The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 97 - The Breaking of a Prince

After the battle, Khisa personally led the raiding parties aboard the battered Ottoman ships anchored at the coastline. Their decks, once pristine, were now marred with blood and cannon scars. One by one, the vessels were seized, inspected, and added to Khisa’s growing ragtag fleet. They would serve him well.

On the edge of the docks, away from the celebrations, Tadesse crumbled.

He had curled himself up near some barrels, arms wrapped tightly around his knees, rocking back and forth like a child. His royal garb was stained with mud, blood, and fear, his face slick with tears and sweat.

Khisa spotted him and strode over, iron in his voice.

"Get up," he commanded.

Tadesse flinched and shrank further, his body trembling violently.

"Get up, Prince Tadesse!" Khisa barked louder, drawing the attention of the nearby soldiers. They looked on, some with pity, others with disgust.

"Is this really the next Emperor?" a soldier mumbled.

"I feel bad for him. He’s never had to fight before," another whispered. "Prince Khisa is forcing it on him."

"Prince Khisa is the true embodiment of a leader," another said firmly. "If he leaves Abyssinia, I’m going with him. He saved my life more than once. I will follow him to my death."

"Leave me alone, you demon!" Tadesse shrieked, his voice breaking so badly it was barely human. "Take me back to Gondar! Take me back to my palace!"

Khisa’s hand shot out, gripping the prince’s collar, yanking him to his feet as if he weighed nothing.

"This is what your soldiers are fighting," Khisa said, voice low and lethal. "You stayed in the safety of your palace while these men died on the battlefield. You haven’t even seen the worst of it. The cities of Massawa and Zeila, the slave camps we destroyed—that is your nation’s reality."

He shook Tadesse once, hard.

"Never call yourself Prince of a nation when you don’t even know the pain your people endure."

He shoved him away, letting him stumble and fall back onto the dirt.

"You will earn your title from today onward. Get cleaned up. I expect you at the training grounds at dawn. You will train, you will fight, and you will bleed beside your people. Earn the right to lead them."

Without another glance, Khisa turned and walked away, leaving Tadesse collapsed under the weight of a truth he could no longer deny.

That night, funeral rites were held under a heavy moon.

Torches lined the field. The dead, wrapped in shrouds of white and gold, were honored with songs, prayers, and the stamping of feet on the earth they would return to. Even the toughest warriors wept openly, their grief cutting through the smoky night like a blade.

Inside the command tent, Khisa met with Tesfaye over a sparse meal of bread and dried meat.

"You know the Ottomans will retaliate, right?" Tesfaye said, pushing his plate away.

"I know," Khisa said grimly. "That’s why we need to be ready. There’s only so much we can do with the numbers we have—even with new recruits, it’ll take time to train them properly."

Khisa exhaled and rubbed his face tiredly. frёeωebɳovel.com

"How do we navigate this?" Tesfaye asked.

Khisa’s eyes were sharp.

"All we can do is push back as much as possible. They won’t unleash the full force of their navy—yet. But manpower remains our biggest weakness."

Tesfaye leaned forward. "What about hiring mercenaries? They’re rough, but at least they’re expendable."

Khisa shook his head. "I don’t want to treat people like fodder. That would make us no better than the monsters we’re fighting."

He paused, thinking.

"It’s time we reconnect with the agents stationed at Massawa and Zeila."

Tesfaye frowned. "Why? They’re better off gathering intel."

"The plan is simple," Khisa said. "We free the slaves. Offer them their freedom—and a new life with us. They’ll work the land, fight for us, and if we treat them right, they’ll be loyal beyond gold or fear."

Tesfaye’s brow furrowed. "Freeing them is one thing. But how? The ports are heavily guarded. We can’t risk sending our ships there—not without provoking a battle we can’t win."

"I know. Give me some time," Khisa said, voice low but certain. "We need a way to move them unseen. They must vanish without a trace."

Tesfaye nodded. "I trust you’ll figure it out. In the meantime, I’ll work on boosting food production. Buying supplies from merchants is draining our coffers."

"We’ll reclaim farmland from the forests nearby," Khisa said. "And diversify our crops. When the merchants come again, ask them for seeds and information."

"Do we continue the raids on the weapon shipments?" Tesfaye asked.

"Absolutely. Every raid delays their plans and buys us time. If we stop the Ottomans from reinforcing Zanzibar, it gives the southern kingdoms a fighting chance—and might even encourage alliances."

Tesfaye chuckled, shaking his head. "You’re really set on uniting all the kingdoms, aren’t you?"

Khisa’s eyes darkened with determination.

"How many kingdoms do you think are out there?"

Tesfaye shrugged. "Only the ones we trade or fight with."

"There are hundreds," Khisa said. "Some more powerful than Portugal. Abyssinia almost fell to Adal alone. Add the Ottomans and the Portuguese, and no kingdom can survive alone. That’s why our alliance matters."

He slammed his hand lightly on the table.

"If we drive them out of the east and fortify the south, west, and north, we’ll be unstoppable. Trade will belong to our people, not invaders. They will fear us for once. They’ll never dare treat us like cattle again."

Tesfaye laughed, a rare, genuine sound. "You are an impressive man, Prince Khisa. I’m glad you found us. For the first time... I believe we might actually win."

With that, Tesfaye rose and left.

Khisa sat alone, brooding.

"How am I supposed to get the slaves out of Massawa and Zeila without starting a war? Conducting raids puts more people in danger. We can’t hold the line forever..."

He looked up at the ceiling of the tent, voice barely above a whisper.

"Any ideas, Ayaan?"