CHAPTER 195: CHAPTER 195 - THE BURDEN OF CROWNS

The campfire smoke hung heavy in the morning air, curling above the tents like ghostly ribbons. The sound of hammers on metal echoed faintly from the forges, where soldiers repaired weapons dulled by days of fighting. Every man and woman in the camp moved with the exhaustion of war, yet when the royal escort arrived, a ripple of alertness spread through the ranks.

Baraka led the small convoy through the guarded perimeter, his expression unreadable. The banners of Kongo fluttered faintly beside Nuri’s, a strange sight, once unthinkable.

When the command tent flap opened, the air inside stilled.

Prince Khisa stood beside the table of maps, flanked by his generals and Ole Samoei. His cloak bore the dust of the battlefield, but his gaze was sharp, his composure unbroken.

King Nzinga entered with the dignified calm of a man who had seen kingdoms burn and still refused to bow to fate. He was older now, the silver threading his beard catching the morning light, but his bearing remained that of a lion.

Khisa stepped forward and inclined his head. "Welcome, King Nzinga. You honor us with your presence."

Nzinga offered a slight bow in return. "So you are the prince these young soldiers follow so fiercely," he said, his tone respectful yet curious. "You carry yourself like a man twice your years. I thank you for coming to our aid."

"Nuri will not sit idly while the people suffer," Khisa replied simply, meeting the king’s gaze.

The tent quieted as the two rulers regarded one another, the old and the young, the weary and the resolute.

Khisa gestured to the table. "Please, sit. We have much to discuss."

Ole Samoei poured water into a cup and handed it to Nzinga. The king accepted it gratefully, taking a slow sip before speaking. "When we left the capital," he began, "your men were pursuing the Restorers and the foreign leader. My ministers stayed behind to stabilize things should they succeed. What is the situation here?"

Khisa’s tone darkened slightly. "Lumingu has yet to show his face. We’ve kept casualties to a minimum, but as you know, war never spares anyone. We’ve taken prisoners, Kongo soldiers, and they are being treated by our medics. You need not worry, they will not be mistreated."

Nzinga nodded solemnly. "Then Kongo owes Nuri a debt that cannot be repaid easily. You fight not only with strength, but with compassion. That is rare in our world."

One of the Bugandan generals grunted quietly. "Compassion wins no wars."

Khisa didn’t look at him. "But it prevents the next one," he said.

Nzinga smiled faintly, impressed. "You speak with wisdom far beyond your years, Prince Khisa."

"Wisdom is what war leaves behind when peace is forgotten," Khisa replied.

The words drew silence, thoughtful, heavy, and true.

Khisa straightened and pointed to the maps spread before them. "We need to plan our next move. With you here, we can end this within a week. Our scouts have confirmed Lumingu’s army has fortified the western ridges. To reach him, we’ll need a diversion."

Nzinga leaned closer, his eyes narrowing as he studied the drawn terrain. "What do you suggest?"

Khisa drew a line across the map with his finger. "We’ll attack here — the southern slope. When they turn their attention to the battlefront, you and General Kazadi will move through this ravine with a small unit. Baraka and his scouts will guide you. They know this terrain better than anyone. Once you breach the camp, you find Lumingu. What you do after... is your decision."

Nzinga exchanged a glance with General Kazadi, who stood at attention nearby. "A risky plan," Kazadi said, "but it could work. If we can reach Lumingu before dawn, we might end this without another mass slaughter."

A Bugandan general spoke up sharply. "And if it fails, we’ll be exposed on both flanks. A massacre."

Ole Samoei leaned forward. "It won’t fail. Our scouts move like shadows. Baraka has never lost a man under his watch."

Baraka, who had been standing silently near the tent’s entrance, gave a curt nod. "We’ll find the path and guide them through. They won’t even hear us coming."

Khisa nodded approvingly. "Good. Then it’s settled."

Nzinga looked around the room, his voice steady. "Then let us end this war. I will see Lumingu with my own eyes before the sun sets again. He will pay for his crimes."

Khisa smiled faintly. "Then you’ll have your chance, Your Majesty."

Later that afternoon, Khisa walked beside King Nzinga through the camp. The soldiers straightened when they passed, some saluting, others bowing their heads in silent respect. Nzinga took in every detail, the orderliness, the discipline, the unity between men from distant lands fighting as one.

"This... this is how an army should look," Nzinga murmured. "I see why they follow you, young prince."

"I only give them a purpose," Khisa replied softly. "The rest, they’ve built themselves."

They reached the medical tents, the air thick with the scent of herbs and iron. Inside, the wounded lay in rows, both Nuri, Buganda and Kongo. Bandages stained with crimson, murmured prayers, the low hum of healers moving from cot to cot.

When the Kongo soldiers saw Nzinga, they froze, then, one by one, they dropped to their knees, disbelief breaking into tears.

"My king..." one soldier rasped, trying to stand despite his wounds.

"Stay where you are," Nzinga said, rushing forward. He took the man’s hand, gripping it tightly. "You’ve done enough, my brother. Rest now. You’ve fought bravely for Kongo."

Another soldier, his voice trembling, whispered, "We thought... we thought we’d been abandoned."

Nzinga’s eyes softened. "A king does not abandon his people. I came because I still believe in you, in all of you. The war is not yet over, but we will see it through together."

The tent filled with quiet sobs. Even the medics paused in their work, overcome by the moment.

Khisa lingered by the entrance, watching silently. The sight reminded him that leadership was not just command, it was connection.

Nzinga rose and turned to him. "Your kindness has given them hope. Even I had nearly forgotten what that looked like."

Khisa bowed his head slightly. "Hope is the strongest weapon we have, Your Majesty. Without it, even victory becomes worthless."

When Nzinga returned to his quarters, Khisa walked alone toward the edge of camp. The fields stretched before him — burned, scarred, but alive.

"I hope I’m doing the right thing," he thought. "So much death and destruction... and we’ve barely begun."

The familiar tone of the system resonated gently in his mind.

[Unfortunately, it is unavoidable. The greed of one man caused all this. You always do your best to preserve as many lives as possible. That is admirable, Prince Khisa.]

"I just wish I wasn’t in this position," he muttered. "Is it too much to ask for peace? To live quietly with Azenet in our new home, protect Nuri from within?"

[Your presence here reassures those who follow you. A time will come when you can rest. But for now, you have chosen a difficult path — to end slavery, to resist colonization. Such a path demands sacrifice.]

Khisa smiled bitterly. "I should have stayed home... in our little village."

[Thousands live because you didn’t. And thousands more will, because you won’t give up. Be proud, Prince Khisa of Nuri.]

Khisa exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the night air. "Thank you, partner."

The wind carried the faint echo of voices, soldiers singing softly by the fires, a melody of sorrow and endurance. Above them, the stars burned through the smoke, stubborn and bright.

The calm before the storm.