The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 77 - Stones Beneath the Wall

Tesfaye sighed, a muscle twitching in his jaw as he looked at Khisa—this young man from another kingdom who spoke like he’d walked the warfronts of a hundred lifetimes. He didn’t want to admit it, but respect was slowly building in him like a reluctant fire.

Khisa leaned forward, his eyes sharp and certain. "We need information. We need to know their routes, every path, every unmanned land."

Tesfaye narrowed his eyes. "What do you suggest?"

"First and foremost, we need to learn about the enemy. Information is our greatest strength," Khisa replied calmly. "We need people in the ports. Someone who can blend in. Merchants, fishermen, traders. Since the Adal and Ottomans have taken them, for now, they’re the keys to everything. Your squadron should focus on taking them back."

Tesfaye snorted. "It’s impossible. We don’t have the manpower, and the few soldiers we can rely on are stretched thin."

Khisa didn’t flinch. "Even a towering wall can collapse with one loose stone."

Tesfaye folded his arms, the weight of responsibility settling deeper on his shoulders. "You speak with confidence, but do you truly understand what you’re proposing? These ports—some have been lost for years. Generals before you have tried and failed."

Khisa stood and walked toward the map pinned to the wall. He touched a spot with the edge of his finger, almost reverently. "Which ports are under foreign control?"

Tesfaye hesitated. The room went still. Officers exchanged glances. Sharing that information was no small thing—it could unmake Abyssinia if it fell into the wrong hands.

Khisa’s gaze didn’t waver.

Tesfaye exhaled slowly, the burden clear in his eyes. If I trust him, and he turns, it’s over. But if I don’t, we stagnate. We lose more ground. We lose everything.

"We have three ports," he said at last. "Massawa is under Ottoman control—Red Sea territory. Zeila is under the Adal Sultanate, heavily fortified. And then there’s Assab. It’s barely developed. Not many know about it. It’s... neglected."

Khisa’s eyes lit up. "That’s great."

Tesfaye blinked. "What?"

"Assab is our entry point," Khisa said with finality. "It’s off the radar, underdeveloped, overlooked—exactly what we need. We’ll begin there."

"Even if we get there," Tesfaye said with a skeptical grunt, "we have no proper navy. Our base was pushed back after Massawa fell. Most ships are damaged, and what we have... isn’t much."

Khisa nodded slowly, as if weighing each variable. "It’s not about the size of the fleet—it’s what we do with it. Before we move, we gather intelligence. I’ll send four of my people— two to each port and three to Assab. They’ll pose as merchants and traders, collect everything we need: watch movements, note vulnerabilities, track leadership patterns. And I’ll need some of your men—ones who can blend in, who know the language, who can act the part."

"You want to split my forces," Tesfaye said, his voice sharp. "At a time when I can’t even protect what little we have."

"No," Khisa said gently but firmly, "I want to give your forces a fighting chance. Information will save more lives than blades ever could. You need to assume Adal spies are already here. Our presence alone may draw them out."

One of the officers at the table, a stocky man with burn scars along his jaw, leaned forward. "What makes you so sure we even have spies in the town?"

Khisa turned to him. "Because you’ve been surrounded. The enemy knew when and where to strike. That level of precision doesn’t happen without inside knowledge."

Murmurs swept through the room. The implication stung.

Khisa continued, voice level. "We’ve destroyed some of their camps. The rumors have already reached their ears. Give them time—they’ll come to verify it themselves. That’s our chance to identify them. But until then, no one outside this room must know about our infiltration plans. If they catch wind of it, all is lost."

Tesfaye rubbed his temples, clearly overwhelmed. He studied Khisa—this man who spoke of turning war in their favor as though it was merely a game of strategy. He’s not from here. But he understands more than our own generals sometimes do. That frightens me... and excites me.

"We use pigeons," Tesfaye finally said. "It’s the fastest, most secure way we communicate across long distances. Not perfect, but it works."

Khisa nodded. "Good. Then my people will leave first thing in the morning. Assab will be our base. From there, we’ll disrupt supply lines and start bleeding the ports from the inside out. But before that..."

He glanced at the officers, each of them tense and thoughtful. "We clean this town. Quietly. We root out the spies."

No one spoke for a long moment.

Finally, Tesfaye muttered, "Do you truly think you can do what we couldn’t for years?"

Khisa’s eyes glinted. "We don’t have a choice but to succeed. Freedom for your country benefits Nuri in the long run."

Silence again.

Then Tesfaye gave a slow nod. "Alright. But we do this on my terms—no grand moves without my approval. We coordinate everything. Understood?"

"Of course," Khisa said, already thinking three moves ahead.

The meeting dissolved soon after, and Khisa and his team were escorted to their quarters. But as Khisa stepped into the dim hallway, a figure darted toward him.

"Khisa—please. Can I speak with you?"

It was Biruk.

Khisa turned, surprised. The young man looked nervous, even more so than when they first met. His hands were clenched at his sides, and his eyes darted toward the shadows of the corridor where a few of the Shadow Guard were stationed.

"What’s on your mind?" Khisa asked.

Biruk hesitated. Then blurted out, "I want to go with your Shadows. To the ports."

Khisa blinked. "What? Biruk, your job is done. You’re to return home."

"I know," Biruk said quickly, voice shaking. "But I don’t want to. I can do more. I’ve watched your people. I’ve trained under them for weeks now. I want to learn more. I want to become one of them. To protect the village... and to prove I’m not just a person who stumbled into history."

Khisa studied him. The hall was quiet save for the muffled voices from the war room. Down the corridor, two of the Shadows had paused their patrol, listening with interest. One of them, Jelani, raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. Another gave a quiet scoff.

"You realize this mission could cost you your life?" Khisa said, stepping closer.

"I know," Biruk replied. "But if I return now, I’ll be just another villager. I’ll be safe, yes—but I’ll be small. I’ve seen what your people can do. I want to be that. For my people. For myself."

Khisa looked into his eyes—searching, testing. He saw no arrogance there. Just longing. Fire. Purpose.

"He’s serious," Jelani murmured from the side.

"Very serious," added another Shadow. "Braver than most."

Khisa sighed, then smiled faintly. "You’re either mad or brave."

"Maybe both," Biruk said with a crooked grin, though his voice cracked a little.

Khisa placed a hand on his shoulder. "Very well. You’ll go. But you’ll train like the Shadows. Eat like them. Bleed like them. There will be no special treatment."

"I don’t want any."

"Good. Then I’ll make you a warrior."

Biruk’s eyes glistened as he nodded.

Khisa turned away, heart a little heavier. So many young ones... so eager to carry the weight of the world. May we not fail them.