WIDA

Chapter 4: Learning to Lead

Morning broke with the sound of birdsong and the distant rush of the river. Wida rose early, her body sore from sleeping on the ground but her mind sharp with purpose. Her brothers were already awake, moving through the motions of setting up their new life—Abudem inspecting the nearby trees for suitable lumber, Imbo sketching out the first design of their village, and Obis drilling Lewa in basic swordsmanship.

Wida watched from a distance, feeling a mix of pride and uncertainty. Her brothers had always been men of action, each skilled in their own way. She, on the other hand, had never been trained for leadership. As the youngest daughter of the empire, her education had focused on diplomacy, etiquette, and charm—tools for a princess, not a ruler.

But this was no court, and there were no princes or kings to woo. The people they would gather here, if any came at all, would follow her because of her actions, not her titles.

Wida walked over to Imbo, who was hunched over a map, his brow furrowed in concentration. He looked up as she approached, raising an eyebrow.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

She knelt beside him, staring at the rough sketch of the land. "How do we get people to trust us? To follow us?"

Imbo leaned back; his expression thoughtful. "Trust comes from two things: strength and fairness. Show them you're capable of protecting them, and show them you're just. Do that, and people will follow."

Wida nodded slowly. She had always understood fairness—it was strength she had struggled with. Her brothers were strong in obvious ways: Obis with his sword, Imbo with his mind, Abudem with his hands. But her strength... it had always been quiet, hidden behind layers of expectation.

"I don't know how to lead," she admitted softly.

Imbo smiled. "You've been leading us since we left the palace."

"That's different. You're my brothers. You'd follow me no matter what."

"That may be true," Imbo said, "but you have more strength than you realize. You just need to stop doubting yourself."

Wida sighed, her gaze drifting to the horizon. She could see the river winding through the valley, the sunlight glinting off its surface. It was beautiful, this land they had found. But beauty wasn't enough to keep them safe. They would need allies, and she would need to prove herself worthy of being a leader.

"I'm going to the villages," she announced suddenly, standing up.

Imbo blinked, surprised. "What?"

"I'm going to the villages," Wida repeated, her voice stronger this time. "The ones at the edge of the Gadir and Mbari territories. If we're going to build a village here, we'll need people. And we can't just wait for them to come to us."

Imbo stood; his expression serious. "You know how dangerous that is. If they find out who you are—"

"They won't," she said firmly. "I won't go as the princess of Yisharan. I'll go as a woman looking for a new start, just like them."

Her brother hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Alright. But take Obis with you. You'll need protection."

Wida agreed, though she doubted she'd need it. She had spent years learning the art of diplomacy, of winning people over with words and actions. Now it was time to put those skills to use.

As she prepared to leave, Obis approached her, his sword strapped to his back and a wary look in his eyes. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure," Wida said, meeting his gaze. "We can't build a village with just the six of us. We need others to believe in this, to believe in us."

Obis grunted, though she could tell he wasn't happy about the plan. "Fine. But if things go south, we get out fast. No heroics."

Wida smiled. "No heroics. Just survival."

With that, they mounted their horses and rode toward the villages, the wind at their backs and the weight of their future on their shoulders.

Thank you for reading this draft

Updates every Friday and Monday