The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 102 - March of Fire and Lies

The main Abyssinian army began its march to the valley, led by General Mekonnen, towering atop his majestic black steed. His gleaming armor caught the sun, and the rhythmic thunder of marching feet echoed through the highlands like a coming storm.

Through the proud capital city of Gondar they moved, row after row of disciplined soldiers. Onlookers lined the streets—traders, elders, children, and priests—all pausing to witness history unfold. It had been years since they last saw such unity in their ranks.

At the steps of the grand palace, Emperor Gelawdewos stood tall, regal in his flowing royal garb. His nobles flanked him, adorned in silk and gold, but it was the Emperor’s presence that commanded attention. He raised his hand and addressed the masses:

"People of Abyssinia, your husbands, sons, and brothers are marching to war. For too long, the Adal have torn our villages apart and sold our kin like livestock. But I tell you now—no more. Mark this day, for we take back our kingdom from those who seek to break us! And to those who have mocked our suffering or sided with our enemies—we will drag all of them to hell!"

A roar erupted from the people of Gondar. The Emperor’s words, brimming with fire, rekindled the hope they had long buried beneath fear and loss. The war had scarred their lands and stolen their peace, but today they saw a path to reclaim it.

Beside the Emperor stood his brother, smiling on the outside, but his thoughts were a tangled storm.

How did he find out about the camps? he wondered bitterly. How the hell did he get those weapons?

Later that day, in the Grand Hall, the Emperor faced his nobles—an uneasy mix of loyalists, opportunists, and traitors in fine clothing. Murmurs buzzed like insects through the vast room.

"Your Majesty," one noble began, his face red with fury, "why has the army turned inward? General Mekonnen is needed at the front, not chasing shadows!"

"Indeed!" added another. "We should have been consulted before such a massive shift. The throne cannot act alone in times of war."

Another added, "You should have consulted us! This is unprecedented!"

The Emperor listened silently, his face carved in stone. He saw right through their outrage—fear disguised as duty. Many of them were guilty. He knew it. They knew he knew it.

Vultures in silk, he thought

Then, his brother struck.

"Brother, where did you get the weapons? Did you make a deal with the Ottomans?"

Gasps filled the hall. Accusing the Emperor of colluding with their enemy was dangerous—even for kin.

"The Ottomans? They supply our enemies!"

"Has the Emperor sold us out for iron and powder?"

The room buzzed with accusation and political venom. Yet some nobles sat silent, their eyes still full of faith in their ruler.

"With the Ottomans?!" one noble shouted, scandalized. "They arm the Adal! Is this how you repay our loyalty, Your Majesty?"

As the voices rose in anger and suspicion, Gelawdewos raised a single hand. The hall fell silent.

"First of all, dear brother," he said coldly, "in the presence of my court, I am not your brother. I am the Emperor of Abyssinia. You will address me as such.That is the title given to the one chosen by God and history to lead."

The brother’s jaw clenched in humiliation, but he said nothing.

"As for the rest of you," Gelawdewos continued, "our weapons did not come from the Ottomans. We have a new ally—a kingdom from the south. I met its prince recently from the Kingdom of Nuri. A man of honor, a warrior of skill. I met him myself.He supplied the arms that now give us a fighting chance."

"A kingdom in the south?" a skeptical noble asked. "And yet, none of us have met him. If his support is so vital, shouldn’t he be welcomed in Gondar with honor?"

"He had other matters to attend to," the Emperor replied. "But you will meet him, in time. Right now, our focus must be the war. We’ve uncovered spies, gathered intelligence, and must act swiftly."

Some nobles exchanged uneasy glances. The Emperor had thrown bait—and some had already bitten.

"For now, focus on the enemy at our gates. We’ve captured many spies. We know much more than we say. Cooperation from you is not optional.Ensure your lands cooperate with our forces. We will purge this kingdom of traitors, once and for all."

"And what route is General Mekonnen taking?" his brother pressed.

"That’s his decision. I rule from the throne, not the battlefield. I trust him to do what must be done.He is our general. He will choose the path to victory. I do not micromanage from the throne room," the Emperor said, his voice sharp.

The meeting ended on a bitter note, especially for those with secrets to hide.

Later, in the Emperor’s private chambers, his brother pressed him again.

"Your Majesty, are we certain this ally isn’t working with the Adal? Do we even know what his intentions are?"

"The prince is a noble man," Gelawdewos replied. "He has proven himself in battle and in loyalty. He will not betray us."

"Yet no one has seen him," the brother countered. "You say he’s saved us, yet remains a ghost. Forgive me if I remain skeptical."

"Your concerns are noted," the Emperor said, his patience thinning. "Our alliance with the Kingdom of Nuri is real. And it will save our people. You will meet the prince when the time is right. Now leave me—I have preparations to make."

Dismissed and fuming, the Emperor’s brother left, rage bubbling in his chest. The phantom prince had upended everything. His own plans—carefully laid, treacherously crafted—were unraveling.

That night, he called a secret council of his own. If this "prince" from the south was truly the key to the Emperor’s strength, then only one thing could be done.

He summoned his most trusted allies in secret that night. If the alliance couldn’t be broken through doubt, it would be broken by blood.

"What better way," he whispered, "than to assassinate the delegate?"