The Tyrant’s First Decree

Seiowei stood atop the palace balcony, the golden rays of the setting sun casting long shadows over the bloodstained courtyard below. The air was thick with the scent of death and the echoes of battle still hung in the silence that followed. The once-proud kingdom of Ama-Ogbo had fallen under his iron grip, and now, it was time for his rule to begin.

A hush spread through the assembled crowd, a mix of fearful citizens, battle-weary warriors, and trembling nobles who had survived the night's massacre. The throne room was littered with the remnants of the old order, the bodies of loyalists who had dared resist him. Among them was the lifeless body of King Amananaowei, the symbol of everything Seiowei had despised.

He gripped the railing and surveyed his new kingdom. He had won, but this was only the beginning. Ruling with an iron fist required more than victory, it required control. He needed to instill fear deep into the hearts of the people, to crush any hopes of rebellion before they could take root. The first decree must set the tone for his reign, an unshakable foundation built on blood and submission.

The Decree of Fear

Seiowei raised his hand, and the murmurs in the crowd died instantly. His voice, deep and commanding, carried across the palace courtyard.

"By my will, as the rightful ruler of Ama-Ogbo, let it be known that defiance shall no longer be tolerated. The old ways are dead! Any who speak the name of the fallen king, who harbor treasonous thoughts, or who question my rule will meet the wrath of my sword!"

The words settled over the crowd like a funeral shroud. Gasps and muffled cries of despair rippled through them. It was not just a declaration, it was a warning, a proclamation of absolute control.

Seiowei turned toward his warriors, his loyal hounds who had fought beside him in the coup. He needed to ensure their loyalty remained steadfast.

"Seize the families of the fallen king's advisors! Bring them before me!" he ordered.

The warriors moved swiftly, dragging weeping women and terrified children to the center of the courtyard. One by one, the former nobles fell to their knees, pleading for mercy.

The Execution of Hope

A young boy, no older than ten, clutched his mother's robes, his wide, tear-filled eyes locked onto Seiowei's face. The woman, a former palace attendant who had once served the late queen, wept as she shielded her son.

Seiowei descended the steps, his boots crunching against the gravel. He stood before the woman and her son, his expression unreadable. The silence stretched, the tension unbearable.

Then, without hesitation, he drew his blade and drove it through the mother's heart.

A collective gasp erupted from the crowd as she crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The boy screamed, his tiny hands covered in his mother's blood. Seiowei towered over him, his voice like a blade slicing through the cold night.

"This is the price of defiance," he declared. "Let it be a lesson to all!" He turned to his guards. "Take the boy away. He will be raised as a servant in my court."

No one dared to move. The cruelty of the act stunned them into silence. The boy's cries echoed as he was dragged away, his fate uncertain.

Seiowei relished the horror on their faces. Fear was the most potent weapon of all, and tonight, he had wielded it masterfully.

The Queen's Betrayal

Amidst the chaos, a figure moved in the shadows of the palace corridor. Kengema, the former queen, had managed to survive the coup by sheer luck. Her heart burned with grief for her slain husband, and rage simmered beneath her trembling form.

She had trusted Seiowei once. He had been the kingdom's protector, a man of honor. How had he become this monster?

Tears blurred her vision as she gripped the dagger hidden beneath her robes. She had to end this. She had to avenge her king.

With quiet steps, she moved toward the balcony where Seiowei stood, basking in his victory. Every fiber of her being screamed for revenge.

Then, a betrayal she had not anticipated unfolded.

A hand seized her wrist before she could strike. She whirled around to see Oyinbo, the commander of Seiowei's warriors, staring at her with cold eyes.

"Foolish woman," he murmured. "Did you really think you could end him?"

Before she could react, he twisted her wrist, forcing her to drop the dagger. Pain shot through her arm as she was shoved forward, landing at Seiowei's feet.

The new king smirked. "Ah, the grieving widow," he mocked. "Did you think I would not expect treachery?"

Kengema spat at his feet, her eyes blazing with defiance. "You will never rule this land in peace. You will never be king in their hearts."

Seiowei chuckled darkly. "And yet, here I stand."

He raised his hand, signaling to Oyinbo.

"End her."

Oyinbo hesitated for only a moment before raising his sword. The queen closed her eyes, whispering her final prayer to the gods.

The blade fell, and the last ember of the old kingdom was extinguished.

The New Dawn

As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, Seiowei stood atop the palace once more, surveying the kingdom that now belonged to him.

The rivers would run red with the blood of dissenters. The people would learn to obey, or they would perish.

This was only the beginning.

With a final glance at the city below, Seiowei turned and disappeared into the shadows of his throne room, ready to shape his new empire with an iron hand.