The moon shone brightly over the peaceful, primitive settlement of Berryshire, a small gerontocratic-styled county that had been the habitation of the Iguru tribe since the beginning of time and knowledge.

Dr. Jonah Azura stepped out of his car, a Toyota Camry 2020 model; the car was over 60 years old and stuck out like a sore thumb in the parking lot because innovation and technology had advanced so quickly in Namiba in the past couple of decades, and had introduced much more sophisticated brand of cars that it made Dr. Jonah’s car seemed like an antique automobile.

As the sun hit the horizon, indicating dawn was near, a cock crowed, or it would have if there were any. In late 1900, there lived a tribe in the North of a country that would soon be called Namiba, known home and beyond for their agriculture and their legendary strength in a war.

Sheyne Job, a twenty-year-old college student, yawned loudly as he stirred in his sleep. The sun spanned its rays in his small college room which he shared with his roommate, Darren King. He sighed deeply and ran his hands through his rued brown hair, drew the covers o his body, and stood up

“Chukwe, are you sure about this? You would not just be going up against him; you would be going up against his entire tribe...those people.”

The Jobba extended his staff, and the visitor took his seat. The visitor was one of Jobba's cabinet members; they were childhood friends, and often they would hang out and discuss, reminisce, and share light refreshments.

A groan emanated from Jonah as he threw his arm over his eyes, shielding them from the blinding sunlight streaming into the room. He pushed himself to a seating position on the mattress, the special one that his children had insisted on getting him and Julia because they were growing older and needed it. In any other case, he might have insisted that it was not necessary except his back did ache, and his bones chose odd times to get sore without warning.

Thirty years prior, the trajectory of Namiba changed forever. The war had ripped open the foundation that built the nation, exposing the hollow darkness that lay within. Each house had pitted itself against the other, ready to fight to become the ruling head of the land.

For as far back as Jonah could recall, stories had always held a special place in his life. As a little boy, the thrill and excitement of being cradled by his mother while she told him a story, her voice low as if she were sharing a closely guarded secret, never left him. He could never forget her tales about his lineage and the victories of his forefathers.

Jonah remembered the day his father died. He hadn't been present for it; the news was passed onto him by his mother's loud wail, piercing deep into his heart as he listened to her over the telephone. His blood had run cold, his lips quivering as his mother sobbed into the phone almost hysterically. They remained like that for at least fifteen minutes until he heard his mother whisper before she hung up.

The new dynasty of Iguru was no longer a rumour; it had been confirmed, and whether at home in Namiba or abroad, Namibans were abuzz with the news. Although the university where Jonah resided and worked was located in a neutral zone originally, it had belonged to the Yaggers, but they had relinquished claim on it a very long time ago, for only God knows what in return.

Suspicion and confusion had not been emotions that Lord Chukwe had expected to feel on his first meeting with his father-in-law, but he felt those, and he did not understand why. Two days ago, Leila, his beloved wife, had made a request of him over dinner. His two children, Philip and Dina, had been present as well.