The return of the Jeshilaanga was not a quiet affair. The sky roared as the fleet of gliders and flying Akins descended, their engines whining with the residue of cosmic energy.
They touched down in the Plaza of the Ascendant, the massive public courtyard in front of the Imperial Palace. Usually, this space was filled with the bustle of dignitaries—Town level princes negotiating trade, City level Queens discussing infrastructure, and State level Kings seeking audience with the High Table.
Today, the plaza fell silent.
Libaax Akoma dropped from the sky. He did not land gracefully; he hit the limestone pavement with a heavy thud, his Passive Weapon Art of Flight disengaging the moment his boots touched the ground.
He was carrying a woman.
A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd. These were not commoners—there were no commoners in Aye. Every man present was the King of his own household, every woman a Queen of her home. They knew the laws of status. They understood the hierarchy.
They saw the Servitor Supreme, the King of Kings , cradling a woman whose simple green Djellaba marked her as a Household-level princess. She was royalty, yes—but she was of the foundational tier. She belonged to the base of the pyramid, while he was the capstone.
"Is that... a Manomi?" a Village-King whispered, adjusting his kente sash.
"She is covered in Iku," his wife gasped, pointing to the blue-black sludge staining Ahia's arm.
Libaax ignored them. He ignored the hundreds of sovereigns staring at him. He looked only at Ahia. Her chocolate skin was turning ashen. The Iku she had been exposed to in the Dildillaac was eating its way through her spiritual defenses, rotting her Green Aura from the inside out.
"Stay with me," Libaax commanded, his voice tight.
"It's cold," Ahia managed to whisper, her teeth chattering. "It's so cold."
Libaax looked up, locking eyes with the Captain of the Abambowa. "Clear the path! I need the Imperial Infirmary!"
The Imperial Infirmary – The Gilded Ward
Libaax kicked the doors open.
The Gilded Ward was a sanctuary of white marble and soothing Ase. The air smelled of sterile ozone and medicinal herbs. This was the exclusive domain of the High Table and the Continental Line—the highest level of medical care in Middle Earth.
The Head Physician, a Manomi named Dr. Zuri, looked up from her charts. She was an elderly woman with silver dreadlocks, wearing the white robes of her station.
"My Lord?" Zuri's eyes widened as she saw the Servitor Supreme bloodied and carrying a patient.
"She has Iku poisoning," Libaax rasped, laying Ahia onto the nearest pristine bio-bed. "She was held in the Dildillaac. Treat her. Now."
Dr. Zuri rushed forward, her hands glowing with a soft pink healing light (a variation of the Manomi's biological manipulation powers). She hovered her hands over Ahia's chest.
Then, she stopped.
The pink light faded.
Dr. Zuri looked at Ahia's clothes, then at the simple beadwork on her wrist—the markers of a Household-level lineage.
"My Lord," Zuri said, taking a step back. "I cannot touch her."
"What?" Libaax stared at her, the blue fire in his eyes igniting.
"This is the Imperial Ward," Zuri explained, her voice trembling but firm. "Our Nommo scripts... the medical logic of this facility... is keyed only to the signatures of City-level royalty and above. Her Makoma resonance is Household-level. If I use the High-Tier restoration spells on a foundation-tier Makoma, the pressure difference could kill her."
"It is not just about physics, My Lord," a second healer added nervously. "It is the Law. We are forbidden from interfering with the sovereignty of a King. Her father—her King—must authorize her treatment at a Village-level clinic first."
"Her father is not around!" Libaax roared. The sound shattered a glass vial on a nearby tray. "And if you send her to a Village clinic, she will be dead before she reaches the gates!"
Ahia convulsed on the bed. The blue-black veins of entropy were creeping up her neck, aiming for her brain.
"She is dying, Zuri!" Libaax grabbed the physician by the shoulders. "I do not care about the hierarchy. I do not care about the tiers of Kingship. Save her!"
"I cannot... It's not that I don't!" Zuri cried, terrified. "The system rejects her signature. Unless..."
Zuri paused, looking at the King.
"Unless she is elevated," Zuri whispered. "Only a member of the Continental Household can bypass the restrictions."
Libaax looked at Ahia. He looked at the Iku consuming the woman who held the other half of his destiny.
The solution was simple. It was reckless. It would cause a political earthquake that would shake the entire system to its core. But it was the only way.
Libaax placed his hand on Ahia's forehead. He flared his Blue Aura—the Throat Chakra, the center of Truth.
"I, Libaax Akoma, Servitor Supreme," he spoke, his voice resonating with the weight of an edict. "I hereby declare this woman, Ahia Senan, to be under the direct covering of the Continental Throne."
He looked at Zuri.
"She is no longer just a daughter of a Home-King. She is my... Ward." He hesitated on the word, almost saying wife, almost saying Empress. "She is of my House. Treat her. That is a Royal Command."
The air in the room shimmered. The Nommo logic of the facility accepted the verbal override. The bio-bed hummed to life, recognizing the new authorization.
"Understood, My Lord," Zuri nodded, her hands glowing pink once more. She pressed them against Ahia's chest. "Beginning Iku purification."
Libaax slumped against the wall, watching the pink light battle the black slime. He had saved her life. But outside these doors, the news would be spreading like wildfire.
The King of Kings had just broken the sacred separation of tiers. He had elevated a Household princess to the Imperial level without a marriage contract, without the High Table, and without a vote.
Tyranny, degenerate tyranny.
He hadn't just saved a girl. He had just declared a political war on his own government.