The rainy season had settled over Harar, and the heavy clouds mirrored Tafari's thoughts. He was seventeen now, standing at the threshold of manhood, and every day sharpened his sense that the world expected something of him — something greater than a noble's son.
In the courtyard, he trained with the sword. The clang of metal echoed against the stone walls, his tutor pushing him harder than usual. Yet Tafari's mind wandered. He had no wish to be remembered merely as a warrior. Ethiopia had heroes with bloodied swords. What it lacked were rulers who could outwit the ambitions of both men and empires.
That evening, Ras Makonnen summoned him privately. The chamber was lit only by oil lamps, their shadows long and uneasy.
"My son," Makonnen said, his voice heavy, "you must learn a lesson I wish I had mastered earlier. Strength lies not only in loyalty, but in knowing when loyalty is a chain."
Tafari leaned forward. "You speak of the nobles, Father?"
Makonnen nodded. "They bow today, but tomorrow they may stand taller than the throne itself. The Italians failed to conquer us at Adwa, but they have not left. They whisper into the ears of lords who value gold more than Ethiopia's soul. And even within the empire, ambition sharpens knives in silence."
Tafari clenched his fists. "Then we must watch them. We must know who listens to the Italians and who listens to Ethiopia."
The Ras smiled faintly. "You already speak like a ruler." His eyes softened, though fatigue lined his face. "But power is a lonely road, my child. When you begin to build your circle, choose carefully. One faithful man is worth a thousand who bend with the wind."
That night, Tafari could not sleep. He walked through the halls, listening to the distant roll of thunder. His historian's mind replayed the tragedies of Ethiopia's past: betrayals that toppled emperors, weak rulers who surrendered to foreign pressure, revolutions that devoured the dreams of his people. He whispered to himself:
"I will not repeat their mistakes. If wolves circle this house, then I will become the shepherd with teeth."
The storm outside broke into rain, a heavy downpour that drummed on the roof. Tafari, standing by the window, watched the darkness and felt a stirring in his chest.
He was no longer just Ras Makonnen's son. He was a shadow in training, learning the hidden language of power