Every muscle in my body tenses as my brother stands before me. If I dare attack him, the current King of Delardo, I’d die on the spot, but an angry mind loses all rationality. I charge at him immediately, but feel the back of my shirt being clutched in Baba Athka’s hand.

“Let me go, Baba! It’s him I want, no-one else,” I glare at him, but Baba does not loosen his grip on me.

“Don’t be foolish, my boy,” he responds, in a low tone only I can hear.

Ubukili watches closely as I struggle to break free. His smile turns into boisterous, taunting laughter that further fuels my rage. I cannot allow him to mock me in front of the men who should be subservient towards me.

“Is this who father thought should rule our glorious kingdom?” he says, standing tall. He may not have father’s good heart, but every single feature he has reminds me of father. His stature, the way he walks, even the colour of his skin. No man has ever looked more regal. Perhaps he is right. Maybe he has a better claim to father’s throne than I ever will.

“Enough of this, Ubukili,” Baba Athka growls. “We both know who was supposed to ascend that throne.”

“A useless and feeble albino? Not whilst I am still alive. After all, my father’s advisor has no place in my court,” Ubukili replies, now dropping his cloak.

“We both know I am not just an advisor. I am your uncle, boy, and because you are a false king, I do command more respect from you.”

The tension is almost palpable. The cold night breeze doesn’t aid the beaded sweat on my temple. Before I can speak, I watch Ubukili’s armour shrink beneath his frame. His body contorts slowly, low growls escape his mouth, or where it used to be. He tips forward and where hands once were, there are now paws with massive talons. His face twists and warps, and where a handsome, dark face was, that of a brown, hairy beast now takes its place. Ubukili stands on his haunches, terrifyingly, almost twice the size Baba is when he becomes a werewolf.

Without warning, I feel the grip on my cloak tighten, and behind me stands Baba – suddenly in his werewolf form too, dark in colour and as big as a horse. But will it be enough to defeat Ubukili?

It is now that I wish that I could do the same, but the training hasn’t yet helped in any way. My body only aches from the rigorous training. However I step back, close my eyes and will myself to transform as well.

My body only writhes with pain and I am met with nothing more than laughter. “Poor albino; stupid ghost!” is all I hear, and the unogada are only sniggering when I open my eyes.

“Shall we then, uncle?” Ubukili says, no mercy in his eyes. He pounces forward, glares at Baba.

His hazel eyes are much different to those of his opponent. Baba’s eyes gleam like fire, frightening me even though he means me no harm. His biceps quiver as he stalks Ubukili, pure rage in his eyes. The stalking morphs into a sprint as Baba launches himself. His muzzle opens, his teeth are bared, but Ubukili stands and watches, unperturbed. Only a look of satisfaction appears on his wolfish face as an arrow from the unogadas bolts past him and lands square in Baba’s shoulder, followed by a second one.

Uncle howls as the arrows shatter his shoulder blades. He falls to the ground and writhes in agony, instantly no longer in wolf form, but a man almost as frail as father had been. He’s now stark naked and bleeding.

Ubukili stares at me, also no longer in his wolf form, but a man, wrapped in his golden cloak. A sickly smile is planted on his face. The coward could not face Baba Athka one-on-one the honourable way, used a ruse to have him change, and then wound him. How could we not have seen through his trickery?

“Thought the old man could take me, brother? He says, as he walks towards me. “Uncle? We’ll bury him next to his brother, and we will find a nice warm pit for you to be held in before you are executed for killing my father.”

Full of outrage, I nearly launch myself at him, but a blow to the head from one of the guards is all it takes to knock me unconscious. The night sky is stippled with stars as I slowly close my eyes.

***

Tell us: Do ruthless, successful people have any sense of honour and fairness? Or is it ‘anything goes’ in power games?