Chapter 1: When Loyalty Turns Deadly

Long before independence reach our land, for one old kingdom, border general wey get three hundred thousand warriors dey run things—until palace wahala land for im doorstep.

The sun never rise well that morning when palace messenger, face tight like person wey chop bitterleaf without water, waka enter camp. The soldiers, even the ones wey dey toast akara for morning fire, pause as the man read the king’s letter with voice wey no dey shake:

"You go surrender your military power and return to the capital alone—or else, make you remember your parents, wife and children wey dey for the capital. Shine your eye well: dem fit just clear your whole family."

The air heavy, even the wind freeze. Some soldiers glance each other, their hand grip spear tighter, mouth tight as if e dey hold back curse. For Naija, that kind direct threat na taboo, e fit spark war. Nobody talk, only their side-eye and soft mutter tell you say tension dey build.

Yan Guyun: "Ah, I sabi this kind story na."

1

Yan Guyun, wey don kpai at age sixty-five, just wake up with shock. Everywhere don change for im front, and im head dey scatter with plenty memories wey no be im own.

Sweat don dey Yan Guyun face, as im eye open like person wey dream say masquerade pursue am. Mosquito dey buzz for corner, firewood smoke dey bite nose, and somewhere, goat dey drag rope. The sound of camp—soldiers dey sing, black pot dey boil for fire—reach im ear, but e no sure who be who. For background, far-off cock dey crow, like say dem dey remind am say this one no be dream.

Yan Guyun: "Chai, na my turn again? Wait—why I talk 'again'?"

Im heartbeat dey race, chest dey move up and down. For one brief second, e remember as im last breath for former world heavy like Sango thunder, then now, this new body dey pulse with soldier strength. Im mind dey jog between two lives, as if Naija traffic jam dey im head.

Yan Guyun no even know why; e just get that kind feeling say many people don cross over before, maybe some even land for Oyo Empire or Benin Kingdom. But where e dey now?

E try search im new memory, but everywhere dey scatter, like when you dey find correct pepper for busy Lagos market. Sometimes, one kind ancient palace go flash, next thing na calabash of palmwine, then e see soldiers dey train for field, some dey slap back of hand for greeting.

One voice for darkness tell am: "You don cross enter body of one border general. The general dey command three hundred thousand soldiers, but king dey hint say make you surrender your command and return palace alone. If you no gree, dem go clear your family."

The voice thunder like Alaga for Lagos party—loud, no dey beg anybody. Yan Guyun nearly hiss. If na WhatsApp, e for just block sender.

Yan Guyun: "……"

Yan Guyun: "Which kind yeye king be this? Even goat wey no get horn no dey fight lion for front. My stubborn nephew for Aba go first use normal order dey shift my loyal soldiers away small small. Which king go just threaten to kill my family straight up?"

The voice for darkness pause small, then reply, "I don think am well. This kind king dey always show for alternate history, romance, and those social media stories."

Even for the shadow, you fit sense the voice dey try package lie. The thing resemble those WhatsApp broadcast stories wey go end with 'forward to five people for blessing.'

Yan Guyun: "Wetin be all this one?"

Yan Guyun: "Which kind genres be that? Why e be say when e reach my turn, no be normal history? Who go before me? Me wey be great warlord, the whole world dey respect me—no be enough?"

Yan Guyun voice get that aggrieved tone, like first son wey dem cheat for inheritance.

"Well, as you talk am, before you na mostly Sarki Usman Dan Fodio, and your papa."

Yan Guyun: "……"

Everywhere quiet. Today na silence for Yan Guyun.

Even small bush cricket wey dey always dey make noise for night no gree chirp. Yan Guyun look up, like say he dey expect thunder to strike person wey dey play with ancestors.

No wahala. Yan Guyun begin check the new memories for im head from beginning—

Im mind dey like calabash water wey dem just shake, as the past dey rush enter. The air wey dey for the tent thick with the smell of old leather and burning wood. His body dey rest, but his spirit dey hustle for memory market.

When you small, bad people frame you, scatter your family. If no be say that time Prince of Kano stand for your side, find evidence clear your family name, you for dey beg for street now.

As you dey remember, tears almost drop for eye. For Nigeria, family name na your key for life. If e spoil, even your shadow no go respect you again.

So, you follow Prince of Kano.

Prince of Kano name na Musa Bello, e senior you with seven or eight years. E treat you like real younger brother, anything you want, e go give you, even dash you plenty war books and secret scrolls, im eyes dey shine dey ask if you wan learn.

Musa Bello na person wey like gist, and e dey always correct your grammar, even when you dey try mix pidgin for palace. The kinship wey dey between una deep like River Niger, as people for palace dey call you 'Bello's own.'

That time, you just feel say Prince of Kano na good person, e no fit harm you. Since you no get anything to pay am back, you just dey learn anything wey e want make you learn.

As you dey learn, sometimes you dey wonder if na so all palace pikin dey lucky. Palace guards go even nod as you waka pass, market women for inside palace go sneak extra bean cake and puff-puff for your pouch.

Surprisingly, you quick sabi military strategy and fighting, so Prince of Kano send you go border.

The border no be play. The land dry, sun dey roast ground like dodo, wind dey blow dust inside eye, and local hunters dey salute you as 'war child.' Even elders for border town go gather for evening to hear your war story.

You master war tactics, with your spear, you fit chop enemy general head inside crowd of soldiers, drive those foreign raiders wey dey disturb Middle Belt run anyhow. Your name reach Ibadan.

The warriors for Oyo and far Calabar begin dey hear of your prowess. Your name dey their lips, like fowl wey too sabi fight for farm.

King dey smile dey shower you with favour, crown prince dey try win you over for back, but you no dey do eye service for king, you no dey play politics with crown prince. Of course, dem begin slander you, betray you, you even go war alone sometimes.

Palace wahala no dey finish. One day dem go call you thief, another day dem say na you dey leak war plan. Your body dey strong, but heart dey heavy as you dey waka those lonely palace corridors.

Some wahala, Prince of Kano shield you; some, na you use your own achievement fight am.

Sometimes you go just dey sit for night, dey polish your spear, dey reason life. You go remember as Prince Musa Bello use im own money settle elders wey wan chase you. Small time, your own name begin dey clear.

Until three years ago, Prince of Kano secretly call you return palace. After una drink three rounds of palm wine, e open im mind give you, you help am do main gate coup, clear crown prince, lock former king, help Prince of Kano become king.

That night, as una dey drink, your hand dey shake. You know say coup no be beans, but if you no help am, your whole clan fit vanish. The plan tight, you arrange your best boys, disguise as masquerade join palace festival, then move. The coup land like dry season fire—sharp, clean, no pity.

Before Prince of Kano become king, e dey look you with hot eyes, like say you be gold.

For palace, your face dey shine, even maid wey dey sweep corridor dey smile greet you. The way Musa Bello dey carry you matter for head, people dey fear to talk anyhow near your name.

After e become king, im look come change—cold, like harmattan breeze for December. Regret, coldness, even small disgust join.

E dey always look you like say na you remind am of wetin im do to climb throne. Sometimes for council, you go talk, e go wave hand like say your idea na fly.

But you no ever notice am.

You dey always brush am off, dey focus on your work. After all, na Naija, person wey get king ear today fit get poison for food tomorrow. You just dey try survive, dey mind your lane.

Once e sit for throne, Prince of Kano arrange marriage for you—but no be that girl wey you like for palace. Instead, e give you one pampered noble lady.

That your crush marry Prince of Kano.

Correction: she marry king.

The news hit you like mad traffic jam for Lagos. You just bone face, but for midnight, your heart dey bleed small, pillow wet with silent tears.

……

As Yan Guyun finish check all these memories, e come understand the script—

Na so e be. For this kingdom, the king dey play long game; you dey inside one kind palace chess. If you misstep, na your head dem go use arrange sacrifice.

As expected, since then you no fit leave palace again. Only consolation be say the so-called spoiled lady no too hard as people talk; she even pity you. Two of una dey respect each other, sometimes una live as husband and wife.

At night, you go gist small, she go bring hot water, sometimes give you ogbono soup. Her wahala no too much, she just like dey listen to palmwine tales.

But your memory about married life dey somehow; you know say e happen, but you no remember any detail.

You dey try remember the way she dey smile or how una son dey run for palace, but everything dey blur. E be like old photo wey sun don bleach.

Anyway, one year after marriage, you born fine boy, but your wife come dey worry more.

The boy fine well well, skin fresh, eyes sharp. Palace midwives dey hail you say na kingly pikin, but your wife, her face dey always heavy. Sometimes for night, she go just dey look moon, dey bite her lip, whisper small prayer under her breath.

You ask am wetin dey, she say if you no dey border, northern raiders go strong pass. If wahala start, you go go war—and if you go, she dey fear say your son go die.

Her voice low, like person wey dey talk from inside thick wrapper. You sef come quiet. For Naija, everybody sabi say war dey collect children, both king and slave pikin.

You: *Wetin be this one…*

Your heart dey beat small small, e dey pain you say your own woman dey worry like this. For this land, if person dey war, na family dey feel am pass.

Of course, you no be mumu. You think am well, you understand her meaning. You don read plenty war books and generals’ story, but you still shake head say, “I trust His Majesty.”

You talk am with full chest, even though for inside your belle you dey reason say trust for this palace na only God sure pass.

Your wife just hiss, no even bother talk again.

She waka comot, wrapper drag for ground, her back straight as Abuja express. That hiss alone loud pass any insult.

One year later, war burst for border. King finally remember you, even cry come see you off, beg you make you stop raider cavalry.

Na real cry o. King hold your hand, promise say e go build shrine for your ancestors. The palace drummers even play oriki for your name.

You go, with one hundred thousand troops, you take back lost land, collect supply, accept surrender, reorganize, your army dey grow every time you win. Even area boys wan join you, you open military farm make dem get food chop.

For Benue farm, young boys dey chop well, old women dey praise you, even rain begin fall for your camp. Everybody begin call you hope of the people.

After one year serious fight, you recover Benue, enter Jos, push raiders reach White Hills and Black Rivers, chase dem enter savannah.

Your men dey sing war song, dey beat drum for night, dey thank gods say you still dey alive. Even hunter from Taraba bring bushmeat come salute you.

Your command reach three hundred thousand now.

The soldiers for your camp don dey look you like dem dey look ancestor, dem dey touch your boot for luck before battle.

So, as war finish, king rush send messenger—carry personal letter from your whole family, even your two-year-old son. If you no surrender command, dem go really clear your family.

The messenger tie wrapper well, face like person wey carry funeral message. Your men gather, dey watch as you dey read the letter, your hand dey shake small, but you still hold face strong.

You worry for days, dey waka up and down, dey reason between loyalty and family—until, suddenly, you finish be that.

The nights long, no sleep, only sound of crickets and far-off flute. At last, the story cut short, darkness swallow all.

……

Yan Guyun: "……"

Yan Guyun: "This person no get sense! You go back go die with your family, then raiders go carry the country, finish!"

For that moment, Yan Guyun feel one kain old anger for chest. How person go choose loyalty to king over family and land? For Naija, blood na blood, and kingdom na for all.