KINGDOM DIVIDED
Segun Iwasanmi@iwasanmisegun212159
2 months ago
Written by :Segun Iwasanmi
Chapter 2: The Betrayal Within
The night was thick with silence, but silence had never meant peace. Not in Erelu. Not in a land where whispers carried daggers sharper than swords, and the weight of a fractured kingdom pressed upon the shoulders of its weary king.
King Olatunde sat alone in the palace courtyard, the night breeze carrying the distant scent of burning wood from the outskirts of the city. His mind raced. The attack at the eastern border had been repelled, but barely. It was as if the kingdom was fraying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread.
A house divided.
He let out a slow breath, his fingers tracing the golden crown on his head—the incomplete crown. The missing piece haunted him, just as the voice of his mother echoed in his heart. When was the last time you knelt, not as a king, but as a son?
Olatunde clenched his jaw. He was trying. He prayed. He ruled justly. Yet the heavens remained brass.
A sudden movement from the entrance caught his attention. A palace guard rushed in, breathless, his forehead slick with sweat.
“My King!” The man dropped to one knee. “A message… from the southern provinces.”
Olatunde’s stomach twisted. “Read it.”
The guard unrolled the parchment, but his voice trembled as he read aloud:
"To King Olatunde, ruler of a broken throne,
The time of your rule is over. The crown that rests upon your head is incomplete, and so is your authority. A true king does not rule with a fractured scepter. A true king is whole.*
The missing piece has been found.*
And I, Adedeji, your brother, hold it in my hands."
A sharp chill ran through Olatunde’s veins. Adedeji.
He snatched the parchment from the guard, rereading the words as if they might change. His younger brother. The same Adedeji who had once laughed with him in the palace gardens. The same brother who had stood beside him at their father’s burial, hands trembling but eyes filled with silent loyalty.
Now he called himself king.
The guard hesitated. “My King… there is more.”
Olatunde’s gaze snapped up.
Another guard entered, dragging behind him a limp body. Blood soaked the man’s tunic, his face barely recognizable.
Olatunde’s breath hitched. “Who is this?”
The second guard bowed his head. “One of our own. A palace servant. He and another went to the southern province on trade duty, but only he returned. He was sent back with a warning.”
Olatunde’s stomach twisted. “What warning?”
The first guard stepped forward, voice heavy. “That the kingdom of Erelu belongs to Adedeji now. And that you… should bow.”
---
A long silence settled over the courtyard, broken only by the distant croaking of frogs.
Olatunde’s grip tightened on the parchment. Rage and sorrow warred within him, but beneath it all, a whisper of something deeper.
A test.
He had prayed for an answer. He had asked God why the heavens were silent.
Now he had one.
Adedeji was the missing piece.
Not the crown. Not the stolen fragment. But his own brother—his own blood—who had been cast aside, overlooked, and left to believe that the only way to power was to take it by force.
Olatunde inhaled sharply, his heart pounding.
"A house divided against itself shall not stand" (Mark 3:25).
If the kingdom was to survive, if Erelu was to be restored, then this war was not just about a throne. It was about something far greater.
It was about redemption.
---
In the southern province, beneath the flickering glow of torchlight, Adedeji stood on the steps of his makeshift palace.
Chief Gbadamosi knelt before him, his wrinkled hands clutching the stolen fragment of the crown. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he placed it into the center of a newly forged crown—an imitation of the real one, but now whole in appearance.
Adedeji watched as the metal clicked into place.
"Now," Gbadamosi murmured, "you are truly king."
The younger prince swallowed, his throat dry.
He had dreamt of this moment. Of the day he would no longer be just the second son. No longer the shadow of Olatunde. No longer the forgotten prince.
And yet…
A cold feeling crawled up his spine as the weight of the full crown settled onto his head.
Was this truly what he wanted?
Had he not once loved his brother? Had he not once believed that Olatunde was chosen by God?
No. He shook the thoughts away. Olatunde had failed. The kingdom was crumbling. And if a kingdom must fall to be rebuilt, then so be it.
Gbadamosi’s voice cut through the silence.
“You have sent the message. Now, you must be ready for war.”
Adedeji exhaled. War.
There was no turning back now.
---
Olatunde knelt in the palace chapel, the candlelight flickering over his bowed head.
For the first time in years, he was not praying as a king.
Not as a ruler desperate for victory.
Not as a leader seeking strategy.
But as a son.
"Lord, I do not understand. But if You still speak, if You still guide… then guide me now."
A gentle breeze stirred through the open window, carrying the scent of the earth after rain.
And deep within his spirit, a whisper.
"Be still, and know that I am God." (Psalm 46:10)
A slow exhale escaped his lips.
The battle ahead would be fierce.
The kingdom was divided.
But the war was not just for a throne. It was for something greater.
And the war was not his alone to fight.
---
To be continued in the Chapter two...
MORAL REFLECTION
Sometimes, the greatest battles are not fought with swords, but within the heart. Betrayal, power, and loss can shake the strongest of men. But true kingship is not found in crowns or thrones—it is found in surrendering to God’s will.
Olatunde sought answers in strategy, but God was calling him to trust. Adedeji sought power, but what he truly longed for was purpose.
What are you seeking?
"A house divided against itself shall not stand." (Mark 3:25)
But a house built on faith?
That house can never fall.
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