The Awka Civic Grounds shimmered in the dry-season heat. Colorful tents stretched across the field, each one heavy with the smell of roasted maize, sizzling suya, and freshly harvested yams. Laughter and the hum of haggling drifted through the air, mixing with the thud of drums from a nearby cultural troupe.
Chinedu stepped out of the bus, adjusting his tailored but modest kaftan. The Imperial Farms logo — green and gold — was embroidered neatly above the chest pocket. Beside him, Ireti carried a small leather folder, her eyes scanning the grounds like a general surveying a battlefield.
"This is their arena," she murmured. "Talk well, smile well, but don't promise anything you can't control."
Their stall was set up in a prime corner — fresh peppers, onions, plantains, yams, all stacked in symmetrical towers. A banner above read: Imperial Farms Co-operative: Feeding Our Future.
Crowds came quickly. Housewives asked about prices. Restaurateurs inquired about bulk orders. Even students posed for selfies beside the bright produce. The co-op members, each wearing matching aprons, moved with practiced efficiency.
But Chinedu's eyes were on the officials drifting through the crowd — the ones who didn't come to shop, but to measure.
"Mr. Obasi," a voice called, smooth and carrying. Honourable Kenechukwu approached, flanked by two aides in dark sunglasses. "The governor will be making rounds soon. I'll introduce you.
Kenechukwu's smile was polished, but Chinedu knew the subtext: Play the game, and I'll open the door.
While shaking hands with a cocoa exporter, Chinedu slipped his phone from his pocket, checking the betting app with quick, practiced taps.
Three matches had already played. Two results were exactly as he'd seen them in his mind days earlier. The third — still pending — was the big one. Futures trading in sports wasn't the same as single bets; one wrong result could wipe the board clean. But the payouts, if they landed, would be enough to finance months of aggressive expansion.
Ireti caught his eye from across the stall, giving him the focus look. He slid the phone away. The fair wasn't the place to be thinking about scorelines.
The murmur in the crowd shifted, turning into a low wave of applause. The governor had arrived. Cameras clicked, journalists shouted questions, aides waved people back.
Kenechukwu guided the small entourage toward the Imperial Farms stall. "Governor, this is the man I told you about — the co-op in Umunze that's feeding markets across the state."
The governor's handshake was firm, his voice warm. "Impressive work, Mr. Obasi. We need more young men taking agriculture seriously. Perhaps we can talk about integrating your network into the school feeding program."
A program like that would mean steady contracts — and steady visibility. But Chinedu also knew it would mean working under the gaze of politicians who might demand favors later.
"I'd be honored to discuss it further," he said, smiling just enough for the cameras.
As the entourage moved on, Ireti leaned closer. "Careful, Chinedu. That man's smile is as sharp as a machete."
He nodded — but his phone was vibrating in his pocket. Slipping it out, he glanced down
Final score: exactly as predicted.
His breath caught. The payouts were listed in bold green figures — more money in one morning than the farm had cleared in three months of hard work. Enough to buy equipment, expand the bus fleet… maybe even open a second Imperial Fresh outlet.
He closed the app and looked around at the bustling fair, the deals being struck, the politicians shaking hands. For the first time, he felt the weight of both paths before him — the public game of influence, and the private game of high-risk, high-reward capital
As the sun dipped, they loaded the last crates back into the bus. The co-op members laughed and traded gossip from the fair, their aprons now dusted with the day's work.
Ireti sat beside him in the front seat. "So," she said, "how was the fair for you?"
Chinedu smiled faintly. "Let's just say… I think we've got the capital for our next move."
"And that move is…?"
He glanced out the window at the fading skyline. "Retail. Oil. And maybe something bigger."
The bus rolled onto the highway, the night ahead wide open. Somewhere between the thorns and the roses, the empire was beginning to bloom.