He turned first to the loyalist lords, his eyes cold and disappointed "Sheathe your blades. You stand in the presence of the people who build your homes and harvest your fields. To call their plea treason is to admit you no longer know the kingdom you serve. If you strike them, you strike the very foundation of Osita."
Then, he turned to face his father. The two men stood mere feet apart, a living bridge between the old world and the new. Nwadike did not shrink from the shadows Osita cast, instead, his own power flared, a warmth that pushed back the cold, oppressive leak of the former king's aura.
"Father, look at them," Nwadike said, his voice lowering "They do not come with torches or stones. They come with a request for the future. You claim mother raised me better than this? She raised me to listen when the heartbeat of the kingdom speaks. By lashing out, you only prove their fears right, that you have forgotten how to be a leader and have settled for being a tyrant."
