Year: 1885
The private study smelled of palm oil and old paper.
Akenzua sat alone at his father's writing desk, surrounded by documents that represented everything they had built. Oil lamps cast warm shadows across walls that had witnessed three generations of Obas wrestling with the same fundamental question: how to keep Benin alive in a world that wanted it dead.
Outside, the city was settling into the quiet that came with the year's end.
He pulled the first stack of papers toward him. Production reports from Igue's forge.
"One hundred and ten rifles per month. Quality acceptance rate: eighty-seven percent. Total arsenal: two thousand, three hundred and forty-seven operational weapons."
Two thousand rifles. Against the British Empire.
But it was more than they'd had a year ago. More than any African kingdom south of the Sahara could claim.
He made a note: "Increase barrel production. Current bottleneck limiting monthly output."
The next document: training assessments from Ezemo Erebo.
"Two hundred and fifty-three soldiers trained to professional standard. An additional four hundred in various stages of preparation. Attrition rate: twelve percent."
A knock at the door.
"Enter."
Osarobo materialized from the shadows. He carried a leather satchel.
"The intelligence summaries. As requested."
"Anything immediate?"
"Henderson has been recalled to London. His replacement arrives in three months. A man named Gallwey. Young. Ambitious. Said to be aggressive about 'opening' new territories."
Aggressive about conquest. The polite language of empire.
"And Osaro's faction?"
"Scattered. Demoralized. But Chief Igbinovia has been meeting with Osaro's former allies. Quiet discussions about 'alternative paths.'"
"Keep watching."
---
The casualties page was thin--a single sheet that weighed more than all the others combined.
Oba Adolo. Father. King. Gone.
Three forge workers. Okonkwo. Ifeanyi. Adebayo.
Two intelligence assets. Names redacted even in private documents.
Seven recruits who hadn't survived the training.
Sixteen names.
Akenzua set down the paper and walked to the window. The city spread below, dark except for occasional lamps.
Father died not knowing if any of this would matter. He died trusting me to finish what we started together.
What if I fail?
I'm building an arsenal that might be insufficient. Training an army that might be too small. Forging alliances that might not hold.
But I'm building. That's more than resignation. More than surrender.
---
The final document was his own work--a comprehensive evaluation.
Assets:
- The throne, secured and legitimate
- Production capacity, growing but constrained
- Military force, trained but small
- Northern alliance with Sokoto, advancing
- Southern strategy (Itsekiri, Ijaw, Igala), in motion
- Intelligence network, operational and expanding
- Council majority, narrow but stable
Threats:
- British expansion, accelerating
- Resource constraints, persistent
- Time, always insufficient
He added: "Unknown factors. What am I not seeing?"
The door opened. Esohe entered, carrying a lamp.
"You've been at this for hours."
"The year ends tomorrow. I wanted a clear accounting."
She set the lamp on the desk. "What does your accounting say?"
"That we're stronger than we were. Weaker than we need to be. That we've made progress on every front and it still might not be enough."
"That's honest."
"Honesty is all I have left."
---
Esohe pulled a chair next to his.
Three years of marriage. Three years of building together, carrying secrets that would destroy them both if exposed.
"New Year by European reckoning," she said. "1886 begins tomorrow."
"Five years since the fever. The visions showed me what's coming, but not exactly when. They could move in years, or sooner."
"What happens if they don't?"
"Then we fight with what we have. And probably lose."
"Is that acceptable?"
"No." The word came out harder than he intended. "We will be ready because we have to be ready."
She reached over and took his hand.
"I believe in what you're building. I've seen the evidence. The weapons. The training. You've created something real."
"We've created it. All of us."
"Yes. But you saw the vision. You convinced people to risk everything on a future they can't see." She met his eyes. "Whatever happens, that's worth something."
---
The night deepened.
Esohe eventually retired. He stood at the window, watching the stars.
Five years of building in secret. Of lies and sacrifices. Of watching good men die for a cause most of Benin would never know existed.
And somewhere, across the ocean, the British were waking to their own morning. Making their own plans.
The race continued.
All he could do was build--faster, better, stronger--and hope that when the test came, it would be enough.
The first light of dawn touched the horizon.
A new year. The foundation complete. Phase Two underway.
Warri for naval facilities--the Itsekiri integration advancing. The Ijaw channels being mapped and cultivated for partnership. The Igala kingdom receiving diplomatic overtures about the Niger-Benue confluence. The Urhobo providing agricultural support. The Isoko maintaining trade networks.
By decade's end, Benin would function as a naval and river empire. Three pillars: Warri for ocean access, the Ijaw for delta control, the Igala for northern rivers.
He gathered his documents and prepared for the day ahead.
The ceremonies would begin soon. The kingdom would mark another year's passing.
And in the hidden forge, the fires would burn on. The hammers would ring. The weapons would multiply.
One year closer to the confrontation.
One year less to prepare.
---
The sun rose over Benin City.
Akenzua watched his kingdom come alive. Farmers heading to their fields. Merchants opening their stalls. Children running through streets already warm with the morning heat.
The year's blessing ceremony proceeded with ancient rhythms. Chiefs gathered. Prayers were offered. Sacrifices were made.
After the ceremonies, Igue found him in the private corridor.
"Production resumes tonight. The new furnace is ready. We'll be at one hundred and twenty rifles per month by season's end."
"Good. But I want more."
"There are limits. Material. Space. Workers who can be trusted."
"Then expand those limits. One hundred and twenty isn't enough. We need to be thinking in thousands. And we need to begin work on naval armaments. The Warri shipyards will need cannon."
Igue nodded. "I'll find ways."
"I know you will."
They parted. Igue to his workshop. Akenzua to his chambers.
Another year survived. Another year of building completed. Phase Two in motion.
The foundation held.
And tomorrow, the real work would continue.
One rifle at a time. One soldier at a time. One territory at a time.
Until the naval and river empire was complete.