William turned down a narrow street, the press of the market fading behind him. The road here was quieter, almost desolate, shadows gathering between mud-brick walls and shuttered doors.
He had barely slowed his steps when a sudden crash rang from one of the nearby huts. William's head snapped up just as the door burst open.
A boy, no older than ten, ran out, eyes swollen with tears. He scanned the street in desperation before his gaze locked onto William. In an instant, the child ran to him, clutching his robe with a grip so tig
ht. William knew the boy wouldn't let go untill he helped him.
"He.. help us… please." His voice broke, choked with sobs.
William's hand hovered uncertainly over the boy's trembling shoulders. "What is it?"
But the boy was already turning his tear- streaked face aside, reaching with his other hand toward someone behind. " Sir. Pl.. please. Help us."
William turned—and froze.
It was him.
The man from earlier. The stranger who had pressed the coin into his palm with that unsettling stare. The one who vanished into the crowd without explanation.
William's heart lurched. He found it strange immediately. He had not sensed him at all. Had this man been following him all along? How could he have not noticed someone behind him? For someone to stay so close without him noticing… surely, his skills were not ordinary.
Dada had followed William closely.
He got close to him and was about bringing out a dagger when a kid ran out of a house and held him.
Dada met William's questioning eyes briefly, but gave nothing away. He ignored his gaze on him. His expression was as calm and unreadable as stone. He knew the other would now find him suspicious given the way his gaze were fixed on him.
"Take me there." he said to the boy, ignoring William entirely.
For a moment, William considered walking away- seeing someone has decided to attend to the kid. This wasn't his problem. Yet something in the man's presence— so sharp, so deliberate— kept him rooted. If this stranger truly had been following him, William needed to know why. And so, he followed them into the hut.
Inside the hut, the stench of sickness clung thick in the air. An old man lay on the ground, moving his body with great difficulty.
"Sir, are you alright?" William rushed to him, lifting him gently and laying him on the small, rough bed.
Dada seated himself at the edge of the bed without hesitation. He took the old man's wrist, feeling for a pulse, then reached into a satchel that seemed to appear from nowhere.
William blinked. He watched the other as he brought out something from his bag. He hadn't noticed the man carrying a bag before.
" This will ease the pain." Dada said quietly, producing a small vial of medicine. He moved to put it in the man's mouth— only to feel his hand caught in a sudden, unyielding grip.
"What is that?" William demanded, his tone edged with suspicion.
Dada lifted his gaze to him, unimpressed. "What do you take me for? I'm not trying to kill him." He wrenched his arm free with a push, his expression hardening. "And if you know nothing of medicine, then scram."
William's eyes widened. " What? Scram? Did you just— "
But the man ignored him entirely, lifting the old man's head with surprising care and guiding the medicine between his lips.
William bit back his rising temper. The other was clearly his equal in age—yet spoke as though addressing a child. William pushed off the up raising fury in him as the situation at hand was not the best to fight.
" Baba.. This medicine will help You feel better." Dada is an assassin so knowing a few medicine and having some knowledge about it was not surprising. He learnt them in case some situations may arise in which he would have to look after himself.
( Baba is a term used for elderly men)
The old man swallowed weakly. His breathing wasn't steady and the corner of his eyes seemed to have gotten darker. He blinked his eyes slowly.
" It might slow this sickness down but it doesn't change the result.
"Thank you. Omo mi- my child." His voice was low and weak. His eyes shifted toward William. " And thank you, young master."
"Uncle…" the boy's voice cracked as he hurried to his side, clutching his frail hand. "Uncle, please don't die." Fear and sadness pervade his voice.
The old man turned his weak fingers to squeeze the boy's, his smile breaking, thin and dry.
"Don't worry, child. I won't die today. If luck allows, perhaps not tomorrow either." He broke off in a sudden cough that wracked his frail body.
Dada's fingers pressed again to his pulse. His sharp eyes flickered, then dimmed with the weight of what he felt. A long sigh slipped through his lips.
William who has been watching him noticed the change in his expression and knew that sigh wasn't a good news. He took a step closer to the man.
The old man must have seen it too. He smiled again; his smile dry as he muttered in a low voice. "I've lived long enough."
His gaze turned between the two men. " Listen well. I am an old man. I don't have many days left. This child… he has suffered enough. He saw his mother die before his very eyes. I cannot let him watch me go too." His weak hand trembled as he placed it over the boy's.
" Young masters..Grant an old man one last wish. Help me bring him to Irele, to his father. His father… he is a butler at the royal palace here in Oyo. For years he served the king faithfully. But fate was cruel— he fell in love with a fellow servant, this boy's mother, and she bore his child. Such a thing was forbidden. Servants were never allowed to have families. The woman left the palace alive only due to the man's endless pleading to spare his lover's life. She carried her unborn son into exile, raising him alone. She tried to reach the boy's father through letters, but none ever reached him. She was left all alone in this world with an unborn child and no one to support her. I...- "
The old man coughed harshly, his body wracking. William quickly poured him water from a clay jug, helping him sip.
The old man's voice rasped, weaker than before. "O shey… thank you." His dry lips trembled as he forced the words out. " I had to take her in. She was too pitiful. She gave birth to this boy, but when he was only eight years old, sickness struck her down. It was sad… too sad." His chest rattled with a shallow breath. "I raised him as best I could. But I am old, and my strength wanes. I do not know how much longer I can protect him."
He paused, his gaze lingering on the child clutching his hand, before continuing in a whisper: "Fortunately… I heard his father was set free by the king. He left the palace, and now he lives in Irele. I wanted to bring the boy to him, but before I could… this illness struck me down. The spirit is willing, but the body… is weak." His eyes dimmed with regret. "Young masters… help me. Take him to his father. Do not let him remain alone in this world."
Silence pressed heavy in the room.
William's brows furrowed. His gaze shifted to the man seated opposite him, and for the first time, Dada's unreadable eyes met his.
Going to Irele. The very province he had just left. William's chest tightened. He had no intention of returning so soon. More so— returning with a child. Wouldn't that only weigh him down? He was a prince wandering in disguise, danger shadowing his every step. To drag a boy into that chaos… was that not cruelty?
And yet— William's gaze lingered on the boy's trembling form, on the desperate hope clinging to his tear-streaked face. He could not bring himself to shatter it.
His jaw tightened. No matter what decision he made, one truth rang clear:
This child's fate now lay between him… and the man across from him.
Although mistrust burned in his chest, William thought, Perhaps the boy would be safer with the other man.
To be continued...