The capital had never been so silent.
From the palace balcony, Lord Mvemba looked down upon the sea of faces that filled the courtyard and spilled into the streets beyond. The people of Kongo — merchants, guards, healers, children perched on their fathers' shoulders — all waited with bated breath.
The banners of the kingdom hung limp in the early wind, the sky pale and washed clean by the dawn.
Behind Mvemba stood the ministers, their faces tight with anxiety. To one side, Father Nzuzi held a small scroll containing the accusations. But it was Mvemba who would speak — his voice would carry the truth into history.
He stepped forward.
"My brothers and sisters of Kongo," he began, his voice deep and steady, carrying over the crowd. "You have come seeking answers — for your king, for your homes, for your future. You will have them now."
A murmur rippled through the people.
