The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 113 - Ripples Across the Sea

Night had fallen over Assab, the stars hidden behind a veil of wind-swept dust and sea mist. The coastal air was thick with anticipation, as if the land itself was holding its breath. From the upper balcony of the command tower, Khisa stared out toward the black horizon, his jaw tight, fingers curled along the railing.

Behind him, the hum of the port had dimmed. Only a few torches burned near the dockyards where slave ships had once anchored freely. Now, they were under Khisa’s quiet control—checkpoints, merchants, false deals, and dangerous lies, all weaved into a fragile web.

"Couldn’t sleep?" came a voice from behind.

He didn’t need to turn. He knew it was Azenet.

"No," he murmured. "Not tonight."

She walked up beside him, her silhouette glowing softly in the torchlight. "I thought you’d be celebrating. The plan is finally in motion."

Khisa exhaled. "There’s no celebration in sending people you love into danger."

"You trained them, didn’t you?" she asked gently.

"For years," he said. "Fought with them. Bled with them. I know their strengths and flaws better than anyone. But this mission..." He paused, the muscles in his jaw flexing. "This mission is something else. It’s not a battlefield. It’s lies and masks. Waiting. Pretending. Getting close to evil without flinching. I don’t know if I trained them for that."

Azenet watched him silently for a moment. "They trusted you enough to go."

Khisa finally turned to her, eyes shadowed by the torchlight. "That’s what makes it worse."

He leaned his hands against the railing again, looking like he carried the whole sea on his shoulders.

"They follow me," he said. "Even when I’m unsure. Even when I feel like I’m making this up as I go. And the truth is—I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing. I don’t know if I’ve sent them to die."

Azenet hesitated, then stepped closer. "I don’t know what kind of man you were before you came here, Khisa. But the man I’ve seen—the one building this mission, who listens, who learns fast—he’s not a fool. He’s not reckless. And he doesn’t send people to die. He gives them a reason to live."

That quieted him.

For a while, they both stood still, the silence pressing in again—heavier, but somehow less lonely.

"They’re strong," she added. "And they’re not alone. Every person you’ve trained is now part of something greater. You didn’t build an army. You built loyalty."

Khisa gave a small nod, but the worry in his eyes remained. "Still... if something happens to them, I’ll never forgive myself."

"You won’t have to," she said softly. "They’ll come back."

Musyoka – Aboard the Damaris

The Damaris creaked beneath the moonlight as it drifted farther from the Abyssinian coast. Musyoka sat at the edge of the cargo hold, breathing in the salt-heavy air, trying to calm his thoughts. The ship’s captain, an old friend of Tesfaye’s named Ishmael, was a quiet man—but the same couldn’t be said for his crew.

Eyes followed Musyoka wherever he went. Rough eyes. Hungry ones. Men who didn’t ask questions and didn’t care for strangers. Men who traded in flesh and coin with equal callousness.

Ishmael had warned him, "Don’t talk unless you need to. And never show weakness."

Musyoka held Khisa’s letter tightly in his coat, feeling the weight of it—its words, its trust. His body rocked with the ship, but his mind wandered to Nuri, his parents who he hadn’t seen in years, the friends he had left behind. To Abyssinia. To the children they saved. The slaves they hadn’t yet. The lives depending on this plan.

We can’t fail.

He whispered the words like a prayer into the wind.

Akumu – Aboard the Fatima’s Profit

Akumu watched the merchant through narrowed eyes. Houssein was well-dressed, his robes perfumed and fingers ringed with gold—but there was no soul in his eyes, only calculation.

"The checkpoints?" Houssein asked, swirling a glass of spiced wine. "You’ll show me the routes when the cargo is acquired, yes?"

Akumu offered a tight smile. "As agreed."

"You’re too quiet," Houssein noted. "I don’t trust quiet people. Especially not on my ship."

"I prefer to listen," Akumu replied evenly. "The sea has ears."

"What do your people need slaves for?" He asked curiously.

Akumu looked at him, his expression unchanged, "That is not your concern. Do your part and you will be paid, simple as that."

Houssein laughed, then turned away, unconcerned. But Akumu could feel it—this man would betray them the moment it suited him. His loyalty was as deep as a silver coin.

Alone in his cramped quarters, Akumu unfolded the map Khisa had etched for him and studied it by candlelight. His fingers ran over each checkpoint, each route, each calculated risk. He tucked the letter from Khisa into the folds of the map and whispered to himself:

"I’m coming back. No matter what."

Tiriki – Aboard the Scorpion’s Spine

The ship reeked of smoke and secrets. Tiriki leaned on the railing, gazing at the churning waters below, trying to ignore the stench of opium wafting from below deck.

The merchant, Fawzi, was a wiry man with ink-black eyes and a tongue too sharp for comfort. He hadn’t spoken much to Tiriki, except to say:

"I hate slavers. I hate the people who buy and sell like gods. And I hate the ones who pretend to be better than them even more."

Tiriki hadn’t replied. What could he say?

He didn’t want to be here. He hated this role—pretending to be one of them. Every moment on this ship felt like a betrayal of who he was. But Khisa had asked. Trusted him.

"Just give me a reason to throw you overboard," Fawzi had muttered on the first night.

Tiriki almost hoped he would try.

He lay in his bunk, staring at the low wooden beams overhead. The weight of the mission pressed on him like an anchor. One wrong word, one moment of hesitation, and hundreds—thousands—could die.

"I’m not doing this for me," he whispered. "I’m doing this for the ones still waiting."

Back in Assab

In the candlelit war room, Tesfaye poured a cup of tea and offered one to Prince Tadesse, who took it with both hands, still learning to temper his formality.

"You’re improving," Tesfaye said with a small smile. "Used to spill every third cup."

Prince Tadesse laughed lightly. "Still do. Just not when you’re looking."

Tesfaye’s eyes crinkled. "You’re changing, Prince Tadesse. I see it in how you speak. How you observe."

"I’m trying," the prince said. "But it’s... difficult. Khisa’s system—his methods—they feel foreign. Structured. Like he’s five steps ahead while I’m still trying to understand the first one."

"You weren’t raised for war," Tesfaye said. "But you’re adapting. You listen. That’s more than most princes."

"I want to be useful," Tadesse said. "Not just a name. I want to be part of this new Abyssinia."

Tesfaye placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Then keep learning. Ask questions. Make mistakes. That’s how we all started. Even Khisa."

Prince Tadesse glanced at the map spread before them—the coast, the merchant routes, the ships now gone.

"Do you think they’ll come back?" he asked.

Tesfaye’s voice was quiet. "I pray they do. But if they don’t, we’ll honor them by finishing what they started."

"I can’t imagine what they are thinking, the Drift Squad I mean. They are in the most dangerous position, if they die, we will never know. I could barely keep it together in the battle before, they are younger than me but can do so many amazing things. " Prince Tadesse said, looking at the cup in his hands.

"They are terrified, all we can do is worry but they have to be on guard for months, even years depending on how long this takes. They live in fear of never seeing their homeland again. But even then, they know what is at stake, they know what it means if they fail and because of that, they will do whatever it takes to succeed." Tesfaye says.

"While at the palace, I didn’t even know how bad things were. I could see my father stressed out and holding meetings every day. I never really concerned myself with what was happening because I was convinced that, he could handle it.

I have learnt diplomacy, swordsmanship and anything I would need to be a good leader, but being here, seeing it all being put into practice is different. I have learned more about leadership here than I have in all my years at the palace." He chuckled.

"There is nothing better than practical experience, our lands have bled for too long, I have buried many friends over the years, but seeing us work here everyday, trying our best to come out of this is giving me hope. You will be our leader one day, and seeing you work so hard to be a better leader makes me want to follow you. So keep at it your Highness. I look forward to seeing your growth."

Tesfaye left the prince to his own thoughts.

"I won’t allow myself to be a puppet Emperor." He whispered clenching his fist.