Oh my. Those byzantines are frightening. Roman adventures in Sub-Saharan Africa is a scary idea! Hope your warriors are ready...
A Most Forgiving Land: A Nigerian Coast AAR
- Thread starter Cora Giantkiller
- Start date
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
I have to admit, as much as you undersell these monographs they do sound fascinating.
Really great rule, lots of fun indeed. As you say, just the right amount of competence and personal drama. Not too much tipped either way. (Don't know whether this is a CK3 thing and it's less common to have squeaky clean philosopher warrior emperors than in CK2, but it's a nice human touch all the same.)
Byzantium is not looking very appealing. Let's hope they don't suddenly develop an urge to go exploring in the Sahel…
On a sad note, I noticed late last night that the AI had borked my succession pretty thoroughly. My heir was out of my realm because I wanted to grab a pretty major claim, and as a result, my granddaughters were all given patrilineal marriages. (This is a known issue with enatic/absolute cognatic runs and I find it pretty frustrating; I like this style of play and if Paradox is going to include it, they should support it better.) I discovered this well after it happened, and that combined with some extenuating circumstances that I don't want to spoil made it pretty much impossible to recover, so far as I could see.
I know other story-focused AAR writers will switch dynasties if it serves the story. I like that method a lot, and I might do that in other circumstances. Here I'm going to end the story with the last Nri ruler, because that fits the story that I've been telling. There should be four more entries, taking us into the 13th century, and I think I know how to resolve things.
I appreciate the comments and the likes and the support, and I can't wait for you all to read the rest of the story. Thanks.
I know other story-focused AAR writers will switch dynasties if it serves the story. I like that method a lot, and I might do that in other circumstances. Here I'm going to end the story with the last Nri ruler, because that fits the story that I've been telling. There should be four more entries, taking us into the 13th century, and I think I know how to resolve things.
I appreciate the comments and the likes and the support, and I can't wait for you all to read the rest of the story. Thanks.
- 1
Not the ending I’m sure you would’ve hoped for, but looking forward to the last few chapters all the same.
Always tell the story you wish to tell, if it ends early that's better than dragging it out just for the sake of it. If you're happy with the ending I'm sure it will be a great one!
So I’ve been advised that I need to check out this AAR, and I must say it looks good.
Sub-Saharan AARs of this quality are pretty rare.
I’ll have to do my best to catch up.
Sub-Saharan AARs of this quality are pretty rare.
I’ll have to do my best to catch up.
Sorry to hear of that happening @Cora Giantkiller - there are several not thought through ways to how things work right now in CK3 alas.
Will look forward to the close.
Will look forward to the close.
When Ọlọrun And His Òrìṣàs Slept, Part 1
When Ọlọrun And His Òrìṣàs Slept, Part 1
Alafin Agu of Guinea
Born: 1087
Reigned: 1097 - 1098
Luwoo Nri was born to minor nobility in Oyo. His father could trace his lineage back to Oba Nri-Alike, via the oba’s younger daughter Nwabugwu, but two hundred years later there was a vast difference between the Nris of Oyo and the Nris of Igbo-Ukwu. He learned from his father that there was his family and there was the family, and one must always serve the family.
To serve the family, Luwoo was sent to Igbo-Ukwo as an apprentice for Guinea’s notorious spymaster, Awo Nńche. There he must have attracted Funanya’s attention somehow, because the next record we have is him being betrothed to the young Ekwefi. As Ekwefi’s betrothed and later her husband, his amiable disposition complemented her fiery nature. He was supportive and kind, in many ways her biggest fan. And when Ekwefi was killed in a duel, nobody was more devastated than her husband.
With Ekwefi dead, Luwoo was suddenly father to the heir to the mighty Guinea empire. He had known that this was a possibility, of course, but he hardly imagined that it would happen so soon, that his bright, self-possessed, considerate five year old boy would be the heir for an elderly empress. The notion was in all honesty terrifying. Luwoo wanted nothing more than to protect Agu from the pressures of the world and the attention of dangerous people. He wanted Agu to have the quiet life that he had once expected for himself. Instead, Agu would be expected to meet the most dangerous men and women in the world and prove himself their master. Luwoo kept his fears to himself. He saw no reason to scare the boy with such talk.
As old Alafin Funanya began to fail, Luwoo’s fear only grew. Agu would make a good alafin, in time, but right now he was just so young…
Modern history divides the early empire of Guinea into two broad regions: a ‘Nigerian’ core, referring to the traditional lands of the Igbo, Yoruba, Edo, and Hausa, and the culture and religion there of; and an ‘Atlantic’ frontier, referring to the traditional Akon-worshipping territories of the west that were held more loosely by the Nri alafins. While the Nigerian lands were becoming rapidly developed and urbanizations in this period, the Atlantic provinces were still poor. The Orisan faith was not widely practiced. Many ajapadas and obas of the west considered themselves to be far from the center, but some few had been vassalized by force during Funanya’s western expansion a decade before. The region was a powder keg, ready for a match.
Enter Obiageli Nri, the nana of the Atlantic coastal province of Gola near the northern border. Obiageli’s mother had been granted lands in the newly acquired western coast, but over time that honor came to feel like exile. Obiageli inherited her mother’s sense of grievance, but she also had an easy charm and raw cunning that her mother had lacked. She could speak to the western nobles in terms they understood, and harness their resentments into something greater than themselves.
She would meet every complaint with another, every rumor with a more outrageous rumor. When the nobles were boiling with fury, she’d hold up a hand and say, we could do this differently. The people of the west could take this empire for ourselves, as the Igbo took it from the Soninke sixty years ago. Soon the alafin will die, and a boy will be sitting on the throne. When that day comes, we can make our move.
******
1097. Agu, Alafin of all Guinea, accepted the crown from High Shaman Nwokike. He stood proud, and said the ritual words with a bright, clear voice. Luwoo’s heart swelled. For the first time in a long time, he felt hope.
Obiageli never wanted to hurt the boy. When she met with her supporters, the young woman was adamant that Agu wasn’t the enemy. The westerners had the obas of Akon and Adiru with them, and a dozen other nobles including the boy’s own uncle Nwora. They had three times the men that the alafin could command. Obiageli would make Agu see reason, and handle things peacefully.
The confrontation quickly got out of hand, however. Nwora was nervously fingering his sword, which made Agu’s father pull his sword. Before Obiageli knew what was happening, there was a royal guard lying dead on the floor and Agu was pleading for everybody to just stop. They all might have killed each other, rebel and royalist alike, if Agu had not stood up and offered his abdication, right there.
The whole business left a bad taste in Obiageli’s mouth. It was messier than she wanted it to be. Perhaps that’s why she left the boy in charge of his Igboland holdings. Somebody else might have been more ruthless, but she didn’t have it in her. Still, she was now Alafin Obiageli, crowned in a hasty ceremony before marching back to Gola on the Atlantic Coast. There was satisfaction in claiming the throne for the westerners, and she regarded with great pleasure the notion of building a grand palace overlooking the bay and a powerful retinue of Gola and Kru warriors.
Once back at Gola, however, she found herself pressed by challengers at all sides. She might dream of a mighty retinue, but at the moment, the imperial throne was weak, disconnected from the wealthy Nigerian holdings and the traditional palace guard. Suddenly the eastern lords were getting rebellious, led by the recently conquered Oba of Kanem and some of the Hausa ajapadas. Meanwhile, the Bidaic lords at Guinea’s northern border began to raid, preparing for a larger incursion.
With her position deteriorating almost immediately, Alafin Obiageli regretted her decision to leave Igboland alone. Agu had the most experienced warriors in the empire, and he kept them at home while he sulked. Obiageli sent Nwora Nri to rally the other Igbo lords to divest the boy of his holdings, hoping against hope to force another nearly bloodless coup. But it all went wrong when the boy fought back. Thanks to this intervention, Obiageli had the Niger river delta aflame with civil war while she was fighting a rebellion in the far east and border incursions in the west.
It had all been so clear in her head. How had it gone so wrong?
Luwoo would never forget the day that the traitor Nwora Nri stormed the imperial palace. The rebels were plainly incensed at the notion that Agu had fought back. They took this fury out on the palace retainers, slaughtering guards, yes, but also servants and old men and children too young to understand what was happening. Obiageli had thought to say that Agu should be kept safe, but had said nothing about the commonfolk and Nwora was taking full advantage.
When the rebels came to lead Agu away as hostage, the boy stood with his shoulders straight and addressed his enemies with a soft but confident voice. Nwora, his sword stained with the blood of better men, announced if Agu was reasonable then nobody else need to get hurt. The gall of that man made Luwoo want to choke. With his son in chains, however, he could do nothing but hate.
******
Alafin Obiageli got the report back: Nwora had gotten the boy to renounce his throne to Igbo-Benue and his claim on the palace guard, but in the process had made so many enemies that it was scarcely worth it. Worse, everybody knew that he was acting on her orders, so his crimes were hers. She could hardly renounce him without appearing weak and confused, so instead she congratulated him for a job well done. It seemed better than admitting that she could not control him.
Agu was hardly going to take this latest assault lying down, however. What might he do when he came of age, with an unimpeachable claim on the throne? What might the Nigerian nobles do? The alafin began to fret about worst case scenarios, and had her spymaster chasing all sorts of conspiracies. Nwora was often by her side that Agu had to die, either out of bloodlust or the simple sense that his own head would be first on the chopping block. Obiageli resisted, unwilling to accept that she had become a murderer of children.
Early in 1101, however, the Guinean spymaster came back with a report. Agu was seeking to take a Malinese bride, and dropping hints about making a claim for the throne again. The young man was 14 now, and soon he would be able to launch a war for the throne with the swords of Mali at his back. Thanks to Nwora’s excesses, he would have no reason to show mercy to her or her supporters.
At the council meeting, Alafin Obiageli made eye contact with Nwora. Nwora nodded, and left the room. That was all it took.
Alafin Agu of Guinea
Born: 1087
Reigned: 1097 - 1098
Luwoo Nri was born to minor nobility in Oyo. His father could trace his lineage back to Oba Nri-Alike, via the oba’s younger daughter Nwabugwu, but two hundred years later there was a vast difference between the Nris of Oyo and the Nris of Igbo-Ukwu. He learned from his father that there was his family and there was the family, and one must always serve the family.
To serve the family, Luwoo was sent to Igbo-Ukwo as an apprentice for Guinea’s notorious spymaster, Awo Nńche. There he must have attracted Funanya’s attention somehow, because the next record we have is him being betrothed to the young Ekwefi. As Ekwefi’s betrothed and later her husband, his amiable disposition complemented her fiery nature. He was supportive and kind, in many ways her biggest fan. And when Ekwefi was killed in a duel, nobody was more devastated than her husband.
With Ekwefi dead, Luwoo was suddenly father to the heir to the mighty Guinea empire. He had known that this was a possibility, of course, but he hardly imagined that it would happen so soon, that his bright, self-possessed, considerate five year old boy would be the heir for an elderly empress. The notion was in all honesty terrifying. Luwoo wanted nothing more than to protect Agu from the pressures of the world and the attention of dangerous people. He wanted Agu to have the quiet life that he had once expected for himself. Instead, Agu would be expected to meet the most dangerous men and women in the world and prove himself their master. Luwoo kept his fears to himself. He saw no reason to scare the boy with such talk.
As old Alafin Funanya began to fail, Luwoo’s fear only grew. Agu would make a good alafin, in time, but right now he was just so young…
Modern history divides the early empire of Guinea into two broad regions: a ‘Nigerian’ core, referring to the traditional lands of the Igbo, Yoruba, Edo, and Hausa, and the culture and religion there of; and an ‘Atlantic’ frontier, referring to the traditional Akon-worshipping territories of the west that were held more loosely by the Nri alafins. While the Nigerian lands were becoming rapidly developed and urbanizations in this period, the Atlantic provinces were still poor. The Orisan faith was not widely practiced. Many ajapadas and obas of the west considered themselves to be far from the center, but some few had been vassalized by force during Funanya’s western expansion a decade before. The region was a powder keg, ready for a match.
Enter Obiageli Nri, the nana of the Atlantic coastal province of Gola near the northern border. Obiageli’s mother had been granted lands in the newly acquired western coast, but over time that honor came to feel like exile. Obiageli inherited her mother’s sense of grievance, but she also had an easy charm and raw cunning that her mother had lacked. She could speak to the western nobles in terms they understood, and harness their resentments into something greater than themselves.
She would meet every complaint with another, every rumor with a more outrageous rumor. When the nobles were boiling with fury, she’d hold up a hand and say, we could do this differently. The people of the west could take this empire for ourselves, as the Igbo took it from the Soninke sixty years ago. Soon the alafin will die, and a boy will be sitting on the throne. When that day comes, we can make our move.
******
1097. Agu, Alafin of all Guinea, accepted the crown from High Shaman Nwokike. He stood proud, and said the ritual words with a bright, clear voice. Luwoo’s heart swelled. For the first time in a long time, he felt hope.
Obiageli never wanted to hurt the boy. When she met with her supporters, the young woman was adamant that Agu wasn’t the enemy. The westerners had the obas of Akon and Adiru with them, and a dozen other nobles including the boy’s own uncle Nwora. They had three times the men that the alafin could command. Obiageli would make Agu see reason, and handle things peacefully.
The confrontation quickly got out of hand, however. Nwora was nervously fingering his sword, which made Agu’s father pull his sword. Before Obiageli knew what was happening, there was a royal guard lying dead on the floor and Agu was pleading for everybody to just stop. They all might have killed each other, rebel and royalist alike, if Agu had not stood up and offered his abdication, right there.
The whole business left a bad taste in Obiageli’s mouth. It was messier than she wanted it to be. Perhaps that’s why she left the boy in charge of his Igboland holdings. Somebody else might have been more ruthless, but she didn’t have it in her. Still, she was now Alafin Obiageli, crowned in a hasty ceremony before marching back to Gola on the Atlantic Coast. There was satisfaction in claiming the throne for the westerners, and she regarded with great pleasure the notion of building a grand palace overlooking the bay and a powerful retinue of Gola and Kru warriors.
Once back at Gola, however, she found herself pressed by challengers at all sides. She might dream of a mighty retinue, but at the moment, the imperial throne was weak, disconnected from the wealthy Nigerian holdings and the traditional palace guard. Suddenly the eastern lords were getting rebellious, led by the recently conquered Oba of Kanem and some of the Hausa ajapadas. Meanwhile, the Bidaic lords at Guinea’s northern border began to raid, preparing for a larger incursion.
With her position deteriorating almost immediately, Alafin Obiageli regretted her decision to leave Igboland alone. Agu had the most experienced warriors in the empire, and he kept them at home while he sulked. Obiageli sent Nwora Nri to rally the other Igbo lords to divest the boy of his holdings, hoping against hope to force another nearly bloodless coup. But it all went wrong when the boy fought back. Thanks to this intervention, Obiageli had the Niger river delta aflame with civil war while she was fighting a rebellion in the far east and border incursions in the west.
It had all been so clear in her head. How had it gone so wrong?
Luwoo would never forget the day that the traitor Nwora Nri stormed the imperial palace. The rebels were plainly incensed at the notion that Agu had fought back. They took this fury out on the palace retainers, slaughtering guards, yes, but also servants and old men and children too young to understand what was happening. Obiageli had thought to say that Agu should be kept safe, but had said nothing about the commonfolk and Nwora was taking full advantage.
When the rebels came to lead Agu away as hostage, the boy stood with his shoulders straight and addressed his enemies with a soft but confident voice. Nwora, his sword stained with the blood of better men, announced if Agu was reasonable then nobody else need to get hurt. The gall of that man made Luwoo want to choke. With his son in chains, however, he could do nothing but hate.
******
Alafin Obiageli got the report back: Nwora had gotten the boy to renounce his throne to Igbo-Benue and his claim on the palace guard, but in the process had made so many enemies that it was scarcely worth it. Worse, everybody knew that he was acting on her orders, so his crimes were hers. She could hardly renounce him without appearing weak and confused, so instead she congratulated him for a job well done. It seemed better than admitting that she could not control him.
Agu was hardly going to take this latest assault lying down, however. What might he do when he came of age, with an unimpeachable claim on the throne? What might the Nigerian nobles do? The alafin began to fret about worst case scenarios, and had her spymaster chasing all sorts of conspiracies. Nwora was often by her side that Agu had to die, either out of bloodlust or the simple sense that his own head would be first on the chopping block. Obiageli resisted, unwilling to accept that she had become a murderer of children.
Early in 1101, however, the Guinean spymaster came back with a report. Agu was seeking to take a Malinese bride, and dropping hints about making a claim for the throne again. The young man was 14 now, and soon he would be able to launch a war for the throne with the swords of Mali at his back. Thanks to Nwora’s excesses, he would have no reason to show mercy to her or her supporters.
At the council meeting, Alafin Obiageli made eye contact with Nwora. Nwora nodded, and left the room. That was all it took.
I have to admit, when Obiageli took the throne, I was honestly torn between switching to her for good or continuing to play Agu until I could retake the capital, and I ended up bouncing back between them. But the story of Agu and his father Luwoo wound up being really compelling to me, so I decided to follow it through.
(Also Obiageli had a terrible capital province so she could barely raise any troops, it just seemed like a losing proposition.)
Well, I wouldn't count Mali out quite yet, believe it or not. And sadly the long history of Nri dynasty infighting has another brutal chapter.
Yeah, once I feudalized the Byzantines suddenly started looking really terrifying.
I've noticed that too. Part of that, I'm sure, is that I'm not as good at CK3 yet as I was at CK2; but also even in CK2 I would try to make trouble for myself to encourage maximum drama. Who wants a bunch of polite responsible dullards in their dynasty?
Thanks, I hope you enjoy it!
Thanks, guys! I'm feeling okay about things; and I hope you enjoy how things eventually wrap up.
(Also Obiageli had a terrible capital province so she could barely raise any troops, it just seemed like a losing proposition.)
Well, I wouldn't count Mali out quite yet, believe it or not. And sadly the long history of Nri dynasty infighting has another brutal chapter.
Yeah, once I feudalized the Byzantines suddenly started looking really terrifying.
I have to admit, as much as you undersell these monographs they do sound fascinating.
Really great rule, lots of fun indeed. As you say, just the right amount of competence and personal drama. Not too much tipped either way. (Don't know whether this is a CK3 thing and it's less common to have squeaky clean philosopher warrior emperors than in CK2, but it's a nice human touch all the same.)
I've noticed that too. Part of that, I'm sure, is that I'm not as good at CK3 yet as I was at CK2; but also even in CK2 I would try to make trouble for myself to encourage maximum drama. Who wants a bunch of polite responsible dullards in their dynasty?
Thanks, I hope you enjoy it!
Not the ending I’m sure you would’ve hoped for, but looking forward to the last few chapters all the same.
Thanks, guys! I'm feeling okay about things; and I hope you enjoy how things eventually wrap up.
Not the ideal way to end what had been a pretty successful century for the Nri clan. Can a deal be struck with the Malians to win back family lands, or did that hope die with Agu?
A mess at the top at precisely the wrong time. Opportunity to expand is slipping through their fingers.
When Ọlọrun And His Òrìṣàs Slept, Part 2
Alafin Obiageli of Guinea
Born: 1071
Reigned: 1098 - 1109
Early in the morning on June 4, 1101, a young maidservant discovered the broken body of Agu Nri, once Alafin of all Guinea, in his bed in the castle of Igbo-Ukwu. After she sounded the alarm, the captain of the palace guards ordered an immediate lock down of the castle while his men searched room by room for unannounced visitors. In the course of this investigation, it soon became clear that Nwora Nri had slipped into the castle the night before, claiming to have an amorous assignation. Oba Luwoo, Agu’s father and heir, was informed of this shortly thereafter.
As mentioned in the previous chapter, Luwoo had a reputation as a gentle and content man who was happy to live in his wife’s, and later his son’s shadow. This was, in fact, true--Luwoo’s nature was not to seek glory or power for his own sake. Obiageli and her coterie considered him of little account. What they failed to consider is that you can only push a person just so far before something snaps within them.
Luwoo was about to demonstrate that he was not as harmless as Obiageli had believed. He had, after all, once apprenticed for the spymaster Awo Nńche, and while there he acquired a very particular set of skills: assassination, blackmail, torture. Once he married Ekwefi, Luwoo put this life behind him and enjoyed the life of a family man, but he never truly forgot them. Now, in a cold fury, he formulated a simple plan: he would find everybody who had conspired to murder his son and he would see that they suffered as Agu had suffered.
It began with Nwora Nri. The now infamous assassin was abducted by Igbo agents while trying to seek ship at Nnedi, and deposited in a cell underneath the palace at Igbo-Ukwu. Luwoo undertook the interrogation personally, and while history does not record the nature of it one can deduce that it involved quite a bit of torment. After a week of grueling treatment, Nwora was produced for the courtiers at Igbo-Ukwu. Speaking in a notably quavering voice, he confessed in open court to murdering Agu upon orders from Obiageli. [1]
This amounted to a declaration of civil war. Luwoo had never sought power for his own sake, but he now claimed the throne of Guinea as Agu’s heir--so that he might take Obiageli’s throne from her before he took her life.
Luwoo had orchestrated Nwora’s public confession with one specific audience in mind: the thousand men and women of the elite imperial retinue. Agu had pledged the retinue over to Obiageli only months earlier. However, loyalty to Agu and his family ran high among the retinue and their commander, a lowborn champion named Chidi, had found excuse after excuse to delay leaving Igboland for the west. With Nwora’s confession, Chidi had an excuse to defy the orders to march to Gola and pledge his sword to Luwoo instead.
Luwoo had few other allies, but by 1102 Obiageli was also isolated. Many of the westerners had backed her initially, but she proved such a weak alafin that they deserted her. The eastern lords were fighting for their independence. The Nigerian lords primarily chose to sit on their hands, waiting to see who would come out on top in the dynastic struggle to come. With the imperial retinue in hand and his enemies divided, Luwoo ordered his forces to march from Igboland to the west. Udo Nri, Nana of Benin, rode in command.
The Nigerian army met the royalists on February 8, 1105, at the province of Beyta. Obiageli had raised her own retinue, but they were still half trained and their lack of discipline proved true when their commander was captured early in the battle. As the royalists began to rout, Udo ordered her light cavalry to pursue without mercy. Some six hundred and fifty royalist soldiers would die that day.
The disaster at Beyta caused panic back at Gola. Many royalists quietly fled the capital, hoping to make a deal with the rebels. Obiageli stood her ground, however, realizing that there would be no peace for her. When Udo’s Nigerians came to invest the western capital, she slipped out a side gate and went to ground with her warriors to raid their supply lines. The royalists would suffer two more shattering defeats, in Toma in January of 1106 and around Gola in December, 1108. Still, these guerrilla tactics dragged the war out until the spring of 1109, when the ragged royalist forces were finally brought to bear.
It was a somber day when Luwoo Nri took the title that should have been his son’s. He had never truly wanted the throne, only to take it from the usurpers who killed their rightful liege. Now that he was Alafin, however, he had many scores left to settle.
[1] Shortly thereafter, the palace would announce that Nwora had died by his own hand, plagued by guilt. The true manner of his death remains unknown.
Born: 1071
Reigned: 1098 - 1109
Early in the morning on June 4, 1101, a young maidservant discovered the broken body of Agu Nri, once Alafin of all Guinea, in his bed in the castle of Igbo-Ukwu. After she sounded the alarm, the captain of the palace guards ordered an immediate lock down of the castle while his men searched room by room for unannounced visitors. In the course of this investigation, it soon became clear that Nwora Nri had slipped into the castle the night before, claiming to have an amorous assignation. Oba Luwoo, Agu’s father and heir, was informed of this shortly thereafter.
As mentioned in the previous chapter, Luwoo had a reputation as a gentle and content man who was happy to live in his wife’s, and later his son’s shadow. This was, in fact, true--Luwoo’s nature was not to seek glory or power for his own sake. Obiageli and her coterie considered him of little account. What they failed to consider is that you can only push a person just so far before something snaps within them.
Luwoo was about to demonstrate that he was not as harmless as Obiageli had believed. He had, after all, once apprenticed for the spymaster Awo Nńche, and while there he acquired a very particular set of skills: assassination, blackmail, torture. Once he married Ekwefi, Luwoo put this life behind him and enjoyed the life of a family man, but he never truly forgot them. Now, in a cold fury, he formulated a simple plan: he would find everybody who had conspired to murder his son and he would see that they suffered as Agu had suffered.
It began with Nwora Nri. The now infamous assassin was abducted by Igbo agents while trying to seek ship at Nnedi, and deposited in a cell underneath the palace at Igbo-Ukwu. Luwoo undertook the interrogation personally, and while history does not record the nature of it one can deduce that it involved quite a bit of torment. After a week of grueling treatment, Nwora was produced for the courtiers at Igbo-Ukwu. Speaking in a notably quavering voice, he confessed in open court to murdering Agu upon orders from Obiageli. [1]
This amounted to a declaration of civil war. Luwoo had never sought power for his own sake, but he now claimed the throne of Guinea as Agu’s heir--so that he might take Obiageli’s throne from her before he took her life.
Luwoo had orchestrated Nwora’s public confession with one specific audience in mind: the thousand men and women of the elite imperial retinue. Agu had pledged the retinue over to Obiageli only months earlier. However, loyalty to Agu and his family ran high among the retinue and their commander, a lowborn champion named Chidi, had found excuse after excuse to delay leaving Igboland for the west. With Nwora’s confession, Chidi had an excuse to defy the orders to march to Gola and pledge his sword to Luwoo instead.
Luwoo had few other allies, but by 1102 Obiageli was also isolated. Many of the westerners had backed her initially, but she proved such a weak alafin that they deserted her. The eastern lords were fighting for their independence. The Nigerian lords primarily chose to sit on their hands, waiting to see who would come out on top in the dynastic struggle to come. With the imperial retinue in hand and his enemies divided, Luwoo ordered his forces to march from Igboland to the west. Udo Nri, Nana of Benin, rode in command.
The Nigerian army met the royalists on February 8, 1105, at the province of Beyta. Obiageli had raised her own retinue, but they were still half trained and their lack of discipline proved true when their commander was captured early in the battle. As the royalists began to rout, Udo ordered her light cavalry to pursue without mercy. Some six hundred and fifty royalist soldiers would die that day.
The disaster at Beyta caused panic back at Gola. Many royalists quietly fled the capital, hoping to make a deal with the rebels. Obiageli stood her ground, however, realizing that there would be no peace for her. When Udo’s Nigerians came to invest the western capital, she slipped out a side gate and went to ground with her warriors to raid their supply lines. The royalists would suffer two more shattering defeats, in Toma in January of 1106 and around Gola in December, 1108. Still, these guerrilla tactics dragged the war out until the spring of 1109, when the ragged royalist forces were finally brought to bear.
It was a somber day when Luwoo Nri took the title that should have been his son’s. He had never truly wanted the throne, only to take it from the usurpers who killed their rightful liege. Now that he was Alafin, however, he had many scores left to settle.
[1] Shortly thereafter, the palace would announce that Nwora had died by his own hand, plagued by guilt. The true manner of his death remains unknown.
That was an invention for the AAR; in my mind, it may not even have been true, just a story scary enough that they finally pulled the trigger.
Agreed. But when I was playing at this point, I figured that it made more sense to build internally until I could get rid of confederate partition and then expand. As a result, empires down the road began to look awfully scary.
No doubt. And Luwoo's response will be equally bloody, I'm afraid.
I have adopted exactly the same strategy. Ireland is going to go dark, probably for a century or two, but when it emerges with primogeniture, it will be a united realm with a solid foundation of rulers behind it. I expect to clean sweep my local area if I manage to keep all invaders out long enough to reach better inheritance practices...
This guy sounds...well, like an ancient ruler to be honest. High concept torture, mad quest for vengeance and power...focuses mostly on fixing internal problems...all good stuff.
A fine update that, if you don’t mind me saying so, serves as an excellent prelude to what what promises to be the main event: the Aristotlean drama of the reign of the Alafin Luwoo.
Sa to read about this excellent AAR’s premature end. But if it fits the story told, it is as it should be.
I’m starting to see the irony of this AAR’s title. The only thing “forgiving” in this realm is the land Itself, or rather the six feet of it that it takes to dig each cold grave.
Alafin Luwoo of Guinea, 1109 - 1139
Alafin Luwoo of Guinea
Born: 1069
Reigned: 1109 - 1139
Alafin Luwoo commemorated his victory over the royalists with the execution of Awo Nńche in the market square in Onitsha before an audience of foreign merchants and local commonfolk. Once the former spymaster had been the most feared man in Guinea, but he had backed the wrong claimant for the throne and the new alafin had no forgiveness in his heart. Awo Nńche and a collection of common criminals were placed atop a mighty pyre, and Luwoo watched with grim resolve as his former mentor died shrieking before him.
Awo Nńche was, among other things, the most prominent worshipper of Akom in Alafin Funanya’s court. He had reportedly secured an agreement with the Alafin that he would have the freedom to worship as he wished, an unprecedented arrangement for a Guinean noble. It suited Luwoo now to portray him and the other western rebels as treacherous heathens who had conspired against the one true faith. (The fact that Obiageli was herself an Orisan was conveniently ignored.)
The death of Awo Nńche also served a practical purpose, as it allowed Luwoo to roll up his mentor’s network of informers and brutes-for-hire and purge it of disloyal elements. Those who remained, almost exclusively Orisan, were sent after the remaining members of the Obiageli coterie. The oba of Adiukru was found in his bed with his throat cut, while his personal guard claimed that they hadn’t heard a thing. Meanwhile, servants at the palace in Akon woke up one morning to see their oba’s bloody corpse left in the courtyard. No one could prove that Luwoo had ordered these murders, but it was known that he heartily approved of them.
An ethos emerged among Luwoo’s shadow army. They believed themselves servants of Ọlọrun, and their assassinations were a sacred act. The spymaster during this period claimed some shamanic authority, and proscribed for her servants a code of personal conduct. Commoners began to call them the Daughters of Ekwensu, named for the Igbo trickster spirit that inspires violence. Their legend was cemented in 1125, when a Daughter infiltrated the Great Palace of Constantinople and assassinated Basileus Demetrios during his evening prayer. The assassination brought a child, eight year old Michael, to the throne, sparking a decade of civil war in the Eastern Roman Empire.
1126 saw another high profile assassination, this time of Yansané Cisse, Kaya Magha of Mali. Yansané had successfully conquered much of the kingdom of Ghana in a campaign that promised to return Mali to the status of regional power. He was killed during the siege of Akwar, before the Ghanian capital could collapse, and the great conquest was placed on hold while his sons squabbled over the throne.
While the Daughters of Ekwensu built a fearsome reputation for themselves, there was still one prominent traitor that they had not caught yet: Obiageli herself. Just before the fall of Gola, the former alafin had fled across the border with her loyal retainer Soumaba. For the next two decades she adopted a series of false names and charmed her way into one minor lord’s court and then another, always staying one step ahead of the assassins that she knew were after her.
If Obiageli embraced her paranoia fully, Soumaba did not. It came to the attention of the Daughters of Ekwensu that the old soldier was sending occasional gifts of coin to his grandniece in Ile via a trusted Maghrebi merchant. The Daughters had the child abducted, and asked Soumaba a simple question: did he cherish his queen’s life more, or his grandniece? The choice for Soumaba was obvious. And so, on January 17, 1128, Obiageli was killed by the one person that she still trusted.
Luwoo is most notorious in the popular imagination for his campaign of bloody revenge. As much as his desire to avenge Agu was sincere, however, he had a larger strategy at work. Much like Funanya, he was concerned with the weakness of the imperial throne. Obiageli’s revolt had illustrated, quite vividly, the strength of the Guinean obas and ajapadas vis-a-vis the alafin himself. The terrors of the Daughters of Ekwensu served to keep Luwoo’s rivals off-balance while he worked to secure the throne for his heirs.
As with Funanya, therefore, Luwoo sought to strengthen the imperial revenues by encouraging trade on the Niger river. For this reason, Luwoo ordered the dredging of the Niger river to expand the harbors at Onitsha and South Igbo, authorized new guilds to regulate the skilled craftsmen, and ordered the expansion of grazing land for the Hausa cattle herds. By the end of his reign Onitsha is believed to have reached a population of 50,000, by far the wealthiest and most populous city in West Africa, with South Igbo and Nnedi doing nearly as well.
Most significantly, Luwoo issued a new succession law--the first major addition to the Nigerian Code since Chima first promulgated it seventy years earlier. Henceforth, all members of the imperial dynasty, as well as any direct vassals of the alafin, were required to travel to Igbo-Ukwu and swear an oath in open court before the Orisan high shaman. The oath-taker would attest to their eternal submission before the alafin and swear that they would recognize no other master. There was in this an unspoken threat--those who forswore an oath made to Ọlọrun would declare themselves heathens in the eyes of the Daughters of Ekwensu.
The devastating three way civil war of the Cisse dynasty had convinced successive Alafins that they must focus inward on securing their own power base to keep the realm from splitting into rival kingdoms. By the end of Luwoo’s reign, however, the throne was stronger than ever before. The royal coffers swelled with Niger river tolls, the imperial levy was larger than ever, and the oath of Luwoo subordinated the lords of Guinea to the throne in a new way. The great conquest of the twelfth century rested on this foundation.
Luwoo’s grand quest for vengeance took a tremendous personal toll. The quiet, self-effacing man that an older generation remembered was gone; the Luwoo who reigned Guinea was a grim-faced tyrant who had servants cowering in terror. His surviving children felt this the most, as each was measured against the sainted memory of Agu and then found wanting. He would eventually disinherit all but one child, the Princess Nkem. While this too was based in his concern for the security of the succession, his public decrees were unsparing in describing his children’s flaws.
In matters of state, Alafin Luwoo became too comfortable with the logic of bloody vengeance. His revenge against the Obiageli clique was on its own easy to sympathize with. The assassinations in Mali and Byzantium followed a cold pragmatic logic. However, some would meet their ends for far less. The alafin would see treason where other men saw only rudeness, and he was quick to punish treason. It is truly unclear, for example, what offense led to the death of Ndidi Nri, Nana of Opanda; once she seemed a threat, the alafin’s will was swift and unyielding.
This helps to explain, perhaps, the bizarre circumstances under which Luwoo died. In his late sixties, the alafin had developed gout, and the painful flare ups of the disease reliably threw him into a fury. A courtier, eager to avoid the alafin’s wrath, hired a physician from Onitsha to see to his affliction. This physician, one Ayodele, was evidently familiar with Hippocrates’ observation that gout was not found among premenopausal women and eunuchs, and from there she reasoned that the alafin might be cured via means of an (unsanctioned) orchiectomy.
Luwoo was given a sleeping draught prior to the operation, but he awoke midway through to discover what manner of operation he was being subjected to and flew into a rage. The palace guards found their alafin, bleeding profusely, with his hands wrapped around Ayodele’s neck. He would not survive the night. It was an ignoble end to a thirty-year reign.
Born: 1069
Reigned: 1109 - 1139
Alafin Luwoo commemorated his victory over the royalists with the execution of Awo Nńche in the market square in Onitsha before an audience of foreign merchants and local commonfolk. Once the former spymaster had been the most feared man in Guinea, but he had backed the wrong claimant for the throne and the new alafin had no forgiveness in his heart. Awo Nńche and a collection of common criminals were placed atop a mighty pyre, and Luwoo watched with grim resolve as his former mentor died shrieking before him.
Awo Nńche was, among other things, the most prominent worshipper of Akom in Alafin Funanya’s court. He had reportedly secured an agreement with the Alafin that he would have the freedom to worship as he wished, an unprecedented arrangement for a Guinean noble. It suited Luwoo now to portray him and the other western rebels as treacherous heathens who had conspired against the one true faith. (The fact that Obiageli was herself an Orisan was conveniently ignored.)
The death of Awo Nńche also served a practical purpose, as it allowed Luwoo to roll up his mentor’s network of informers and brutes-for-hire and purge it of disloyal elements. Those who remained, almost exclusively Orisan, were sent after the remaining members of the Obiageli coterie. The oba of Adiukru was found in his bed with his throat cut, while his personal guard claimed that they hadn’t heard a thing. Meanwhile, servants at the palace in Akon woke up one morning to see their oba’s bloody corpse left in the courtyard. No one could prove that Luwoo had ordered these murders, but it was known that he heartily approved of them.
An ethos emerged among Luwoo’s shadow army. They believed themselves servants of Ọlọrun, and their assassinations were a sacred act. The spymaster during this period claimed some shamanic authority, and proscribed for her servants a code of personal conduct. Commoners began to call them the Daughters of Ekwensu, named for the Igbo trickster spirit that inspires violence. Their legend was cemented in 1125, when a Daughter infiltrated the Great Palace of Constantinople and assassinated Basileus Demetrios during his evening prayer. The assassination brought a child, eight year old Michael, to the throne, sparking a decade of civil war in the Eastern Roman Empire.
1126 saw another high profile assassination, this time of Yansané Cisse, Kaya Magha of Mali. Yansané had successfully conquered much of the kingdom of Ghana in a campaign that promised to return Mali to the status of regional power. He was killed during the siege of Akwar, before the Ghanian capital could collapse, and the great conquest was placed on hold while his sons squabbled over the throne.
While the Daughters of Ekwensu built a fearsome reputation for themselves, there was still one prominent traitor that they had not caught yet: Obiageli herself. Just before the fall of Gola, the former alafin had fled across the border with her loyal retainer Soumaba. For the next two decades she adopted a series of false names and charmed her way into one minor lord’s court and then another, always staying one step ahead of the assassins that she knew were after her.
If Obiageli embraced her paranoia fully, Soumaba did not. It came to the attention of the Daughters of Ekwensu that the old soldier was sending occasional gifts of coin to his grandniece in Ile via a trusted Maghrebi merchant. The Daughters had the child abducted, and asked Soumaba a simple question: did he cherish his queen’s life more, or his grandniece? The choice for Soumaba was obvious. And so, on January 17, 1128, Obiageli was killed by the one person that she still trusted.
Luwoo is most notorious in the popular imagination for his campaign of bloody revenge. As much as his desire to avenge Agu was sincere, however, he had a larger strategy at work. Much like Funanya, he was concerned with the weakness of the imperial throne. Obiageli’s revolt had illustrated, quite vividly, the strength of the Guinean obas and ajapadas vis-a-vis the alafin himself. The terrors of the Daughters of Ekwensu served to keep Luwoo’s rivals off-balance while he worked to secure the throne for his heirs.
As with Funanya, therefore, Luwoo sought to strengthen the imperial revenues by encouraging trade on the Niger river. For this reason, Luwoo ordered the dredging of the Niger river to expand the harbors at Onitsha and South Igbo, authorized new guilds to regulate the skilled craftsmen, and ordered the expansion of grazing land for the Hausa cattle herds. By the end of his reign Onitsha is believed to have reached a population of 50,000, by far the wealthiest and most populous city in West Africa, with South Igbo and Nnedi doing nearly as well.
Most significantly, Luwoo issued a new succession law--the first major addition to the Nigerian Code since Chima first promulgated it seventy years earlier. Henceforth, all members of the imperial dynasty, as well as any direct vassals of the alafin, were required to travel to Igbo-Ukwu and swear an oath in open court before the Orisan high shaman. The oath-taker would attest to their eternal submission before the alafin and swear that they would recognize no other master. There was in this an unspoken threat--those who forswore an oath made to Ọlọrun would declare themselves heathens in the eyes of the Daughters of Ekwensu.
The devastating three way civil war of the Cisse dynasty had convinced successive Alafins that they must focus inward on securing their own power base to keep the realm from splitting into rival kingdoms. By the end of Luwoo’s reign, however, the throne was stronger than ever before. The royal coffers swelled with Niger river tolls, the imperial levy was larger than ever, and the oath of Luwoo subordinated the lords of Guinea to the throne in a new way. The great conquest of the twelfth century rested on this foundation.
Luwoo’s grand quest for vengeance took a tremendous personal toll. The quiet, self-effacing man that an older generation remembered was gone; the Luwoo who reigned Guinea was a grim-faced tyrant who had servants cowering in terror. His surviving children felt this the most, as each was measured against the sainted memory of Agu and then found wanting. He would eventually disinherit all but one child, the Princess Nkem. While this too was based in his concern for the security of the succession, his public decrees were unsparing in describing his children’s flaws.
In matters of state, Alafin Luwoo became too comfortable with the logic of bloody vengeance. His revenge against the Obiageli clique was on its own easy to sympathize with. The assassinations in Mali and Byzantium followed a cold pragmatic logic. However, some would meet their ends for far less. The alafin would see treason where other men saw only rudeness, and he was quick to punish treason. It is truly unclear, for example, what offense led to the death of Ndidi Nri, Nana of Opanda; once she seemed a threat, the alafin’s will was swift and unyielding.
This helps to explain, perhaps, the bizarre circumstances under which Luwoo died. In his late sixties, the alafin had developed gout, and the painful flare ups of the disease reliably threw him into a fury. A courtier, eager to avoid the alafin’s wrath, hired a physician from Onitsha to see to his affliction. This physician, one Ayodele, was evidently familiar with Hippocrates’ observation that gout was not found among premenopausal women and eunuchs, and from there she reasoned that the alafin might be cured via means of an (unsanctioned) orchiectomy.
Luwoo was given a sleeping draught prior to the operation, but he awoke midway through to discover what manner of operation he was being subjected to and flew into a rage. The palace guards found their alafin, bleeding profusely, with his hands wrapped around Ayodele’s neck. He would not survive the night. It was an ignoble end to a thirty-year reign.