《Last Spear of the Zulu Empire : Bring the 21st century to Africa》


 Chapter 1 - Jou ma se...

    Date : 5 February 2020


    Location: Mozambique, [REDACTED], [REDACTED]


    Being alone at night in the middle of a rainforest is a truly unsettling experience. The cold, rain-soaked air seeps into your bones, and all your heart desires is some form of warmth. But the brain knows all too well that the only warmth to be found in this place might come from the jaws of a creature¡ªif it wasn¡¯t poisonous enough to kill you, then it definitely had the strength to do it.


    There was something wrong with anyone who would choose to live in such conditions, without plumbing, without civilization, in the heart of Mozambique no less.


    ¡°Iron Jackal, this is Bravo 1-1. We are in position. Awaiting your orders, Copy?¡± came the quiet, controlled voice over the radio.


    These kinds of people didn¡¯t care about the rainforest¡¯s malaria-infested mosquitoes or the suffocating heat that might drive one to bathe in its contaminated waters, just to feel something other than their skin burning. No, none of that mattered.


    It made sense, though. This particular rainforest had a reputation for attracting the worst of the worst humanity had to offer¡ªterrorists, criminals, mercenaries. You name it, the rainforest absorbed them, like an alcoholic accepting a donated liver.


    And the more it attracted, the harder it became for the government to clean up the mess.


    Thankfully, whether out of the goodness of their hearts or for their own hidden motives, there were those who couldn¡¯t stand by and watch Mozambique rot under the control of warlords and insurgents.


    ¡°I repeat, Iron Jackal, this is Bravo 1-1. We are in position. Awaiting your orders. Copy?¡±


    One of these groups was the 31st Rapid Response and Engineering Regiment, the elite South African Special Forces unit known as the 31st RRE.


    Their mission was clear: locate and neutralize one of the most dangerous Islamic insurgent groups in Mozambique, Al-Tawid. This group had ties to Boko Haram and ISIS, but unlike those two, Al-Tawid operated more discreetly, often working like a shadowy version of the CIA¡ªfor the right price. The only condition? You had to be an Islamic insurgent.


    The 31st RRE had been tasked with finding and eliminating them. The rules of engagement? Simple: shock and awe.


    Leading the regiment was Major Vusi van Doodmaak, also known as Iron Jackal. He stood in a prefabricated shelter, his eyes fixed on the monitors displaying live footage from his operators in the field. Vusi¡¯s large, almost feline pupils scanned the screens, searching for any signs of Al-Tawid¡¯s hideout, but nothing stood out.


    Despite his focus, something wasn¡¯t right. His instincts told him they were close, but he couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that something was off.


    ¡°Captain Thando, what was the intel on these guys again?¡± Vusi asked, his voice calm but edged with suspicion as he glanced at his right-hand officer, a strikingly composed woman in her mid-twenties.


    Without missing a beat, Captain Thando replied, ¡°The intel states Al-Tawid has been entrenched in the rainforest for months now and recently acquired enough weapons to supply a small government, Sir.¡±


    ¡°¡®Recently¡¯? On what date?¡± Vusi¡¯s brow arched, his face calm¡ªeerily so.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t say, Sir,¡± Thando replied, not flinching, as she brought a classified file into Vusi¡¯s view. ¡°The information¡¯s been redacted.¡±


    ¡°Redacted?¡± Vusi¡¯s eyes narrowed, his voice barely a murmur as he stared at the file in disbelief. Special forces didn¡¯t receive redacted files¡ªever. The fact that he was seeing one now, especially for an operation he was leading, was beyond comprehension.


    Thando, recognizing the shift in Vusi¡¯s demeanor, stepped back to her post, allowing him the space to process the situation. She knew this wasn¡¯t a test. Vusi wasn¡¯t the type to play games when things were serious.


    He prided himself on being a hands-off leader until it was absolutely necessary to step in. And now, looking at his monitors, it was clear¡ªhe needed to step in. But with the new, suspicious information at hand, the question was: should he?This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°Those are stupid questions,¡± Vusi thought to himself as he took a deep breath. He glanced at Thando, who gave him a small nod, understanding him without needing words. Vusi returned his focus to the monitors, feeling the weight of the decision ahead.


    ¡°Damned if I do, damned if I don¡¯t,¡± he murmured under his breath before addressing one of the communications specialists. ¡°Recces, send a message to headquarters for me.¡±


    The specialist hesitated for a moment, confused, before replying, ¡°Yes, Sir. What should I tell them?¡±


    Vusi¡¯s eyes flashed with unflinching resolve as he growled, "Jou ma se..." The unbridled rage in Vusi¡¯s voice hung in the air, causing the specialist to freeze for a moment before looking toward Captain Thando for guidance.


    But Thando didn¡¯t meet his gaze. Her hazel eyes remained locked on the monitors, deliberately ignoring the tension in the room. She knew the communications specialists was watching her, but pretended otherwise. That¡¯s when the specialist knew¡ªthis was the explosive end of their six-month deployment.


    With that realization, he carried out the order.


    Vusi, noticing the specialist was following through, turned his attention back to the monitors. The situation was clear¡ªthey had been compromised.


    He couldn¡¯t deny it any longer. The constant presence of wildlife, the lack of man-made clearings for troop movements, and the absence of deforestation that would indicate the transportation of heavy weaponry, vehicles, or missiles¡ªit all screamed at him that something wasn¡¯t right.


    He pressed the comms button, his mind racing as he glanced at Thando one last time. She met his eyes and gave a nod, her way of letting him know she would stand by him, no matter the fallout. It was all the reassurance he needed.


    "Bravo 1-1, this is Iron Jackal. Abort mission. Operation has been compromised. Abort mission. I repeat, abort mission." Vusi''s words shot out like rapid-fire, each one carrying the weight of his certainty. On the ground, the operators wasted no time. A single hand signal from their leader sent the men retreating, moving cautiously but efficiently to avoid suspicion.


    "Copy that, Bravo team aborting mission, now" the calm response came over the comms. Another hand signal, and the team began to melt back into the shadows, thankful they had escaped what was clearly a trap. For now, at least, they would live to fight another day.


    But there was no relief for Vusi. Back at HQ, fury boiled beneath the surface. They had been compromised. Betrayed. The thought consumed him. There was no question about it now¡ªthey had been sold out.


    What truly unsettled him, though, were the redacted files from HQ. Special forces never received redacted information. It was unheard of. If information had been altered or withheld, it meant sabotage¡ªan inside job. Vusi¡¯s mind raced, trying to figure out who had orchestrated this betrayal and why.


    His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden outburst. "What the¡ª" a communications specialist exclaimed as the monitors went dark, their signals lost. All screens turned blue, snapping Vusi out of his internal storm.


    Then the ground trembled.


    "Boom!"


    "Boom!"


    "Boom!"


    The explosions echoed from the distance, shaking the earth beneath their feet and stirring the nocturnal wildlife into a frenzy.


    "Oh my God," Thando whispered, her voice hollow as she stared at the monitors. Her face was eerily calm, but her eyes betrayed a maelstrom of emotions¡ªfear, betrayal, disbelief.


    Everyone in the room shared the same gut-wrenching realization: the trap had already been sprung.


    If Vusi had been furious before, now he was livid beyond words. The explosions had taken his operators¡ªmen who trusted him with their lives¡ªand destroyed them in an instant. His rage was mirrored in the faces of his team in the command center. Vusi wanted nothing more than to find whoever was responsible, hunt them down, and make them pay¡ªalong with anyone they held dear. He¡¯d mount their heads like trophies.


    "Those bloody trai¡ª" Vusi started to spit out, but before he could finish, everything went black.


    A deafening explosion ripped through the command center. The improvised explosive devices (IED), cleverly hidden that ''never existed'', wiped out the entire regiment. The 31st Rapid Response and Engineering Regiment, that were ''officially'' missing in action since (MIA) 2019, was now presumed killed in action(KIA).


    And Major Vusi "Iron Jackal" Doodmaak, despite all his achievements, would never officially exist. His name, like his regiment, would fade into the shadows, erased from history forever.


    .....


    A few moments later


    There was another event that history would never record, something that defied all explanation. When Vusi died, a strange light shot out of his body. The light hovered over him for several minutes, joined by similar lights rising from the other bodies around him.


    Then, a being appeared¡ªa presence without any defined form or shape, its existence felt more than seen. It examined the lights, which were the souls of the dead, shifting its attention to each one in turn.


    As the being began transforming the souls back into human forms, Vusi¡¯s soul started to change as well. But before it could complete the process, the soul vanished without a sound or explanation. In its place, a void appeared¡ªan abyss of pure, impenetrable darkness. This darkness wasn¡¯t cold or terrifying, but timeless.


    For Vusi¡¯s soul, it was as if time itself had stopped, even as it was moving at speeds beyond light, hurtling through the endless abyss.


    Then, without warning, the soul came to an abrupt halt.


    The sudden stop created a sound wave so powerful that it could have shattered the eardrums of any living being. As the soul hung there in the void, frozen yet conscious, the same formless being reappeared before it. This time, it spoke.


    "Huh," the being said, its voice echoing through the emptiness. "You don¡¯t see that every day. Oh well, one less soul for me to manage."


    The being began to fade again, muttering, "You can keep it." as it granted its permission. And with that, Vusi¡¯s soul was set into motion once more, racing through countless dimensions and timelines at impossible speeds. Finally, it came to a stop in a specific dimension, at a specific moment in timeline.


    It was a timeline when a certain prince, one destined to change the history of his country forever, was about to die. The soul entered the prince¡¯s body, merging with it.


    The prince already had a soul, but instead of rejecting the new arrival, the two souls fused together, forming a unique symbiotic relationship. The new soul could not exist without the prince¡¯s body, and the prince¡¯s soul became irrevocably linked to the newcomer.


    What neither soul expected, however, was that this fusion would create something entirely new¡ªa phenomenon with the power to alter the course of the dimension and its timeline forever.


    ....


    Jou ma se : a derogatory phrase in Afrikaans that can be considered highly offensive, depending on the context and audience. It translates to something insulting about someone''s mother, akin to profanity in English.


    ....


    A/N : Quite a short chapter??,


    but I was trying to make sure people understood a bit about the main character.


    As I realized that in the other one people hated the main character ??and I did not do my part to explain his personality that well. ??


    With this I hope you understand our current Mc, if not.


    You got about over hundred chapters to understand ??


    Enjoy??

 Index

    C1


    Jou ma se : a derogatory phrase in Afrikaans that can be considered highly offensive, depending on the context and audience. It translates to something insulting about someone''s mother, akin to profanity in English


    C2


    Nguni - The Nguni people are a linguistic cultural group of Bantu cattle herders who migrated from central Africa into Southern Africa, made up of ethnic groups formed from iron age and proto-agrarians, with offshoots in neighboring colonially-created countries in Southern Africa.


    Kraal - Kraal (also spelled craal or kraul) is an Afrikaans and Dutch word, also used in South African English, for an enclosure for cattle or other livestock, located within a Southern African settlement or village surrounded by a fence of thorn-bush branches, a palisade, mud wall, or other fencing, roughly circular in form


    Zulu - Zulu people (/?zu?lu?/; Zulu: amaZulu) are a native people of Southern Africa of the Nguni


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Mthaniya - Mother of Senzangakhona, not much is know about in history.


    Mkabayi - Princess Mkabayi kaJama (c. 1750¨C1843) was a Zulu princess, the head of the Qulusi military kraal, and a regent of the Zulu Kingdom


    Jama kaNdaba - King Jama ka-Ndaba (Born:1727¨CDied:1781) the son of King Ndaba kaMageba, was king of the Zulu Kingdom from 1763 to 1781


    C3


    Induna - iNduna (plural: iziNduna) is a Zulu/Xhosa title meaning advisor, great leader, ambassador, headman or commander of a group of warriors. It can also mean spokesperson or mediator, as the iziNduna often acted as a bridge between the people and the king ( Which is why I used English to explain what they were.)


    sangoma - Traditional healers of Southern Africa are practitioners of traditional African medicine in Southern Africa. They fulfil different social and political roles in the community like divination, healing physical, emotional, and spiritual illnesses, directing birth or death rituals, finding lost cattle, protecting warriors, counteracting witchcraft and narrating the history, cosmology, and concepts of their tradition


    C4


    Afrikaner - a Southern African ethnic group descended from predominantly Dutch settlers first arriving at the Cape of Good Hope in 1652.


    Maputo - is the capital and largest city of Mozambique. Located near the southern end of the country, it is within 120 kilometres (75 miles) of the borders with Eswatini and South Africa


    Imbiza - a Zulu herbal tonic and a general term for a class of purgative medicines in South Africa


    C5


    Kraal - a traditional African village of huts, typically enclosed by a fence.


    Mkhulu - Grandfather in Zulu, but also used when referring to sangomas ( Which is why I left in Zulu, so that people don''t get confused.)


    C6


    Gogo - Grandmother in Zulu, but also used when referring to sangomas ( Which is why I left in Zulu, so that people don''t get confused

 Chapter 2 - My little sleeper

    March 1757


    "Thando?!"


    Vusi jolted awake, torn from the suffocating grip of unconsciousness. His first thought was the first thing he saw and that was his right-hand woman, his trusted captain. Her face hovering above his, smiling. A rare and disarming expression.


    But something was wrong.


    He blinked, trying to focus, his mind sluggish. Thando¡¯s face, it looked less mature than the one he¡¯d known. Her features were child-like , her stature unimposing.


    However something else took him a moment to fully grasp: Thando was massive, towering over him, and judging by the proximity of her face to his, she was carrying him.


    That wasn¡¯t even the most jarring realization.


    Thando was in black and white. Gone were her striking hazel eyes, the warm brown tones of her skin that he had long admired. Now, everything was stark, stripped of color. Her entire form had been drained of life, relegated to mere shades of black and white.


    ¡°What is happening?¡± he muttered, trying to shift his head, to look left and right, but nothing responded.


    He couldn¡¯t move his neck. He couldn¡¯t move anything; his arms, his legs. It was as though his body had become a prisoner to some unseen force.


    "Captain, what''s going on?" His voice came out more as a desperate plea than an authoritative command, the confusion in his tone unmissable. The last thing he remembered was a deafening bang. The world dissolving into darkness- and now, this.


    But Thando said nothing. She just smiled, that strange, eerie smile that sent a chill through him. She was supposed to answer him, to explain the situation, to give him a report.


    And yet here she was, silent, smiling. Thando never smiled, not like this. What was wrong with her? What had happened?


    "No, something¡¯s off". His thoughts spiraled. "Could she have¡­ betrayed me?"


    The notion felt treacherous, but it gnawed at him. How else could this impossible situation make sense? A covert operation, meticulously planned, executed by soldiers who had no idea they were even part of it.


    And yet, somehow, the enemy had known. They had been ready. And his entire regiment had been wiped out.


    He had considered the possibility of a mole at Headquarters, but no organization, no matter how ruthless, would sacrifice an entire regiment just to eliminate one target.


    There had to be someone inside the regiment. Someone who leaked the information. His mind recoiled from the thought, but it was the only explanation that fit.


    His thoughts were approaching dangerous territory; accusations of treason, of betrayal. Thando wouldn¡¯t¡­ rigth?


    Before he could fully follow that train of thought, Thando¡¯s voice cut through the haze. But it wasn¡¯t the cold, calculating tone he had come to expect from her in critical moments. No, this was different. Softer, almost reverent.


    ¡°Thank the ancestors. It¡¯s a boy.¡±


    Vusi¡¯s heart skipped a beat. Those words... he had heard them in Zulu. But Thando didn¡¯t speak Zulu. She had never cared for the language, had never embraced the culture despite her name¡¯s origins.


    Though she was proud of her mixed-race heritage, Thando had always distanced herself from her Zulu roots. She refused to learn the language. He knew that better than anyone.


    And yet, there she was, speaking it fluently.


    He couldn¡¯t make sense of it. This couldn¡¯t be real. He had never expected to hear her utter a word in Zulu, and certainly not in such a serene tone. What was happening?


    Then came the next blow, the words that shook him to his core.


    ¡°My princess concort, would you like to see your son?¡±


    Everything inside him froze.


    Son?


    He tried to wrap his mind around it, but the words kept slipping through his grasp, like water through his fingers. Thando, his captain, his comrade, was speaking to someone else. Someone she called ¡°My princess concort.¡± And apparently he was... this princess'' son?


    No. It couldn¡¯t be.


    "I died¡­"


    At first glance, the scene before him was disorienting, but as he looked closer, it began to make sense. Thando, whom he expected to see in a military uniform or maybe civilian clothes, stood before him dressed in a traditional Nguni mini-skirt made from cattle hide.


    Her upper body was uncovered, her chest openly visible, a natural and unapologetic display that spoke to the customs of the Nguni people.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Surrounding her were other women, some dressed in the same short leather skirts, while others wore longer skirts and covered their chests with cow hides as well.


    Yet, one thing was consistent. They all left their hair natural, unstyled.


    This was another detail that stood out to him; even in battlefield settings, most women took care to maintain their hair neatly, even with its coarse, natural texture.


    The setting around them was equally striking. The hut he stood in was constructed from thatch and wood, its structure bearing visible cracks.


    It was far removed from the modern homes of bricks and cement he had grown accustomed to. Despite its humble appearance, this was the birthplace of chiefs, a sacred space steeped in tradition and history.


    As he absorbed the details of the scene, a realization struck him like a sudden wave.


    "The Hindus got it right. Reincarnation..."


    It was too much. The information was overwhelming, like a flood breaking through a dam. His thoughts blurred, unable to process the enormity of it.


    And whether it was the mental strain or the sheer absurdity of his new reality. His body; small, weak, helpless- couldn¡¯t bear it.


    He slipped back into unconsciousness, the world fading once again into black.


    ....


    While Vusi rested, likely hoping that when he woke up ¡®for real,¡¯ all of this would turn out to be just a dream, the rest of the room wished the opposite.


    Princess Consort Mthaniya had blessed the tribe with a healthy heir, and the atmosphere was vibrant with a mix of relief and joy.


    Some members could barely stand, while others ululated softly, careful not to disturb the Princess Consort. Who had fallen asleep with the crown prince cradled in her arms as soon as she knew her son was safe.


    Amid this celebration, which felt like a scene from a classic African film, two of the midwives quietly slipped out of the hut, avoiding the merriment.


    She made her way to another hut occupied by a group of young girls and women dressed in cowhide mini skirts, their bare breasts visible, a testament to their youth and vitality.


    Among them stood one girl who distinguished herself from the rest. Her skirt was intricately adorned with beadwork, and her upper body was decorated with elaborate beads interwoven with animal skins, likely telling the stories of her family and status.


    Despite her regal appearance, her smooth, plump face revealed her youth. She was the youngest in the group.


    When the midwife saw her, she froze, bowing deeply. ¡°My princess, my princess,¡± she stammered, her eyes glued to the floor. ¡°The ancestors have blessed the princess consort with a birth free of complications.¡±


    The princess, Mkabayi, remained silent. Her gaze penetrating as it fixed on the midwife, making her shiver with trepidation. The tension in the air was thick. Finally, Princess Mkabayi broke the silence, her voice low and steady, ¡°Boy or girl?¡±


    Without hesitation, the midwife replied, ¡°A boy.¡±


    Silence enveloped the room, the other girls showing no reaction, their faces impassive as they waited for the princess¡¯s response.


    Ignoring their stares, a surge of energy coursed through Princess Mkabayi. Without a second thought, she strode out of the hut, the midwife following closely behind.


    Princess Mkabayi rushed into the hut where the Princess Consort her newborn son rested, disregarding her royal demeanor as she exclaimed, ¡°Let me see! Let me see!¡±


    ¡°Princess, do not raise your voice,¡± one of the midwives in the hut whispered, trying to calm her. ¡°The princess consort is very tired after giving birth. We do not wish to disturb her.¡±


    But Princess Mkabayi shot them a cold glare. ¡°Speak to me like that again, and I will cut out your tongue.¡±


    The room fell silent, the midwives suddenly reminded of the princess¡¯s fearsome reputation. In a society that expected women to be submissive, she was known for her cruelty and ferocity especially at a young age of seven, traits more commonly found in the most ruthless of men.


    However, that was not the main reason they fear her.


    Satisfied with the quiet, she demanded again, ¡°Let me see my brother.¡± The midwives hesitated but ultimately led her to where the newborn and his mother lay.


    The moment she laid eyes on the baby, Princess Mkabayi froze, not out of fear. She knew she had no claim to the throne as a woman, but from overwhelming joy. Subconsciously, she stretched out her arms and commanded,


    ¡°Bring him to me.¡±


    The midwives exchanged anxious glances. One of them longed to protest, her instinct to protect the infant battling her fear of the Princess Mkabayi. But she felt the grip of her colleague, stopping her from testing the princess¡¯s patience.


    Sensing their hesitation, Princess Mkabayi frowned, her voice laced with menace. ¡°Do not make me repeat myself. You are not a wife; you are my father¡¯s servant. Now, give me my brother.¡±


    With no further protest, the midwife gently lifted the sleeping prince from his mother¡¯s arms and handed him over. The baby lay peacefully, undisturbed by the transfer, resting quietly in his half-sister¡¯s arms. The princess smiled, a rare, tender smile. ¡°My little sleeper,¡± she whispered.


    Without another word, she exited the hut, cradling the baby, the midwife trailing closely behind. Though the midwife didn¡¯t need to accompany her, Princess Mkabayi knew it was important to display her backing in this Machiavellian environment of the Zulu tribe, and the midwife deserved recognition for her loyalty.


    The other midwives, too fearful to object, watched as the princess made her way to the royal hut, where the Crown Prince resided.


    ...


    Inside, a mixed group of elderly and middle-aged men sat, dressed in antelope-hide kilts. Among them, only one stood out¡ªCrown Prince Jama kaNdaba, remained unmoved at her entrance. But his eyes spoke volumes; they had been waiting for news for two long days.


    Seeing her father in such a state, the princess simply declared, ¡°Father, I bring good news. I want to check on maMthaniya. And the maids only speak of great things about her future health.¡±


    The atmosphere shifted instantly. Some men leapt to their feet, beginning to dance, while others congratulated the crown prince.


    The reason why for this shift in atmosphere was obivously because of the statement that princess spoken, however more specifically the ''Ma'' honorific she gave to the princess consort. Which meant that Mthaniya was now a mother, and the baby in the Princess¡¯s hands only reinforced that fact.


    While Jama''s facial expression did not change to the news as he let everyone take in the Royal hut take in the information however they wished, before he lifted his hand. Causing everyone in the room to remain silent before he asked, " Boy or girl?"


    The Princess smirked at how similar her father¡¯s line of questioning was to hers as she then answered, " Boy."


    Which caused Jama to be visibly releaved that he had not failed all those who came before him as their lineage would continue. While a though that only seemed to add on his good mood began to appear in his mind.


    "I should tell father the good news."


    ---


    While the other midwife, Sne, decided to subtly leave the princess consort¡¯s hut, she didn¡¯t enter another royal hut like the other midwife did. Instead, she moved swiftly across the kraal, careful not to draw attention. She passed other members of the Zulu tribe, resisting the urge to sprint as that would alarm the community.


    Her pace was brisk, purposeful, until she reached a smaller hut. Humble compared to the royal quarters.


    Stopping at the entrance, Sne called out a name: ¡°Gogo Kanya!¡± Her voice carried urgency. A raspy reply came from inside, sounding as though the speaker had spent years smoking: ¡°Come in.¡±


    She then took off her shoes and without hesitation, Sne stepped into the dimly lit hut.


    Inside, the air was thick with the scent of burning herbs, and the room was filled with objects such as bones, beads, and clay pots. In the center sat a woman wrapped in hide made from ostrich and cattle hide.


    Despite being addressed as ''Gogo'' meaning grandmother, she was remarkably young, perhaps in her mid-20s. The reason why, was because the nguni believed in a age hierarchy where the oldest of the group where treated with the utmost respect.


    And to calling a sangoma, Gogo (grandmother) or Mkhulu (grandfather) was a way of showing them respect. As they where being compared to the highest status a person could attain, besides royalty, in nguni society.


    And though Gogo Kanya''s eyes were closed, they screamed her irritation with what she regarded as a intruder of her space.


    ¡°What is it, midwife? You¡¯ve disturbed me,¡± the woman said, her tone clipped.


    Sne. Understanding the sangoma''s annoyance, went on her kness and dipped her head in respect. ¡°Forgive me, Gogo, but I bring urgent news. The prince¡¯s wife has given birth. It¡¯s a boy.¡±


    The sangoma¡¯s expression shifted instantly as on eye opened. She then leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. ¡°Are you sure?¡± she asked, her voice now low and intense.


    ¡°Yes, I am sure,¡± the midwife replied, nodding emphatically.


    The sangoma stared at her for a long moment, then released an unceremonious burp that seemed to echo through the small hut. Muttering under her breath, she said, ¡°This... I see.¡±


    ....


    Nguni - The Nguni people are a linguistic cultural group of Bantu cattle herders who migrated from central Africa into Southern Africa, made up of ethnic groups formed from iron age and proto-agrarians, with offshoots in neighboring colonially-created countries in Southern Africa.


    Kraal - Kraal (also spelled craal or kraul) is an Afrikaans and Dutch word, also used in South African English, for an enclosure for cattle or other livestock, located within a Southern African settlement or village surrounded by a fence of thorn-bush branches, a palisade, mud wall, or other fencing, roughly circular in form


    Zulu - Zulu people (/?zu?lu?/; Zulu: amaZulu) are a native people of Southern Africa of the Nguni


    Mthaniya - Mother of Senzangakhona, not much is know about in history.


    Mkabayi - Princess Mkabayi kaJama (c. 1750¨C1843) was a Zulu princess, the head of the Qulusi military kraal, and a regent of the Zulu Kingdom


    Jama kaNdaba - King Jama ka-Ndaba (Born:1727¨CDied:1781) the son of King Ndaba kaMageba, was king of the Zulu Kingdom from 1763 to 1781

 Chapter 3 - It was all a dream

    4 days since birth


    ¡°It was all a dream.¡±


    Vusi¡ªor better yet, Senzangakhona¡ªtold himself this as he lay on his mother¡¯s sleeping mat, staring at the ceiling. He took a deep breath, trying to convince himself.


    He clenched his fists, tightening every muscle from his toes to his hands, before exhaling slowly.


    ¡°It¡¯s just a dream,¡± he whispered again. But when he opened his eyes, the same ceiling loomed above him, unchanging.


    This wasn¡¯t the first time. It had become a ritual, repeated countless times since the day he was declared a newborn baby.


    Fifty times now, he had woken to this ceiling, desperately hoping it was an illusion. Each time, he closed his eyes, praying this nightmare would end. But reality was stubborn, its grip unrelenting.


    The midwives had begun whispering about his behavior. How the prince would lie there, eyes tightly shut, muttering strange noises before snapping them open with sudden vigor.


    Yet, their concerns meant nothing to Vusi. To him, they were shadows flitting around a flame. All that mattered was waking up and finding the traitors who had massacred his regiment. Somewhere among them lurked a mole, and he would expose them.


    Tales of heroism would have you believe repeated failure strengthens conviction, that perseverance fuels greatness. But the truth was darker. With each failed attempt, his resolve cracked, his sanity frayed. Hope, once his anchor, now felt like a cruel joke.


    Still, he clung to his ritual, whispering the words once more, his body rigid with tension.


    ¡°It¡¯s all a dream.¡±


    But when he opened his eyes, the same indifferent ceiling greeted him.


    ---


    The maids and midwives whispered, but the higher echelons of the Zulu tribe couldn¡¯t afford idle speculation. The prince had summoned his advisors to a meeting in the royal council hut, where all decisions pertaining to his domain took place.


    Standing at the center, Crown prince Jama, son of Ndaba, exuded an aura of wisdom and authority. His voice carried the weight of his years as he addressed the assembly.


    The prince sat at the head of the council, listening intently as one of his men reported.


    ¡°Without action, this season will bring serious hardship, my prince. If we do not act quickly, we risk a food shortage,¡± the man warned.


    Another adviser spoke up, adding, ¡° The kraal wardens (induna) of their respective kraals have provided us with a report on the state of agriculture in your domain. It is dire, with droughts looming. What shall we do?¡±


    The prince scratched his chin thoughtfully before replying. ¡°If that¡¯s the case, how are our livestock holdings?¡±


    The man hesitated before responding, ¡°We do not have exact numbers, but it is concerning, my prince. With the drought, we expect to lose some livestock. It has been a grim year.¡±


    The prince, after a moment of contemplation, said, ¡°Then we must act strategically. If we have an abundance of livestock but not enough food, we should trade some of the livestock for preserved goods with our neighbors. They can take on the burden of maintaining the animals, while we secure more food for our people. This will reduce the strain on our rations.¡±


    Another adviser interjected, ¡°Should we sell locally or trade with other tribes, my prince?¡±


    The prince replied, ¡°If my father¡¯s domain is unaffected, we can prioritize local trade. However, if his lands are suffering the same hardships, we must turn to other tribes. That said, we should avoid trading sickly livestock; they won¡¯t provide much value to anyone.¡±


    The advisers nodded in agreement, and the issue was considered resolved.


    The prince¡¯s expression softened briefly as he turned to another matter. ¡°Have we received any news about my daughter? Has the messenger returned?¡±


    The question brought a moment of tension to the room as the men recalled the prince¡¯s earlier worries. One of the advisers stepped forward. ¡°Yes, my prince. The messenger has returned. He reported that Princess Mkabayi and Princess Mamme have settled well in the Cheif''s kraal. Furthermore, the fact that had played significant roles in the birth of their brother was a contributing factor to their treatment.¡±


    A smile spread across the prince¡¯s face, and he closed his eyes briefly in relief. ¡°That is good news.¡±


    However, his demeanor quickly shifted. His expression grew serious, and his eyes sharpened as he refocused. Taking a deep breath, he declared, ¡°Now that this matter is settled, let us move on to the real reason I called this meeting.¡±


    With that he stood up from his throne and began to wake into the center of the council hut. As his sandals couple be heard thumping the ground with a slow and steady pace, as everyone did not dare make a sound.


    Standing at the center, Crown prince Jama, son of Ndaba, exuded an aura of wisdom and authority. His voice carried the weight of his years as he addressed the assembly.


    "Men of my tribe, of my tree," he began solemnly, "we must discuss a troubling matter. The behavior of my son, our heir. His strange tendencies cannot be ignored. I hesitate to say it, but we must consider: is this sickness? Or¡­ bewitchment?"


    A ripple of murmurs spread through the room. Bewitchment of a royal child was unthinkable. Among the Nguni, royalty and the young were believed immune to such curses. If a sangoma powerful enough to defy this taboo existed, they posed a threat to entire chiefdoms.


    Jama¡¯s voice deepened. ¡°What is your input on this matter?¡±


    For a moment, the room was silent. Then, one man, emboldened, knelt before the chief. ¡°Jama, son of Ndaba! Shade of the Chiefdom, Dweller in the King''s Fortress-"


    "Enough!" Jama¡¯s sharp tone cut through the man¡¯s praises. ¡°I did not summon you to flatter me. This is no time for empty words. Give me answers, for the future of this tribe depends on it.¡±


    If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The man faltered. ¡°Forgive me, my prince.¡±


    Jama¡¯s tone softened, though his gaze remained firm. ¡°Speak plainly.¡±


    The man bowed his head and said, ¡°My prince, our best option is to summon a sangoma. Only they can determine if the prince is cursed or merely ill.¡±


    It was a logical suggestion, though costly. Powerful sangomas did not serve out of duty but for steep fees.


    Jama turned to his trusted advisor clad in antelope-hide shoulder pads, Masangu kaDlamini. ¡°How many sangomas can we afford to summon?¡±


    Masangu hesitated. ¡°Given this year¡¯s poor harvest, no more than twenty. Perhaps twenty-five, if we strain our resources. But it would be costly.¡±


    Without hesitation, Jama raised his hand. ¡°Do it. Start with our local sangomas. If they produce no results, summon others. Even the Chief''s kraal has powerful sangomas. Spare no effort.¡±


    Another advisor, Kaya, interjected boldly, ¡°But, my prince, you have another son.¡±


    The room grew tense. The suggestion was a political move disguised as concern.


    Masangu snapped, ¡°He is not the rightful heir! He doesn¡¯t carry Zulu blood.¡±


    Kaya retorted, ¡°True, but His Highness has acknowledged him as his son.¡±


    It was well-known that one of Jama¡¯s wives had borne a child before their marriage. Jama had famously declared, ¡°Whatever comes from the womb is mine, for I have thickened the mixture.¡±


    Jama silenced the brewing argument with a slam of his hand on the table. ¡°Enough! Today is not about Sojiyisa. This is about saving the prince. We will not discuss replacements until every option is exhausted. Do I make myself clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my prince.¡± the men replied in unison.


    ¡°Then stop wasting time and act!¡± Jama commanded, his voice brooking no further dissent.


    ---


    When the advisors had left, Jama sat in silence, his thoughts heavy. Finally, he called out, ¡°Bhekisisa!¡±


    A tall man entered, carrying a shield of cowhide and a club. His sharp eyes darted around the room, searching for danger.


    Jama felt a swell of pride at the warrior¡¯s vigilance but quickly returned to the matter at hand. ¡°Bhekisisa, there is no assassin. I need you to carry out my will.¡±


    The warrior bowed deeply. ¡°As you command, my prince.¡±


    ¡°Place a gag order on my son¡¯s condition,¡± Jama said firmly. ¡°The people must not panic. We have only just celebrated his birth. Let no word of this spread.¡±


    Bhekisisa nodded. ¡°What of your wives and children?¡±


    Jama paused. ¡°Tell my wives, but warn them. If they speak of this, the consequences will be swift. As for my children, they do not need to know. Especially the twins, they will be devastated.¡±


    ¡°As you wish, my prince¡± Bhekisisa replied, bowing before leaving the hut to carry out his orders.


    ...


    6 days since birth


    ¡°There¡¯s a god out there, but He or She clearly doesn¡¯t like me.¡±


    These were the fragmented thoughts of ten-year-old Vusi, now Senzangakhona kaJama Zulu, as his was being gently carried by his mother Princess Mthaniya.


    One of the only few people he knew, as he would see her whenever he was awake. Which was not much, being an infant caused him to he often times drowsy especially if you factor in his brain capabilities that used up most of his baby mental power.


    However that''s not what concerned Senzangakhona at the moment, what did was...


    "Senzangakhona of all names?" he thought for the 50th or maybe 100th time in his new life. It wasn¡¯t as if he consciously obsessed over it. This thought just kept bubbling up in his internal ''debates.''


    Though not fully aware of it yet, Senzangakhona was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he had died.


    "I could¡¯ve been named Shamba, Lindo, or even Thato. A no-name child of Chief Jama kaNdaba, forgotten by history because his life was normal." Senzangakhona vented internally as his mother gently caressed his head, making it easier for him to sleep. But sleeping was not something Senzangakhona would wven entertain at this time. "But no, I had to be reborn as the father of those sociopaths."


    As he gradually adjusted to this new reality, one of the few things he felt sure of¡ªthough it was absurd to be certain of anything as a baby¡ªwas that he had indeed died.


    Whether it was sabotage, someone changing sides, or just bad luck from their enemies, Vusi and his entire regiment had perished.


    Knowing how the South African Special Forces operated, no one would ever know what he had done, or even remember him. He¡¯d made peace with that. He had accepted it. Almost.


    Hence his his internal debates.


    But looking back now, from this strange new perspective, their sacrifices seemed foolish. Waste of lives that couldn¡¯t be reclaimed or even spoken of. All in the name of a country that might have betrayed them in the end.


    That was a fact. Yet every day, he wished this past few days had been some weird dream. A bad trip he''d need to talk through with a psychologist when he woke up. But time and time again, he was left disappointed by the harsh reality.


    This disappointment soon evolved into anger, expressed in ways only a baby could.


    Constant crying, defecating, or even giving Thando¡¯s look-alike a golden shower every time she held him. Just in case Thando had been the mole.


    Thankfully, as the days passed, he began to accept his circumstances and the fact that he might never find out the truth.


    A bitter truth to swallow, but that didn¡¯t stop him from venting internally now and then. After all, that wasn¡¯t the only thing Vusi was sure of.


    The second thing? After he had died, he had come back. Not in some divine, miraculous sense, but literally.


    He had died, and now he was alive again.


    He had been reborn, not as a ghost or a spirit, but as a Zulu prince. The irony wasn¡¯t lost on him.


    Thando, his old friend, would have laughed at the absurdity. Unlike Thando, who knew her lineage but chose not to engage with its customs, Vusi had known nothing about his own. All he knew was that he was half Black¡ªof some South African tribe¡ªand half Afrikaner.


    He had grown up with his Afrikaner father, so whatever he knew about the Zulu tribe came from history books he was required to read at the South African Advanced Tactical Training Academy (SAATTA) to become an officer.


    And those books didn¡¯t paint Senzangakhona in a positive light. He was depicted as an arrogant prince who had done nothing but hunt and collect wives. A bit like a certain black stag in that show about wolves and lions fighting for a dragon¡¯s throne.


    "At least the black stag wasn¡¯t the father of three sociopaths. Though, they did try to give him a lion and claim it was his."


    Mid-''debate,'' Senzangakhona paused, puzzled. "Why do I even remember that?"


    It wasn¡¯t because he had been a fan, far from it. He barely finished the first season, given how little rest his deployments allowed. But ever since he had been reborn, he could recall his past life vividly, as if he were watching it play out in a first-person movie. From his first words to the shape of the clouds on a particular day, every detail was crystal clear.


    ¡°There is a god out there, but He or She clearly doesn¡¯t like me.¡±


    It sounded poetic on paper, but when you could relive your entire life whenever you wanted, it made it hard to accept that this new one was truly yours.


    But before the melancholy could set in, Senzangakhona heard a voice from the corner.


    "Okay, Princess, I think that''s enough. The Prince wishes to see his son."


    The voice belonged to a young girl who resembled Thando, though her real name was Mbali. She bowed her head respectfully toward the Princess, who continued humming softly.


    Senzangakhona''s mother ignored Mbali¡¯s presence for a few moments, finishing her melody. This made Mbali visibly uncomfortable. She knew it was forbidden to disturb royalty, but she needed to retrieve the Prince. Left with no other choice, she stood awkwardly, waiting for what felt like an eternity.


    Finally, the Princess smiled and said, "Okay."


    She carefully placed Senzangakhona into Mbali¡¯s arms. Mbali bowed her head.


    "Thank you, Princess," she murmured before leaving the royal hut.


    However, instead of going directly to the Prince Jama¡¯s hut as instructed, Mbali made her way to his council hut instead.


    Inside, Senzangakhona¡¯s confusion grew as he took in the scene. Although he trusted Mbali wouldn¡¯t harm him, he couldn¡¯t help but feel a pang of anxiety. His unease deepened when he noticed something that made his stomach drop, a sangoma was there.


    ¡°Sangomas.¡± he muttered under his breath, his fear unmistakable.


    As Mbali carried him inside, they were greeted by several men, including his father and others Senzangakhona didn¡¯t recognize. But what truly caught his attention was a woman sitting flat on a mat, surrounded by scattered bones. She muttered incomprehensibly, occasionally burping, while the room filled with thick smoke from medicinal herbs and dagga (weed).


    Sangomas, the spiritual healers of Nguni society, provided both physical and spiritual healing to those in need. Because of their perceived connection to the ancestors, they were both feared and deeply respected, a tradition that persisted even in modern-day South Africa.


    It was a profitable and prestigious role, granting those who filled it land, wives/husbands, political influence, and respect. However, this meant many people were eager to fake such powers for personal gain.


    But not everyone faked it. Some sangomas were real, and it was those individuals that Senzangakhona feared most.


    Real sangomas, whether their powers were supernatural or rooted in sharp observation, had an uncanny ability to notice things others couldn¡¯t. Whether it was heightened sensitivity to body language or subtle shifts in their surroundings, they often attributed their insights to the ancestors.


    Those are the ones that could probably find out that he was not an infant, but a grown man in the body of an infant.


    Senzangakhona instantly understood why he was here. It was obvious. His recent behavior, his attempts to wake up, had likely caused him to appear mentally disturbed.


    He was no fool. He knew his status as a prince afforded him privileges far beyond the reach of any peasant. For ordinary children, illness would often be ignored unless it became life-threatening. Consulting a sangoma was a desperate and costly measure.


    For Senzangakhona, however, things were different. Royalty meant precautionary measures, even for the mildest ailments. Yet, he knew that in the days of Shaka, suspicion of weakness could mean death. The thought sent a chill down his spine.


    The absurdity of his situation struck him. Should he laugh or cry? Instead, he muttered under his breath, ¡°Senzangakhona... of all names,¡± as the weight of his circumstances pressed down on him.


    ---


    Induna - iNduna (plural: iziNduna) is a Zulu/Xhosa title meaning advisor, great leader, ambassador, headman or commander of a group of warriors. It can also mean spokesperson or mediator, as the iziNduna often acted as a bridge between the people and the king ( Which is why I used English to explain what they were.)


    sangoma - Traditional healers of Southern Africa are practitioners of traditional African medicine in Southern Africa. They fulfil different social and political roles in the community like divination, healing physical, emotional, and spiritual illnesses, directing birth or death rituals, finding lost cattle, protecting warriors, counteracting witchcraft and narrating the history, cosmology, and concepts of their tradition


    ...


    A/N : Long chapter right???...


    Not my intention but it just happened, if you like the book so far check out my p.a.t.r.e.o.n. I will put a link some where.


    Oh ya Disclaimer!! One more thing because of how much lack of historical information there is about this time period. There will be some slight historical inaccuracy, besides the whole rebirth thing and others.


    But if you have any information you would like share about this time period, please comment.?? It will really help the novel as I try to be as realistic and as accurate as possible. ??


    Underline the words "as possible" as this is still a sci-fi of sorts??


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire : Bring the 21st century to Africa / 5 chpts per week

 Chapter 4 - Imbiza

    8 days since birth


    "I think I am dying."


    Memories of the past few days flooded Senzangakhona¡¯s mind, vivid and unbidden. His mother had been carrying him, humming a melody he could no longer recall. His thoughts, however, were too scattered to focus on the tune as he let the memories replay.


    His first appointment with the sangoma(Kanya), who had been among the first to answer the prince''s summons, was surreal. She began by consulting the ancestors, throwing bones onto the ground while muttering incoherently.


    Her demeanor had shifted sharply, her voice deepening as though possessed by another presence. Even as an infant, Senzangakhona could feel the unease in the room.


    Even Mbali, usually calm and composed despite her age, seemed unsettled. Yet, with a determined resolve, she handed him over to Kanya, who began to inspect him thoroughly.


    And if Senzangakhona hadn¡¯t already grown accustomed to the maids¡¯ meticulous bathing rituals, he might have squirmed under her intense scrutiny.


    What came next, however, was far more unsettling than anything he had experienced before.


    After examining Senzangakhona, Kanya returned him to Mbali and turned to his father. Her voice carried a heavy weight as she declared, ¡°This child carries an ancestor who is not happy with his birth." She paused for a moment before continuing, " The spirit seeks to take over his body to be reborn.¡±


    Senzangakhona¡¯s heart sank at her words. She was partially correct, but also entirely wrong. The spirit wasn¡¯t merely trying to take over his body; it already had.


    And it wasn¡¯t one of the royal ancestors. It was someone far removed, a half-Afrikaner from what seemed to be the future. Or had he taken over? Senzangakhona couldn¡¯t be certain.


    What he could be certain of was that the potential for his secret to be uncovered was definitely high at this point. Causing him to fear the worst.


    Which the same could be said about the others in the room, but for a completely different reason.


    They suspected why the ancestor might be displeased, and it all stemmed from Senzangakhona¡¯s controversial origins.


    Unlike most royal births, Senzangakhona¡¯s mother had not been courted by his father or one of his advisors. Instead, her union had been orchestrated by two unexpected individuals.


    Chief Jama¡¯s twin daughters, Mmame and Mkabayi kaJama, infamously known within the tribe as the Twin Curses.


    When Chief Ndaba kaMageba, his father, pressured Chief Jama to produce a legitimate heir, he had intended to take another wife from the northern Maputo tribes.


    Polygamy, though rare, was not unheard of in Nguni culture, especially among royalty.


    However, the Zulu council vehemently opposed the idea, mostly the idea of the Prince searching for the potential mother of their heir in the northern Maputo tribes. Viewing it as a deviation from tradition.


    To the point that the Chief had to get involved.


    Before the Chief''s emissaries could intervene, the twins had already acted. They secured a princess from the Sibiya tribe, circumventing the council and their father¡¯s plans. It was a bold political move, one that earned the child the name Senzangakhona¡ª¡°we have done accordingly¡±. The name also symbolized the Prince Jama¡¯s trust in his daughters¡¯ judgment over his advisors.


    In truth, this was Jama¡¯s way of defying his council out of pettiness. While also elevating the power of his only children from from his late wife, had. Who were and are still only seven years of age, a testament to how bold and intelligent they are.


    However, sadly that decision seemed to be backfiring, with the heir facing what appeared to be a supernatural possession.


    The sangoma¡¯s next words drew a collective gasp. ¡°I can only suppress the spirit¡¯s power by creating a medicinal concoction to appease it. I will also plead with it not to take the child.¡±


    The room fell into an uneasy silence. The thought of a royal ancestor seeking to take over a child¡¯s body was chilling.


    In Nguni culture, ancestors were protectors, revered for their wisdom and power. This was more so for royal ancestors as they where the reason why it was unthinkable in Nguni culture for a royal to be bewitched.


    The very notion that one would try to claim a descendant¡¯s body as their own was nearly unthinkable¡ªand yet, here they were.


    Finally, Prince Jama broke his silence. His voice was calm but firm. ¡°How long will it take to prepare this concoction, and what will it cost?¡±If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    The sangoma paused, murmuring to herself before letting out a war cry coupled with a burp and said. ¡°It will take two days to prepare. As for the cost, I will decide after it is complete. But expect to pay me in cattle.¡±


    The prince frowned deeply after hearing the form of payment the sangoma wanted. Cattle were more than wealth; they were life itself. Symbols of power.


    So powerful in the Nguni culture, that they could make even the perceived all powerful sangoma bend the knee.


    They provided food, clothing, and labor, and their value extended to rituals and status. Giving away even a single cow was akin to parting with generational wealth and influence. After a long moment of consideration, Jama sighed and said, ¡°Fine. Do it.¡±


    The sangoma nodded solemnly and turned to Mbali. ¡°To pacify the spirit for now, I will give you medicine to temporarily keep the spirit from harming the prince further.


    Ensure the prince drinks it three times a day, after every meal and before he sleeps. Even if he cries or refuses, he must drink it.¡±


    She reached for a nearby bowl filled with a dark, viscous liquid and handed it to Mbali.


    Lowering her head respectfully, Mbali accepted the medicine and placed it carefully by her side. Jama watched closely and added, ¡°Mbali, do not let the other maids or anyone else know about this. You alone will administer the medicine. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, my prince,¡± Mbali replied.


    ¡°Good. Now take the prince and leave.¡±


    Mbali obeyed, carrying Senzangakhona out of the hut. The infant¡¯s mind raced. Though bound by his youthful body, his thoughts were far older, sharper, but he still struggled to process what had just transpired.


    His shock, however, was short-lived. As soon as they were alone, Mbali gave him his first taste of the medicine. A bitter, acrid flavor filled his mouth, and Senzangakhona realized with growing horror exactly what he was drinking.


    ¡°Imbiza? Are you trying to kill me?!¡± Senzangakhona spat out the concoction he was forced to drink, his tiny body trembling from the bitter taste. Mbali gasped, quickly trying to calm him.


    ¡°I know it tastes bad, my prince,¡± she said soothingly, ¡°but you must drink it for the chief¡¯s sake. You must get well.¡± Determined, she tipped the bowl toward his mouth again, ensuring this time he couldn¡¯t spit it out.


    She held his mouth closed, forcing the infant Senzangakhona to swallow or choke on the foul liquid. He gagged, every fiber of his being rejecting the concoction, but there was no escape. He had to drink it.


    Though the imbiza tasted horrid, like bitter ash and rotting leaves, that wasn¡¯t why Senzangakhona resisted so fiercely.


    No, his reluctance had nothing to do with the flavor. In another life, as a soldier accustomed to enduring worse, he would have downed it without hesitation. The real problem was his new, fragile body.


    Imbiza, a medicinal concoction brewed by sangomas, was potent - made to cleanse the body, heal illnesses, and sometimes boost vitality.


    While its healing properties were undisputed, it was dangerous for infants. Senzangakhona knew this and couldn¡¯t fathom why the Zulu Council, or even his own father, would allow him to drink something so lethal.


    And why did it cost so much? Herbs and roots did not cost a cow. Especially multiple. "What the heck is going on?"


    That¡¯s when the realization hit him.


    "Holy hell... I¡¯m in the 18th century.", he thought. The reality of his situation dawned on him with chilling clarity. This was a time of fragmented tribes and scattered knowledge. The Zulu, still a relatively small tribe, lacked access to the extensive medical understanding of later generations. They relied on traditions and guesswork.


    But how could Senzangakhona even think of that as his mind raced? He was a man displaced in time, trapped in an infant¡¯s body in a world far less certain than the one he had come from.


    "Am I might actually die?, again?"


    And as if answering his retorical question, Mbali brought the bowl of imbiza back to Senzangakhona¡¯s lips. ¡°Good, my prince, just one more sip,¡± she coaxed. She tipped the bowl forward, intent on making him drink.


    Senzangakhona squirmed and fidgeted, his small body twisting with every ounce of resistance he could muster. He made no sound, crying would accomplish nothing. But he strained and tensed, trying to prevent even a single drop of the bitter concoction from entering his mouth.


    Mbali, however, was unrelenting, holding firm like a statue. Her focus was absolute, unwavering in her mission to make the prince swallow the imbiza.


    Yet in his desperate struggle, Senzangakhona failed to notice that something was wrong with Mbali. Her movements stopped, her face blank, almost as though she wasn¡¯t entirely herself.


    She was like a statue.


    Then, out of nowhere, a searing pain tore through Senzangakhona¡¯s head, like his skull was about to split open. The agony was so overwhelming that he finally cried out. The sound jolted Mbali from her trance-like state.


    She blinked, startled, looking at the imbiza in her hands as if seeing it for the first time. Her confusion was evident as she glanced between the bowl and the struggling child to remove himself from her arms.


    And without hesitation, Mbali placed the imbiza on the floor and gently cradled Senzangakhona. This time, she held him with care, like a proper nanny soothing an upset infant. She adjusted his head, supporting him perfectly, her hands suddenly delicate and intentional.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, my prince,¡± she murmured softly. ¡°It will be okay.¡±


    Had Senzangakhona been in a clearer state of mind, he might have lashed out at her for such an ominous reassurance. But the blinding pain left him dazed and unable to process her words.


    A single thought flickered in his mind, What is happening to me?, before the world went dark and he slipped into unconsciousness.


    Mbali hesitated for only a moment before gathering him in her arms and heading to Senzangakhona¡¯s hut. She moved swiftly yet cautiously, ensuring no one saw the imbiza, just as the crown prince had instructed.


    ....


    The room buzzed with tension as the council debated fiercely.


    "Cattle?! Cattle?!" One of Prince Jama''s advisors exclaimed, his voice sharp with frustration. "She can¡¯t be serious! I mean no disrespect to the ancestors, but... cattle?"


    Another advisor, Masangu, raised his hands, his tone measured as he tried to restore calm. "Yes, it¡¯s a steep price. But think, brothers: the survival of our clan matters more than cattle!"


    The uproar only grew louder as a third advisor countered, "Masangu, have you lost your senses? What will we graze? What will feed us? What will we trade with other tribes if she takes them all? And you think that¡¯s acceptable?"


    Masangu squared his shoulders, unwavering. "Yes! Because without an heir, none of it matters!"


    Kaya, seated near the back, let out a loud sigh. "We already have an heir," he interjected, his voice tinged with irritation.


    Masangu groaned, his patience wearing thin. "Not this again. Senzangakhona is the only true heir! If we keep entertaining these arguments, we¡¯ll¡ª"


    "Enough!"


    The single word, spoken firmly, silenced the room. All eyes turned to Prince Jama, who had raised his hand for quiet. His expression was graver than anyone had ever seen.


    "I understand your concerns," the prince said, his voice deliberate, each word striking like a drumbeat. "Yes, we don¡¯t have enough cattle, and this path will strain us. But my son must live. If I allow him to die while I have the means to save him, the ancestors will curse me forever."


    Masangu nodded in satisfaction, but Kaya scowled. Before the argument could reignite, the prince continued.


    "That said, this decision must be weighed carefully. If the sangoma demands such a high price, we need to ensure the service is worth it¡ªand that we cannot find it elsewhere. So, I propose a compromise."


    The council leaned in, listening intently.


    "Let us summon other sangomas," the prince said. "We¡¯ll hear their terms and choose the one who offers the best chance of healing my son at a fairer price."


    The advisors exchanged glances. Slowly, nods of agreement spread across the room.


    "Good," the prince declared. "Then it¡¯s settled. Send for the other sangomas. In three days, we¡¯ll decide."


    "Praise be to the Prince!" the advisors chanted as they filed out of the royal hall. The matter remained unresolved but, for now, peaceful.


    ...


    Afrikaner - a Southern African ethnic group descended from predominantly Dutch settlers first arriving at the Cape of Good Hope in 1652.


    Maputo - is the capital and largest city of Mozambique. Located near the southern end of the country, it is within 120 kilometres (75 miles) of the borders with Eswatini and South Africa


    Imbiza - a Zulu herbal tonic and a general term for a class of purgative medicines in South Africa


    ...


    A/N : I did not post my intended amount of chapters of Friday because it''s December and in my country that means alot of ??.


    No excuse, I know??. But I needed it as I was burnt out. So to make it up to all of you I will post two more after this.


    And then I will post the regular 5 chapters a week.??


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa/ 5 chpts per week??

 Chapter 5 - I think I鈥檓 dying

    Senzangakhona awoke, disoriented, as an unfamiliar sensation washed over him. He felt weightless, as though stepping out of a warm bath, the burdens of the world momentarily stripped away. Yet beneath the comfort lingered a gnawing unease¡ªa sense that something fundamental had shifted.


    "What¡¯s happening?" he murmured, his voice barely a whisper. His body felt whole, but his mind¡­ stretched, as if trying to reach beyond itself.


    As his eyes fluttered open, a voice pierced through the haze. It was melodic yet commanding, resonating deep within him:


    ¡°Oh, Senzangakhona, the Core of the Nexus,


    Bearer of the Presence, the wisdom unending!


    Your thoughts¡­¡±


    The words wove a tapestry of praise and power, yet each syllable carried a weight he couldn¡¯t grasp. They didn¡¯t feel like mere flattery but truths¡ªforeign and undeniable¡ªspoken into existence.


    He tried to turn toward the source of the voice, but his body refused to obey. Panic flickered in his chest. "What¡¯s going on?" he muttered again, this time louder.


    "You¡¯re safe, my prince," came the response. The voice was soft yet steady, its tone cutting through his growing alarm.


    His eyes darted to his periphery, where a familiar figure entered his limited view. Mbali, her face calm but watchful, knelt beside him.


    "You¡ª" His breath hitched. "You can hear me?"


    Mbali nodded, her expression unreadable. "Yes, my prince. I can hear your thoughts. We all can. It is the bond we share in the Nexus of minds."


    His heart pounded. "Nexus? What is that?"


    Mbali hesitated, her eyes flickering with an emotion he couldn¡¯t name. Then, unexpectedly, she smiled¡ªa dazed, almost childlike expression, before blinking rapidly and shaking her head.


    "Apologies, my prince," she said, her voice soft but steady. "I assumed you knew. The Nexus of mind is¡­ difficult to explain. Even it did not fully know of its existence until now."


    He frowned, frustration bubbling. "That doesn¡¯t explain what¡¯s happening to me!"


    Mbali¡¯s smile faltered with pride. "You are the Core. The headache you¡¯ve been feeling feeling marked the connection forming with me, the first mind to link to yours."


    Her words felt like an avalanche, overwhelming him. "This¡­ this is madness," he muttered, shaking his head.


    Mbali laughed softly, the sound light but tinged with sympathy. Without warning, she leaned forward and lifted him as though he weighed nothing, cradling him like a child. "No, my prince. It may feel like madness, but it is truth. The Nexus links us all¡ªthrough you."


    "What does that even mean?" he demanded, his voice cracking.


    She placed him gently back onto the sleeping mat, her movements careful. "The Nexus is a hivemind of sorts," she explained. "A union of minds, but not one that controls or commands. It connects us, letting thoughts flow freely among the linked minds.


    We feel each it and each other. Store, share knowledge, and understand one another in ways words cannot express."


    He narrowed his eyes. "So, you can read my mind?"


    "Not read, exactly," Mbali clarified. "It¡¯s more like¡­ hearing a thought as you think it. But only if it¡¯s significant enough to resonate through the connection."


    "That doesn¡¯t sound comforting," Senzangakhona muttered.


    Mbali¡¯s lips curved into a small smile. "It purpose is unity. Not comfort."


    He studied her for a moment. Her calm demeanor only unsettled him further. "If we¡¯re all connected, then¡­ can I control you?"


    Her expression turned serious. "No, my prince. The Nexus binds us, but it does not strip away our autonomy. It exists to serve its members, not to command them."


    Curiosity mingled with skepticism in his gaze. "I need to test this," he said finally.


    Mbali hesitated, then nodded. "As you wish."


    Senzangakhona¡¯s tests were dark but simple. He instructed her to block his airways, a command designed to test the Nexus of mind''s boundaries. Mbali obeyed, though she was reluctant, but the Nexus intervened, stopping her from harming him.


    "It won¡¯t allow it," she said softly, withdrawing her hands.


    "Interesting," Senzangakhona murmured, his mind already racing with possibilities.


    He learned that the Nexus was more than just a connection¡ªit was a shield, ensuring his safety above all else. But it also had its limitations. Such as the set number of members being 10, with that number growing by 2 every year.


    While another limitation being that the hivemind could only provide knowledge already known by one of its members, a fact Mbali admitted with a faint smile.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    "So no secrets about Area 51?" he asked dryly. A subtle to test whether she truly knew everything he knew.


    She laughed lightly. "Only if someone in the Nexus knows them."


    To which Mbali passed exceptionally.


    The most intriguing part about the Nexus was that it could only connect to those who were already loyal to Senzangakhona. Once the connection was established, that loyalty became permanent and unchangeable.


    For example, if someone¡¯s loyalty toward him was at 70% before joining the Nexus, their loyal would remain at that level permanently.


    This quirk left Senzangakhona feeling both frustrated and relieved. Frustrated because it drastically narrowed his pool of recruits to individuals foolish enough to pledge their loyalty to an infant who couldn¡¯t even speak.


    Yet, he was relieved to know that those connected to the Nexus would remain loyal. Above all, he was determined to avoid the same mistake that had led to his current predicament: being reincarnated as a poisoned infant.


    For now, Senzangakhona accepted these answers. Yet his mind remained restless, probing the edges of this newfound reality.


    At least he was reassured that Mbali would not force-feed him any harmful substances again, knowingly at least. As she was the only one from the group of maids in Prince Jama¡¯s royal kraal to know about the Imbiza, let alone be the one to administer it to him.


    Nonetheless, Senzangakhona remained cautious. For instance, he convinced Mbali to replace the harmful liquid with a safer substance.


    To maintain the ruse, he would loudly protest and act as though the new liquid was just as unpleasant as the original. His goal was simple: if he stopped pretending to be sick, he could eventually convince everyone he was cured, thus eliminating the need for Imbiza altogether. This was his grand strategy, a plan he hoped would free him from his current predicament.


    ...


    It had been several days since Prince Jama''s royal edict was issued, summoning all sangomas within the Zulu chiefdom to his royal kraal. Messengers spread the word to every corner of the land. Some sangomas had already arrived; others were en route. A few, for reasons unknown, hadn¡¯t even heard of the summons yet.


    One such person was Bantu kaThobela, a sangoma who had recently taken up residence in Zifa, one of the least populated kraals (homesteads) of the Zulu tribe.


    Zifa was home to about 30-40 people, tiny by tribal standards, but it boasted something extraordinary: a sangoma among its ranks.


    This was unusual for such a small settlement, but the locals cherished Bantu, who offered his healing services and spiritual guidance for a modest fee. His presence had brought them comfort and security, making the small homestead feel protected against misfortune.


    However, the mood in Zifa soured when a royal messenger arrived, bearing Prince Jama¡¯s summons.


    The locals feared the edict. They worried that the prince might strip them of their sangoma, leaving them vulnerable to sickness and bad spirits.


    Yet, their fear couldn¡¯t show. When the messenger arrived, the people greeted him with forced smiles and clenched fists, all while seething inside.


    The messenger was soon introduced to Bantu. When Bantu emerged to meet him, the man looked him over from head to toe, his expression betraying a hint of surprise.


    Unlike most sangomas, who donned traditional attire made from ostrich feathers, leopard skins, or antelope hides and adorned themselves with beads to signify their sacred role and wealth, Bantu was dressed simply. He wore nothing but a cattle-hide loincloth, blending in with the common folk.


    Still, the messenger knew better than to doubt the locals'' word. To impersonate sangoma was no laughing matter as you risked offending both the chief and the ancestors. So, with a respectful bow, the messenger spoke: "Mkhulu, I bring news from the royal kraal. Prince Jama kaNdaba summons you."


    Bantu¡¯s heart skipped a beat. He struggled to conceal his surprise that had an underlying fear as he replied, "Prince Jama? Why would the prince summon a nobody like me? Surely, he must mean another sangoma?"


    The messenger shook his head firmly. "Mkhulu, there is no such thing as a ''nobody'' sangoma. The prince knows of your presence here, and he insists that you come to his royal kraal without delay."


    Bantu''s mind raced. A summons from the prince was no trivial matter. The implication was clear: someone in the royal family was most likely ill. Even a minor sickness in the royal household could destabilize the tribe, opening the door to political turmoil. Or worse, inviting rival tribes to exploit the perceived weakness.


    "But..."


    He looked down, thought to himself,"...should I? But if i dont, what if...? What would Father do in this situation?"


    The messenger watched him quietly. After a moment of silence, Bantu straightened up and said, "Will you be escorting me, or do I find my own way?"


    "I will escort you, Mkhulu," the messenger replied.


    Bantu nodded, retreating into his hut to gather his essentials. When he returned, he gestured toward the path leading out of Zifa. "Lead the way."


    As they walked, the villagers lined the path to see Bantu off. The children sobbed openly, their wails piercing the air, while the adults struggled to keep their composure. Men and women wore brave faces, but their sorrow was evident in their tense expressions and tear-filled eyes.


    Bantu couldn¡¯t help but feel overwhelmed. A storm of emotions churned within him: guilt for leaving the people who relied on him, fear of what awaited him at the royal kraal, excitement at the prospect of proving himself, and even a flicker of anger for being forced to leave this new home he was beginning to get accustomed to.


    As the homestead faded behind him, Bantu resolved to face whatever lay ahead. Whether it was a test from the ancestors or a task beyond his understanding, he would meet it with courage.


    ...


    Meanwhile, in the chief¡¯s hut, another meeting unfolded, more personal in nature. The chief sat across from his two granddaughters, Mkabayi and Mamme.


    "So," the chief began, his sharp gaze fixed on the sisters, "are you both saying that you''ll negotiated with the Sibaya people to give you one of their princesses?"


    Mkabayi flashed a mischievous smile. "Yes, Grandfather. That¡¯s exactly what we did."


    Her sister, Mamme, avoided the chief¡¯s piercing eyes, fidgeting in her seat.


    The chief sighed. "It seems to me that while you were handling the Sibaya people, your sister did... nothing."


    Mkabayi¡¯s smile vanished. "First things first, Grandfather," she said flatly. "While it¡¯s true I approached the Sibaya people, none of it would¡¯ve been possible without Mamme. If not for her persistence in begging Father to let us travel, we¡¯d have been buried under suspicion and rumors before we even started."


    The chief raised an eyebrow. "Rumors? What rumors?"


    Mamme, uncharacteristically bold, spoke up. "Before I answer your question, let me ask you this: do you really believe Father sent us here as a reward for finding him a wife?"


    The chief leaned back, considering her words. His son was a fiercely protective father, unlikely to send his daughters away to their grandparents without them begging for them. Let alone as a reward. "What are you suggesting?" he asked.


    Mkabayi, sensing his intrigue, pressed forward. "Have you heard about Thandeka¡¯s son?"


    The chief narrowed his eyes. "Your brother?"


    Mkabayi¡¯s tone turned sharp. "That thing is not my brother."


    The chief¡¯s expression darkened. "Mind your words, child. You¡¯re speaking to your chief, not one of your little friends."


    Realizing her mistake, Mkabayi bowed her head. "I¡¯m sorry, Grandfather."


    Mamme intervened, her tone placating. "Forgive her, Grandfather. My sister is... passionate. But her point is valid. While rumors paint us as wild, cursed, and unworthy, our so-called ''brother'' is praised endlessly¡ªeven though he isn¡¯t even a true Zulu.


    "Even now, after everything we¡¯ve done to preserve the Zulu lineage, we¡¯re treated as though we¡¯re expendable. Meanwhile, our ¡®brother¡¯ basks in unearned glory, as if he¡¯s slain a lion himself."


    The chief pondered their words. Was it possible that sending the girls to the Sibaya people was an effort to dispel rumors of them being curses, by letting the clan see them for who they truly were? Or was there a deeper strategy at play?


    Before he could dwell further, an elder entered the hut, bowing low.


    "My chief, forgive the interruption. A messenger has arrived from Prince Jama, requesting sangomas to attend his court."


    The announcement shocked the twins. Why would their father send for sangomas?


    The chief frowned. "Did the messenger explain his purpose?"


    "He says he¡¯ll only speak to you face-to-face, my chief."


    The chief sighed and waved a hand. "Very well. Bring him in."


    As the elder left, the chief turned to his granddaughters. "Do you know anything about this?"


    Both shook their heads, though Mkabayi hesitated before speaking. "Grandfather, please let us stay and hear the news. If there¡¯s trouble in Father¡¯s court, we should know."


    The chief studied her for a long moment before nodding. "Fine. Perhaps this concerns you more than I thought."


    Moments later, the messenger entered, bowing deeply. The twins leaned forward, their curiosity sharpening as they awaited his words.


    ...


    The very next day, Senzangakhona couldn¡¯t shake a troubling thought. Though he didn¡¯t want to admit it, not even to himself, the words echoed in his mind: "I think I¡¯m dying."


    ...


    Kraal - a traditional African village of huts, typically enclosed by a fence.


    Mkhulu - Grandfather in Zulu, but also used when referring to sangomas ( Which is why I left in Zulu, so that people don''t get confused.)


    ...


    A/N : ?? So uhh- how is everybody doing?


    I know I said I was leaving for good, and I was. But in the midst of leaving. I realised something. Am broke??. Not a cent to my name.


    So I planned on continuing to write Shogun : in another world ????. But shame got the best of me and i couldn''t bring myself to face all my readers again??


    Yes, despite what I claim, am not really shameless??


    So I thought, what is the best next thing? Well an original I was planning on making for a very long time.


    So I know a lot of y''all are probably pissed that I only came back because the video industry is kicking in my teeth. But I promise I will continue to write for the next 2 to 3 years no matter how successful I get ???¡á?. Please forgive me.


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa/ 5 chpts per week??

 Chapter 6 - Enough!

    The very next day, Senzangakhona couldn¡¯t help but feel an overwhelming sense of dread. Though he hadn¡¯t wanted to think it, but the thought consumed him: "I think I¡¯m dying."


    He started feeling sick the moment he woke up, and the weight of his illness was evident. That morning, he weakly thought of his concern, only to remember- too late- that Mbali could hear his thoughts.


    She immediately sprang into action, determined to diagnose the root of his condition. Her frantic efforts and worried demeanor didn¡¯t go unnoticed, but Senzangakhona¡¯s state rendered him nearly silent, preventing most of the homestead from realizing the gravity of the situation.


    However, the silence broke when Mbali, in her panic, announced that the prince¡¯s condition had worsened.


    Her declaration sent shockwaves through the royal homestead. Though his illness had been kept a secret to avoid causing alarm, the prince¡¯s pallor, ashen lips, and listless body made it impossible to hide.


    Prince Jama, realizing the situation was dire, immediately summoned the royal sangoma, Kanya, who arrived swiftly to examine the prince.


    The sangoma began her work, carefully inspecting Senzangakhona while the homestead buzzed with tension. The royal family watched anxiously, the princess consort unable to hide her worry as she held her son. She refused to allowing even her husband to hold him.


    Despite Prince Jama¡¯s best efforts to maintain control, whispers spread like wildfire, turning the homestead into a state of chaos.


    Kanya, after her initial examination, knelt and cast her bones onto the grass woven mat. The ritual silence was broken by a guttural cry that made everyone in the room freeze. She turned sharply and demanded, ¡°Who takes care of this child?¡±


    All eyes fell on Mbali.


    The young woman stepped back, startled, as Kanya fixed her with an intense glare. Her voice, unusually stern, rang out: ¡°What did you do to this child?¡±


    Mbali stammered, her fear evident. ¡°I-I did nothing! I swear! I just found the prince sick¡ªI would never harm him!¡±


    Prince Jama¡¯s voice boomed, cutting through the air. ¡°Tell us the truth, Mbali. What have you done?¡±


    Mbali looked helplessly around the room, her voice quaking. ¡°I followed the instructions I was given! I gave him the medicine three times a day, before meals and before he slept, just as I was told!¡±


    Kanya¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Medicine?¡± Her voice was laced with suspicion. ¡°This child has poison in his system. What medicine did you give him?¡±


    Mbali froze, her face pale. ¡°The medicine¡­ the one I was told to give. I swear, it was the same as always.¡±


    The room fell into stunned silence, broken only by the princess consort¡¯s anguished cry. She swiftly gave Senzangakhona to his father, who froze for a few moments with baby in hand. Rage contorted princess consort Mthaniya¡¯s face as she then lunged toward Mbali, only to be held back by a servant. ¡°You poisoned my son! I¡¯ll kill you!¡± she screamed, her grief erupting into fury.


    The outburst snapped Prince Jama out of his shock.


    ¡°Calm down, my love,¡± He said to his wife, his voice strained. ¡°We will get to the bottom of this.¡±


    Turning to Bhekisisa, the captain of the guard, he ordered, ¡°Take Mbali to the dungeon. Post guards to ensure she doesn¡¯t harm herself or escape. No one touches her until I say otherwise.¡±


    Bhekisisa bowed. ¡°As you wish, my prince.¡± He grabbed Mbali¡¯s arm roughly, dragging her from the hut as she protested her innocence. ¡°Please, I didn¡¯t do anything! I swear!¡± But her cries fell on deaf ears as the guards led her away.


    Prince Jama turned back to Kanya, his expression grim. ¡°Tell me, Gogo, what must be done? Can my son be saved?¡±


    Kanya hesitated, her face heavy with sorrow. ¡°This poison¡­ it is beyond my power to fully cure. I can create a medicine to ease his suffering, to extend his life for a time, but¡­¡± She trailed off, her voice breaking. ¡°He will not see his first birthday.¡±


    The princess consort collapsed to the ground, her sobs filling the room. Prince Jama clenched his fists, struggling to contain his own grief. His voice was a whisper as he said, ¡°Thank you, Kanya. Do what you can.¡±


    As Kanya began preparing her remedies. Prince Jama, with Senzangakhona in his arms, knelt beside his wife and pulled her into an embrace. Together, they wept for the son they could not save.


    ...


    An hour later, inside the Prince¡¯s council hut, the members of his council were deep in heated debate. Masango, one of the elders, sat silently, his face etched with grief. ¡°Today is a sad day,¡± he muttered. ¡°A truly sad day.¡± The weight of the news¡ªthat the heir to the Zulu throne would not live to see his first birthday¡ªleft him numb. He did not know how to process such a tragedy, and his somber demeanor was shared by most of the council members.A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    But not all,


    as Kaya, scoffed. ¡°Well, this solves one problem, doesn¡¯t it? Now we know who the true heir should be.¡±


    The words ignited a fire in Masango, who clenched his fists. Overwhelmed by rage, he rose and struck Kaya hard across the jaw with a resounding slap. Kaya staggered, stunned, and instinctively prepared to retaliate when a thunderous voice cut through the room.


    ¡°Enough!¡±


    The Crown Prince of Zulu, Prince Jama kaNdaba, entered the hut. His presence alone silenced the chaos, and his voice, hoarse with exhaustion, carried an air of finality. ¡°I have just spent an hour pacifying my wife, trying to comfort her as she comes to terms with losing her only son. To the point that I had to separate her from him just to try and get his condition out of her mind. Meanwhile, you fools fight like children, instead of doing your jobs and finding solutions!¡±


    Kaya, still nursing his bruised jaw, tried to defend himself. ¡°But, Prince, it was Masango who struck me! I¡ª¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t care who started it,¡± Jama interrupted sharply. ¡°I am ending it.¡±


    Normally, the prince¡¯s word would have been enough to end any argument, but today was different. Kaya, emboldened by anger and frustration, refused to back down. ¡°So I¡¯m just supposed to stand here and take it? Let him hit me and do nothing? How can I call myself a Zulu if I don¡¯t defend my honor?¡±


    ¡°You will not raise a hand in retaliation,¡± Jama commanded, his tone brooking no argument.


    At that moment, the guards entered, led by Bhekisisa, the captain of the guard. ¡°My prince, I heard a commotion. Are you all right?¡±


    Jama pointed at Kaya. ¡°Escort him out of my hut. Now.¡±


    Kaya hesitated but quickly realized the gravity of the situation. He bowed his head and allowed himself to be led out without resistance. Once Kaya was gone, Jama turned back to the rest of the council, his piercing gaze sweeping over them. ¡°Now that we¡¯re done with that nonsense,¡± he said, his voice low but firm, ¡°does anyone have a way to save my son?¡±


    The room fell into an uneasy silence. The council members avoided his gaze, shocked by the uncharacteristic harshness of their prince. Jama rarely expelled anyone from his hut, and his actions only underscored the severity of the moment.


    Finally, one of the elders cleared his throat and spoke. ¡°My prince, once a sangoma has given their diagnosis, it is considered final. What Gogo Kanya has said¡­ cannot be undone.¡±


    Jama¡¯s jaw tightened. ¡°I refuse to accept that,¡± he said, his voice thick with emotion. ¡°There must be a way.¡±


    Another council member hesitated before suggesting, ¡°Perhaps¡­ we could perform a ritual to appease the ancestors. It might protect the child.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a fine idea,¡± another elder replied, ¡°but rituals take time, time we may not have.¡±


    The debate continued, with ideas proposed and dismissed, frustration mounting in the room. Finally, Masango spoke again. ¡°Perhaps we should wait for the other sangomas to arrive tomorrow. Maybe they¡¯ll have a solution Gogo Kanya does not. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s something.¡±


    The suggestion hung in the air. Jama, though visibly weary, nodded slowly. ¡°It¡¯s better than nothing,¡± he said, his voice heavy with resignation.


    He stood and addressed the council one last time. ¡°I don¡¯t care what it takes. Find a way to save my son.¡± His tone was no longer that of a prince commanding his advisors. It was the plea of a father desperate to protect his child. For a moment, the room was silent, the weight of his words sinking into the hearts of those present.


    As the council dispersed to carry out his orders, Jama remained behind, his shoulders sagging under the immense burden. For the first time in his life, he felt powerless.


    "How is this even possible? Is this some sick joke the Ancestors are playing on me?"


    ...


    Late at night, in Kanya¡¯s hut, she was busy preparing a medicine she had promised to deliver to the prince. The air was thick with the scent of medicinal herbs. While focused on her work, Kanya noticed a cold drink nearby beginning to spoil. She suddenly heard her name called.


    "Gogo Kanya," came a familiar voice.


    Kanya quickly tidied her workspace, arranging her herbs and tools to make everything look neat. Then she called out, "Come in."


    A woman entered, dressed plainly. Her attire consisted of a long hide skirt and a cloth covering her chest¡ªthe typical attire of a married woman in Nguni society. Despite her modest clothing, Kanya immediately recognized her.


    "Praise, praise be to the Mother Chieftess!" Kanya exclaimed, smiling as she greeted the woman with reverence.


    The visitor waved her hand dismissively, brushing aside Kanya¡¯s praise as she sat down without waiting for an invitation. Her movements were confident, even bold, as she began to speak without the customary gestures of respect.


    "I heard there was a commotion at the royal kraal," the woman said bluntly. "Was it your doing?"


    Kanya chuckled, her tone sly. "Who is asking? The wife of the future cheif or my employer?"


    The woman frowned, her voice sharpening. "Don¡¯t push it, Kanya. But I must admit, I approve of your work. You¡¯ve done well for your employer."


    Kanya smirked, her laugh low and knowing. "Of course. A woman of my skill always delivers."


    The woman leaned closer, her expression darkening slightly. "But tell me, are the rumors true? Will that b#tch''s spawn not live to see his first birthday?"


    Kanya¡¯s eyes gleamed as she chuckled under her breath. Looking around as if to ensure no one else was listening, she replied confidently, "If he doesn¡¯t see his first birthday, I will sell all my possessions and work for you indefinitely."


    The boldness of her statement startled the woman. Such a promise was unheard of¡ªno sangoma would ever agree to serve someone indefinitely, let alone for free.


    "You¡¯re that confident?" the woman asked.


    Kanya nodded, her voice unwavering. "Of course. How can I not be confident? I¡¯ve ensured everything is in place. As long as they keep giving Senzangakhona his medicine by the end of next week, he¡¯ll not survive. And better yet i already have someone who will take the blame if we are discovered. "


    The woman¡¯s lips curled into a smile. "Good. Do your part, and I¡¯ll fulfill mine."


    Kanya leaned forward, her tone turning sharp. "Mother Cheiftess..." she said sarcastically, "...just because I praise you and give you a title that isn¡¯t yours doesn¡¯t mean you can barge into my home at night and demand answers. Tonight, I¡¯ll let it slide. But next time..."


    Her voice deepened unnaturally, as if another presence had taken over. "I will make you regret the day you were born."


    The woman met her gaze without flinching, a smirk playing on her lips. "You can try. Just know that you¡¯re not the only sangoma I own."


    The tension hung thick in the air as the two women stared each other down, each holding their ground with quiet intensity.


    ...


    Vusi¡¯s thoughts were in disarray, bouncing around his mind like tenants without a proper home. He was completely lost.


    One moment, he was grappling with the shocking reality of being part of a hivemind where he was supposedly the "queen," yet unable to control his so-called drones. Among these drones was someone who resembled his past friend, Thando.


    The next moment, he was gravely ill, teetering on the edge of death. Just when he thought he¡¯d found hope¡ªa person who might protect him from the poison forced upon him¡ªthey were captured and imprisoned. It was a whirlwind of events he could barely comprehend.


    He was already struggling to accept that he was part of a hivemind. It was overwhelming for anyone, let alone a baby.


    The sheer mental strain caused him to lose consciousness repeatedly¡ªat least five times, if not more¡ªbefore he could even ask himself what was happening.


    During these episodes, he was cared for by his father, the crown prince. He had taken it upon himself to protect him, forbidding anyone else from interacting with his child, while ensuring he visit his mother. Because of that his father fed him, bathed him, and changed his soiled cloths, ensuring that no one else came near him.


    All these actions drove all the gossip circles of the chiefdom insane. Especially the idea of a man, let alone a prince, was doing the work usually assigned to woman. Even if he obviously had a little help overcoming a few learning curves.


    "Don''t worry I will keep you safe." Prince Jama kaNdaba said as he then hummed a melody his grieving wife would hum.


    In his state of confusion, Senzangakhona was too overwhelmed to notice the significant shift in the prince''s behavior.


    ...


    Gogo - Grandmother in Zulu, but also used when referring to sangomas ( Which is why I left in Zulu, so that people don''t get confused.)


    ...


    A/N : So...??


    About the p.a.t.r.e.o.n, am turning it off for a while until I have a good buffer of chapters so that everyone can read ahead undisturbed. I will inform you all, when it is up.

 Chapter 7 - Let them mourn

    9 days since birth


    In the early mornings of the royal kraal, life was typically a tapestry of life. Women gathered water along with other essentials for their families, while young boys herded cattle or fetched firewood. The vibrant hum of daily chores reflected the liveliness of Prince Jama¡¯s domain. Yet, this day felt different. There was a weight in the air, an unnatural silence that cast a shadow over the kraal.


    The usual chatter was subdued, but the whispering of gossip thrived. Among the most notorious gossips was Sne, a woman who worked directly for the princess consort, lending her stories an air of credibility and intrigue. With a clay pot balanced effortlessly on her head, she glided towards a group of women returning from the river.


    "Did you hear?" she began, her voice cutting through the still air.


    "What happened?" one of the women replied, though all knew Sney would reveal the tale regardless.


    Sne lended closer, lowering her voice for effect. "I heard that the prince..." She paused dramatically, watching their eyes widen.


    "Which prince?" someone whispered fearfully.


    "Prince Senzangakhona," Sne repeated, savoring their suspense. " Four days after his birth, he fell ill. And it¡¯s only gotten worse since then."


    "How could this happen?" one woman asked, her voice trembling with both curiosity and fear.


    Sne shrugged but couldn¡¯t resist embellishing. "They say Princess Mkabayi was involved," she said, dropping the name of a high profile figure as she would always do.


    Gasps echoed among the women. "Mkabayi? One of the twin curses?"


    The mention of Mkabayi, one of the infamous royal twins, sent a shudder through the group.


    ¡°Yes, she¡¯s that twin,¡± Sne continued, her voice hushed but insistent. ¡°You know what they say about twins. One brings life, the other brings death. Maybe the ancestors are punishing her.¡±


    "Yes, it has to be," One of the other ladies confirmed. "I¡¯m telling you, trouble always follows those two. I don¡¯t know why the chief doesn¡¯t¡ª"


    "Good morning, ladies."


    The women froze. The voice came from behind them, and every nerve in their bodies tensed. Speaking ill of the royal family was treason, punishable by death¡ªeven for women. They turned slowly, relieved to see it wasn¡¯t one of the royal guards but a young man with a disarming smile.


    "Can you point me to the royal kraal?" he asked casually.


    Seeing he was not a royal guard, Sne eagerly waved the man over, her excitement barely concealed. While her companions whispered nervously, casting worried glances toward the man.


    Hoping he did not overhear their fears about the royal family''s predicament ¡ª losing their heads today was not an option.


    Despite their caution, Sne, curious as ever, could not resist addressing the stranger. "You don¡¯t seem to be from around here," she said, her sharp gaze fixed on him. "Who are you?"


    The man hesitated, visibly uneasy. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding her eyes. "Yeah, I was actually called here to... help."


    "Help? With what?" Sne pressed, her tone sharper now.


    "Ah, well, uh... just a family problem. They wanted me to come because I know a thing or two about herbs," he stammered, his words fumbling over each other.


    Sne lips curled into a sly smile as she stepped closer, her hand brushing his arm. Her face was so near his now that he could feel her breath. "Herbs, hmm? What are you, a healer? Or perhaps..." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "A single, wandering soul in need of a purpose?"


    The young man flinched, stepping back nervously. "No, no! I mean, no, I''m not single! I just¡ªuh, I just know herbs! Do you know where Prince Jama¡¯s royal kraal is from here?" he blurted out, desperate to change the subject.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    Sne gestured in the direction he sought, her smile lingering as he hastily thanked her and hurried away. Behind him, the other women whispered frantically, their unease growing. Sne¡¯s boldness had drawn too much attention, risking not just her but possibly their lives as well.


    As the stranger disappeared down the road, Sne''s gaze lingered. A faint smirk played on her lips, and she murmured to herself, "Looks like I¡¯ve found a potential target." In her mind, she already pictured how pleased her master would be with this discovery.


    While the other ladies sighed in unison.


    "We will never speak of this again," one of the women said firmly. The others nodded in agreement, adjusting their pots and continuing on their way.


    The man, Bantu, was no stranger to rumors, but the tales swirling about the prince troubled him deeply. He had heard whispers of a large gathering of sangomas (traditional healers) converging on the royal kraal, a sight unheard of unless the situation was dire.


    Even he, a sangoma form Zifa - a place so far removed- was summoned. It had to be dire.


    As Bantu approached, the unease became palpable. Warriors stood ready for battle, their shields polished and assegai spears gleaming in the sun. The kraal was somber. Children who once played freely now stayed close to their mothers. Men worked in silence, their usual camaraderie absent.


    Bantu¡¯s heart sank as he took in the scene. It felt as if the entire kraal was mourning, though no death had been announced. The prince¡¯s illness was more than a family tragedy¡ªit was a threat to the chiefdom''s stability.


    Bantu¡¯s footsteps slowed as he approached the council''s hut, where the sangomas were gathering. He recognized a few faces¡ªrenowned healers and diviners whose names carried weight across the land. The air was thick with tension, their conversations low and urgent.


    Inside the hut, the prince lay swaddled in fine animal skins, his tiny chest rising and falling unevenly as his father carried him ensuring no got too close to him. The sight tore at Bantu¡¯s heart. The illness had drained the child of his vitality, and the whispers of death seemed to loom closer with every passing moment.


    Despite his doubts about the necessity of so many sangomas, Bantu knew he had to act. His father had served the tribe faithfully, and Bantu couldn¡¯t let that legacy crumble. Whatever the cost, he vowed to find a way to help the prince¡ªand the Zulu people¡ªweather this storm.


    And as the day unfolded as usual in the Zulu lands, though the atmosphere was heavy with tension and sorrow. Gossip spread rapidly, not only within the Zulu tribe but also among their neighboring tribes. The Imbele, a group that considered themselves rivals of the Zulus, were particularly eager to exploit the situation.


    Although both the Zulus and Imbele belonged to the same overarching Paramountcy, tensions were high due to the Zulu tribe¡¯s close ties to the powerful Qwabe royal family. This connection often left the Imbele at a disadvantage during ceremonial wars or territorial disputes. When word reached the Imbele that the Zulu heir¡ªarguably their only heir¡ªwas unlikely to survive to his first birthday, their inner circle celebrated what they saw as a monumental blow to their rivals.


    ¡°Let them mourn,¡± the chieftain declared, raising a gourd of beer. ¡°Today, we drink to their misfortune!¡±


    The Imbele chieftain, overjoyed by the news, personally ordered a cow to be slaughtered in celebration. He declared a week-long festival, instructing the women of the clan to brew beer and prepare feasts for the entire community. For the Imbele, this was a rare opportunity to rejoice in the Zulu tribe''s misfortune, even if they had not caused it themselves.


    While the Zulu people mourned and their lands grew somber, the Imbele rejoiced, careful to hide their celebrations from the Qwabe tribe. They knew that openly celebrating the suffering of their close relatives would provoke the Qwabe¡¯s wrath, something even the boldest Imbele leaders wished to avoid.


    Other tribes also saw this event as an opportunity. Whether celebrating discreetly like the Imbele or planning strategies to exploit the weakened Zulu tribe, rival clans were watching closely. All they had to do now was wait.


    ....


    Night time


    As Advisor Kaya approached his hut near the royal huts, he couldn''t help but admire the sight of one of the heavily armored Zulu warriors standing guard at the gates. The warrior stood tall and proud, his posture straight as an arrow, scanning the horizon for any sign of assassins. Kaya greeted him with respect, and the warrior responded with a deep bow before resuming his vigilant stance.


    Kaya felt a flicker of pride for his tribe. The Zulu warriors'' professionalism and discipline were unmatched, at least in his opinion. Yet, pride was the last thing on his mind that day.


    Just yesterday, something unthinkable had happened¡ªhe had been publicly expelled from Prince Jama¡¯s council hut. No advisor had ever been banished from the heart of decision-making in the tribe''s history. The shame weighed heavily on him, and the political fallout would be catastrophic. Kaya had always been known as a steady and respected figure, but now, his reputation was in tatters.


    As he neared his hut, his thoughts turned to his family. He longed to see his children, to share a moment of comfort with one of his wives, and to forget the disastrous events of the day. But as he approached the hut, something unusual caught his eye¡ªred marks on the ground, smeared as if someone had dragged something heavy.


    Curiosity turned to dread as he followed the trail, his steps hesitant. The closer he got, the more his heart pounded. By the time he reached his hut, the smell of blood hit him like a wall.


    "Kuhle¡­¡± he called, his voice shaking. He pushed the door open, and the scene inside made his blood run cold.


    His family lay lifeless on the floor, their bodies twisted and scattered amidst the wreckage of his possessions. The walls were stained with blood, and sitting atop the bodies was a man Kaya recognized all too well.


    Bhekisisa. Prince Jama kaNdaba¡¯s enforcer.


    The man''s presence alone made Kaya''s legs weak, but the blood-soaked grin on his face filled him with a primal fear he had never known. Bhekisisa sat there casually, as if he were visiting an old friend, his hands resting on his knees.


    "I came to pay you a visit, old friend," Bhekisisa said, his tone calm, almost conversational. "You weren¡¯t here, but your family kept me company."


    Kaya¡¯s throat tightened. He couldn¡¯t speak, couldn¡¯t move. Fear rooted him to the spot as Bhekisisa chuckled darkly.


    "From what I remembered yesterday," Bhekisisa continued, his voice dripping with malice. "You disrespected my prince. That took bravery¡ªreal bravery." He leaned forward, his grin widening into something sick and depraved. "And bravery should be rewarded, don¡¯t you think?"


    Kaya¡¯s eyes darted to his family¡¯s bodies as Bhekisisa gestured toward them. "Since you weren¡¯t here, I decided to reward your family instead. I hope they appreciated it."


    The enforcer¡¯s words felt like daggers in Kaya¡¯s chest. He wanted to scream, to fight, but his body refused to respond. His fear was paralyzing, like a cold weight pressing down on his soul.


    "You know," Bhekisisa mused, his tone almost playful, "they didn¡¯t make a sound. Not a single noise. Impressive, don¡¯t you think?"


    Before Kaya could process the words, something hard struck the back of his head. Pain exploded in his skull, and his vision blurred. As he crumpled to the ground, the last thing he heard was Bhekisisa¡¯s chilling voice.


    "The prince sends his regards."


    ...


    A/N: That went zero to a hundred ??


    Will Bantu be able to help Senzangakhona or will his self-doubts get in his way?


    What is Sne''s intentions with Bantu?


    And will Prince Jama be able to handle the fall out of what Bhekisisa did?


    Find out next time on Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa ??

 Chapter 8 - I have to

    10 days since birth


    Prince Jama fluttered his eyes open as he asked Princess consort Mthaniya.


    "Are you still awake, MaMthaniya?"


    His wife¡¯s eyes stared at nothing in peculiar in the hut. She looked exhausted, her body tightly wrapped in the desperate need for rest. One that she seemed determined not to afford to herself.


    Despite being the youngest of his wives and having recently given birth to his only heir, she lacked the vibrancy usually seen in women her age. When she finally responded to his question, her voice was soft.


    ¡°Memories about our son keep me awake,¡± she murmured.


    The prince sighed, sitting upright and placing a hand gently on her back in an attempt to comfort her. He could see the strain in her face as she continued.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you manage to sleep,¡± she said.


    ¡°I have to,¡± he replied quietly, his gaze then lingering on her for a moment before continuing by saying. ¡°Even when I don¡¯t want to, I must. It¡¯s my responsibility.¡±


    He had a lot that needed his attention, especially with all the political upheaval that was happening in his domain.


    The poisoning of his newborn son and Advisor Kaya''s expulsion from the council, both weighed heavy on his mind. Rest was essential if he wished for these problems to not escalate. But his concern for her weighed heavily as well.


    ¡°I know,¡± she interrupted softly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry for venting.¡± She let out a heavy sigh. ¡°Do you think... do you think he...?¡±


    The prince nodded with conviction. ¡°I have the best sangomas in the tribe. He will be fine. He has to be fine¡ª¡±


    But before he could finish, a voice broke through the calm of the morning.


    ¡°My prince!¡±


    The shout startled them both. Prince Jama turned toward the source of the voice, his confusion apparent.


    ¡°Bhekisisa, what is it?¡± Jama called back. While shielding his naked wife with his body, who seemed lost in her own daze.


    The voice shouted again, urgent and filled with dread. ¡°It¡¯s Kaya, my prince!¡±


    Prince Jama frowned. His confusion grew as he exchanged a glance with his wife before responding, ¡°What about him?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s disappeared, my prince!¡±


    Without thinking twice, the prince bolted upright. His heart racing. Without waiting to be dressed as custom demanded, he grabbed his leopard hide and rushed out of the hut. Outside, Bhekisisa was waiting.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Prince Jama said immediately.


    Without wasting another second, they hurried toward Kaya¡¯s hut. As they ran, the prince¡¯s personal guardsmen joined them. A sliver of hope clung to Prince Jama¡ªa desperate belief that this might all be a misunderstanding. How could Kaya, one of his most trusted advisers, simply disappear?


    Yes, he had humiliated Kaya in front of the council, publicly kicking him out of the royal hut. But surely, that wasn¡¯t enough for Kaya to exile himself.


    The prince¡¯s fears were confirmed as they reached the advisor¡¯s hut. A crowd had already gathered¡ªmen and women of the Zulu tribe stood surrounding it. Whispers rippled through the group like wildfire.


    Looking at the scene, the prince¡¯s heart sank. Kaya and his family had truly vanished. The reasons were still unclear, but the implications were dire.


    The prince stood frozen for a moment. A part of him was relieved that he wouldn¡¯t have to punish his advisor for being ''passionate'' about the chiefdom''s future. But another part of him was filled with dread. This disappearance would not go unnoticed, and he could already feel the weight of blame shifting onto him already.


    "Bhekisisa," Prince Jama said, his gaze fixed on the crowd gathered around the hut. His facial feature no longer showing any emotion as he looked on. "Will we be able to find him?"


    Bhekisisa, ever calm, replied, "I already have two men searching for him. I could call for more, if you wish."


    The prince¡¯s sharp eyes met Bhekisisa¡¯s, his voice firm. "That will not be necessary."


    The unexpected response made Bhekisisa pause, momentarily caught off guard. But Prince Jama wasn¡¯t done. He continued, "We still need to address this quickly. I can¡¯t have my people thinking I¡¯m a tyrant."


    Understanding the gravity of the situation, Bhekisisa bowed his head. "As you wish, my prince."Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    Jama gave a faint before turning to walk away, his steps resolute. "Let¡¯s go," he said to no one in particular, as if deciding on his next course of action. "I might need to handle this one myself."


    ...


    Afternoon


    "This chiefdom is going to the dogs," muttered a frail man draped in a faded ostrich-feather shoulder pad, with an antelope hide barely covering his thin frame. Despite his fragile appearance, this man was a renowned sangoma, Msiza, known for his formidable spiritual power and insight.


    And being that he was a sangoma from the chief¡¯s royal kraal, while also some rumors suggesting that he was personally requested by the cheif to attend. Caused a lot of sangomas in the prince''s kraal to want to strike up conversations with him.


    One in particular was another man sitting nearby, seemingly from the same age group, nodded in agreement. "I¡¯ve heard. One of the crown prince¡¯s advisors has disappeared," he said in a low, conspiratorial tone.


    Msiza let out a wheezy laugh that quickly turned into a faint burp. The second man noticed but chose to ignore it, continuing. "Yes, disappeared. No one really knows why. But people are saying it might have something to do with a disagreement between him and the chief two days ago."


    Msiza raised an eyebrow, leaning in closer. "A disagreement? Over what?"


    Gossiping was a common pastime, particularly among older Nguni men in the 1700s and 1800s, who often found themselves with little to do beyond work and finding lovers/wives to bare their children.


    Causing gossip to be one of the only forms of entertainment available. However, because gossip traveled unchecked, it tended to evolve into overblown tales or outright lies. This was no exception.


    The second man shrugged. "I¡¯ve heard bits and pieces. Some say the advisor pleaded with the prince to calm down, warning him that his anger was clouding his judgment. Just like it had in the past."


    Msiza remembered that time. How could he not? As the political tension was high throughout the whole chiefdom when the incident happened.


    The loss of children at a young age and wives at childbirth was common due to the primitive state of medical practices, even among advanced tribes. Chiefs and princes often relied on multiple wives to ensure the survival of their lineage.


    And yet, despite that tradition, Prince Jama had only reluctantly taken additional wives after his first wife convinced him. His love for her had been unparalleled. Even after her tragic death during childbirth, he had refused to lay in the same mat with a woman for years. That loss had broken him.


    But what truly cemented him as a man who defied tradition was the scandal involving his first wife¡¯s twins. According to custom, one twin was to be sacrificed to avoid misfortune.


    Yet, Prince Jama had defied the elders and his father, declaring that both children would live. His decision angered many, but no one dared challenge his authority as he was the only son of Cheif Ndaba kaMageba.


    No one wanted to anger the man who could have their heads in the next few years, give or take, when the current chief passed away.


    The sangoma continued his recount of what happend, "He feared that if Prince Jama kept ruling with such fury, he¡¯d drive the people to leave the cheifdom in fear or worse, rebel. They say he even suggested naming Prince Sojiyisa as his heir to stabilize the situation."


    Msiza rubbed his chin thoughtfully but remained silent. The other man pressed on. "You know how people talk, it¡¯s hard to know the truth. But they say the prince refused and publicly ordered the advisor out. I suppose that¡¯s why he ''left'', taking his family with him."


    As the two men gossiped openly while speculating things that could get them in trouble, another figure sat quietly nearby, growing more irritated with each passing moment.


    Bantu, a younger man of the tribe, felt his stomach churn at their audacity. How could two respectable sangomas speak so freely, like idle housewives, especially within Prince Jama¡¯s kraal?


    To Bantu, their behavior was akin to inviting someone into your home only to insult them behind their back.


    But his irritation was quickly overshadowed by the weight on his mind. He had far graver concerns.


    It wasn¡¯t Senzangakhona¡¯s illness that unsettled him, though that was certainly serious. No, Bantu¡¯s unease stemmed from a darker secret: he was a fraud.


    He had been chosen to administer his "specialist medical advice" to the crown prince''s son, yet he knew he was utterly unqualified.


    His treatments weren¡¯t lies, exactly, but they weren¡¯t divinely inspired or guided by any sacred knowledge.


    Everything he knew came from observation and listening to his father dispense medicine to patients.


    It was this knowledge¡ªand nothing more¡ªthat had made him hesitant to accompany the messenger. Yet, who in their right mind would dare refuse Prince Jama?


    Now that he was here, sitting on a mat in the royal kraal waiting for him to be called to administer. Bantu couldn¡¯t shake his fear. Stories of the Prince Jama¡¯s temper were piling up.


    What would happen if his anger turned on Bantu? How much rage would the prince feel if he discovered that a fraud was tending to his child?


    While Bantu''s thoughts raced, he failed to notice one of the maids attending Prince Jama stepping out of the royal hut.


    Following closely behind her was a sangoma, his face a mask of emotionless calm. However, internally, the sangoma was battling two conflicting emotions.


    One was frustration¡ªhe couldn''t understand what was wrong with prince Senzangakhona. Where had these mysterious ailments originated? How could he replicate such an effect, and why couldn¡¯t he decipher it? A curse, medicine, or poison of such potency would make him revered amongst his peers.


    The other emotion, however, was delight. Whether or not he found a solution to heal the prince, his efforts would still earn him payment in sheep and goats from a from a colleague who only wanted him to say nothing if he found the caused¡ªa reward he had no intention of declining.


    Despite his inner turmoil, the sangoma kept his emotions tightly controlled. After all, the walls had ears, and appearances were everything in the royal kraal.


    Sangomas like Msiza could gossip freely because of their unmatched reputation and power, but for the rest, silence and discretion were essential.


    Bantu was jolted from his spiraling thoughts when a voice called, "Mkhulu, it''s your turn now."


    He stood abruptly, almost like a startled animal, earning a few curious glances from the other sangomas. However, he quickly calmed himself.


    He knew better than to let his nerves show in front of such observant individuals. Bowing slightly, he addressed the maid, "Thank you. Lead the way, please."


    The maid nodded politely and turned toward the royal hut.


    As Bantu entered, he was hit by a mixture of smells¡ªburnt herbs, ash, and unfamiliar potions¡ªand the sight of scattered remnants of attempts to heal the prince.


    The floor was littered with dust, liquid stains, and broken objects, all evidence of prior efforts to restore the prince¡¯s health. It was overwhelming, and Bantu felt woefully out of place.


    Nevertheless, he pushed forward, following the maid deeper into the hut. Inside, his eyes fell upon two figures.


    The first was Bhekisisa, radiating power and authority. His stature alone was enough to command fear and respect. The second was Prince Jama kaNdaba, seated and holding his son, Prince Senzangakhona kaJama, whose eyes were half-closed from exhaustion.


    Seeing this, Bantu respectfully greeted the Prince. "Hello, Prince." Then, glancing at Bhekisisa, he added, "Greetings, sir."


    Bhekisisa seemed taken aback that a sangoma would be so respectful to a warrior even if he worked for a prince, though he quickly masked his reaction.


    As Bantu approached, his hands trembled with uncertainty. Staring at Senzangakhona, he asked cautiously, "May I?" His voice quivered, betraying his nerves.


    Prince Jama said nothing but nodded slightly, giving him his permission. He then gently handed Senzangakhona over to Bantu. As Bantu held the boy, an inexplicable sensation coursed through him. It was as if lightning had struck his mind¡ªa sudden jolt of energy and awareness that froze him in place.


    Noticing his hesitation, Jama asked, "Are you alright, Mkhulu?"


    Realizing he might look odd to the others, Bantu forced a weak smile and replied, "Yes, yes, I''m fine, my prince."


    But he wasn¡¯t as he turned his attention back to Senzangakhona, attempting to hide his growing panic. But as Bantu inspected him, his mind raced with unfamiliar thoughts. New information¡ªalien and incomprehensible¡ªrushed through his brain. He couldn¡¯t understand what he was seeing or feeling.


    "Are you sure?" Jama asked again, his voice calm but insistent. "You seem... a little out of it."


    Before he could answer, another voice spoke¡ªbut not one that should have been there.


    It was sounded like an infant.


    Bantu''s eyes widened in terror as he heard infant¡¯s voice in his mind. "Take a deep breath." the boy said.


    Bantu froze. Looked at Senzangakhona, who was the only infant here. The prince¡¯s mouth had not moved. Let alone say a would. But how could he, Senzangakhona was not even one years old.


    Shaking, Bantu whispered hoarsely, "Who... who said that?" He couldn¡¯t process what he had just heard, his heart racing in fear and confusion.


    But Jama¡¯s voice cut through his panic again, calm and steady. "Do not worry, Mkhulu. In fact, rejoice."


    His lips had not moved either.


    The words echoed in his mind: "You have been chosen."


    ....


    A/N: I have to change the reason why the Imbele in chapter 7 are always at odds with the Zulu.


    The reason I changed it was because upon further research, the Qwabes where not a part of the same Paramountcy as the Zulu for reasons I will explain later in the book.


    So ya, sorry for the minor retcon.??


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa ?? 5 chpts per week

 Chapter 9 - You ve been chosen

    "You''ve been chosen."


    When Bantu heard these words in his mind, he couldn¡¯t help but say, " Is this some kind of witchcraft?" The thought slipped from his lips before he realized what he was saying.


    The weight of his words struck him immediately. He dropped to his knees¡ªan uncommon act among the inguni people¡ªand bowed low before the prince . "I apologize," he stammered. "I did not mean to imply... I would never accuse..."


    Among their people, sangomas were revered, their powers seen as a sacred connection to the ancestors. But witchcraft, when said scared powers was used with bad intentions, was something they feared and loathed. To accuse anyone, much less a prince, of such practices was a grave offense.


    The prince, however, showed no sign of anger. He remained calm, his expression serene. Without moving his lips, he transmitted his thoughts directly into Bantu''s mind: "There is no need to kneel, Mukulu. I know you meant no harm by your words. Besides, we are all equal under the Presence.


    Now stand up, we have an outsider in the room."


    His gentle tone eased Bantu''s shame, and he slowly stood. Still, he felt the need to apologize again but held himself back as he turned toward the prince¡¯s guard. The man remained stone-faced, offering no acknowledgment of what he had just done. Before turning his stare into the ground once again.


    As another flood of thoughts and knowledge that entered Bantu''s mind to the point it was becoming overwhelming. He tried to process the sudden influx, but it felt as though his brain was swimming.


    Finally, he turned back to the prince, his thougths trembling. "Why? Why did you choose me? You could have chosen someone else. There are stronger, wiser people in the tribes¡ªpeople more worthy than me."


    Prince Jama tilted his head, a faint smile playing on his lips. "As I said, it was not my choice. The Nexus of minds chose you."


    Bantu frowned, his confusion deepening. "What is the Nexus of minds?"


    The moment the question entered his mind, understanding dawned upon him in the form of memories and images not his own.


    The Nexus of minds was not a mere concept¡ªit was the second soul of Prince Senzangakhona, a force bound to him since birth. It was this soul that had reached out to Bantu, seeking his help. The knowledge was so vast, so foreign, that Bantu swayed on his feet as he struggled to comprehend it all.


    Jama watched him quietly, his eyes betraying a hint of sympathy. When Bantu finally found his voice again, he asked, "What happened to the prince? Why does the Nexus of minds need me?"


    And again, the answer came directly from the Nexus of Minds itself, planting knowledge into Bantu''s mind.


    The prince had been poisoned with imbiza, a fairly common medical concoction with many benefits. However it was deadly to infants, especially to those at the age where they should not even be drinking water. But did the average nguni know that?


    Bantu clenched his fists as he processed this revelation. Slowly, another piece of knowledge surfaced¡ªthe steps needed to cure the prince. Turning back to the Prince Jama, he asked, "How much sheep or cattle bones does the tribe have on hand?"


    The Prince raised an eyebrow but nodded. "Enough for what you need, Mukulu. Speak to the Nexus of minds, and it will guide you further."


    With that information, Bantu set off to procure the right materials and resources to heal the prince. While he was busy, Senzangakhona, who had seemed ''unconscious'' at the time, slowly opened his eyes. Looking directly at his father, he asked dryly, "This is the only guy who was loyal? Seriously? That¡¯s the best I could come up with?"


    His father, who was carrying him effortlessly, didn¡¯t even glance his way. Without moving his lips, he transmitted his words directly to his mind: "I think it wasn¡¯t that bad. And you are currently a infant. So it''s not like you had a better idea, old man.¡±


    The prince immediately retorted, "I¡¯m not that old!"


    His response was a soft chuckle, which only served to further torment the ''old man'' trapped in the body of an infant.


    Why was this odd exchange even taking place? To explain that, we need to go back¡ªto a day ago.


    ...


    Flashback - A day ago


    Senzangakhona had just woken up from another ''system reboot,'' as he called it, though the truth was far simpler¡ª it was just stress, something no baby could handle. Yet, admitting something so trivial had overwhelmed him was unthinkable for a man of his stature. What would his rivals think if they knew?


    So what if they weren¡¯t even born yet? If they found out, what would they think?


    Of course, this line of reasoning wasn¡¯t on his mind as he opened his eyes. Instead, he saw Prince Jama cradling him, and he had a heartwarming smile radiating down at him.


    Something Prince Jama rarely did, making the moment all the more surprising.


    Which for a moment, he felt a rare sense of comfort¡ªuntil he told Senzangakhona that he knew that he was not an infant.Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.


    Or, as Senzangakhona prefers to call it, ''the Mbali experience''. But this time, instead of drowning him in cryptic explanations about the Nexus or expressing anger that Senzangakhona possessed his son and heir. Prince Jama was clearly preparing to strike a deal.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make a deal, old man,¡± He said, holding him like some peculiar treasure.


    Startled, Senzangakhona quickly adjusted himself, a faint connection between them flickering into focus. It was eerily similar to the one he shared with Mbali, yet distinct. His thoughts reeled as he bristled at his words.


    ¡°First of all, I¡¯m not that old,¡± Senzangakhona retorted. ¡°When I passed, I was in my mid-thirties. That¡¯s far from ancient. And second, what are you proposing?¡±


    Prince Jama¡¯s eyes sparkled with amusement. It seemed he¡¯d conveniently forgotten the realities of his time. In the 18th century, a life expectancy of 30¨C40 years was typical, given the lack of proper medical knowledge and basic hygiene. By his reckoning, Senzangakhona¡¯s mid-thirties would¡¯ve been akin to a modern-day man in his 50s or 60s.


    Prince Jama could have explained this basic fact to Senzangakhona, but where would the fun be in that? Ignorance, after all, was bliss. A short-lived bliss, but bliss nonetheless.


    Still, the knowledge he now possessed was precisely why he had approached Senzangakhona. His smile deepened as he replied to his question.


    ¡°I¡¯m proposing this: I can help you prevent your current condition from worsening. In exchange, you¡¯ll help me build the greatest empire the world has ever seen.¡±:


    Senzangakhona heard this and felt a twinge of fear at first. However, that fear was quickly overtaken by burning rage. The audacity of this prince of did not even understand the basics of warfare, he thought.


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡± he asked, his voice laced with fury.


    The prince responded without hesitation, his expression shifting into something almost mocking. ¡°No doubt,¡± he said, a sly smile spreading across his face. ¡°Come on now, old man. Don''t use that tone. It''s not your style. And either way when it comes to me, i make no threats. It¡¯s simple: if you don¡¯t help me, you die.¡±


    The bluntness of those words made Senzangakhona clench his fists, his knuckles lightening as he locked eyes with Prince Jama. His rage boiled over, and he wanted nothing more than to gouge out the prince¡¯s eyes. But as he moved to speak, the prince interrupted with a smirk.


    ¡°''You wouldn¡¯t be able to'' is what you are probably thinking rigth now.¡± Jama said, leaning forward. ¡°''The Nexus of Mind doesn¡¯t allow its members to harm the Core.''¡±


    For the first time, Prince Jama showed no emotion as he looked at Senzangakhona like a horror movie antagonist. ¡°Ah, yes, the Nexus won¡¯t let me hurt you,¡± he said. ¡°But do you even know why?¡±


    Senzangakhona eyebrows rose as he could not excess the information Prince Jama could excess, causing to be curious. Before he could respond, Prince Jama answered his own question.


    ¡°Loyalty,¡± Jama said, his tone almost mocking. ¡°That¡¯s why. The Nexus of Mind prevents any members from harming the Core because to even be a part of the Nexus, we must be loyal to you in some form or another. But loyalty is not created equally.¡±


    He paused for effect, his grin sharpening into something menacing. ¡°And because I am such a loyal servant of yours, I believe the best way to demonstrate my loyalty... is to put you out of your misery. You¡¯re suffering, after all.¡±


    The moment those words sank in, Senzangakhona¡¯s rage was extinguished, snuffed out like a flame in a storm. All that remained was fear¡ªraw, suffocating fear. It gripped him tighter as Prince Jama pressed his fingers against Senzangakhona¡¯s nose and covered his mouth with his hand, cutting off his air.


    Senzangakhona¡¯s panic rose as he struggled for breath, his body writhing in desperation. Jama¡¯s calm demeanor only seemed to confirm his theory: unlike Mbali, who had a different set of belief systems that could not hurt him even if she tried.


    Prince Jama on the other hand could suffocate him and nothing stopped him from even trying unlike Mbali.


    Senzangakhona could hardly think about that as his vision began blurred while his heart beat was get louder and gradually slower. Fighting for air, each moment a reminder of his helplessness in the face of the infant prince''s unrelenting grip.


    Until he suddenly felt the sweet feeling of air entering his air ways once again as Prince Jama let go of his nose. Causing Senzangakhona to regain his vision thanks to him trying to catch his breath, as he asked.


    ¡°And how are you going to do?¡±


    As building an empire was far from easy. Just thinking about the logistics, manpower, technology, and countless resources required to sustain an empire, let alone construct it, was overwhelming.


    It would undoubtedly involve immense effort, sacrifice, and most likely, dead bodies along the way. It wasn¡¯t something he believed could be achieved by just one man and a baby. Even if that baby was him.


    He grinned, his confidence unwavering. ¡°Princess Mkabayi kaJama.¡±


    Senzangakhona squinted his eyes at that name, before his eyes widened at the realization of what Prince Jama implied. Memories of the historical significance that the name had, began to surface.


    As that name was by no means ordinary. Mkabayi was infamous in Zulu history as a brilliant, ruthless strategist who had shaped the Zulu kingdom. If Shaka Zulu was the king of the Zulu Kingdom, Mkabayi was the one who allowed him to be king. And when he had outlasted his use, she replaced him.


    ¡°The Kingmaker,¡± Prince Jama continued, his smile fading into a bitter smirk. ¡°That¡¯s what they¡¯ll call her in the history books. And all she did was help unite a group of tribes and kill off anyone who did not share her vision, especially royal opposition.


    And if Mkabayi, someone from a small tribe that despises her, can accomplish that. Then there must be others like her, just waiting for the opportunity to showcase their talents.


    Together, we can ensure these people have the resources, the training, and the authority they need to make their talents shine. And as long as they remain loyal to us.


    They will build the empire. They can ensure we never again suffer under those bloody colonizers. Yes, a few people might die along the way, but you¡¯re are no stranger to that, are you?"


    His words carried a ruthless determination that chilled Senzangakhona. How could he not be unsettled? How would anyone feel, confronted by a man with modern insights plotting, plotting to create an empire made up of Niccolo Machiavellis and Leonardo da Vincis that would rival the peak of Great Britain?


    For a fleeting moment, he considered refusing him outright. But was it Prince Jama confidence that stopped him? Or was it the reality of his situation¡ªhis only chance of survival now rested in Prince Jama''s hands. Or maybe, deep down, he had South African propaganda still tethered to this land, yearning to see such an empire rise?


    Against his better judgment, he agreed.


    It didn¡¯t take long for regret to set in.


    " To a great partnership, old man."


    ...


    End of flashback - Back to the present day - Nigth time


    As Kanya finished concocting her latest batch of imbiza, a large figure suddenly entered her hut without warning. Startled, she jumped back, positioning herself behind her potions, herbs, and mixtures. Her hands scrambled for something to defend herself against the intruder. But as the flickering flame illuminated the man¡¯s face, she recognized him¡ªnone other than Bhekisisa.


    Her fear dissolved into seething rage. "How dare you barge into my hut without permission!" she shouted.


    Normally, Bhekisisa was a violent and unpredictable man, quick to send anyone disrespectful to their grave with his beloved assegai spear. Yet this time, he bowed his head and knelt before her. "I apologize, Gogo. I couldn¡¯t come earlier; the prince needed my assistance."


    Kanya, still fuming, stood up and adjusted her appearance, trying to compose herself. But her anger wasn¡¯t easily quelled. "And that gives you the right to come at this hour? I gave you a job yesterday, and instead of hearing from you, I learn the results from others! Do you know how that makes me feel?"


    Bhekisisa said nothing, remaining bowed as she approached him. Grabbing his jaw, she squeezed his cheeks harshly. "It makes me feel like you don¡¯t respect me. Do you understand your place, Bhekisisa? You work for me!"


    He tried to explain, "I had to accompany the prince¡ªif I hadn¡¯t¡ª"


    "I don¡¯t care!" she snapped, cutting him off. "Next time I give you a task, you report to me immediately. Do you understand?" Her nails dug into his skin as she tightened her grip.


    "Yes, Gogo," he finally replied.


    Only then did she release him. She returned to her work, mixing her imbiza, not sparing him a glance as she said, "I heard Jama has a new sangoma. A replacement."


    Bhekisisa responded, "The prince didn¡¯t mean to replace anyone. He just wanted another opinion."


    "I didn¡¯t ask for Jama¡¯s intentions," Kanya interrupted coldly. "Don¡¯t overstep your boundaries. What I want to know is¡ªdoes this new sangoma have any skill?"


    Bhekisisa hesitated. "I don¡¯t know much about sangomas, but he¡¯s young and seems inexperienced. A bit of a klutz."


    Kanya thought for a moment, then nodded. "Perhaps that¡¯ll make it easier to deal with him. And if am lucky, he might kill Jama''s son.


    Fine. Do nothing to interfere. Let him do his work. I want to see what this little upstart is capable of."


    Bhekisisa bowed his head again. "As you wish, Gogo."


    "Good," Kanya replied. "Now leave. I have important work to finish. Oh, and you¡¯re certain no one will find the bodies, right?"


    "I¡¯m certain," he assured her.


    She gave him a sharp look. "Swear it. Swear it on your sons'' life."


    At this, Bhekisisa¡¯s eyes flared red with fury. His fists clenched, and for a moment, it seemed like he might snap. But he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. "I swear," he said through gritted teeth.


    Kanya scoffed. "Good. As long as you understand the stakes, Bhekisisa."


    He stared at her silently for a few moments before standing and leaving the hut.


    ...


    A/N : Load shedding is a ??.


    Couldn¡¯t get any work done, but hope you''ll like the chapter. The p.a.t.r.e.o.n will take longer to create then I expected.


    Sorry guys??


    Oh and when members of the Nexus are the only ones in a scene the will have sentence, instead of this.


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa ??

 Chapter 10 - Ive done my part

    Bantu sighed, staring at the clay bowl filled with dark liquid.


    ¡°If only we had oranges,¡± he muttered, his voice low and thoughtful. ¡°Or maybe lemons¡­ yes, lemons would have been great.¡±


    Sne, standing nearby, shifted uncomfortably. She had volunteered to assist him, but as the minutes dragged on, doubt began creeping in.


    "What was I thinking?" she thought, glancing at the other maids who carried clay pots filled with bones.


    Her reasons for volunteering had been selfish. With Prince Jama so focused on his ailing son, Sne hoped her dedication might catch his eye. If she worked diligently, perhaps he¡¯d notice her. Maybe even favor her enough to make her his mistress.


    In this world, becoming a prince¡¯s mistress was no small thing. Without birth control and with customs forbidding casual liaisons, bearing the child of royalty was a pathway to power. One night could elevate a common woman to near-nobility.


    But hours into the task, Prince Jama was nowhere to be seen. Sne¡¯s enthusiasm waned.


    "I should just focus on Gogo Kanya''s task," she thought, resigning herself to her secondary reason for being here. Gogo Kanya, her mentor and a powerful sangoma, had sent her to investigate Bantu.


    Despite the presence of other esteemed healers in the chiefdom, Prince Jama had insisted on Bantu preparing the remedy. Even the most powerful sangomas were told to wait. The prince¡¯s unwavering trust in this young man, who didn¡¯t look a day over twenty, had piqued Kanya¡¯s curiosity. Was Bantu truly that skilled, or was there something more at play?


    Sne had expected a straightforward process: gathering herbs and grains, maybe preparing a paste or tincture. But Bantu¡¯s methods baffled her. Instead of herbs, he demanded animal bones. Fresh ones from recently slaughtered creatures. He worked alone, rejecting assistance.


    ¡°The fire must be the right temperature,¡± Bantu explained as he meticulously built fire pits lined with stones. ¡°If I don¡¯t do this properly, no one will. This is a matter of life and death.¡±


    The maids, including Sne, obeyed his instructions without question, fetching wood and watching as he burned the bones. The process was unsettling. The bones blackened and crumbled into brittle pieces, which Bantu then crushed into a fine powder and mixed with water in a clay bowl.


    ¡°We¡¯ll let it settle overnight,¡± Bantu announced, seemingly satisfied. ¡°Tomorrow, we¡¯ll give it to the prince¡¯s son.¡±


    Sne¡¯s skepticism boiled over. ¡°Burned bones and water? That¡¯s his great remedy?¡± But she held her tongue. Confronting Bantu now wouldn¡¯t serve her goals. She needed the prince present to make her concerns unforgettable.


    ¡­


    The next day


    The next day, Prince Jama arrived, cradling the sick infant, Senzangakhona, in his arms. His presence electrified the room.


    ¡°My prince!¡± Sne exclaimed, stepping forward. ¡°You must listen! This man is no real sangoma! All he¡¯s done is burn bones and mix them with water. How can this cure your son?¡±


    The outburst was calculated. Sne had chosen her moment carefully, hoping the drama would fix her in the prince¡¯s memory.


    But Jama¡¯s reaction was not what she expected. Instead of anger or concern, he looked at her with gentle curiosity. ¡°Do you know what this is?¡± he asked, his tone calm.


    Caught off guard, Sne stammered. ¡°N-no, my prince.¡±


    Bantu smiled faintly as the prince explained. ¡°What Bantu has created is activated charcoal. It¡¯s a powerful substance that absorbs toxins and poisons. This remedy has saved countless lives, even if it seems strange to you.¡±


    Sne¡¯s face burned with embarrassment as she lowered her head. He already knew.


    And that knowledge made her uneasy. Either Bantu and the prince shared a deep trust, a rare bond between royalty and sangoma. Or Bantu was so powerful that secrecy didn¡¯t matter. He could reveal his methods openly because no one could challenge him.


    Sne suspected the latter. Which made her to want nothing more then to hide and not draw anymore attention.


    Noticing her discomfort, Prince Jama offered her a warm smile. ¡°Do not worry,¡± he said kindly. ¡°You spoke out of concern for the prince. That is commendable. Always question what you don¡¯t understand in the this kraal and bring it to me, especially when it comes to life and death of our people.¡±


    His understanding tone soothed her, and she managed a small, grateful smile. ¡°Thank you, my prince.¡±


    Satisfied, Jama turned to Bantu, who hovered over the clay bowl like a man possessed. His intense focus made Jama chuckle.


    ¡°Careful, Bantu. You are drolling.¡± the prince teased.


    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.


    Bantu snapped out of his trance, quickly checking his mouth before realizing it was a jest. He chuckled nervously, regaining his composure.


    With steady hands, he prepared small doses of the mixture. The infant was weak, and the remedy needed careful administration. Each movement was deliberate, every step precise.


    The room fell silent as everyone watched. Sne¡¯s skepticism lingered, but a part of her hoped Bantu¡¯s remedy would not succeed. If it did, the consequences would be severe. Not just for her master, but for everyone who had placed their faith in her.


    ....


    While Bantu was administering a cure to heal the prince, somewhere near the outskirts of the royal kraal, a woman sat cross-legged on a sleeping mat, her hut surrounded by Zulu warriors standing guard.


    Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady and deliberate. Minutes passed before she opened them, a curious glint flashing across her gaze.


    "Charcoal? That''s interesting," she murmured. "Hopefully, they can manage their part of the plan. For now, I should focus on mine."


    The woman was Mbali, though she had not always been this composed.


    Days ago, she had been frantic¡ªcrying, begging, saying anything she could to convince them that she was incapable of physically harming the Senzangakhona, let alone capable of poisoning the him.


    But she couldn¡¯t explain why, and she couldn¡¯t reveal anything as that would expose the truth about the Nexus. Mbali knew she would dig a deep hole for herself and potentially comprise Senzangakhona.


    All she could do was plead to anyone who would listen, swearing she was innocent. Her desperation, however, only annoyed the guards. They retaliated by limiting her food and rations. Anytime she spoke up or made noise, they punished her further.


    At first, she cried, screamed, and protested her innocence, trying to make anyone believe her. But eventually, she stopped. She stopped begging, she stopped crying, and she stopped making any noise at all.


    Her sudden silence unnerved the guards. If the prisoner dead before the prince could question her, Bhekisisa would personally ensure that they took the punishment that was supposed to be dealt to the prisoner. Causing them to eased up on her penalizations, unsure what had caused her change in behavior.


    What they didn¡¯t know was that everything had shifted for her one night, and it was not becauseof them.


    Because while Mbali was sobbing and begging for someone to hear her as usual, she finally heard a voice. The joy and relief she felt at that point was hard to describe as Prince Senzangakhona began speaking directly into her mind. Asking her questions about her condition and talking to her more. From that day onward, she had remained quiet, causing no trouble.


    And whenever the guards checked on her, they found her quietly tracing symbols on the ground with her fingers or carving them into the walls. They would usually dismiss it as the ramblings of a guilt-driven broken mind.


    To them, her silence and strange behavior were preferable; she no longer needed constant attention, and they could focus on their other duties.


    But the guards were wrong. She wasn¡¯t insane, nor were her actions meaningless. The symbols she traced weren¡¯t random¡ªthey were Latin symbols, while the way they were being arranged was not something a latin speaker of any kind would understand let alone her Zulu captors.


    As in the 18th century, expecting Zulu warriors or even the multilingual Zulu diplomats themselves to understand Latin was impossible. Only a handful of people could recognize or even read what she was writing. Among them was Senzangakhona.


    ....


    A couple of days later late into the night in Kanya hut...


    Kanya barely flinched when a figure entered her hut unannounced. Normally, such intrusions would have either frightened her or intrigued her. But by now, she had grown used to them. People often barged in at these ungodly hours, either to scare her or to make demands.


    This time, it was one of the bigger irritants in her life. Without turning to greet her, Kanya spoke flatly, her tone devoid of the usual formality or enthusiasm.


    "Mother Chieftess," she said, her voice cold, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"


    The light from the fire flickered across the face of Princess Consort maMakhosi, one of the many wives of Prince Jama. Her expression betrayed no emotion, though a trace of irritation darkened her features. "We have a problem," Makhosi announced.


    Kanya raised an eyebrow but did not turn. "We? No," the sangoma corrected. "I¡¯ve done my part. Whatever problem you have is your own."


    Makhosi scoffed. "You think so? Because of you, I now have a problem!" Her voice rose with each word. "That little scheme of yours, poisoning Senzangakhona, has backfired. Now my husband spends all his time comforting that little bitch of his, and doesn''t even look at me anymore. You will fix this."


    For a moment, Kanya considered telling the princess consort how foolish she sounded. As Prince Jama was obivously only around Princess concort Mthaniya to comfort her, but his clear favorite was her.


    Was it really a coincidence that the Prince''s candidate pool for a new wife that would bore an heir for the Zulu tribe was only from Maputo, the homeland of Princess Consort Makhosi''s people?


    It was honestly insulting her intelligence to suggest that parental duty could trump the obsession that man had for the Makhosi.


    But even in her anger, Kanya knew better than to insult her directly; Makhosi was one of her connections to the royal family. Instead, she steadied herself and replied calmly.


    "Without my plan," Kanya began, "no one would even be thinking about your son right now. If your puppet hadn''t disappeared, you''d have no leverage. Whether you like it or not, my poison has at least made him noticeable in the minds of the council. Now, you have no choice but to deal with the fallout."


    Makhosi¡¯s face twisted with rage, but she swallowed her retort. Even she wasn¡¯t bold enough to risk alienating Kanya entirely. The sangoma was her only hope of ensuring her son¡¯s claim to the throne. But her temper flared again when Kanya added, with uncharacteristic vulgarity, "If you want your little bastard on the throne, you¡¯ll have to work with me."


    Makhosi wanted to spit in Kanya¡¯s face, but she knew better. The sangoma¡¯s power was real, and despite their tension, they needed each other. She took a deep breath, shoving aside her pride. "Fine," she muttered, "but because of you, I can¡¯t even get close to the prince. I can¡¯t sway him. I can¡¯t even suggest reforms to the Prince anymore. Especially now that..."


    Her lips curved into a bitter smile. "Especially now that some other sangoma is curing his ''heir''."


    Kanya froze. She stopped grinding the herbs she¡¯d been working with and turned to face the princess. "Curing?" she repeated, her voice sharp.


    Makhosi¡¯s smirk widened. "Yes. Curing. Your little poison was no match for the mighty sangoma Bantu. Or so they¡¯re calling that boy. Do you know how he did it?"


    Kanya¡¯s eyes narrowed. "No," she admitted. "Tell me."


    "I don¡¯t know exactly how these sangoma things work," Makhosi said, feigning ignorance, though her voice was laced with mockery. "But what I¡¯ve heard is this: he gathered bones¡ªlots of them¡ªfrom around the kraal. Burned them in some ritual, crushed the ashes, and had the prince drink from them. And now, the prince is recovering."


    The sangoma¡¯s mind raced. Burning bones and grinding them? Such a simple practice. Could it really undo her imbiza? It made no sense. She racked her brain for any mention of such a ritual in her teachings. Finally, a thought struck her.


    "Does anyone else know about this?" Kanya demanded.


    "Only a few," Makhosi replied smugly. "I have my... connections."


    "And Senzangakhona¡¯s mother?"


    Makhosi shook her head. "No. She doesn¡¯t know. Prince Jama is keeping it quiet. Not to give the whore false hope, perhaps. That¡¯s my guess."


    Kanya¡¯s lips tightened into a thin line. If this information got out, it could ruin her plans entirely. She needed to act quickly.


    "You need to ensure that the prince is preoccupied tomorrow," Kanya said at last, her voice cold and firm.


    Makhosi smirked, pleased that she¡¯d forced the sangoma to cooperate. "I can do that." she said, turning to leave. "Fix this mess, and make it quick."


    Without waiting for a response, the princess swept out of the hut, leaving Kanya alone to contemplate her next move.


    What was mostly on her mind was, " Why did Bhekisisa tell me about this, maybe I should remind him what is at stake here?"


    ....


    A/N : Hello there ??


    Am pretty sure some of you have noticed that I did not post for on Tuesday and Friday last week.


    Well the reason is simple, I underestimated the scope of the project and overestimated AI capabilities to help me speed run this project.


    As that was the goal, but as I was reading my previous chapters to plan for the next string of chapters I realized how they were not to my liking.


    So instead of stopping to post new chapters like I usually do, so that I can rewrite everything. I decided to create a new writing schedule for myself. Which means a change in posting time and amount of chapters posted a week.


    I know most writers don''t tell readers all these things and just do them, but am not writing for fun and am trying to build a community of people who like my work whether that''s webnovels or videos. And the best way to create a community is to communicate.


    So thank for your patience and this will be the new posting times.


    Monday , Wednesday, Thursday and Friday every week.


    So without a futher ado...


    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa/ 4 chps a week ??

 Chapter 11 - Good dog

    16 days since birth - Nigth time


    Bhekisisa sat at the edge of the kraal, singing softly to his two sons. The moonlight bathed the three of them, creating a serene yet somber atmosphere.


    His boys, aged eight and five, had fallen into a restful sleep despite their dire circumstances. Bhekisisa, though weary, continued to sing. He knew he should get some rest, his morning shift started early. But the boys had begged him for a lullaby, and he couldn¡¯t refuse.


    His voice carried the melancholy refrain of an old song:


    "We are homeless... homeless...


    Only the midnight stream hears our cries..."


    Before he could finish, a voice interrupted.


    ¡°You have a beautiful voice.¡±


    Bhekisisa¡¯s instincts kicked in. He grabbed his assegai and stood, eyes scanning the darkness. ¡°Who¡¯s there?¡± he demanded, pointing the weapon toward the sound.


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± the voice replied, calm and unbothered. ¡°No need for violence. You wouldn¡¯t want to wake your children, would you now?¡±


    Startled, Bhekisisa glanced back at his sons, confirming they were still asleep. Then he immdiately mentally reprimanded himself¡ªhe¡¯d fallen for a distraction. Snapping his head back toward the voice, he asked, more cautiously, ¡°Who are you? What do you want?¡±


    ¡°How rude,¡± the voice said, feigning offense. ¡°Is that how you address your children''s benefactor?¡±


    The mention of his sons made Bhekisisa¡¯s heart sink. He immediately realized who this was. Stepping into the faint light was none other than Kanya.


    ¡°I thought I told you update me everytime something happens in the prince''s huts,¡± she said, her tone mocking yet laced with menace. ¡°Have you forgotten, Bhekisisa?¡±


    Bhekisisa hesitated, unsure how to respond. His grip on the assegai tightened, but Kanya wasn¡¯t fazed. Instead, she sneered, ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m the one who¡¯s forgetful... so forgetful, in fact, that I might just forget to remove the curse on your boys. Would you like that, Bhekisisa?¡±


    The man¡¯s resolve crumbled. His eyes widened in panic, and he immediately dropped to his knees. ¡°I apologize, Gogo. I did not think Bantu''s action would be something you cared about. Please, don¡¯t mistake my inaction for disrespect.¡±


    Kanya stepped closer, seizing his chin with claw-like nails that dug into his flesh. Forcing him to meet her gaze, she hissed, ¡°Don¡¯t ever forget again. Do I make myself clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Gogo,¡± Bhekisisa stammered.


    Her eyes flicked to the sleeping boys. ¡°Good,¡± she said coldly. ¡°Because next time, I might just forget about them too.¡±


    Bhekisisa shuddered as she released him. But Kanya wasn¡¯t done. ¡°Tomorrow morning, when I call for you, you will come. No excuses.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he blurted. ¡°I have to protect the prince¡ª¡±


    Kanya¡¯s nails sank deeper into his skin, silencing him with a glare. ¡°You will do as I say, or your boys will suffer the consequences. Do I make myself clear?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, defeated.


    Satisfied, Kanya finally let him go, wiping her hands on her cowhide with exaggerated disgust. ¡°I like what you¡¯ve done with the place,¡± she said mockingly. ¡°Ever since your wife died, it feels... suitably gloomy. Though honestly, it smells like shit.¡±


    As she looked around the hut for a second time before she walked even closer to Bhekisisa and said, "But all dogs must be punished."


    And undid her cowhide mini-skirt that gave Bhekisisa full view of her forest as she then held his head pulling it closer before commanding " Lick."


    Bhekisisa to look at her and then turn his head towards his sons, however before he could say anything he was practicing yanked towards the forest once again as Kanya said, " Don''t worry about them, you bigger problems to worry about. Now be a good dog and lick."


    Bhekisisa look at her like tiger in a cage wanting to ripe her limb from limb but could not do anything. Except silently curse the fate that had brought her into his life.


    And Kanya seeing this could not help but smirk as " Good dog, goo~"


    This one-sided transactional relationship had been ongoing for weeks. Kanya would issue orders to Bhekisisa, whether it was gathering information or sabotaging the plans of political rivals. Slowly but surely, she was consolidating her power. By now, she had one of the prince''s wives in her pocket, and she hoped to eventually manipulate the chief himself.Stolen novel; please report.


    It had all started shortly after Bhekisisa¡¯s only wife passed away under mysterious circumstances. Some claimed she had been cursed, while others insisted she had succumbed to an illness. However, most agreed that whatever claimed her life seemed to have been passed down to her children. Fearing the same tragedy would strike them, Bhekisisa grew desperate.


    He sought out every possible solution, consulting sangomas one after another. Yet, all of them declared that they could do nothing. Some even foretold that his sons were doomed no matter what he tried. This hopelessness drove Bhekisisa into desperation, pushing him to seek help far beyond the Zulu tribe.


    He turned to the Qwabe tribe. A once-powerful clan that had severed ties with the Zulu after a historical feud. Relations between the tribes were tense, often hostile, but the Qwabe were said to harbor a renowned sangoma lineage.


    Desperate, Bhekisisa ventured into their territory. Where he encountered a clan of sangomas, who after hearing of his sons conditions issued Kanya to aide him. As they claimed that she was one their best sangoma who could destroy the curse threatening his sons.


    Clinging to their words, Bhekisisa brought Kanya back to the Zulu tribe, agreeing to perform several favors for her in exchange for her help.


    And that is where the main problem began because despite knowing little about her and having no guarantee of her abilities, he placed his trust in her. His desperation rendered him blind to the consequences.


    This imbalance of power allowed Kanya to manipulate Bhekisisa. She berated him, both verbally and physically, but he tolerated it all, convinced that her promise was his sons¡¯ only hope. His submission only deepened her hold over him, making him a pawn in her growing scheme for control.


    ---


    Next day


    Loss is a normal phenomenon. Normal because everything must change or die, but a phenomenon when it happens as it always is or more accurately feels unexpected.


    That description, that feeling summed up the current the state of Princess Consort Mthaniya as she sat motionless in her royal hut.


    Her personal maids, stationed nearby, kept her company in silence, knowing any attempt at conversation would be met with accusations or indifference.


    They were no strangers to Mthaniya¡¯s suspicion, especially since Prince Senzangakhona¡¯s poisoning. Whispers of treachery had swept through the huts, and the maids/midwives bore the brunt of the blame, unjustly accused of conspiracy.


    Fearful for their safety, many maids avoided returning home, dreading retaliation from the tribesmen. Instead, they sought refuge in the royal guest huts. A tense arrangement permitted by the grieving prince. But even this temporary sanctuary offered no relief from the weight of grief and suspicion that hung heavy in the air.


    Days passed in silence until a rare disturbance broke the monotony. A commotion outside the hut drew the attention of the maids.


    Causing one of the maids stepped out of the hut to see what was happening. She quickly rushed back inside, her face etched with confusion. The other maids immediately noticed and crowded around her, whispering anxiously.


    ¡°What happened? What¡¯s going on outside?¡± one of them asked.


    The maid hesitated, still processing what she had just seen and overheard. Finally, she said, ¡°The guards are restraining one of the maids I know.¡±


    The others exchanged surprised glances. ¡°Who is it? Why are they restraining her?¡± another pressed.


    ¡°It¡¯s Sne. I met her before I was assigned to Princess Consort Mthaniya. Apparently, she tried to enter without proper permission from Prince Jama.¡±


    Some of the maids sighed in relief, but one frowned. ¡°Then why did you look so confused when you came back inside?¡±


    The maid hesitated before replying, her voice low. ¡°She claims to have suspicions, and evidence, about who poisoned Prince Senzangakhona. But¡­ she hasn¡¯t told Prince Jama yet.¡±


    A heavy silence settled over the room. The weight of the words seemed to choke the air.


    While they took refuge near the princess consort, it was actually the prince who allowed it to happened. But under the condition they do not remind his wife of her son¡¯s condition. And that maid had just broken that one house rule.


    Causing one of the maids to hiss, ¡°Are you mad? You can¡¯t say that out loud!¡±


    But it was too late. Princess Consort Mthaniya, who had been sitting in a quiet daze moments ago, now turned her sharp gaze on them. Her voice cut through the tension, calm yet commanding.


    "What did you just say?"


    The maid who had spoken stammered, ¡°N-no, Princess! I said nothing. Just¡­ just gossip. Maid gossip, you know?¡±


    Mthaniya¡¯s unflinching stare pinned her in place. She spoke again, slowly this time. ¡°What. Did. You. Say?¡±


    The air thickened with dread. The maid¡¯s courage crumbled under the weight of the princess¡¯s gaze. Finally, she confessed, ¡° There is a maid outside called Sne, that is being restrained by the gaurds for trying to enter your hut, my princess consort. She claims to know what happened to Prince Senzangakhona.¡±


    Without blinking, Mthaniya asked coldly, ¡°And you are just standing here?¡±


    Her voice rose in a sharp command. ¡°Bring her in. Now!¡±


    The maids scattered like startled birds, instinctively turning toward the door. The maid who had spoken bolted outside. Moments later, she returned. This time walking stiffly, leading another woman into the room.


    She stepped aside and gestured. ¡°Princess Consort Mthaniya, this is the maid, Sne.¡±


    Sne bowed her head low. ¡°Praise, praise be to the Mother Chiefte¡ª¡±


    Mthaniya cut her off sharply. ¡°Prince Jama¡¯s mother may be gone, but his father still lives. Are you implying I had an affair with my father-in-law?¡±


    Sne¡¯s eyes went wide with horror. She dropped to her knees. ¡°Forgive me, Princess! I misspoke.¡±


    Mthaniya¡¯s cold gaze lingered before she waved a dismissive hand. ¡°Be careful with your words, Sne. That was your first and final warning. Now¡ªwhy are you here?¡±


    Sne took a deep breath, steadying herself. ¡°I recently volunteered to help a sangoma prepare a remedy for Prince Senzangakhona.¡±


    Mthaniya¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Such an obvious plan to get my husband''s attention. Even a child could see through it.¡±


    Mthaniya was not oblivious to the machinations of maids and the advisors of the royal huts, she was a princess in her own tribe before marrying Prince Jama. How could she not see through. She just decided not to act.


    Sne flinched at bluntness of Mthaniya but pressed on. ¡°While preparing the ingredients, I began to suspect that the sangoma might be actively trying to poison your son, Princess.¡±


    The words hit Mthaniya like a physical blow. Her lips parted slightly, and her voice trembled as she repeated, ¡°Poison? Who would dare¡­?¡±


    ¡°Bantu,¡± Sne interjected before Mthaniya could finish her question.


    The name hung in the air, heavy and unfamiliar. Mthaniya muttered it under her breath, ¡°Bantu¡­?¡±


    She frowned, trying to recall anything about this sangoma. But she quickly realized that she knew almost nothing about this figure.


    Turning sharply to Sne, she asked, ¡°Wait. Are you saying this sangoma, Bantu. Who arrived just days after my son fell ill, might have had something to do with it? Do you take me for a fool, Sne?¡±


    Sne raised her hands defensively. ¡°No, no, Princess! I would never accuse someone without reason. But¡­ the things I saw. Who uses bones of the dead to make a remedy? What kind of sangoma does that?¡±


    Sne left out key details deliberately like what type of bones were they, letting the imagination of those in the room fill in the gaps.


    Mthaniya¡¯s expression darkened as she muttered, ¡°Bones¡­ who in their right mind¡­¡±


    Sne leaned forward, her voice dropping into an urgent whisper. ¡°Think about it, Princess. Mbali couldn¡¯t have concocted such a deadly poison. She practically grew up in the royal household. She has the most to lose if anything happens to the prince. But Bantu? Bantu is a complete stranger. No one knows where he came from, what he wants, or who he serves.¡±


    She paused, letting her words settle in the princess''s mind.


    ¡°The unknown, Princess, is always the most dangerous.¡±


    ....


    A/N:


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    Good tidings we bring


    To you and your kin


    Good tidings for Christmas


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    Last Spear of the Zulu Empire: Bring the 21st century to Africa/ 4 chpts a week

 Not a chapter - Am burnt Out

    As the title suggests, I¡¯m burnt out. Specifically, I¡¯m burnt out on my current project. The story about an African country changing the course of history through inventions that could reshape the continent, and maybe even the world.


    It¡¯s been three months since I started this idea, and in that time, I¡¯ve only written about 12 chapters. Honestly, that says more about my work ethic back then than anything else. But I¡¯ve grown. I¡¯ve learned. And I know I can do better.


    That said, after three months of pouring myself into one story, I¡¯ve hit a wall. I realized this recently, around the 20th of December, I was sad at times for no apparent reason and would have self doubts on whether anything I did mattered. The only time I felt better was when I would go drinking with my friends, and that was when I realized something was wrong. Because i believe in only drinking when I am happy, not when I am feeling down.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.


    So I stopped writing for a while, but I remembered my promise to never stop writing for the next three years. And being a man of my word is something I striving to being. So I did the next best thing


    I started focusing on a new/old idea. And for the first time in a while, I felt genuinely happy about writing again. My mood lifted, my creativity flowed, and everything just felt¡­ right.


    But here¡¯s the thing, I¡¯m not giving up on the African project. Far from it. I want to finish it. I need to finish it. The history I¡¯ve uncovered, the cultures I¡¯ve learned about, and the stories I¡¯ve discovered are too important to leave behind.


    For now, though, I need a break. A strategic pause. I¡¯m stepping away from this book for about two to three months to focus on a new project. This isn¡¯t goodbye. It¡¯s a chance for me to recharge, experiment with fresh ideas, and come back stronger.


    My goal remains the same: to write stories I want to read. And I won''t stop anytime soon.


    Thank you for your patience, your support, and your understanding. This isn¡¯t the end, it¡¯s just a chapter break.


    Starsign the Lost Owen, signing out (for now).