Chapter 29: The Weight of Command (Part 2)

Later that afternoon, the dust in the courtyard had barely settled when Tate Shaningwa walked up to Amutenya. Trailing closely behind the big man was an old, heavily muscled refugee with deep burn scars on his forearms. The old man was carrying a young girl on his back. Her legs hung loosely at his sides, thin and unresponsive. 

"Amutenya," Shaningwa said gently. "This is Hedimbi. He sought me out after hearing your announcement at the omwandi tree. He has a request."

Hedimbi lowered the eight-year-old girl to a sitting position on a wooden stool. He looked at Amutenya, his weathered face filled with a mixture of pride and desperation. 

"My Lord," Hedimbi began, his voice rough like grinding stones. "We are from the Uukwanyama kingdom. A raid took my son and daughter. Leaving me behind to raise their only child. I heard you are building a school for everyone. I have nothing to offer but my skill, I have worked under a noble family before, I can guarantee my skills are good, but I beg you, let her learn. Do not let her sit in the dust for the rest of her life."

Amutenya looked at the little girl, who was staring bravely back at him. 'System,' he thought, 'scan the child's legs.'

A faint blue grid, visible only to Amutenya, swept over the girl. A moment later, the System's cold text appeared in his mind.

[SYSTEM SCANNING IN PROGRESS... SCAN COMPLETE]

[SEVERE CONGENITAL SPINAL NERVE DAMAGE. IRREVERSIBLE WITH CURRENT MEDICAL CAPABILITIES.]

Amutenya crouched down to be at eye level with the girl. He looked up at Hedimbi, his expression honest and gentle. "I am sorry, Elder Hedimbi. The healers will not be able to fix her legs. The knowledge to fix this type of damage is beyond their years ."

Hedimbi’s broad shoulders sagged, the heavy weight of grief pulling him down, he had hoped against hope that this young seer, will be able to heal his granddaughter.  Amutenya stood up and placed a hand on the old man's arm. 

"Her legs will not work, but she does not need to sit in the dust," Amutenya said firmly. "I will design a special chair with wheels. She will be able to push herself wherever she wants to go. And yes, she will have a guaranteed place in the school."

Hedimbi stared at him, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "Thank you. What is the price?"

Amutenya looked at Hedimbi’s hands. They were thick, calloused, and stained with the faint, permanent soot of a forge. This stains were what had caught his eye during the journey back to the village, had it not been for the lack of perfect timing, he would have approached him long ago to recruit him, who would've thought he would walk into his command on his own. "You are an ironsmith. A good one, by the look of your scars. I have the designs for new kinds of furnaces and a way to make charcoal from buried wood that burns hot enough to melt solid iron. I need a master smith to build these furnaces and teach our young men how to smelt. You do this, and you both will have a permanent home here."

Hedimbi did not hesitate. He bowed his head deeply. "My hammer is yours."

With his industrial foundation secured, Amutenya left Shaningwa to help Hedimbi settle in and walked toward the edge of the refugee camp. He had to recruit that guarded couple he had also taken a liking to during the journey. He noticed the couple almost immediately. They kept to themselves, avoiding the loud crowds, but it was their posture that caught his eye. They did not slouch like broken people; they carried themselves with the guarded, intelligent caution of people who had dealt with nobility. 

The woman sat quietly, a jagged scar running across her face, from the lower corner of her left eye, over her nose, before stoping near the upper corner on the right side of her lips. The husband, a scholarly looking man, stood nearby, his sharp eyes calculating everyone who walked past. 

Amutenya approached their small fire. The man immediately stepped slightly in front of the woman, his jaw tightening. 

"I am Amutenya," he introduced himself simply. 

"We know who you are," the man replied, his tone respectful but guarded. "I am Nande. This is my wife, Tuwilika."

Tuwilika lowered her head slightly, letting the shadows hide the scar on her face, but Amutenya did not stare at it. Instead, he looked at Nande. 

"I am looking for people who understand how big kingdoms work," Amutenya said, getting straight to the point. "My mother handles the internal money of this village. But soon, we will have massive crop yields and open trade with other villages. I need someone sharp to manage external trade incomes and grain storage. I think you have the head for it, Nande."

He then looked respectfully at Tuwilika. "And we are about to have hundreds of people working on building houses, clinics, and schools. We need someone who knows how to organize people, manage supplies, and keep logistics flowing without chaos."

Nande frowned, his sharp eyes narrowing with deep suspicion. "You do not know us. We are refugees. Why would a ruler hand over his trade and his workforce to strangers?"

"Because you have the eyes of a man who knows how to read a ledger, and the caution of a man who has seen a royal court," Amutenya answered honestly. "I do not need yes-men. I need people who can think."

Nande exchanged a long, quiet look with Tuwilika. They had been burned badly by power before. A snake had bitten them once, and now they were terrified of ropes. 

"This is a heavy thing you are asking," Nande said slowly, crossing his arms. "We are grateful for the food and the safety, Amutenya. But we cannot just pledge our minds to you today. We will think about it."

Amutenya smiled, entirely unfazed. A quick, yes, would have meant they were desperate or lying. "Take your time," he said, turning to walk back to the village center. "But do not think too long. I need as many hands on deck as soon as possible, before constructions begin."