Across the rocky hills of the hinterlands, in a relatively small yet wealthy kingdom, the seven sovereigns of the region's states had gathered for an emergency deliberation. The conference had been precipitated by dire news—a revelation that sent shockwaves through the delicate balance of power. The revered Okoye clan, long the guardian and father figure of the hinterlands, had been destroyed. In a realm where the presence of a supreme power maintained peace of mind and the livelihoods of nations, this loss had precipitated a crisis. A supreme, whose authority stretched far beyond its native borders, bound the independent states together. Yet only seven juridical sovereign powers had ever been granted this title, meeting exacting economic, political, religious, and—most crucially—military conditions.
In the grand conference hall of Umuofia, six kings and one queen—each representing a different kingdom—assembled around a vast, ornate table. The atmosphere was charged with urgency and dread, as each sovereign understood that the fate of their states now hung in a delicate balance. Eze Amadi of Umuofia, his tone both somber and resolute, began the proceedings.
"Friends and allies," he said gravely, "we gather today in the face of unprecedented adversity. The obliteration of the Okoyes has not only shattered our cultural and spiritual foundations—it has left us exposed. With their fall, our natural bulwark against external threats has crumbled, and among those threats looms the ambition of the Idemili Kingdom. Their recent military advances are alarming; we must prepare to hold them at bay before they can exploit our vulnerability."
Eze Orji of the Mbanaso Kingdom inclined his head in agreement. "Indeed, Eze Amadi. The Okoyes were our shield against the aggressors. Without that safeguard, our borders tremble. A unitary government would not only unify our resources against common foes but also fortify our military capability. Let us pray that Chi-Oke, the God who apportions abundance, grants us mercy and fortitude in these perilous times."
Yet amidst the clamor for unity, Lolo Ojiugo of Abagana Kingdom voiced concern. "But what of our sovereignty?" she countered. "We have ruled our kingdoms with pride for generations. How do we trust each other to share power and decision-making without sowing the seeds of future discord?"
Eze Echezuna of Abatete Kingdom responded with pragmatic urgency. "Sovereignty itself is what we risk losing. Our kingdoms are under threat—one by one, they stand vulnerable. Only by uniting our strengths can we pool resources, share crucial intelligence, and mount a coordinated defense against not only the looming menace of Idemili but all who would seek to take advantage of our division."
Eze Nwoye of Umunachi Kingdom, his voice laced with grim determination, added, "The recent border incursions have shown that isolation is our enemy. A united coalition would allow us to launch synchronized countermeasures. We cannot allow the Idemili forces to gain a foothold among us. Their relentless pursuit of expansion would spell our collective doom if we remain divided."
Eze Okoro of Abiriba Kingdom interjected with measured skepticism, "But then, how do we structure this unitary government? Will each kingdom have an equal say, or will representation be based on population and strength?"
Eze Amadi answered thoughtfully, "These are pressing questions, Eze Okoro. Perhaps we form a council of representatives where each kingdom's voice is proportionate to its resources and population, ensuring that every state—big or small—has a stake in our survival."
The debate then turned to leadership. Eze Orji questioned who would lead this nascent coalition, prompting Eze Unoka of Ekwulobia Kingdom to propose a rotational leadership. "Let each kingdom take its turn at the helm, ensuring no single state dominates. This rotation will prevent tyranny and maintain trust among us."
Eze Nwoye summed up the emerging consensus, "We have a strong foundation here. Let us draft a comprehensive proposal detailing the structure, leadership, and responsibilities of our unitary government. Once complete, we can present it to our people for swift approval and immediate action—because time is our enemy, especially with Idemili advances on our borders."
Eze Echezuna's voice carried the weight of history as he affirmed, "We owe it to ourselves, our people, and the memory of the Okoyes to secure our future. United, we can ensure our kingdoms not only survive but prosper amid these dark times."
Eze Okoro cautioned, "Let us proceed with caution and wisdom. The fate of our kingdoms depends on the decisions we make today."
Eze Amadi concluded the meeting with unwavering resolve, "Then let us begin. With unity and determination, we shall forge a coalition—one that will protect, defend, and ultimately define our destiny for generations to come."
Before the meeting could disperse, Lolo Ojiugo rose once more with a fervent invocation: "Chukwu, I no nura—God, are You asleep? When the pride of our land, the Okoyes, were felled like mighty oaks, we needed Your strength. Ome Mgbeogharike, in times of dire hardship, we need You even more now."
Eze Orji, his voice steady, added, "Fear not, Lolo. Unity is our strength. I propose that, in honor of the Okoyes and their symbol of might—the Elephant—we name our coalition 'Enyi.' As the elephant leads, so too shall we follow. Enyi na ga, anyi so gi nazu
The assembly murmured their assent, and as the kings and queen set about planning the foundations of their new coalition, they also bolstered their defenses. Detailed preparations ensued: fortified outposts, increased patrols along vulnerable borders, and alliances with strategic military commanders were swiftly organized to hold off the advancing forces of Idemili.
Meanwhile, far to the north, the nature of the Republic of Gusau unfolded in stark contrast to the kingdoms of the hinterlands. Ruled not by monarchs but by devout religious priests and priestesses chosen from noble families, Gusau was an oasis amid the desolate sandy plains—a nation-state of unwavering faith and monotheistic purity. Here, devotion permeated every facet of life, and the pulse of religion was as constant as the shifting desert sands.
In Gusau, a divine revelation arrived without preamble. The sacred message was simple yet ominous: "Beware, be ready, for the deluge amid swords and iron is approaching." Its words reverberated through the corridors of the Great Temple, leaving the high priestess both puzzled and deeply troubled. Summoning all of the religious ministers of Kokomo—the embodiment of mystery and hope for the enlightened—she prepared to venture into the realm of the divine. Determined to unravel the cryptic warning, she resolved to enter the sacred domain of the gods themselves, seeking answers to how the mortal realm might soon be engulfed by chaos.
Thus, from the majestic halls of Umuofia to the austere, devout enclaves of Gusau, the air crackled with foreboding. As preparations were made to hold off the threat of Idemili, the entire continent trembled under the weight of an approaching deluge—a tempest of swords, iron, and divine retribution that promised to reshape the very balanced of their world.