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[u][b]September 13th: Gondar, Begmeder Province, Ethiopia [/b][/u]
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Ergete was no prisoner. He realized this immediately, and it derailed his entire concept of his place in the world. They put him in a room on the second floor of the Mesfin's Residence: a building more like a city hall, half of it dedicated to public functions and half dedicated to private. It was in the colonial style, built out of juniper wood and plaster and surrounded by a spacious two-story wooden veranda. 

He could walk onto the second floor deck and look out across the market. If he wanted to, he could jump. It wasn't that far down. But they'd told him not to and so he didn't. Not because he was a prisoner; he would have made the jump anyway in that case. Rather, they told him they had something for him. A gift. And he believed them. Or at least he was curious. Fate was always hiding out there somewhere for him, reaching out a hand. His gut told him this was such a hand. So he stayed, and stewed, waiting for his time.

Gondar had the appearance of a town out of the middle ages. It was nestled in the tropical green [i]ambas[/i] and mountains of Ethiopia's ancient heartland, dominated by its open air market smelling of spices, and by the stone castle complex that once was the home of the Emperors, so that it looked like a town in an equatorial fairy tale. He could see the castles from here, peeking from behind the trees, silent and timeless. They were in the Portuguese mode, designed for the Emperor by those people when they roved the coasts of Africa, in the days when they were trying to plant the Papal religion in these parts. It was brown stone, rounded crenelations, and the uniquely Iberian mix of Arabic and European tastes. Though the castles stood quiet, the roads bustled all around their grounds. 

How strange it was to be here now, like this. This town was his goal. The ancient homeland of the Amharics seemed the most fitting place to rebuild the country in the image of democracy. Addis Ababa was too new, a product of the Emperors alone, no national character. Gondar would be his capital.

But he'd meant to enter it on horseback, an army at his back. Instead... well, what was going on here? They fed him well. He ate meaty [i]wat[/i] and drank fresh juice every day, like he were living the life of a [i]Neftanya[/i]. He expected the [i]Mesfin[/i] to visit him, but the days went by, and nothing was heard. They gave him fresh water to wash with and a bible to read.

Was it a trick? What kind of trick? He didn't understand it. If they wanted to, they could have killed him at the plantation house. They could have thrown him in prison. They could have hung him in the market. But none of that. It was juice and [i]wat[/i]. Destiny was here. His gut told him so. But how would destiny appear?

On the tenth of September, somebody important arrived in town, followed by a column of armed retainers on horseback, looking like modern day knights returning to Camelot, but their lances traded for rifles and their armor for [i]shammas[/i]. They came to the Mesfin's residence, and he heard the bustle of their arrival, but that was all. He heard nothing of who they were, so his mind wandered. Could it be the [i]Mesfin[/i] returning from a patrol? The men he'd seen looked noble and war-like. Everything he'd heard about the [i]Mesfin[/i] of Begmeder suggested the man to be built like a priest; a bureaucrat, not a horseman. These men had experienced battle. He could see it in the way they carried themselves. A warrior was vigilant and knew it. That gave them a subtle pride, not like swaggering village boys come back from fucking the town witch, but like lions, aware that they may be attacked at any moment, confident they can handle whatever comes, and completely comfortable with their place in the world.

That night he worried about it in his sleep. Worry wasn't in his nature. He blamed the rich food, and promised himself to eat more sparingly, before crickets lullabied him to sleep.

On the eleventh of September, the attitude in the city changed. It happened in the afternoon as people left the market. There were whispers, and it made Gondar somber. Listening out at the people from the balcony, he could hear them talking about some disaster. That evening, a note was delivered along with his meal. There had been a battle near Harar. The Emperor's army was defeated. [i]Ras[/i] Hassan was overwhelming the east.

This set Ergete's mind to spinning. Who couldn't have predicted this? In the settlement after the Great War, the Somalis were given undue power. Half of the Ethiopian nation was ruled by them. It had been assumed by those in power, talked about like it were in the gospel, that the Somalis were given so much freedom they wouldn't want to be independent. Why face the modern world alone? The white race ruled the southern part of the African continent. Might they not look at an independent Somalia and become greedy?

But that assumed all Somalia would ever want is independence. Why have independence when you could rule it all? 

Of course, it would never work. Ethiopia had held off the Muslim invaders for one thousand years. This land was God's land, it could not be taken by force. But for Ergete, his faith in God still flickering in his heart like an unquenchable flame, there was an opportunity here. The Emperor was in the way of democracy. Now he was weakened.

Ergete's mind raced but he was still in a cage. He couldn't do anything from here. He needed to get out. But where did he go after this? Destiny hadn't pointed the way.

So that day passed him by. He felt stuck. 

The morning of the twelfth of September, he went out to look over the market, and the answer came to him. A girl no older than thirteen, wrapped in white, stopped in the street and looked up at him.

"Are you the [i]Fitawrari[/i]" she yelled. She had a pretty face and nervous eyes. 

"Yes" he said, giving her a winning smile. Should he be announcing himself like this? Of course. This was destiny.

All thoughts of fate and destiny fled his mind when she threw an egg at him. It struck him in the forehead. She must have ran away, but he didn't see, because of the yoke running down his eyes. Something else came out too, something solid. He felt it bounce off his nose. He didn't see it, but he knew it must be an unborn chick. Why the insult? Was she just a dumb kid? A child of a [i]Neftanya[/i]? Or did she know something...

He wiped the egg off with his [i]shamma[/i], and when he did this, he saw that what bounced off his nose hadn't been a bird fetus, but a piece of paper. He quickly picked it up and brought it inside.

"[i]Ras[/i] Wolde Petros Mikael is in Gondar. You will be sold to him if you do not escape. You have friends. Come to the coffee shop across from Giyorgis Church after dusk."

This didn't scare him. It excited him. This was the world he knew, the one he was supposed to inhabit. This was the hand of destiny he had waited for all this time

When his captors brought him food, he picked at the [i]wat[/i] with his fingers and saved the bread, but he drank the juice in one gulp. Was there anything in his room that could be useful? It was spare, but he had to take something. He decided to take the blanket from his bed, and an icon of Saint Frumentius. The portrait was small enough to hide, and he felt there was a story there, one that could be appreciated by future generations.

The sun began to go down, red light showing shadows on the roughly painted walls. When should he go? He was preparing himself mentally. It would be a dash in the dark, and a desperate one. He still hadn't completely recovered from his time under the church. But he knew he could make it because it was necessary for him to make it. 

It was time. He stood up and took a deep breath. Outside, he heard birds. The door was open for him to dash through.

But he didn't get the chance. The door to his room opened and two burly men with knives on their belts came in and took him. It was too late! He should have started earlier! He swallowed the note before they got to him. They didn't seem to notice. The paper tasted like raw egg.

They brought him through the thin halls. Wood floors creaked beneath his feet, and the plaster walls seemed to drink the light from the atmosphere so it felt like they were in a moderately lit cave.

Okay, so he hadn't been able to liberate Frumentius. But something was happening here he could escape from. Being sold to the [i]Mesfin[/i] of Wollo meant he was going to travel through regions loyal to him. A break out! Unless they tried to kill him here. 

He was brought into a dining room, a hefty wooden table in the middle. All the men were standing, and there were a lot of men, facing each other like brigades on the battlefield. The diminutive [i]Mesfin[/i] Issayas Seme was the only man sitting, looking like an over-blown bureaucrat, just like Ergete had heard. The Mesfin looked about forty. He was mostly bald, with thin framed glasses resting on his nose and a noticeable paunch, like he'd never done a real day's effort in his entire life. On the other side of the table was a number of men in white robes and [i]shammas[/i], shoulders stiff, knifes at their belts. The bearded man in the middle stood out in his embroidered cape with lions mane on the shoulders. That, Ergete knew, was [i]Ras[/i] Wolde Petros Mikael. 

"This is him?" Wolde Petros said, looking at Ergete like a lion looks at a dog.

"This is him." Issayas replied. The contrast between Wolde Petros powerful voice and Issayas thin one made the latter sound frightened, though his expression didn't show it. 

"He looks like a beggar. This man wants to be a Prime Minister?"

There was a silence. Ergete was considering his options. Wolde Petros seemed over-proud. That could be a weakness. He might make mistakes

"I'm ready to take you." Wolde Petros added, staring Ergete down. Ergete did not faulter, and so they stared. There was a strange pause in the action hanging over both parties. It was like the cogs of a machine that'd froze up.

"Not yet." Issayas replied quietly.

That was interesting. Ergete's mind shifted fully from the future to the moment. All eyes went to the bureaucrat.

"What are you playing at?" Wolde Petros looked down at the sitting [i]Mesfin[/i].

"Sit down." Issayas invited. Wolde Petros did. Issayas looked up at Ergete. "You too." he said. Ergete sat.

So they were there, looking like conspirators. Ergete saw a slight smile on Issayas' face. It looked like a release, a sign of relief.

"The Emperor is doomed." Issayas said simply.

That was very interesting. Ergete looked at Wolde Petros. The [i]Ras[/i]... what was that expression? Fear at first? It became rage.

"What?" was all he managed to say. His men tensed up. Issayas' men tensed up. All the men in the room save Ergete and Issayas were armed, most with knives, some with pistols on Issayas' side.

"I have a proposal." Issayas unfolded his hands and put one on the table. "One" a finger shot out, "You become the Emperor."

Ergete felt a feeling like pleasure, almost a minor orgasm in his mind. He was so close to this. A part of it. He loved it.

"Two." a second finger, "Ergete is allowed to form a constitution. He cannot do it alone but will bring together all officials who want to be part of this. Three." a third finger, "We negotiate with Hassan. Four" a fourth finger, "We do not commit violence against his Imperial Majesty unless he forces us to."

Nothing was said. The room was very tense. Ergete knew he was grinning ear to ear but he didn't try to control it. Wolde Petros looked stunned

Issayas continued talking. "It's inevitable. I do not believe this war ends with Sahle as Emperor. His government is corrupted, they don't have the ability to win this thing. You know this."

"I will not hear this." Wolde Petros stood up. He turned around. "He is my blood you know." he said, then he turned back to them. "You are under arrest. You and the [i]shifta[/i] both. I will have you packaged to Sahle like sheep!" His rage had seemed to happen as he spoke, like he had left the moment for a time, and was talking his way back into it. His hand was on the hilt of his knife when he was done. His men followed his lead, but they moved slowly, blocked by Issayas' men.

"I ask again. I invite you because an Emperor will give us legitimacy. I invite Ergete because, though he is a [i]shifta[/i] and a cattle thief, he has support with the people in the villages. The true power would be in the government..." Issayas said.

"You are under arrest..." Wolde Petros barked. His voice carried and ruled the room.

But Issayas was not cowed. He whistled shrill like a bird. Men came from every doorway, armed with swords and clubs and guns. Wolde Petros' party was surrounded. 

Wolde Petros tried to rush at Issayas, but he was clubbed on the shoulder by one man, and then on the head by another. He punched a man in the face and tumbled over him before he was subdued. His men, overwhelmed three to one, flinched for their knives, but they saw it was hopeless and moved no further. They'd been defeated. 

"I will not truss you up like a sheep." Issayas said. "You will be my guest. Your Emperor has done wrong to me, and to Ergete, and to every one of us. Take them away from us." The armed men did as told, and the room emptied with the stamp of feet on wood. Soon it was two guards, Issayas, and Ergete. The [i]Mesfin[/i] turned to him.

"I am on your side if you are on my side." he said.

"I am on the side of democracy. If you are with me on that, then we are allies."

The [i]Mesfin[/i] smiled. "The [i]Neftanya[/i] are still a problem. They will fight you."

"I am surprised you fight them." Ergete replied, "I thought they were your allies."

"They do not like the government because they want to be the government instead. That is your first lesson in real democracy I think. The wealthy landowners are always the enemy of the government, no matter if the government is the King or the people. The only government they will accept is the one where we are all their servants."

"You sound like Chairman Hou."

"No." Issayas took a deep breath, "I'm just a tired man. And I have decided to make myself more tired than before." He took his glasses off, and massaged the bridge of his nose. "I can trust you?" he asked. He picked up his pen and began to write.

"Trust me? What are you doing?" 

"Writing a plea to the [i]Tigray Mekonnen[/i]. Then I'll write one to the family of the stubborn [i]Ras[/i] is my guest bedroom. This is not a play. I don't want a war."

"You can trust me if you fight for what is right." Ergete said, his voice like a drum. 

"I don't mean can I trust you like that. I apologize." he looked up for a moment, studying Ergete's eyes. "I mean can I trust that you are capable of conducting a war should it come to this? I know you were defeated in the field, but I also know you have the trust and support of a lot of my people. Mary in heaven do I know this." 

"With the support of a province?" Ergete did not struggle to contain his excitement, "I can win the world."

"Well I don't need that." Issayas went back to writing, "I merely need a shield to negotiate behind. I will need to educate you, since you are now my partner..."

"Or do I need to educate you!" Ergete stood up, "I will win democracy for..."

"Sit down." Issayas didn't look up from his paper this time. Instead he merely waved a hand. "Your experiment in democracy is an idea that has met its time, I wager. I have no attachment to the feudal system. So you don't need to tell me every five minutes how much you like democracy."

Ergete sat down, feeling out of his element now. He might have been embarrassed if he knew how to be. Instead those emotions came to him as confusion. "Well, your wanting to make Ras Wolde Petros Emperor... you see why..."

"I will educate you." Issayas interrupted, "We should have an Emperor even if we have a constitution. It is the way of our country to have an Emperor, and we have too many self-indulged lords who would make themselves Emperor if the throne was empty. For democracy you need stability."

"America..." 

"They are [i]ferengi[/i] and we are not. We do not do as the [i]ferengi[/i] do. We are a different people."

Issayas letter was getting long. A part of Ergete was jealous of that letter. Such an important moment in history and he was just a body guard for these pieces of paper? "I am your shield then? This is not a revolution?"

"Call it what you want." Issayas said, "Words are the most important thing. The words I write, if they carry well, will save lives. You say revolution like the word is magical and changes what we do. People call this a civil war, and it creates a sense of fatality, and everybody thinks we are all natural enemies and we must chose a side because, well, we said civil war, that's how civil wars must work. What we have is a failure of words. This doesn't have to be a bloody revolution, does it? This doesn't really have to be a civil war." Issayas looked up, as if searching for his beloved words above the door frame. "What we have is a failure of the Imperial Government to function. That's all. No need for war. The Emperor's job is to keep his court in order so they can carry out their functions, but our Emperor is not capable of this job, so the thing has spun out. But there is no law of nature brought on by these words we use that means, just because Hassan wants to be a great man, he must fight our people to the death. There is no rule that says that, because Hamere noh Dagna wants respect, or Desta Getachew wants money, that they must take their corners and fight. And there is no rule saying that, because Ergete wants to be a beloved statesman, there must be a war in the north or bloody revolution. I want to sooth all the powers, and bring an end to the war."

"There is no rule that says, because Issayas Seme wants peace, it will be done so easily." Ergete replied.

"Fair." Issayas said. He was looking at Ergete now, and that made the shaken revolutionary feel more at ease somehow. Ergete was gaining his feet. "You name these names but I don't know why they matter. There are two simple conflicts. The people against the wrongs in their government, and the Muslim conqueror against the people of God."

"You didn't understand anything I said." Issayas said flatly. "I will expand it. Imagine the Emperor is the Sun. He is at the center of our government, and by the gravity of his office he keeps the orbits of the other great bodies in check. But our Emperor is no great sun, but a minor star, a dead star that hardly heats itself. So the greatest bodies of our Imperial solar system draw the lesser bodies nearer to them, so that the orbits of the entire system are in chaos. The greatest bodies in our solar system are Desta, Hamere, and of course, Hassan. They all have different places, different pulls. And since our Emperor won't regulate them, we must."

"I definitely didn't understand that." Ergete replied.

Issayas moved on. The tired bureaucrat took on a look like determination. "With the Emperor withdrawn from the throne, the important men are chasing their desires without governance. This has been true for a while. Hassan is the biggest threat. That man grew up during the greatest wars in Somali history. He lived in the shadow of the Mad Mullah, and he fought in the latter of those wars. There is nothing else in Somalia, and the Emperor has given him no meaningful task. So his ambition went back to the past, and attached itself to the wars of his grandfather and of the Mullah. Imagine if that ambition were turned to Empire-building? Now, Desta has filled the place Sahle left empty, being closer to the throne. And if Desta was a wise man who ruled for the sake of the Empire, he would have given Hassan more to do than manage a stationary army in the desert. But Desta wants to be rich. Not just rich, but American rich, in a land that does not have that kind of wealth wealth. And so he squeezes, and he ignores the needs of Ethiopia in favor of his specific goals. We know this here. Why do you think the [i]Neftanya[/i] are a problem in the north? Because they are the only source of wealth here. The government neglects its duties in the north and let the lords run rampant, so that the wealth of the state can be spent expanding transportation grids in places Desta needs them to be for his coffee. So he ignores Hamere..."

"Who I don't know." Ergete interrupted.

"I am not surprised. We are far from the sea." Issayas said, "Well, and he's lower profile. Do you know what the [i]Medri Bahri[/i] is?"

"The coast?"

"Not quite, but close. In olden times, before the [i]Zemene Mesafint[/i], the Emperors of Ethiopia typically ruled to the sea. But to get to the sea you must cross difficult land, and the Emperors always had their eyes to the south and the east, where the Muslims and Pagans ruled. So they appointed a man to rule the coastal march, and called him [i]Bahr Negus[/i] (King of the Sea). Now the world of the Emperors were fights against Adal, raids by the Oromo, the conquest of the Shankela. But the world of the Sea Kings were the Turks, and the Arabs, and trade along the Red Sea. So they became, in affect, two seperate realms. The realm of the ancient Sea Kings is what we call Eritrea today. The office was abolished when the Italians started their brief tenure, so the old Eritrean Sea Kings are long dead. But when Iyasu instituted his system of power-balance... which you understand?"

Ergete was interested. "Try me." he said, affecting nonchalance the best he could. 

"Iyasu saw the government as overextended after the Great War, so even as he modernized the government of old Ethiopia, he dealt with new territories through balancing two powers. Somalia was an unnatural bedfellow, so when it was brought in as Adal, and gifted with the Ogaden desert as part of that deal, Iyasu rebalanced the system by giving Mogadishu, Djibouti, Assab, and Massawa over to another high officer, and fittingly he revived the title Sea King. In theory, having another powerful vassal the likes of Adal was supposed to give the [i]mesfins[/i] of Adal pause. After all, they would naturally be in competition. Khalid al-Himyari did not value commercial Mogadishu over the hardened people of the Ogaden, but that was an oversight that would eventually be noticed, and Adal wouldn't be a friend to the Sea King. Plus, Iyasu had no interest in naval building and developing ports, so he he hefted that to a man powerful enough to manage those tasks properly."

"This is a foolish system." Ergete said.

"It was supposed to be temporary. Until the Ethiopian government was modernized and capable of properly digesting its new gains. It might have worked too, if Iyasu's heir had been competent."

"So this Hamere... is willing to sell out Christian civilization for? What?"

"He's negotiating. He believes he can find a place in Hassan's order if he has to, but what he really wants is..." Issayas smiled and looked down, "For me to write these letters, actually."

"What? Your letters?"

"He wants Sahle ousted. Well, fair enough. I don't respect Hamere's methods, but I agree with him about the Emperor. If Wolde Petros is out, we'll need a new one of course. The younger brother is the next best course, but I'm not sure he is any better..."

"I think I understand it." Ergete said. He was from the peasant class, and all his life the workings of the nobility had always been a contemptible mystery to him. But now he was seeing somewhat beyond those proletarian stereotypes. It looked like the revolution of people, for the people, by the people was not just a fire burning in the villages. It was ablaze all across the entire edifice of the old order. He always knew in his heart that his revolution was inevitable. Now he could see it with the same eyes as God.