The sweet aroma of fermented palm wine wafted through the tavern, mingling with the rich scents of roasted plantains and peppered fish. Men and women of various ages chattered as they downed wooden calabashes of the finest palm wine offered in the entire city of Nkap. Joy spread through the atmosphere like honey, and music rang from the tavern's garden—the rhythmic sound of xylophones played by bare-chested men whose hands moved with frantic passion across the wooden keys.
In the garden, dancers moved like flames given human form. Fine ladies wore skirts threaded with the greenest banana leaves, their bodies undulating like serpents to the catchy traditional melodies. Their feet struck the earth in patterns that seemed to speak a language older than words.
The tavern was brimming with life. It was the busiest establishment in the entire capital, renowned not just for its entertainment but for the quality of its proprietor's connections. Mr. Redu had built his reputation carefully over decades, serving at the most prestigious events hosted in the kingdom—weddings of nobles, birth celebrations for merchant princes, even funerals for ministers who'd shaped the fate of Gold Land.
His influence brought him closer to men of illustrious status, and on this particular evening, he was entertaining two such figures in the private upper floor reserved for guests of importance.
Seated at a low table of polished mahogany were three men: Redu himself, a stout man with shrewd eyes and the easy smile of someone who'd learned to read people like scrolls; Sidiki, a plain-looking middle-aged Notable of Nkap dressed in fine Kente robes with jewelry that spoke of considerable wealth; and Otti, the Royal Chief Guard, a broad-shouldered man whose relaxed posture couldn't quite hide the warrior's alertness in his eyes.
They'd been drinking and chatting for the better part of an hour when Otti, loosened by wine and the comfort of trusted company, dropped his voice to a more serious tone.
"The situation at the palace has become... complicated."
Redu leaned forward, his merchant's instincts sensing valuable information. "Complicated how, my friend?"
Otti glanced around to ensure no servants were within earshot, then continued. "The king's daughter has disappeared."
The words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread.
"What did you just say?" Redu's jovial expression vanished, replaced by genuine shock. "The princess? Disappeared?"
"As I said." Otti downed his calabash in one long swallow, then slammed it on the table with more force than necessary. "I was present when the report came in. She vanished in the forest of Ruandera, attacked by a group of mercenaries. The royal investigators believe she's being held captive somewhere in Ankh Kingdom."
Sidiki, who'd been sipping his wine with elegant detachment, nearly choked. "Ankh? They think Ankh kidnapped a Gold Land princess? That's... that's an act of war."
"Exactly," Otti said grimly. He signaled for more wine, and a servant hurried to refill his calabash. "That's what makes the situation so dangerous."
"But surely it's just a ransom situation," Sidiki reasoned, his merchant's mind already calculating. "Ankh might be bold, but they're not stupid. They must be keeping her captive for gold. Our kingdom is wealthy enough—losing some treasure is nothing compared to losing the king's heir."
"The king would not agree with you, Sidiki." Otti's voice dropped even lower. "You know how he's been since Queen Sichom died. Unstable. Paranoid. And when it comes to his daughter..." He shook his head. "The man flew into a rage when he heard the news. I've never seen anything like it."
"What did he do?" Redu asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "How did he react?"
Otti's hand trembled slightly as he reached for his refilled calabash. "He threw golden jars across the royal hall. Priceless artifacts that had been in the royal family for generations, shattered against marble pillars. He shouted at us—at his own guards and advisors—threatened us with execution if we failed to find her. And then..." He paused, taking a long drink. "Then he threatened war against Ankh Kingdom."
The silence that followed was heavy with implications.
"War," Sidiki breathed. "Over a kidnapping that might not even be Ankh's doing?"
"The king isn't thinking clearly," Otti admitted. "Grief has made him reckless. We couldn't retort or advise him—anyone who tried to counsel patience was met with death threats. It was only when Lady Cynthia intervened that he regained some composure."
At the mention of the king's concubine, something shifted in Redu's expression—a flash of interest quickly masked.
"Ah yes, the Lady Cynthia," he said smoothly. "I've heard she has considerable influence over His Majesty these days."
"More than considerable," Otti said, his tone carefully neutral. "She's the only one who can calm him when these rages take hold. After she spoke to him privately, the king agreed to consult with the All-Knowing Kinte before taking any military action."
"The Divine Ancestor," Sidiki murmured with reverence. "Well, if anyone can provide clarity, it's him."
"Let's hope so," Otti replied. "Because if Kinte confirms that Ankh is holding the princess... I fear the king will send that letter of threat. And then..." He didn't need to finish the sentence.
Then war would come, and thousands would die for one man's grief and rage.
Redu absorbed this information with the practiced calm of someone who'd learned to profit from chaos. "This Cynthia," he said casually, refilling their calabashes himself. "I've heard interesting stories about her. Wasn't there some scandal about how quickly the king married her?"
Otti's eyes narrowed slightly, but the wine had loosened his tongue. "You heard correctly. It was in Ace Kingdom, during a diplomatic mission after the Queen's death. The king met Cynthia at some noble's gathering—she was a widow, I believe, visiting from a minor noble house. Within three days, he'd announced their betrothal. The ministers tried to counsel delay, proper mourning periods, political considerations... He threatened to have them all flogged."
"Love at first sight," Sidiki said with a touch of romantic sentiment.
"Or something else," Otti muttered into his calabash.
Before Redu could probe further, Otti stood abruptly. "I should return to the palace. If the king discovers I'm drinking while his daughter is missing..." He shuddered at the thought.
"Of course, of course," Redu said smoothly, rising to see his guest out. "Thank you for the... enlightening conversation."
After Otti departed, Redu and Sidiki sat in contemplative silence.
"War," Sidiki finally said. "Bad for everyone."
"Bad for most," Redu corrected with a slight smile. "But opportunity exists in chaos, my friend. The question is how to position oneself to benefit rather than suffer."
Sidiki looked at his host with new wariness, but said nothing.
Some truths were better left unspoken.