Fallen Dynasty

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Ever since Muhammadu was twelve, he had a thing for green sloppy empty fields and he almost never speaks. Instead of running sheepishly around the palace with other kids, he chose to spend his time honing his military skills with the warriors of the Kano cavalry. Four years after he had successfully gained trust from the military and had mastered in his skills, he was bewitched by those that were hungry for the throne and young Muhammadu had to go through several medicaments before he was finally free from his illusion but later started hearing a female voice in his head. Follow and find out what happens when Muhammadu found the owner of the voice, an immigrant from a fallen dynasty.

Age Rating:

Chapter One

~•بسم الله الرحمن الرحيم•~

In The Name Of Allah, The Beneficent the most merciful.

~•The Silent Escritora•~




Staring at the scorching sun was Muhammadu, he had his left hand on his forehead, shielding his eyeballs as Maisara galloped closer to him on his brown stallion. He squint his narrow eyes at him then yelled at the guards that were standing before the two hundred feet tall gate, announcing the arrival of disguised Yarima Muhammadu.

The men clad in red and green invariant livery rushed to unlock the bronze locks for the horse riders and bowed slightly when they trot through the gate. “Allah ya taimake ka mai taimkon mutanen Allah, babban jeji ba'a ma katanga, Allah ya kiyaye ka!” they praised.

He heaved in a measured breath and adjusted his blue rawani, so it would cover his face properly. They stopped by the gates of the Queen’s estate and Maisara was the first to drop from the horse.

A dogari rushed to him and knelt down beside the horse, for Muhammadu to step down on him but he waited for seconds and didn't feel the prince's weight on his back. He shivered when Muhammadu's hoarse voice found its way to his ear drums.

“Tashi” the man did as he was told and bowed moving away “Allah ya taimake ka” he took gentle strides towards the large wooden portal with Maisara traipsing behind.

He spared not even a single glance at the thralls moving around the concourse with silver platters and paid little to no attention to their praises. He only nods when he has to as a way of answering their greetings, Maisara often wonders if his highness' jaws doesn't hurt from not being moved for a long time.

A young maid standing beside the door that leads to her chamber announced his arrival before pushing the door open for him slowly and gently. Maisara stopped and watched his back as he entered the room he yet, had no glimpse of.

Muhammadu let out a deep breath, then clenched and unclenched his fist before moving further to where his mother sat, majestically on a traditional davenport -a large upholstered cushion which she often converted into a bed for him when he was younger.

He sat on the carpet which was made of pure cow skin and took a few seconds before he says “Ranki..” he was cut off by her. “Welcome, my son” she beamed, watching him intently and obviously proud of herself for bearing the king's only son.

Her voice, which would bring every gent to his knees was having a smooth rich flow that sometimes made him quiver when ever she unravels a part of her that he never knew had existed.

He lowered his gaze and uttered “Thank you, Mother” she gently lifted a silver jug and poured the content in to a silver cup and pushed it towards him. “You must be tired from your journey”

He nodded but didn't make any move of taking the cup. Breathing heavily, he reached for the cup after she had stared at him intensely and he started to suspect the water in the cup.

To ease the tension, he gulped it down and muttered ‘Alhamdulillah’ before setting it aside. “I heard that the immigrants are held at the manor and a wealthy man amongst them wants to have a word with the royals.”

“What did you do then?”

“I waited until you return so he can speak with you, or do you want the king himself to go see him?” she raised her perfectly curved brows.

“He can come here instead...”

“The king is not feeling well and subjects would not be allowed to come into the palace till he feels better”

“So i have to go see..”

‘Wait! Don't go’

He shut his eyes and let out a breath, he couldn't complete his sentence as the quite melodic female voice rang in his head.

He had been hearing the same voice since the day he turned sixteen and he had wondered if it was part of the curse and black magic that he suffered from when he was younger, but it sounded innocent, he sighed slowly and completed his statement “...him at the manor?, Maisara can do that”

“What he has, is a very personal information about the king, you have to see him” she ordered in a low tone and leaned back on her seat.

Observing her son closely, he gave it much thoughts as she had guessed before he voiced “When?” and his brows twitched which meant he didn't like the whole idea of meeting a wealthy immigrant at the manor.

“Tomorrow” he heard her say, he processed the word before nodding again then mentioned he was retiring to his room. He walked out of the Queen's chamber and just as expected, Maisara was standing still by the door. Together, they moved out of the place and he slowed his pace, holding his hands behind his back.

“You heard about the immigrant?”

“Yes Ranka ya dade”

“Who is he?”

“He is a man from the city that waged war with Zazzau and Queen Amina came to be the fall of their dynasty, he came along with hundreds of slaves and treasures”

“Prepare the horse tomorrow, we'll be heading to the manor in the morning”

“Alright Ranka ya dade”

“I will be at the east garden, i need not any disturbance” he nodded at Maisara before striding away. With a sigh, Maisara stood by the gate that leads to where Yarima was going to, so he could resume his job.

He counted his steps inwardly and walked down the sloppy green field. He stopped and took a deep breath as the cool wind blew his rawani away from his face.

‘I don't know’

He heard the voice again and he slowly opened his eyes, wanting to hear the voice again. He moved his gaze up at the sky and his eyes settled on the dark clouds.

The low boom of thunder was followed by a flash of lightning, then a single rain drop fell on his face. Followed by another and soon it started raining lightly.


Salam Alaikum,

Yeah it's me again with another short story. I hope you guys would like this one, pardon my typos please and don't forget to vote and share💕.

Thank you,


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