POV: Wale, Tunde, Chief Alade, Yemi, Femi, Moremi
(Themes: Secrets, Duality, Family, Tension)
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Ambush on the Forest Road
POV: Wale
The wind was still.
Wale rode silently, flanked by his trusted companion Adedayo and a squad of elite Ojora warriors. The path through the Irebi woods was narrow, but it didn't make him uneasy. It was too quiet for bandits. Too early for beasts.
He wasn't wrong.
The first arrow flew from the trees—shimmering in the dawn light. A second followed, striking one of his men in the throat.
Then the attackers came.
Clad in rebel paint and ragged cloaks, they screamed war cries and charged with spears and axes. "For the fallen! For the legion!"
Wale dismounted with eerie calm.
In one breath, his blade was drawn. In the next, blood sprayed the leaves. He moved like smoke—each step controlled, every slash deliberate.
Adedayo fought at his side, brutal and precise. The others faltered, but Wale and his partner carved through the ambush like wolves in a sheepfold.
Within minutes, silence fell again—broken only by the gasps of the dying.
Wale stood over a fallen attacker.
"The rebel legion isn't foolish enough to send lambs into a lion's mouth," he muttered. "This wasn't them."
He exchanged a glance with Adedayo, both thinking the same thing.
This was staged.
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Throne Room Games
POV: Tunde
Back at the Ojora Palace, Tunde stood behind a pillar, listening as Wale recounted the "ambush" to Emperor Adekunle.
"They shouted legion slogans, but fought like mercenaries," Wale said. "This wasn't a rebel attack. It was meant to look like one."
Adekunle leaned forward. "You suspect a frame?"
"I suspect someone wanted me dead," Wale replied.
The Emperor narrowed his eyes. Then, with a nod, he stood. "Finish what you started. Find the rebel base. Burn it."
Tunde's jaw tightened.
He had orchestrated the attack to embarrass Wale and reclaim his father's favor.
Instead, the opposite had happened.
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The Drunken Heir
POV: Wale
Later that night, Wale found Tunde outside the garrison quarters, drunk and laughing with his guards. Palmwine dripped down his chin as he barked at the sky, blade stuck in the dirt beside him.
"You're smiling too much for a man who keeps failing," Wale said, stepping into the torchlight.
Tunde sneered. "Still breathing, aren't I?"
Wale didn't smile.
"I know you arranged the ambush."
Tunde stood slowly, eyes wild. "You accuse your prince?"
A guard reached for his sword.
Wale moved first.
In one flash of steel, the man's hand dropped to the floor.
The camp went silent.
Wale looked Tunde in the eye. "I fear gods. I fear death. I don't fear you."
Then he turned and walked away—leaving blood in his wake.
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Meeting in the Ruins
POV: Chief Alade
A ruined village on the edge of the Ondulo hills. Burnt stones. Forgotten prayers. A place perfect for secrets.
Chief Alade and Yemi waited by a broken shrine, flanked by shadows.
Wale and Adedayo arrived without a sound.
"Three years," Wale said. "Three years I've fed you intel. And now someone inside your circle is leaking it back."
Alade's face remained still, but Yemi stepped forward.
"You're sure?"
Wale nodded. "The enemy is always listening. Even now."
Adedayo added, "We can no longer trust written codes. Speak what matters. Burn the rest."
Then came the silence—the one that always followed secrets too heavy to carry.
"She's been captured, hasn't she?" Wale asked.
Alade tensed.
"Moremi," Wale said. "My sister."
Yemi froze.
"She doesn't know," Wale added. "She can't. Not until the time is right."
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Unspoken Things
POV: Femi
Back in Akinwumi, Femi practiced with his short blade, eyes locked on the target dummy. But his hands trembled—not from fear of battle, but something worse.
Damilola.
He wanted to speak to her. He had tried.
Twice.
Each time, his tongue betrayed him. Each time, he watched her walk away, confused, maybe disappointed.
"You're not weak," he muttered aloud.
"You're just scared of what matters."
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Echoes and Warnings
POV: Moremi
That night, Moremi sat by the fire with Adeola, Ayomide, and Bayo. Laughter echoed in the clearing, stories flowing like palmwine.
But her mind wandered.
To dreams of a boy with her eyes.
To a soldier cloaked in shadows.
To a name she hadn't spoken aloud in years: Wale.
She stood, suddenly quiet.
"Do you believe the past ever really stays buried?" she asked.
Ayomide shrugged. "Only if you forget where you buried it."
Yemi approached, his tone serious. "We move at dawn."
"Ayo?" Bayo asked.
Yemi nodded.
"They've tightened their grip on the border. But that's not why we're going."
He looked at each of them in turn.
"They have someone. And we're getting them back."
> The Lost King © 2025 by (Idris Bilal Adavize).
This is an original work protected by copyright. No part of this story may be reproduced or used in any form without the author's written permission.