The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 95 - Fired Beneath Still Waters

Prince Tadesse stormed away from the sparring ground, fists clenched so tightly his knuckles blanched.

"How dare they humiliate me!

I am Prince of this backwater kingdom. That damn woman will regret it. And Prince Khisa... I’ll make you pay."

He wandered alone into a thicket of trees behind the royal tents, breathing heavy, the echoes of laughter still ringing in his ears. With a roar, he smashed his fist into the trunk of a tree. Bark split beneath his knuckles, and pain shot up his arm, but he didn’t care.

"Why did I even come to Assab?

To prove myself? To be mocked by a foreigner? To see my sister—my own sister—laugh as I’m brought low?"

Blood trickled from his hand, but he ignored it, staring at the ground.

"They think I’m a fool. Maybe I am. Maybe I should’ve stayed in Abyssinia where I was feared—not... tolerated."

But deep down, past the rage and bruised ego, something else gnawed at him.

"They’re stronger than I expected. More united. That Khisa... he’s dangerous—not just with a blade, but with words."

Back at the Nuri command tent, Princess Azenet walked silently beside Khisa, her hands folded over her stomach. Her usual regal calm was clouded by thought.

"My brother will no doubt cause more trouble," she said, sighing. "He’s stubborn—and surprisingly resourceful when he wants to be."

Khisa chuckled, holding the flap of the tent open for her. "Don’t worry, Princess. The Prince will come out of this a changed man."

Azenet raised a brow as she took her seat. "You sound very confident."

"I need your kingdom to prosper. That means your brother must become someone I can rely on—or he’ll become a liability I can’t afford," Khisa said, taking a seat across from her. "I’m not doing this for charity, Princess. I’m doing it for survival."

Azenet’s eyes narrowed in curiosity. "Please explain, Prince Khisa."

Khisa leaned back, folding his arms. "As you know, my kingdom is called Nuri. When I was ten, we faced an enemy we couldn’t hope to beat. They had horses, better weapons, and an army ten times our size. But we had no choice—we had to fight or be wiped out."

"You fought at ten?" Azenet asked, genuinely surprised.

"I had to," Khisa said, voice steady. "We won. Somehow. But the cost... they had already taken my mother. Sold her to slavers. We won the battle, but the war... it was far from over."

His eyes darkened for a moment, memories flashing through them like ghosts. Azenet leaned in, listening closely.

"We rescued hundreds from slavery—people from other tribes, with their own languages, cultures, and beliefs. Suddenly, we weren’t just our small clan, we were bigger, we became Nuri. It became a new place. A melting pot of those we once called enemies."

"So you had to change," she said, softly.

"We had to evolve. To grow stronger. I created the Shadow Guard with my friends, people I trusted with my life. We underwent our coming-of-age together. I knew I couldn’t protect everyone alone." He paused. "And I realized something: the slavers didn’t just steal people. They stole futures. Workers. Artists. Builders. Dreamers."

Azenet’s eyes softened. "You wanted to stop the cycle."

"Yes. So I thought, why can’t we use that strength ourselves? Why not build our own nations, together? If we unite—Abyssinia, Nuri, the kingdoms beyond—there won’t be any weaknesses left to exploit."

Khisa looked directly into her eyes, his voice now quiet but firm.

"I’ve seen women and men reduced to dogs. Begging. Bleeding. I have seen children reduced to corpses, more orphans than I can count. I never want to see that again."

Azenet held his gaze, her voice softer than before. "That is a very admirable ambition, Prince Khisa. You have my respect." She bowed her head slightly. "And Abyssinia thanks you for your support."

Khisa leaned forward, a curious smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what about you, Princess? Your brother seems to think you want to rule."

Azenet hesitated.

She looked down, fingers brushing the hem of her robe. "I’ve studied our kingdom’s laws, trade routes, treaties. I’ve given advice in council meetings—only to be ignored. I’ve worked hard, but I am... only a woman."

Khisa tilted his head. "And what do you think of female rulers?"

Her voice was almost a whisper. "What do you think?"

"I think anyone can become whatever they choose," he said. "That’s the kingdom I’m trying to build. It’s not my place to tell you what you can or can’t be. So—do you want to be a leader?"

She looked up at him. "I don’t want to be an Empress," she said honestly. "But I’d like to support someone with my knowledge and ideas. Be part of something meaningful."

Khisa smiled. "Then do that. Simple as that. If you’d said you wanted to be a warrior, I’d have thrown you into training by now."

Azenet laughed, her eyes lighting up. "I appreciate the confidence, but I’d much rather use my brain than brawn."

"Well," Khisa said, leaning slightly closer with a teasing gleam, "you’re welcome to use both, if you like. Though I admit—I’m rather enjoying the company of a beautiful strategist."

Azenet flushed slightly, but smiled. "Careful, Prince. Flattery can be dangerous."

"Only if you fall for it."

She tilted her head, giving him a sly smile. "Then perhaps you should stop before I do."

Their eyes lingered on each other a moment longer than necessary.

Azenet reached into her sash and pulled out a finely carved bronze ring—simple, but engraved with an ancient Abyssinian symbol of loyalty. She slid it across the table to Khisa.

"It belonged to my grandmother. She was the only one who ever believed I could lead. I think she would’ve liked you."

Khisa picked up the ring gently, nodding once, solemnly. "Then I’ll treat it with the respect it deserves."

Outside, the fires of Assab glowed against the night sky. Inside, the flames of something else had begun to burn—quietly, but unmistakably.