As early as 8 a.m., Edward was up. He walked into the bathroom to have a bath, then returned to the room to start dressing. Today, he was leaving for his first adventure in searching for blackwood leaves. He saw it as an adventure, imagining the risks he was taking to find them.He wondered how he had woken up on his own without hearing a knock from a waiter. Hotels in Ashville would usually bring breakfast to the room at 7 a.m. sharp, and dinner every night, but it seemed things were different here. Maybe it was just a place to sleep over and nothing more.A few minutes later, he finished dressing, picked up the things he’d need, put them in his bag, and headed out.“Good morning, sir,” the female receptionist greeted him as he appeared.“Good morning. I’m heading out,” Edward said, handing her his key.“This early? What about breakfast?” she asked.“Well, no one served me breakfast,” he replied.“Oh, sorry, sir. I can go get it for you if you want. You just need to give me money and

They arrived at the prison yard some minutes later, and Edward was taken to a particular office in the prison center. In the office, the people who had brought him explained something to the officers in their language, which he couldn’t understand. Afterwards, he was stripped of his clothes and taken to a prison cell with just his boxers on.Edward was surprised at the way they handled him. They didn’t even hear his side of the story, let alone give him the chance to get a lawyer. In his prison cell, there were about a hundred people. Amongst them, Edward stood out. His skin color, hair, and everything about him was different. The prisoners stared at him like an outcast, communicating with each other and laughing. He knew they were gossiping about him. Some tried speaking to him, but he couldn’t grasp what they were saying since they spoke in their language.There was limited space in the prison. It was small and stank awfully. In the cell, they defecated and urinated on the bare floo

"But he said he broke into his uncle's house. So, who exactly were the people killed?" Edward asked."Well, he didn’t lie. The people killed were his uncle's son and his wife, who still lived with his father. It’s reported that he tried to escape after the shooting, but he was caught by a local vigilante on duty that night and handed over to the police.""So, does that mean there’s no way to help him out?""There’s a way. From what was stated here, he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger. And the person killed is also a wanted criminal. If we can locate the person who did it, we might be able to set him free.""And how can we find that person?""The vigilante knows who they are, and he’s hiding somewhere. If we offer him a reasonable amount, he might expose the real shooter, and your friend can go free.""And how much would that take?" Edward asked."Just 300 rands," the barrister replied."Done. Just make sure you get me out of here first, then we can deal with his case." After gat

"What do you mean? Are you serious?" Muktar said as he took the paper, his eyes fixed on it. He was surprised. That same surprise could be found on Edward's face too. They both quickly read the content on the paper and saw it was a fine of 5,000 rands for each of them. Amidst the shock, the prisoners also congratulated Muktar for his freedom. "Let's go discuss outside," Inspector Haske said, and they all walked out of the prison. They got to the police interrogation room, where they saw a man with dreaded hair seated, his hands cuffed. Upon seeing the guy, Muktar shouted at the top of his voice, "That's him! That's the guy who shot at the couples!" He said angrily. That moment, he felt like he should rush the guy and strangle him to death but he restrained himself. Edward and Muktar moved forward to the counter, where Edward paid a whopping sum of 10,000 rands for his and Muktar's bail. After that, they were given their belongings held by the police, and they finally left th

By 10 a.m., Edward and Muktar stood before the towering gates of the king’s palace. The walls, adorned with elaborate carvings of warriors and deities, loomed over them, a silent reminder of the kingdom’s rich but guarded history. As they stepped inside, Edward’s stomach twisted at the sight before him—rows of stern-faced elders seated in a semicircle, their flowing robes brushing the polished marble floor. He had expected an audience, but not like this. They had all gathered because of him.Before this moment, Edward had obeyed Muktar’s advice on getting gifts before appearing in front of the king and his cabinets. Though the King was a strict man of his words, gift was one way to come him.Edward advanced and knelt, presenting the traditional wine and kola nuts, along with foreign treasures—fine fabrics, fragrant spices, and trinkets gleaming under the palace torches. The elders exchanged glances, their hardened expressions softening. One by one, they accepted his offerings, fingers