CHAPTER 186: CHAPTER 186 - THE MARCH OF SHADOWS

The torches burned low in the council hall, their flames bowing to the chill wind that slithered in through the cracks. Lumingu stood before his generals, a shadow cast long and sharp across the marble floor. His jaw was tight, his eyes burning with restless fury.

"Gather your supplies," he ordered, his voice echoing off the stone pillars. "By sunrise tomorrow, we march toward Buganda."

The generals exchanged uneasy glances. The tension in the room was thick enough to taste.

Lumingu’s tone sharpened. "They have taken the king. They have betrayed Kongo. These so-called allies of ours intend to shatter what we have built."

General Mbele frowned deeply. "And yet there has been no message, no ransom, no proof," he said carefully. "We hear rumors, nothing more."

"Rumors?" Lumingu barked. "The kingdom teeters on the edge of ruin, and you speak to me of rumors? You will obey your orders, General."

But the unease was spreading like rot through the ranks of the council.

General Kabemba rose from his seat, his armor creaking. "Before we march to war, we must understand how we came to this. How did Kongo reach such chaos? Where is the council? The ministers? You speak of traitors, Lumingu, but every man here knows ambition when he sees it."

Lumingu’s patience thinned. "Because I know treachery when I see it! Look around you—the council scattered, the ministers missing, unrest everywhere. Do you think that is coincidence?" His voice rose, echoing off the cold walls. "You sit here questioning me when I’m the only one trying to save this kingdom!"

Kabemba held his ground. "Save it... or rule it?"

The room went still.

The accusation struck deep. Lumingu’s lips curled. "Your king is missing—taken by enemies who wish to destroy Kongo—and you sit here questioning me? The only leader left standing while others ran or fell?" His voice rose, trembling with fury. "If Kongo falls, your families will be taken as slaves, your children dragged through the mud of foreign lands. If that is the fate you desire, then continue your questions."

He slammed his fist against the table, making the candles flicker. "Otherwise, do your duty."

Without waiting for a reply, Lumingu turned sharply and strode out, his cloak snapping behind him. The heavy doors shut with a dull thud that left silence in his wake.

For a long moment, none spoke.

Then General Mbele exhaled. "That man speaks of duty like he invented it," he muttered.

General Kabemba leaned back in his chair. "He plays a dangerous game. If the king truly were taken, why did Lumingu not rally the capital sooner? Why now? Why after weeks of silence and vanishing ministers?"

Another general, Nsamba, rubbed his temples. "Because he sees his chance. With the council dead or scattered, he stands alone at the top. And he knows the army will follow whoever has the loudest voice."

Mbele grunted. "Loud, yes—but not trusted. There’s a difference."

Kabemba nodded grimly. "I served under him during the Western campaign. Ambition follows that man like a shadow. He’ll burn Kongo to ash if it makes him king."

"But what choice do we have?" Nsamba said bitterly. "Without the king, we have no command. The people grow restless, the borders unstable. We cannot stand idle while he seizes power."

Mbele tapped his fingers on the table. "Perhaps not idle... but watchful. If we must march, then we march—but our loyalty lies with Kongo, not Lumingu."

"A dangerous statement," Kabemba warned quietly. "Be careful who hears it."

"I mean every word," Mbele replied. "If the king still lives, we’ll find him. Until then, we bide our time. We march, yes—but not blind."

The men fell into uneasy silence once more, the weight of their decision settling upon them.

Outside, the horns of the city echoed across the night, calling soldiers to gather.

Three days later, the army began its march. Thousands of boots thudded against the dirt roads, drums beating in slow, steady rhythm. The banners of Kongo fluttered above their heads, but beneath the surface of duty, doubt festered.

Lumingu rode not at the front, but in the heart of the column—surrounded by his guards and scribes, his tent and supplies carried behind him like a moving fortress. His armor gleamed though he never dirtied it. Every few miles, he sent scouts ahead and messengers back, pretending it was for strategy’s sake. In truth, it was fear.

Around him, the soldiers whispered.

"Why doesn’t he ride at the front like the old generals?"

"Because he is a politician, I am more surprised he is here in the first place."

But the drums drowned the murmurs soon enough, and the army pressed on.

Far to the south, hidden deep within the forest, another gathering was taking shape.

In a dimly lit chamber beneath an abandoned outpost, Zara stood before the king, General Kazadi, and what remained of the royal ministers. Maps and scrolls were spread across the table, lit by lantern light.

"The army has begun its march," Zara reported. Her tone was calm, her cloak marked with the dust of the road. "Lumingu moves slow, heavily guarded. He’s taking the main road through the western valley."

The king—his face worn from weeks in hiding—nodded. "Then the time has come."

Kazadi straightened. "Our scouts confirm his rear ranks are thin. If we move now, we can stay close without being seen."

"Good," the king said. His gaze turned to the ministers seated nearby. "You know your tasks. The Shadows will remain here and see to that foreigner and the last of the Restorers. Once they’re dealt with, regroup at the old river camp."

Zara inclined her head. "It will be done."

The king placed a hand on Kazadi’s shoulder. "Prepare the men. We move at dawn. Kongo must not march into ruin."

Kazadi saluted, his voice steady. "For the king. For Kongo."

As he left, Zara turned to the ministers. "Finish what we started. Cut off Lumingu’s ties, expose his allies, and make sure no word reaches Buganda before we do."

The Shadows faded into the darkness like mist dispersing in moonlight.

Outside, the forest stirred with movement—the quiet, disciplined rhythm of soldiers gathering.

As dawn broke, the true army of Kongo—small, hidden, loyal—moved out behind Lumingu’s grand procession, a silent tide waiting for its moment to strike.