The grand hall of the palace still echoed with whispers from Lord Gebru's unmasking. The Emperor's justice loomed like a storm on the horizon, yet the court's eyes did not rest solely on the disgraced noble. They slid instead toward another figure—Wolde.
He stood at Tafari's side as always, calm and resolute, but the murmurs grew sharper: the son of the rival. His father's name—long buried in court memory—was being pulled up like a ghost.
"Is it wise," one noble murmured, "for Tafari to place his trust in the son of the man who once schemed against Ras Makonnen?"
"Blood betrays," another whispered. "It always does."
Tafari heard them. His eyes, sharp as a hawk's, scanned the room. He knew the nobles would use Wolde's lineage as a weapon, just as they used gold and whispers.
Later, in the council chamber, the accusations came openly.
"Lord Gebru has already shown how the Empire can be undermined from within," said an elder noble, bowing stiffly. "But there are others whose loyalty is… uncertain. Why should the son of your father's enemy stand beside you in matters of state?"
The court turned to Wolde.
Wolde did not flinch. "My father's rivalry was with Ras Makonnen. His ambitions died with him. My loyalty is not inherited—I forged it with my own blood, standing at Tafari's side when others fled. Test me, and you will find me unbroken."
The hall grew silent. Some were impressed; others only smirked, already plotting to twist his words.
Tafari rose, his voice steady, yet filled with fire:
"The Empire will not be ruled by ghosts of the past. I judge a man by his deeds, not by his father's shadow. Wolde has stood beside me when even princes doubted me. If there are those who wish to challenge his loyalty, let them prove their own first."
A murmur rippled through the chamber. Tafari had turned the blade back upon his rivals.
But the danger was not gone. Outside the chamber, messengers from Italian agents already spread new whispers: If Gebru could be tempted, perhaps Wolde could too. Blood is a chain that no man can cut forever.
As night fell, Tafari met Wolde privately.
"They will come for you next," Tafari said. "Not with swords, but with whispers. They will use your father's name against you."
Wolde's jaw tightened. "Then let them. I serve you, not the ghost of a man I barely knew. If the nobles want to test me, I will stand."
Tafari placed a hand on his shoulder. "Then we stand together. Betrayal has taught me one thing—trust must be rare, but when it is given, it must be unbreakable."
In the darkness beyond the palace walls, Ethiopia's enemies smiled. They saw division, old rivalries, and seeds of doubt. But they did not yet see the steel beneath Tafari's calm.
For every whisper of betrayal, he was learning to answer with power.