The enemy's gambit. Ten thousand into two hundred thousand.
Nnabu Valley. The sun is ablaze.
This heat has me lost in a humid haze.
I am Baron Kriminel — yet Ghede Ghadou Loa stays silent.
Two years in this Niri hell. Two years of Amadioha’s violence.
I came to Niri to elevate, to climb the Vodun ranks.
Two years in their capital. Two years without thanks.
Amadioha takes strongholds. Barons fall like rain.
Radha Rhamirez Loa gone — end of her reign.
And now fifty thousand Niri march to their capital.
Ghede Ghadou Loa ignores me - Ten thousand of mine expandable.
Ten thousand men beneath my name, waiting here to die.
And Simon, my “brightest,” builds toys beneath the sky.
Metal plate on his head, glasses swallowing his face.
He calls them weapons. I call them wasted space.
Ten times he’s tried. Ten times — mon Dieu — failure.
Ten times I watched hope rot in wood, rope, and labor.
“Shut the weapon down,” I tell him. “Pick up the blade.
We are not carpenters. We are warriors made.
The sword is honest. The spear is true.
But this? This toy will bury me and you.”
He pleads, “Mesyé, trust me.” His voice is thin.
“This will make every man as strong as twenty.”
“Fine,” I say. “Enough. You want to test your thing?
Defend against two hundred prisoners. Let them come swinging.
Twenty of your builders. That should tip the scale.
Your genius works today — do not fail. -
I toss him a blade. His hand shakes heavy.
But his eyes stay steady:
“Mesyé, I have never been more ready.”
Two years of silence from Ghede Ghadou Loa.
Two years — Abandonné -
ce n'est pas fini. Baron Kriminel est là
Ten thousand Vodunese in the Niri capital today
The Niri think they count us — but the Niri count wrong.
Our weapon turns ten thousand into TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND strong.
Fout Tonné! Kounyé! DIFÉ! DIFÉ!
Two hundred prisoners released.
“Attack!” I shout! — they charge, hungry for this.
The ground begins to tremble. Dust rises from the course.
Simon grips the weapon lever. I watch from my horse.
He pulls it down.
A click.
No fire. No force.
No scream of steel. No change in course.
The rope had snapped. The weapon froze dead.
The prisoners rushed closer. Simon’s face red.
He tears the shirt from his back. Ties the broken rope.
One breath in the silence. One last knot of hope.
The killers close in. The builders lose faith.
Simon pulls the lever down and shouts.
“DIFÉ!”
A whoosh splits the sky. One bolt flew.
It took a prisoner’s head clean — his body spinning through.
Two more spikes. A builder kicks the contraption.
The weapon moves. Left to right in action.
Prisoners turn to flee. No mercy in the sound.
The weapon keeps firing. Men fall to the ground.
Under sixty seconds. Two hundred men dead — tout mort.
The carpenter was right. Hope returns. Mon Dieu — we live once more.
Two years of silence from Ghede Ghadou Loa.
Two years — Abandonné -
ce n'est pas fini. Baron Kriminel est là -
Ten thousand Vodunese in the Niri capital today
The Niri think they count us — but the Niri count wrong.
Our weapon turns ten thousand into TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND strong -
Fout Tonné! Kounyé! DIFÉ! DIFÉ!
I ride to Simon. Head inside his hand.
Soft heart — mourning the prisoners who his weapon killed.
"Our scouts say two weeks. The Niri expect ten thousand -
We give them two hundred thousand. You hear me, mon ami?
Simon raises his face. The tears glisten on his cheek.
"Yes, Mesyé," he whispers. His voice could barely speak.
Two years of silence from Ghede Ghadou Loa.
Two years — Abandonné -
ce n'est pas fini. Baron Kriminel est là
Fout Tonné! Kounyé! DIFÉ! DIFÉ!
When we return home, all Vodun will call us heroes.
Simon — your role will not be forgotten.
"We will crush the rebellion together. -
Kounyé. Together.
Kounyé. Together.
Kounyé. Together.