The moons that followed Major Harrison's ignominious departure were a deceptive calm, the kind that often precedes a truly devastating tempest. Outwardly, the burgeoning Batembo Kingdom thrived. The good rains, coupled with some of Kaelo's subtly introduced agricultural improvements—wider spacing for sorghum, careful selection of seed heads for replanting, and the beginnings of small-scale terracing on gentler slopes to conserve precious water—had resulted in the most bountiful harvest in recent memory. Granaries overflowed. Cattle, acquired as tribute from newly allied or subjugated clans, grew fat in well-guarded pastures. Seke's forges, now doubled in size and with a growing team of apprentices, rang day and night, the rhythmic clang of hammer on iron a constant, reassuring heartbeat in the ikulu.
But beneath this veneer of prosperity, a relentless, almost feverish urgency drove Jabari, or rather, Kaelo within him. Harrison's treaty, as Kaelo had predicted, was proving to be little more than a scrap of hide in the grand scheme of imperial ambition. While it had undeniably cemented Jabari's paramountcy in the immediate region and brought dozens of smaller Nyamwezi clans flocking to his banner, the news from the coast, carried by increasingly nervous Arab traders and Jabari's own discreetly placed informants in Zanzibar, was ominous. The British Governor there had reportedly denounced the "Treaty of the Fig Tree" as an illegal document signed under duress by an officer who had failed in his duty. Rumors swirled of a new, far larger punitive expedition being assembled, led by a seasoned General known for his ruthless efficiency in colonial wars, tasked with "restoring British prestige" and "pacifying the interior."
Kaelo knew they were living in the eye of the storm, a temporary reprieve bought with Batembo blood and British humiliation. He drove himself, and consequently Jabari and the entire kingdom, with a single-minded intensity. Every decision, every allocation of resources, was weighed against the impending confrontation.
The military transformation was radical. Hamisi, now Jabari's undisputed overall war leader, and Lبانجى, whose Wanyisanza warriors formed an increasingly integrated and elite part of the confederate army, worked to implement Kaelo's vision of a "New Model Army." The core remained the Nkonde sya Ntemi, now expanded to three full regiments, each of a hundred men, almost entirely armed with the captured British rifles or the best of the trade muskets acquired from Nasser Al-Harithi. Their training was relentless: disciplined volley fire, skirmishing tactics, rapid deployment, and even rudimentary field fortifications.
Beyond this elite corps, Kaelo pushed for a restructuring of the warriors drawn from allied chiefdoms. Instead of fighting as disparate clan contingents, they were gradually being organized into larger, mixed regiments under trusted Batembo or proven allied commanders. This was a delicate process, fraught with potential friction as old clan loyalties and rivalries had to be carefully managed, but Kaelo knew it was essential for creating a truly unified fighting force. He used Jabari's immense prestige, gifts of Seke's superior weapons, and appeals to their shared Nyamwezi identity and the common threat to overcome resistance. Mzee Kachenje's wisdom in navigating these inter-clan sensitivities was invaluable.
Seke's forge became a crucible of innovation. The captured British rifles were endlessly studied. While replicating their complex breech-loading mechanisms was still a distant dream, Seke and his brightest apprentices, guided by Kaelo's attempts to explain basic principles of metallurgy and mechanics, made astonishing progress. They learned to repair broken firing pins, to strengthen springs, even to re-bore damaged barrels for a slightly different caliber of lead ball, which they were now casting with greater consistency. Their greatest challenge remained gunpowder. Kibwana's foragers had located several promising deposits of bat guano rich in saltpeter, and Kaelo had guided Seke through a laborious process of purification and mixing with charcoal and sulfur (still scarce, mostly obtained through painstaking trade). The resulting powder was better than their previous efforts, but still not as potent or reliable as the British product. Every ounce was hoarded like gold.
Boroga, his ambition now fully harnessed to the Batembo cause, excelled in his role as quartermaster-general. He established a network of hidden grain depots throughout the kingdom, ensuring that their armies could be supplied even if the main ikulu was threatened. He organized teams of porters, mostly women and older youths, to transport supplies efficiently. He even oversaw the systematic collection and treatment of hides to produce tougher shields and more durable water skins. Kaelo's mind, accustomed to complex logistical chains, found an outlet in optimizing these pre-industrial processes.
The diplomatic offensive also broadened. Jabari, his name now carrying immense weight throughout Unyamwezi and beyond, sent envoys to the most powerful independent rulers in the wider region. To the south, feelers were extended once more towards the formidable Hehe, ruled by the rising war leader Munyigumba. To the north, attempts were made to establish contact with the larger Sukuma chiefdoms near the Great Southern Lake (Lake Victoria). The message was consistent: "A great shadow falls upon our lands, cast by the sun-haired men from beyond the sea. They seek to devour us one by one. United, we may offer a shield. Divided, we will surely be their feast."
The responses were varied. Some, like the Hehe, proud and expansionist themselves, remained aloof, perhaps seeing the Batembo as a potential rival rather than an ally. Others, particularly those who had also experienced the sharp end of Arab slaving or early European arrogance, listened with cautious interest. No grand pan-Nyamwezi or pan-regional alliance was forged overnight, but seeds of communication were sown, and a network of potential, if reluctant, future collaborators began to emerge. Kaelo knew that shared fear could be a powerful unifier.
Internally, Jabari's authority was absolute, yet Kaelo guided him to rule not as a tyrant, but as a strong, just paramount chief. The rudimentary legal code Mzee Kachenje and Juma were painstakingly compiling was applied consistently. Disputes were settled fairly. Tribute, though substantial, was not allowed to become cripplingly oppressive. Jabari made regular tours of his allied territories, accompanied by his Nkonde sya Ntemi, not just to display his power, but to listen to local grievances, to participate in local rituals, to forge personal bonds with the headmen and their people. Kaelo understood that true loyalty, the kind that would withstand the coming storm, was built on more than just fear or temporary advantage.
The young scribes, under Juma's enthusiastic leadership, made halting progress. Their symbolic script was still cumbersome, but they could now keep basic tallies of warriors, livestock, and grain reserves. They were even attempting to chronicle the great victory over Harrison, their charcoal sticks scratching out the first crude written history of the Batembo Kingdom. Kaelo saw this as a vital long-term investment in creating a stable, administrable state.
Amidst all this frantic preparation, Kaelo often felt the profound isolation of his unique position. He could discuss tactics with Hamisi and Lبانجى, diplomacy with Kachenje, resources with Boroga, and even the mysteries of iron with Seke. But he could share the true, terrifying scope of his future knowledge with no one. He saw the world not just through Jabari's eighteen-year-old Nyamwezi eyes, but through the lens of centuries of accumulated human history, a history that painted a grim prognosis for peoples who stood in the path of industrializing empires. He wrestled with the moral compromises—the necessary ruthlessness, the tolerated evils like the peripheral slave trade that still fueled part of their economy—weighing them against the existential threat his people faced. Was he becoming like the imperialists he sought to defy, building his own empire on conquest and coercion? Or was he merely forging the only viable shield in a world where the alternative was annihilation? The lines blurred, and the burden was immense.
He found some solace in unexpected quarters. Kibwana, the old healer, with his serene wisdom and deep connection to the spiritual world of the Nyamwezi, often seemed to sense the disquiet within Jabari. He would not ask direct questions, but would speak in parables, of ancient trees that bent in great storms but whose roots held firm, of rivers that carved new paths through intransigent rock. His words, though not addressing Kaelo's specific anxieties, offered a strange comfort, a connection to an enduring African resilience that Kaelo was desperately trying to nurture and weaponize.
Months bled into a year, then nearly another. The Batembo Kingdom was transformed. It was now a lean, hard, well-organized military power, its influence spreading like the roots of a great fig tree. The warriors were better armed, better trained, their morale high. Food reserves were substantial. Alliances, though sometimes fragile, extended further than ever before. Seke, in a moment of quiet triumph, presented Jabari with a crudely rifled musket barrel he had forged himself – still far from a modern rifle, but a staggering leap in local technology. It was a symbol of their growing self-reliance.
Then, as the dry season of their third year since Steiner's defeat reached its hottest, dustiest peak, the long-anticipated blow fell. A terrified Wanyisanza tracker, one of Lبانجى's best men, arrived at the ikulu after a desperate, non-stop journey from the south-eastern approaches to their kingdom. He had run for five days, his feet raw, his eyes haunted.
"Ntemi!" he gasped, collapsing before Jabari. "They come! The red coats! As numberless as the stars in a clear night sky! Wagons, cannons that shine like the sun, and thousands upon thousands of warriors, not just their own red coats, but askaris from many tribes, even some renegade Nyamwezi who have taken their silver! They are led by a new Jenerali, a man they call 'The Butcher of the Indis' for his deeds in a distant land. He has sworn by his Queen to erase the Batembo name from the memory of man!"
Kaelo felt Jabari's heart turn to ice, but his outward expression remained impassive. The eye of the storm had passed. The full, calculated fury of the British Empire, a force that had crushed nations far greater than his fledgling kingdom, was now, at last, upon them. The desperate race against time was over. The ultimate test had arrived.