Necropolis (Book One of Book One) by Penn Fawn (the false prince .TXT) 📕

what you say. There’s no need to be passive here. I’m for taking the fight to them.”

Oba grappled with his words.

“I say again, why not use the curses of this place, in particular, the fact that we need no sustenance to live, to our advantage? On the other hand, they would suffer and die for want of nourishment if they go but so long without food. Think about this!” Oluso replied, and they did.

“Flee or withdraw is what you propose? Madness! They need to learn to fear and respect us!” he said forcefully, and his resolve earned him complete command of the floor now.

“A tactic that would grant us this respect . . . No, better yet, one that would instill terror in their hearts, more so than they have ever instilled in us, is if we obliterated their food supply, destroyed the plants and animals they rely on,” he added.

Dalia’s chest heaved. Countenances, on the whole, appeared even more concerned.

“We ought to starve and suffocate them into subjugation, if not death, should they threaten us any further with violence!” he added and waited for a response.

No one said anything.

“And, if we’re talking merely about a more typical confrontation,” he continued, “remember we’re fifty thousand strong now!

“You can bet without fear they were alarmed. No, terrified even, at what they saw when they first came this way. Their greatest worry must be the threat we represent to them. Their concern must be how they can stop us from growing any larger and more powerful.

“This is not a time to flee. On the contrary, this is the time to continue what we began by laying claim to more territory, to lay stake to this and greater portions of these lands. This is the time to fight, to claim and defend it as our own. If we take the cowardly path, you’re suggesting we’ll never be safe, ever.”

“I am not going to leave what we spent ages here trying to develop. I will not go back in the direction of those beasts that capture and pen us in cages to later slaughter for food and drink. We’re too close for comfort from the Forest of Souls as it is. No. I’ll take my chances here come what may.”

“Thank you for your input, Oluso,” Oba said.

“You’re welcome,” he replied.

“Would anyone else like to take the floor?” Oba asked.

“I would,” Alpha replied.

“Very well,” Oba said.

“This suggestion of yours,” Alpha began, “to deprive them of their food supply, how is that feasible? They are one with the land. To do as you suggest means to destroy the land and, by extension, the animals which depend on it.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” Oluso replied.

“It is,” Alpha replied. “So, let me be absolutely clear about what you’re saying. You’re saying we should take a more aggressive approach to this?”

“That is what has to be done,” Oluso replied.

“So, more life must perish, or be subjugated for the sake of our own?” Alpha asked.

“It is either that, or we continue to eke out a very fragile survival among them,” Oluso added. “This, to me, appears to be a reversal of natural order because clearly, we are their superior. We are superior to them and all these things they ascribe such a high value to.”

“You would not speak this way were you back in Primordia,” Dalia remarked, “because there, you would have their vulnerabilities.”

“We are kings among all there as well,” he replied. “We are at the top of everything. Top of the food chain, intellect, everything. But aside from that, we are not there now. Look, you do what you have to do to survive.”

“They would never do what you mentioned,” Dalia said.

“Reverse our places, and they would,” Oluso said, staring at her firmly. “These are desperate times, my dear,” he added, “and desperate times call for desperate measures. They are only doing what they believe they have to do in order to survive. We have to think in the same manner provided we want to survive.”

“If there was some way to broker a peace,” Mbou interjected.

“There is none,” Oluso replied. “In their eyes, we are a lower form of life than a parasite. Their opinion is unwavering, and as such, there is nothing to broker.”

A brief period in which no one said anything followed.

“Would anyone else like to take the floor?” Oba asked.

No one offered to do so.

“Very well,” he said. “Those of you who for whatever reason may feel a bit uneasy about speaking now may return to your constituency. You can debate and think over carefully what was said here then return tomorrow to cast your vote.

“Time is not on our side. We need to come to a decision tomorrow by nightfall and put a plan into action.”

Keita awoke. He looked to his left and right and noticed Ossouna and Aswad were also awake.

“Did any of you sleep at all?” he asked.

“Soundly,” Ossouna replied. “As if I were dead.”

“Same here,” Aswad said.

He noticed they’d spoken in a drab monotone and felt he knew the reason why.

“So, it’s not a dream?” he remarked.

“No,” a crestfallen Aswad replied, again in a drab, lifeless monotone, and Keita’s eyes filled with tears.

He fought to compose himself.

“I wish I could go home,” Ossouna said.

“Me too,” Aswad said morosely. “I wish I could see my family again. Just one last time. I’d give anything for that,” he added, then a fellow they did not know entered the room.

“Good,” the man said. “You’re up. I’ve been checking in on you.”

They did not reply.

“My name is Akua. I’m supposed to take you to where you’re to begin your training tomorrow.”

Still, they said nothing.

“You don’t seem too excited,” he said.

“Should we be?” Aswad asked.

“Perhaps,” Akua replied.

“Okay,” Aswad said.

“You may not be grateful for it now, but in time you will,” Akua added.

“Yeah?” Aswad said with indifference.

“Yes,” Akua replied.

“How come?” Aswad asked.

“You mean, since arriving here, you’ve heard nothing, nothing at all about what this place is like or about what’s