smiths. More materials. More space. More time." The quartermaster shrugged helplessly. "Everything we don't have."
"If the British attack tomorrow, how long can we fight?"
"With current ammunition? Maybe three days of active engagement. After that, we're out."
Three days. That was all their preparation had bought them. Three days before the rifles became clubs.
---
Igue met him at the forge that evening.
"I heard about the ammunition numbers."
"You knew."
"I knew we were behind. I didn't know how badly." Igue's face was drawn. "We prioritized wrong. Rifles are dramatic. Visible. Ammunition is boring. Invisible until you need it."
"Can we shift production?"
"We can. But that means fewer rifles. And we're already behind on rifles."
"What about procurement? Buying cartridges from outside sources?"
"The British control the supply. Any significant purchase would be noticed. Investigated. Potentially blocked."
The trap was elegant. You could build weapons or buy ammunition—but not both at the scale needed. And without both, the army was useless.
"There's another option." Igue hesitated. "The Germans. Schmidt's people have access to European military supplies. If we can expand the trade relationship..."
"They'll want something in return."
"They always do. But right now, we need what they have more than they need what we have."
Negotiating from weakness. The worst possible position.
But what choice did they have?
---
The news arrived at midnight.
Osarobo burst into Akenzua's chambers without ceremony.
"British ships. In the Benin River mouth. Three of them."
"How close?"
"Within sight of Warri. The Itsekiri are panicking."
"Military vessels?"
"Gunboats. Small but armed. They're not trading—they're surveying."
Surveying. Mapping approaches. Identifying defensive positions. Preparing for something larger.
"It's early." Akenzua was already dressing, his mind racing. "The Berlin Conference hasn't happened. They shouldn't be moving yet."
"Someone changed the timeline. Maybe our activities caught their attention. Maybe something else. But they're here now."
The mobilization drill had failed. The ammunition was inadequate. The logistics were a disaster.
And the enemy was at the gates.
---
The circle assembled within the hour.
"We have three options." Akenzua stood before the map. "First: ignore the gunboats. Treat them as a routine survey. Continue our preparations and hope they don't escalate."
"And if they do escalate?"
"We're caught unprepared. Today's drill proved that."
"Second option?"
"Aggressive response. Challenge the gunboats. Make clear that Benin considers this a violation of our waters. Risk provoking exactly the conflict we're not ready for."
"Third?"
"Diplomatic engagement. Send envoys. Express concern. Ask for explanations. Buy time while we address our weaknesses."
"Time they might not give us," Erebo said.
"Time we desperately need."
Idia spoke. "There's a fourth option. Reach out to the Itsekiri directly. Reinforce that relationship now, while they're frightened. Make clear that any British move on Warri is a move on Benin."
"That commits us to defending territory we can't actually defend right now."
"That shows strength whether or not we have it." Her eyes were sharp. "The British won't know our true capability. They'll see our response. If that response is weak, they'll push harder. If it's strong—even theatrically strong—they might pause."
---
The debate continued until dawn.
In the end, they chose a combination. Diplomatic engagement with the British. Direct outreach to the Itsekiri. Visible military movements along the approaches to Benin City.
Theater. Bluff. Buying time with gestures instead of substance.
"This won't work forever," Erebo said as the meeting broke.
"It doesn't have to. It just has to work long enough."
"Long enough for what?"
"Long enough to fix what's broken. The ammunition. The logistics. The coordination." Akenzua met the Ezomo's eyes. "Today showed us everything that's wrong. Now we fix it."
"And if the British don't wait?"
"Then we fight with what we have. And we lose." He turned back to the map. "But that's not the choice I'm making. I'm choosing to believe we have time. To act as if preparations matter. Because the alternative is surrender before the first shot is fired."
The gunboats waited at the river mouth. Three small vessels that might be the beginning of the end.
Or they might be a warning. A gift. Time made visible.
Everything depended on what happened next.
The reckoning had arrived early. And Benin wasn't ready.
But ready or not, the game had changed.
The enemy had moved. Now Akenzua had to move faster.
---
END OF CHAPTER TWENTY