Summer, 298 B.C.
The hooves pounded against the dry earth, sending plumes of dust into the air as the returning party galloped toward the settlement. Farmers in the fields stopped their work, shading their eyes as they looked toward the horizon. The golden light of the setting sun bathed the figures in an ethereal glow.
Kamasu, one of the watchmen, was the first to recognize them. His heart leaped with relief. "They’re back! They’ve returned!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the settlement.
A murmur spread through the villagers like wildfire. The clan leaders, who had gathered near the communal fire pit, stood up with anticipation.
"It’s about time," muttered Osei, the eldest and most respected among them. His grizzled features were hard with expectation. "What took them so long?"
As Kofi, Lima, and Sawai rode into the center of the settlement, weary but intact, Osei and the other clan heads stepped forward.
"How was the journey?" Osei asked. His piercing gaze then shifted to Tetsujo. "And where is the old man?"
Tetsujo, standing a step behind Kofi, dipped his head slightly. "The King of Tanna requested his presence."
Osei’s eyes narrowed. Imei had tagged along, but no one acknowledged him. He clenched his fists but kept silent.
"I see," Osei finally said. "So tell us. What was the ruling of the court? Was it favorable?"
Kofi exchanged glances with Lima and Sawai. His mouth felt dry. "Favorable," he said finally.
A wave of relieved sighs and murmurs spread among the clan leaders.
"So we can live in peace and have our vengeance?" one of the younger leaders asked.
Tetsujo took a step forward. "Vengeance?" he scoffed. "Do you truly believe you have the strength to challenge Tanna?"
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His words sent a jolt of anger through the crowd.
"You dare—"
Kofi raised a hand, silencing them. "The ruling states that we are permitted to remain in the land, use its resources, and—" he hesitated slightly, "—produce arrows for Tanna."
"Business partners?" one of the older leaders muttered. "That will open us up to new things. It sounds… promising. But it’s too good to be true."
Kofi took a deep breath. "There’s a catch," he admitted. "In order to continue producing, we must pay taxes."
A sharp cracking noise echoed through the settlement as one of the leaders crushed a wooden cup in his hand.
"Taxes?!" Osei’s expression darkened, his presence now imposing. "Taxation is just another form of slavery!"
Tetsujo held up a hand. "I understand, but there is a way out."
Everyone leaned in. The tension was thick. Tetsujo hesitated—he knew that if this went wrong, he would be labeled a traitor.
"The ruling has a loophole," Kofi explained, unrolling a document he and Lima had studied. "If we carefully maneuver through it, we can overturn our situation. The key is commerce. We must establish a trade company. If we do so, we will have leverage."
Lima crossed his arms. "But not everyone here will be capable of running such an enterprise."
A heavy silence settled over them. The villagers exchanged uneasy glances.
Then came the sound of hooves in the distance.
Tetsujo stiffened. "The governors from Shuri have arrived."
Silence.
Then, a shift—chuckles turned into laughter.
One of the leaders stepped forward, his face twisted with betrayal. "You deceived us," he spat at Kofi. "You handed our people over to those who destroyed our future. Thirty years from now, we’ll all be gone because of you."
Imei clenched his jaw, ready to speak, but Tetsujo shot him a warning look.
Osei turned to the leaders. "We march to Shuri."
Sawai’s stomach twisted. "You will what?"
"We will not be enslaved again," Osei declared. Without waiting for argument, he and the clan leaders turned, gathering weapons and thirty men to follow them.
Among them was Roni, Kofi’s childhood friend—an elder brother in spirit. He approached Kofi with a warm smile, his presence both comforting and painful.
Kofi and Sawai held back their emotions.
Roni removed a piece of raw metal from his waist and pressed it into Kofi’s palm. The metal was rough, unrefined—its origin unknown. Kofi stared at it, sensing the weight of the moment.
Roni’s voice was calm but firm. "You’d better hurry up and become something, or you’ll make the same mistakes as the clan leaders."
He turned and walked away, disappearing with the others into the night.
That was the last time the settlement would see them.
Once vibrant and thriving, their home was now reduced to eighty men and boys, ten old women, four married women, and six children—barely three years old.
The summer winds carried an eerie stillness.
The year was 298 B.C.
And nothing would ever be the same again.
END OF ACT I
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