Reincarnated with a Country Creation System

The heavy doors of the war room creaked open, and a young officer rushed in, his face pale. The man\'s appearance immediately sent a wave of dread through the king. Without saying a word, Mwanga knew it was bad news.

"Your Majesty," the officer stammered, kneeling before him. "There\'s… been an ambush. Minister Juba\'s convoy was attacked on the road to Votswana. They were overwhelmed by Matalebe fighters. The majority of the convoy is either dead or unaccounted for."

Mwanga\'s jaw clenched, the words hitting him like a physical blow. He stood up from his seat, his hands gripping the edges of the table. "Juba… is he alive?"

The officer hesitated, his eyes flicking downward. "We have no confirmation of his status, Your Majesty. Our men who survived are few, and the reports we\'ve received are unclear. The Matalebe ambushed them in force—there was little chance to regroup. We believe he may have been injured in the attack."

The king\'s heart sank. Juba was not only one of his best diplomats but also the one person he trusted to secure Triesenberg\'s help. Now, with his fate unknown and the mission a failure, Zambesi was left dangling by a thread.

Mwanga turned away from the officer, walking over to the window that overlooked the capital. Outside, the city was still, but not peaceful. It was the stillness of a country waiting for the inevitable. The darkness caused by the frequent blackouts had become a constant reminder of Valoria\'s betrayal, and the worsening situation had driven the people to the edge.

"Leave me," Mwanga commanded, his voice low but firm. The officer quickly rose and bowed before exiting the room.

Once alone, Mwanga slammed his fist against the window ledge, anger rising within him. "Damn them all," he muttered. First, Valoria had abandoned Zambesi at their most critical time, and now his best envoy was possibly lost to an ambush. It felt as though the walls were closing in on him, and there was no escape.

Moments later, Tembo entered the room, his expression somber but focused. He had heard the news before approaching the king and knew what this meant. "Your Majesty," Tembo began, carefully choosing his words, "the loss of Minister Juba is a serious blow, but we cannot stop here. If we do nothing, the Matalebe will only grow stronger, and Zambesi will continue to unravel."

Mwanga nodded, though the bitterness in his chest refused to subside. "I know, Tembo. But we\'ve already lost one of our best. I sent Juba because I believed he was the only one who could handle the task. Now he\'s likely dead, and Triesenberg still knows nothing of our desperation."

Tembo stepped closer to the king, his voice steady and calm. "If I may, Your Majesty, there are other ways we can reach out to Triesenberg. We cannot afford to wait. The Matalebe are taking advantage of every delay, and without external help, our forces will continue to fall."

Mwanga turned to face him, eyes narrowing. "What other ways? Our communications are compromised, and the Matalebe have grown bold enough to attack our convoys. Every time we try to move, they are waiting."

Tembo didn\'t flinch under the king\'s frustration. "Your Majesty, we could send a smaller, more discreet delegation. A team that moves stealthily, avoiding the roads where the Matalebe are most active. We know that they target large, official convoys, but a smaller group could pass undetected."

Mwanga considered the suggestion, pacing the length of the room. "And who would lead such a group? We can\'t afford to send another diplomat—if they\'re captured or killed, it would be even worse than the first failure. We\'d be inviting Triesenberg to see us as weak, unable to even deliver a message."

"There are others who can deliver the message, Your Majesty," Tembo said. "Not diplomats, but soldiers, trained to move through hostile territory. I could lead such a group myself. We would travel with only a few, blending in with the local population. No large vehicles, no banners—nothing to draw attention."

Mwanga\'s brow furrowed as he thought through the plan. Tembo was not only a trusted advisor but also a man with military experience. If anyone could navigate the dangers of the Matalebe-controlled areas, it was him. Still, the risk was enormous. If Tembo failed, Zambesi would be out of options.

"I don\'t like the idea of losing you as well, Tembo," the king said, his voice heavy. "But you\'re right. If we don\'t act now, we might never get the chance. The Matalebe are closing in, and without Triesenberg\'s aid, we will be overrun."

Tembo nodded. "I\'ll take a team of five. No more. We\'ll travel light and keep off the main roads. We\'ll head toward Gaborone through a more remote route, one that\'s less likely to be monitored."

Mwanga stood still, weighing the decision in his mind. Every choice seemed fraught with peril, but doing nothing was not an option. The Matalebe were already at their doorstep, and without outside help, Zambesi would crumble from within.

"Fine," Mwanga said, finally turning to Tembo with resolve in his eyes. "But you must leave immediately. If Juba is still alive, I want you to find him and bring him back. But your main priority is reaching Gaborone. Triesenberg must hear our plea."

Tembo bowed his head. "I understand, Your Majesty. We will not fail."

"I hope not," Mwanga said, his tone dark. "Because if you do, there may be nothing left to return to."

As Tembo left to make the preparations, Mwanga sank back into his chair, exhaustion washing over him. The weight of the kingdom was heavier than ever, and the uncertainty of the future pressed down on him like a vice. He had led his people through difficult times before, but never had the situation seemed so dire, so hopeless.

***

A day later.

Tembo stood at the gates of the palace, ready to depart with his small team. The group of five was chosen carefully—each one trusted, each one experienced. The mission was critical, and every step would be dangerous. The Matalebe threat loomed large, and the roads were anything but safe.

"Be cautious," King Mwanga said. "The fate of Zambesi rests on your success, Tembo."

Tembo nodded firmly. "I understand, Your Majesty. We\'ll move quietly, avoiding the usual routes. We won\'t draw any attention." Continue your adventure at mvl

The king gave him a long, hard look. "If you fail, there may not be another chance. Triesenberg must know what we face. We need their support, or everything we\'ve built will fall apart."

"I know," Tembo replied, his expression serious. "I won\'t let that happen."

King Mwanga took a breath and nodded. He didn\'t say anything more, and Tembo took that as his signal to leave. He mounted his horse, looking over his small group—four others who would accompany him on the journey. They knew what was at stake, and they were prepared for whatever lay ahead.

The palace gates opened, and Tembo led the way out. The streets of Maputo were quiet, the usual bustle absent in the early morning. As they moved through the city, Tembo noticed the signs of strain—the blackouts had left entire neighborhoods without power for days, and the shortages of water and supplies had only worsened.

People huddled in small groups, eyes watching the convoy with a mix of hope and despair. They knew something was wrong, and they hoped someone could fix it.

But Tembo knew that hope was thin. Without help from Triesenberg, Zambesi wouldn\'t survive much longer.

As they passed the last houses on the edge of the city, the roads turned rougher, the landscape more barren. The team moved at a steady pace, avoiding the main roads where the Matalebe were likely to attack. They couldn\'t risk being seen by any hostile forces.

Hours passed in silence, the only sounds coming from the horses\' hooves on the dirt road. The men stayed alert, scanning the horizon for any sign of movement. The Matalebe could be anywhere, and a single misstep could mean disaster.

Tembo tightened his grip on the reins, his mind focused on the mission. Reaching Gaborone and securing aid from Triesenberg was the only thing that mattered now. If they failed, Zambesi\'s days were numbered.

The sun was starting to set, casting long shadows across the dry landscape, when Tembo finally signaled for them to stop. They had made good progress, but the journey was far from over. They would rest for a short while, then continue under the cover of darkness. Traveling by night would make it harder for the Matalebe to spot them.

As the group set up a small camp, Tembo sat alone for a moment, staring out at the empty road ahead. He knew the dangers that lay ahead, but he also knew there was no turning back. They had to reach Triesenberg, no matter the cost.

Tomorrow, they would cross into Votswana. And from there, they would push on to Gaborone. There was no room for failure.