Chapter 824
As the carriage moved toward the kingdom’s border, a spontaneous procession began to form. Thousands of citizens followed the royal escort on foot, miles upon miles, creating a sea of people that stretched as far as the eye could see.
Along the way, people laid branches of evergreen, a symbol of the "Eternal Strength" Osita had once represented in the path of his horse.
There was no shouting, no chanting. There was only the sound of footsteps and the occasional sob of an elder who remembered the kingdom when it still was young.
When the procession reached the stone pillars that marked the edge of the Osita kingdom, the people stopped. They stood at the boundary, a massive wall of humanity watching the man who had been their sun and their shield for decades.
Osita paused at the border line. He looked back at the crowd, the people he had nearly struck down in the courtroom and saw not hatred, but a devastatingly quiet respect. They were paying their final goodbyes to the King, a king he never truly once stood up to be.
The people turned back toward the capital. Their grief was real, but it was finished. By walking him to the edge of their world, they had physically and spiritually closed the Chapter on his reign.
They didn’t fight the decision because they knew Nwadike was right, the kingdom couldn’t heal with Osita still in it. As the sun began to set, the long walk home began, with every heart now looking toward the palace where Nwadike sat alone, looking forward to his future.
On the very day the decree was finalized, Osita the now-former King was cast out from the gates of the kingdom he once ruled.
Not far beyond the border’s edge, a solitary figure sat hunched over a crackling bonfire, their gaze lost in the dancing embers with an absent, hollow expression. The air was still, save for the snapping of dry wood.
Suddenly, the figure’s shoulders tensed, a momentary ripple of alertness passing through them before they relaxed once more. "You are learning fast," the figure murmured.
As if peeling away from the veil of the world itself, another silhouette stepped out of thin air. Nwadike moved with a newfound grace, taking a seat opposite the man by the fire.
"You teach well, father," Nwadike replied, his voice steady as he looked across the flames at Osita.
The fire hissed, falling into a heavy silence before Nwadike spoke again. "That went better than we could have ever hoped. Even though it was a bit shaky at the end... we achieved our goal."
Osita remained silent for a long moment, the orange light flickering in his weary eyes. "We did," he finally conceded. "But I wish more of them had been forced to expose themselves."
Nwadike understood the weight behind those words immediately, a deep frown settling on his face. "I didn’t realize how deep the rot of corruption ran through our kingdom. If not for this gambit of ours, they would still be hiding in plain sight."
Osita looked at his son, a tired smile pulling at the corners of his mouth before he slowly shook his head. "The corruption has always been there, Nwadike. But it was always handled by your mother. She knew exactly how to smile and scratch their backs, just enough to keep their greed from spilling over and disturbing the court."
He leaned forward, the heat of the fire casting long shadows across his face. "It was one of the things I found most admirable about her. But it was also the reason I could never be a true leader in the way this kingdom required. The compromises she made to ensure we projected an image of outward purity were immense."
His expression hardened, his voice dropping an octave. "I never could do that. My very nature rebels against such deceit. Had it been left to me alone, I would have struck them down the very moment of their transgression."
The fire crackled, punctuating the gravity of his admission.
"It is only a pity that our performance didn’t draw out any ambitious paragons from among them," Osita added with a heavy sigh. "The truly dangerous ones must have sensed the gap beneath our sudden conflict. They chose to stay in the shadows, observing the outcome rather than interfering. They are waiting, Nwadike. And that makes them far more dangerous than the ones we caught."
Nwadike fell silent, the weight of the crown though physically absent seem to press down on his shoulders. "This throne comes with such a heavy burden," he admitted softly. "I don’t think I am as ready as I believed, especially with other Paragons added to the scale."
Osita let the silence linger, watching the sparks drift up into the night sky before he spoke. "You were raised well by your mother, and she taught you her ways. But at the end of the day, Nwadike, you are not her. You never will be."
He noticed the flicker of doubt in his son’s eyes and leaned in, his voice firm yet fatherly. "You should stop trying to be her. Stop trying to lead exactly as she did."
When Nwadike’s brow furrowed in confusion, Osita shook his head. "She would tell you the same if she were standing here now. Her rule belonged to a time when there were no Paragons, an era where a single person’s might could decide every outcome. But your rule is different. You lead in an age of multiple Paragons; her ways cannot work for your world as they did for hers."
"Besides," Osita continued, "these Paragons won’t pose a direct threat to you for a while. You have a window to stabilize your throne, root out the so-called "loyalists" and their factions, and establish a rule that actually reflects your will."
He poked at the fire, sending a fresh shower of sparks upward. "They are more wary of you now than you realize. Our performance has them on guard. They never could have foreseen my banishment, it was a move they simply cannot comprehend. Before they can decipher what we are scheming, your rule will have solidified. Use that time, Nwadike. Use it to connect with them, to bring them over to your side."
Osita fell silent then, his gaze returning to the flames. Nwadike watched his father, seeing the mask of the fallen king slip away to reveal the man he had always known, a man of deep wisdom and quiet strength.
A small, teasing smile played on Nwadike’s lips. "The rumors were clearly wrong, father. Hearing you speak now, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say that Mother’s legendary rule was actually guided by your hand."
Osita glanced up at his son, catching the cheeky glint in his eye. He let out a short, dry chuckle. "That is precisely what made your mother so great, Nwadike. She rarely ever needed my advice. Everything I just told you? It was as natural to her as breathing."
The two shared a brief moment of laughter before the weight of reality settled back over them. Nwadike looked into the fire, his voice softening. "I miss her. It isn’t just me, my sister, the twins, and the youngest, they all miss her greatly."
Osita’s jaw tightened, and his hand instinctively clenched into a fist at his side. "I miss her too," he whispered, the words heavy with a grief he rarely allowed himself to show.
As silence fell between them, Osita’s mind began to wander. Through a subtle shift in his senses, his consciousness drifted back toward the capital city. Under the vast, starlit sky, he saw his daughter. She was alone in the training courtyard, her movements sharp and relentless as she pushed herself through a rigorous routine. Her face was set in a mask of grim determination; Osita knew that look. She was blaming her own perceived weakness for what had happened to her mother. He had tried to tell her otherwise, but it was clear his words hadn’t been enough to quench the fire of her guilt.
Gently, he pulled his gaze away, letting his gaze drift through the palace halls to the shared room of the twins. They were tangled in their silks, deep in the heavy, uncomplicated sleep of youth. Seeing them so peaceful brought a rare, genuine smile to his face, it was a relief to see that, despite the chaos of the court, they were still children.
Finally, following the pull of the bloodline connection, he sought out his last-born. When his vision finally settled on the room where she was sleeping, Osita’s smile faltered, and he raised a brow in silent surprise.
Nwadike seemed to sense exactly what his father was looking at. "She knows of the banishment, but she doesn’t truly understand it yet," he said quietly. "I found her bawling outside your chambers earlier. I couldn’t leave her there, so I took her to my room to sleep."