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Bread and Blade for Royal Blood / Chapter 4: Ashes of the Princess
Bread and Blade for Royal Blood

Bread and Blade for Royal Blood

Author: Michael Holloway


Chapter 4: Ashes of the Princess

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Hauwa Lanre na chief pikin. Enter army at ten, go war at sixteen, win battle tire. Dem say her mama dey carry anointing oil, her papa dey bless her with oriki every morning.

Her military work pass any prince. At seventeen, Oba dash her title—Princess Adesewa. For market, na her name dey on every tongue—market women dey sell yam, still dey talk her story.

That time, she dey shine like sun. Even me, wey dey far, hear story for palm wine joint say Princess Adesewa dey popular, her level reach real princess. Boys dey dream her for night, girls dey copy her style.

But na sad story be her own. For every person wey smile for palace, ten dey cry for village.

For her peak, she fall in love with Fifth Prince, Musa Danjuma, wey suffer for back house. The love no get shame, dem two dey waka for garden like say na only dem waka come.

She fight war for him, help him win, no know say Musa Danjuma—wey get strong mind—after he use her and his sister help take throne, he clear all enemy, including Lanre family wey support crown prince.

This Oba, wey people look down before, no get joy. He hate people wey see him suffer, fear dem join. Dem say na night time, he go look mirror, dey talk to himself, dey plan how to remove any threat.

So he forge evidence, call Lanre family traitor, kill all 300—men cut for waist, women force into shame—finish Lanre family name. Na so palace go silent for three days, even bird no sing for morning.

Hauwa Lanre, wey be queen before, vex, draw cutlass for palace, make Oba vex. Dem drug her, scatter her martial art, send her come north border—where Lanre family no get power, where she only win one battle, where people no remember her—make dem disgrace her.

Here, everybody talk say she deserve am. Dem forget her past, just know say she be Oba ex-woman, criminal slave—no be the same Hauwa Lanre wey make enemy fear. Na so world wicked—today na hero, tomorrow you fit turn story wey dem dey use chase children for night.

Before I transmigrate, I sef curse the heroine, call her useless, vex say she no fit save herself. I dey read the story for inside book, dey shake my head, dey blame am for all her wahala.

But as I reach here, I understand say royal power na real wahala. If dem call your name for king meeting, better pray make na food dem wan share.

I quietly clean her face. The cloth soft for my hand, but my heart heavy. This life fit turn anybody upside down.

Maybe she feel say I no get bad mind, or maybe she just tire, she just lie there, eye empty, let me clean her. She no even blink, as if she dey float for another world.

After I finish, I withdraw my hand, look the woman wey close eye, no get hope to live again. For this moment, her chest dey move slow, like say she dey wait make last breath come carry am.

The image for my eye mix with the one wey ride horse, full of life. For my mind, I dey beg God, 'Make this not be the end.'

She dey shine like sun before. Now na only small spark remain.

Suddenly.

One kind mad idea enter my mind. The kind thought wey go make my ancestors ask if I chop winch leaf.

I want—change her story.

Hauwa Lanre no suppose end like this.

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