The Wrath of the Unchained-Chapter 94 - A Lesson in Blood and Humility

The sun hung low over the port city of Assab, casting long golden rays over the docks that now bustled with life. Once a ghost town choked by foreign exploiters, Assab now pulsed with renewed purpose. Fishermen shouted cheerfully over the splash of nets hitting the ocean. Children played with sticks and laughter. Ships bearing the crest of Nuri glided into the harbor like proud birds coming home.

Princess Azenet moved through the market, the scent of spiced lentils and dried fish wafting around her as she listened to the people’s stories. A group of refugees sat near the shade of a torn sail converted into a makeshift tent.

"My son... they took him," a gaunt woman said, tears catching in the lines of her face. "But this prince... Khisa... he said he would find him. He gave me food and said I still mattered."

Another, an older man with missing teeth and cloudy eyes, nodded. "When no one would help us, he did. He doesn’t walk like a prince. He walks like a brother."

Azenet felt her throat tighten. Each voice echoed the same thing: hope. He gave us hope. He gave us purpose.

A former slave, now helping to mend fishing nets, looked up as Azenet passed. "Princess," he said, bowing awkwardly. "We would follow Khisa into the storm if he asked. He made us feel human again."

The admiration for Prince Khisa stretched across every stone of Assab.

But not all hearts rejoiced.

---

The training grounds rang with the clash of steel and the rhythmic chants of breathwork. Musimbi, Zuberi, Faizah, Jelani, and Nia led rows of women through formations—swords arcing in unison, dust kicking under disciplined feet. The women’s bodies were scarred, strong, and graceful. They moved like wind and thunder—lethal yet composed.

Then came him.

Prince Tadesse stood with arms crossed, a sneer carved into his face as he watched the training.

"What kind of man," he said loudly, voice laced with disgust, "lets his women wield weapons?"

The women paused. A silence rolled through the field like a cold gust.

Zuberi’s eyes narrowed. Jelani flexed her grip on her staff. But it was Musimbi who stepped forward, spine straight and voice calm.

"I assure you, Prince Tadesse, we have more than earned our right to fight. And we do not belong to Prince Khisa."

Tadesse scoffed. "What use is a woman other than to warm a man’s bed?"

A spark flickered in Faizah’s eyes. Nia muttered a curse under her breath, but Musimbi raised her hand to still them.

"Prince, I would much rather not say anything disrespectful," Musimbi said, jaw clenched. "Please excuse us. We will go train elsewhere."

As they turned, Tadesse grabbed Musimbi by the hair.

"You dare ignore me?" he snarled.

The training ground exploded with movement. Swords hissed from sheaths, bows were drawn taut. Faizah’s stance shifted instantly into combat mode, eyes locked on his throat. One wrong move and—

"Stop it, Tadesse!" a familiar voice rang out.

Princess Azenet stormed forward, a fire in her eyes rarely seen.

"You are embarrassing the royal family by behaving like a common thug."

"She dared talk back to me!" he shouted. "The Prince of Abyssinia!"

Azenet ignored him and turned to the women. "Ladies, I apologize for my brother’s conduct. Please, continue your training."

Then she yanked Tadesse away like a misbehaving child and marched him straight to where Prince Khisa sat with Commander Tesfaye, going over naval routes and supply chains.

"I apologize for the interruption," she said, her voice like ice. "But I would like your help in disciplining my brother."

Khisa stood slowly, brows creasing.

"What happened?"

"He thought it wise to harass your warriors. My father said to treat him as a common man. He’s here to learn how to lead. You are free to discipline him as you see fit. If he dies... well, then perhaps he was never meant to be emperor."

"You lie!" Tadesse shouted. "Father never said that! She just wants to rule! First chance I get, I’ll sell her off to the oldest bastard I can find!"

The silence that followed was heavy. Even Tesfaye looked ready to unsheathe his blade.

Khisa stepped forward, quiet and dangerous. "You are despicable. Worthless as a ruler. But don’t worry—once the war is over, you’ll be a changed man."

He smiled. It was not a kind smile. Tadesse shivered.

Khisa grabbed him by the collar and dragged him toward the training grounds.

---

"Faizah," Khisa called, tossing a sword at Tadesse’s feet, "this man needs a lesson."

Faizah stepped forward, eyes calm but sharp as obsidian. Sweat glistened on her dark skin. Her grip on the blade was solid.

Khisa continued, "Prince Tadesse, this is Faizah. She’s only trained for a few months, but she’s fought—she’s survived blood and fire. If you win, do as you please while here. If you lose... well, I hope you enjoy sword polishing."

The circle of women widened, forming a silent arena.

Tadesse picked up the sword arrogantly. "I’ve been trained by masters."

"But never tested," Faizah said, her voice low.

He lunged first, slashing wildly. Faizah parried, pivoted, and moved behind him like a shadow. Her blade kissed the fabric of his sleeve.

Tadesse growled and swung again, this time harder, angrier. Faizah ducked, landed a blow on his ribs, light but painful. He stumbled.

The women watched with quiet satisfaction. Nia whispered, "Make him bleed."

Tadesse snarled and rushed her, sword above his head. Faizah stepped sideways, slashed at his leg. He went down on one knee with a shout.

"You fight with pride, not skill," she said. "And pride makes you blind."

He screamed and charged again, but she sidestepped, spinning her blade and knocking his sword to the ground. Before he could recover, her blade rested gently at his throat.

"Yield."

His eyes bulged. He looked around—dozens of eyes on him. Humiliation burned hotter than the sun.

"I... I yield."

Faizah stepped back, breathing steady. "You fight like a child with a toy."

Khisa clapped once, slowly.

"Well," he said. "Polish duty starts at dawn."

The women cheered.

Tadesse picked up his sword, face flushed with shame.

Azenet stepped forward, locking eyes with her brother. "Next time you raise your hand to a woman, make sure you’re not still crying from your last defeat."

Khisa turned to Faizah. "Well done. You’ve earned your place."

She nodded, eyes unwavering.

And so, beneath the burning skies of Assab, a spoiled prince was humbled—and a warrior woman took one step closer to legend.