Thanks for.
POV: Adeola (with brief POV switches for Tunde and Moremi)
---
Adeola's feet dug into the dirt of the training ground, his breath burning in his lungs.
The world narrowed to the wooden staff in his hands and the sharp eyes of Yemi, who circled him like a hawk. Bruises blossomed across Adeola's arms and ribs, but still, he stood.
Yemi moved fast — too fast. His strike came low and sharp. Adeola blocked the first, stumbled on the second, and didn't see the third. The blow cracked against his side, knocking the wind out of him.
He hit the ground hard. Again.
"Up," Yemi said without a hint of emotion.
Adeola groaned and forced himself onto one elbow. Pain flared, but something in him refused to stay down.
The other recruits watched from a distance. Some whispered. A few laughed. Bayo leaned against a wooden post, arms folded, his voice dripping with mockery.
"At this rate, we'll need to carry him into battle."
Adeola's jaw clenched. Every muscle in his body screamed, but he rose.
He didn't know what made him keep going. Maybe it was the fire in his blood. Or the nightmares that refused to leave him alone. Maybe it was the look on Tunde's face the night he killed Baba.
---
Later That Day…
The argument broke out during weapons inspection.
"You're wasting our time," Bayo snapped. "The empire doesn't care how sharp our swords are — they care how many throats we cut."
Yemi didn't flinch. "We train for precision. Not chaos."
"Chaos is what war looks like!" Bayo stepped closer, his voice rising. "You don't know what it's like to watch your kingdom burn. I do."
Adeola sat nearby, wiping blood from his practice blade, his pulse rising.
Yemi's eyes darkened. "And you think that gives you the right to risk everyone else?"
"I think it gives me clarity," Bayo shot back. "We don't have time to be gentle."
The tension cut the air like a drawn sword. Adeola looked between them, torn. Both men were right. Both men were wrong. But it wasn't his place — not yet — to speak.
---
That Night – River's Edge
POV Shift: Adeola → Moremi (briefly)
The moon cast a silver sheen across the water. Moremi approached quietly, her steps soft.
She found Adeola seated at the riverbank, staring at his reflection, shoulders slumped in defeat.
He reminded her of herself — not when she was training, but when she had first arrived in Akinwumi. Broken. Lost.
"You fought well today," she said, lowering herself beside him.
Adeola didn't meet her gaze. "I got knocked down six times."
"Then you stood up seven," she replied.
He gave a bitter chuckle. "I don't think I belong here."
Moremi hesitated. Then, softly: "I used to think that too."
She didn't often speak of her past, but tonight, something loosened in her chest.
"I was just a girl when Ondulo fell," she began. "We had no army. No warning. The Ojora soldiers came in the night."
Her hands tightened in her lap. "I hid. I watched them kill my parents. My little brother — he was taken. I don't even know if he's alive."
Adeola turned to her, eyes wide with quiet sorrow.
"I'm sorry," he murmured.
Moremi shook her head. "Don't be. I survived. That's why I fight. Not for revenge. For the ones who couldn't."
Silence stretched between them, soft and raw.
Then she stood. "You'll find your reason too, Adeola. When you do — hold onto it."
---
Far from the Forest – The Empire
POV Shift: Tunde
Tunde's boots echoed off the stone floor as he stormed through the imperial dungeon.
The prisoner before him whimpered, bruised and bloodied, tied to a post like livestock. Tunde leaned in close.
"Where are they hiding?" he hissed.
The man shook his head. "I don't know… please…"
Tunde didn't wait. His blade slashed, leaving a shallow wound across the prisoner's chest.
Behind him, a younger soldier shifted uncomfortably. Even the guards had grown quiet around Tunde lately.
Later, in the throne room, he knelt before Adekunle, head bowed low.
"I will find them," Tunde promised.
The emperor didn't look up from his wine. "You've promised before."
"This time is different."
"No. It isn't." Adekunle's voice was colder than stone. "Every day you delay, Wale gains more ground. Perhaps I should let him finish what you can't."
Tunde's jaw tightened. He bowed again — lower, deeper — but inside, the rage burned.
---
Mission Night – The Ambush Begins
POV: Adeola
The wind was silent as they moved through the forest.
Adeola crouched beside Bayo, heart hammering in his ears. Moremi scouted ahead, her silhouette flickering in the torchlight. Yemi and Ayomide whispered commands, while Femi and Rotimi flanked the rear.
This was his first real mission. And there would be no practice round.
The convoy appeared like ghosts — oxen pulling weapon crates, flanked by soldiers with dull eyes and sharper swords.
Chief Alade had warned them: strike fast, vanish faster.
Then came the signal — a birdcall.
Arrows flew.
Chaos erupted.
Adeola ran forward, blade drawn. A soldier lunged at him — he sidestepped, slashed, heard the grunt and saw blood spray across the ground.
This wasn't training anymore.
It was war.
He fought alongside Bayo, the two moving like shadow and flame, covering each other's backs. Then —
Through the smoke — he saw him.
That face.
Those eyes.
Tunde.
Everything else vanished.
---
The Confrontation
Adeola charged, blade raised, rage crashing through his veins.
Tunde turned just in time, parrying with a sharp clang of steel.
"Well, well," Tunde sneered. "The village rat lives."
Adeola's grip tightened. "You killed him. You killed my father."
"I've killed many fathers. Remind me — what did he scream before he died?"
Adeola roared, striking again and again, wild, furious.
Tunde laughed as he blocked. "That's it! Show me your hate!"
Then — hands grabbed Adeola from behind. Bayo.
"Stop!" Bayo growled. "Not now!"
"I can finish him!"
"This isn't about you! We need to retreat!"
Tunde stepped back, disappearing into the smoke, his laughter echoing like a ghost.
Adeola fell to his knees, panting, rage smothered by the crushing weight of failure.
---
Aftermath – Back in Akinwumi
POV: Adeola
They returned before dawn.
Two of their own didn't make it back. Femi didn't speak the whole walk. Ayomide's eyes were darker than ever.
Adeola stood by the edge of the fire pit, staring into the embers.
He had the chance.
He let it slip.
Moremi approached quietly and sat beside him. This time, she didn't speak. She didn't need to.
He clenched his fists around the hilt of his blade, knuckles white.
> "Next time," he whispered to himself.
"Next time, I won't hesitate."
> The Lost King © 2025 by [Your Name].
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