The King Demanded to Marry the Lady with the Worst Character in the Village. The Reason Shocked Ever  

The King Demanded to Marry the Lady with the Worst Character in the Village. The Reason Shocked Ever  

If you asked anyone in the village of Yosola who the most beautiful woman was, they might point to Fake, the daughter of the wealthiest cloth merchant. Fake was gentle as a dove, walked with the grace of a gazelle, and spoke in whispers that sounded like water flowing over smooth stones. But if you asked anyone who the most terrible woman was, the one whose name made grown men check their pockets and mothers povert their children’s ears, everyone without hesitation would point to Adoni.

 Adoni was not ugly, but her character was so sour it could curdle fresh milk. She was a fire that refused to be quenched. She was the daughter of Baba Seigu, a humble palm wine tapper, but she carried herself with the arrogance of a warlord. One bright morning, the chaos began at the market square.

 Mama Toby, you are a thief, a distinct thief with no fear of God. Adoni’s voice rang out, silencing the chatter of buyers and sellers. Mama Toby, a respected elder who sold peppers, adjusted her rapper, trembling. Adoni, please keep your voice down. I only added a little extra to the price because fuel is expensive. Fuel. Does Pepe drink petrol? Adoni clapped her hands dramatically, her eyes widening.

You are selling rotten peppers for the price of gold and you are talking about fool. If you don’t return my change, I will overturn this basket and the goats will face today. This young woman, please. A young man tried to intervene. He was handsome, a farmer with good prospects. Adoni shoved him aside without even looking at him.

 Because you planted three yams, you think you can talk when human beings are talking. Go and wash your face. Smell of poverty and bad decisions. >> The crowd gasped. The man retreated humiliated. Adoni got her change, hissed long and loud, and stomped away, kicking a stray chicken out of her. This was Adoni.

 She caught the stream when she touched water. She argued with the wind if it blew her rapper the wrong way. She had no friends, only victims. Her mother, Mama Seong, spent her days apologizing to neighbors, crying. I don’t know where she found this spirit. Please forgive her. So when the town crier beat the gong 3 days later, announcing that the great king Admy, the tiger of Yosah, was finally ready to choose a wife, the entire village rejoiced.

 They knew the king would choose a woman of virtue, peace, and grace. They looked at Fake. They looked at Bissi, the teacher. They looked at Simei, the priest’s daughter. Nobody looked at Adoni. In fact, her father prayed she would have malaria on the selection day, so she wouldn’t go out and disgrace the family. King Adi was a man of few words, but immense power.

 He was young, strong, and wealthy. But for the past year, a shadow had hung over the palace. His wife died two years ago. King Adami was thinning. His eyes, once bright, were often clouded. The royal physician said it was stress. The villager said it was the weight of the crown.

 The council of chiefs led by the high chief Balogo and the crafty chief Oton urged the king to marry. Kabiesi, Chief Otun said, his voice smooth. You need a wife to cook for you, to soothe your spirit. A woman like Fake. She is soft, malleable. She will bring peace. The king sat on his throne, his fingers tapping the armrest.

 He looked at his chiefs. He looked at his guards. He looked at the servants who bowed so low their foreheads touched the dust. “Peace,” the king muttered. “Everyone wants me to have peace.” On the day of the selection, the palace courtyard was packed. Maidens from seven villages had gathered, dressed in their finest as beads shining on their necks.

They danced. They cooked. They answered questions about tradition and etiquette. Fake was perfect. She knelt beautifully. She spoke of unity and submission. The crowd cheered. Then came Adoni. She had been forced to come by her mother. She wore a simple anara dress and she looked bored.

 “What would you do if the king made you angry?” Chief Belalogu asked her, expecting her to say she would kneel and beg for forgiveness. Adoni, “Is the king God? If he makes me angry, I will tell him the truth. If he’s being foolish, I will tell him he is foolish. A wife is a partner, not a furniture piece.” The crowd went dead silent.

 The chiefs were horrified. “Abination!” shouted Chifoto. “Take her away. Flog her for insolence. Wait. King Adami’s voice cut through the noise like a sharp blade. He stood up, walking slowly down the steps of the throne. He stood before Fake, who smiled shily. Then he moved to Adoni, who stood with her hands on her hips, daring him to challenge her.

 The king looked into Adoni’s fiery eyes. You would tell the king he is foolish. Adoni snapped. If the crown fits, wear it. But if the head is empty, the crown will fall. The villagers covered them out. This was treason. King Adami smiled. It was the first time he had smiled in 2 years.

 I have made my choice, the king announced, turning to the crowd. The new queen of Yosah is Adoni. The silence was louder than thunder. Chief Balogu fainted. Adoni’s father collapsed. Even Adoni looked shocked. Me? She asked. You? The king said, “Prepare for the wedding.” The village of Yosah was in uproar. People whispered that the king had been charmed.

 They said she used juju. She washed her face with spiritual water. But the wedding happened. Adoni became queen Adoni. And true to her nature, she did not change. On her first morning as queen, the royal head cook, a fat man who served three kings, brought the king’s breakfast. It was a lavish spread of pounded yam and a goosey soup with bush meat.

 Adoni walked into the dining room. She sniffed the air. Who cooked this rubbish? Bad, who had served three kings, was offended. My queen, this is the royal recipe. It has been served for 50 years. Adoni dipped her finger into the soup, tasted it, and spat it out on the expensive rug. It tastes like betrayal and too much salt.

Take it away. Are you trying to kill my husband with hypertension? From today, nobody cooks for the king except me. Get out.” She chased the head cook out of the kitchen with a wooden spoon. The king sitting at the table watched this spectacle silently. He ate the food Adoni cooked later. Simple, hot, and spicy.

 He slept better that night than he had in months. A week later, the royal maids were cleaning the king’s chambers. Adoni walked in and found them gossiping while dusting. “Is this how you clean?” she yelled, grabbing a broom. You are just moving dust from one side to the other. Lazy tortoises. If I find one speck of dust on this window, you will cut grass from here to the next village. She terrorized the staff.

 She inspected the accounts and found that the royal treasurer was buying soap for 10 times the market price. She dragged him by his collar to the king’s court. Kabii. She threw the ledger at the king’s feet. This man is a thief. He says he bought one bar of soap for 10,000 naira. Is the soap washing away sins? sack him.

 The king looked at the trembling treasurer. Is this true? The evidence was undeniable. The treasurer was sacked. The chiefs hated her. The servants feared her. But strangely, the king was gaining weight. His skin was glowing. He was laughing more. However, while the king grew fatter, and his laughter returned to the palace hallways, the hearts of the chiefs grew darker than a moonless night.

 Chief Otu and Chief Balog could not sleep. Their pockets were empty because Adoni had blocked every loop they used to siphon money from the treasury. The palace contractors who used to bring them yams and goats as bribes had been chased away by the queen’s fierce eyes. “We cannot continue like this,” Sheotun whispered.

One night, they were gathered in the secret meeting room behind the royal stables. “That woman is not a queen. She is a curse sent to dry up our river.” Chief Balogu agreed, his face shining with sweat. Even the king has become deaf to us. He only listens to her. If we are not careful, she will find out about the land we sold illegally in the Western District.

 If she sees those papers, we are finished. She will not see them, Chief Otun said, his voice dropping to a sinister whisper because she will not be here. From the fold of his Abbada, Chief Otu pulled out a small clay vial. It looked like an ordinary container for eye powder, but the aura around it was cold. “What is that?” Balog asked.

 “It is called the silent sleep,” Otton smiled, revealing teeth stained with colonut. “It has no taste. It has no smell. If you put it in wine, it marries the liquid perfectly. It does not kill instantly. No, that would be too suspicious. It first drives the victim mad. They will tear their clothes, speak in tongues, and attack anyone nearby.

 Then the heart simply stops. Balugun’s eyes widened. And the plan? The festival of the new yam is in 2 days, Otto explained, his eyes gleaming with malice. The whole village will be watching. We need someone innocent to deliver the message. Someone who loves the village. Someone who has a reason to hate Aduni but pretends to love peace.

 They both looked at each other and said the name at the same time. Fake. Fake will be easy to break. Her heart was already wounded. She felt the crown belonged to her. The next day when Chief Otun approached her with lies, telling her that the gods were angry with Aduni and that the king was secretly begging to be free of her witchcraft, Fake agreed.

 They told her it was a truth potion that would make Aduni confess her sins and leave the palace. Ambition can make even a dove fly with hawks. The day of the festival of the new yam arrived with the thunder of the Gangan drums. The palace courtyard was a sea of colors, bright yellows, deep blues, and fiery reds of the finest as the smell of roasted yam, fried stew, and palm wine filled the air.

 Adi sat on his high throne, looking majestic in his royal regalia. Beside him sat Aduni. She wore a deep purple lace, her headgear tied high, but her face was as hard as granite. She did not wave to the crowd. She did not smile. She sat like a judge waiting to pass a sentence. The villagers whispered, “Look at her. Even on a feast day, she looks like she swallowed a lemon.” “God save our king.

” Another replied, “See how Fake is dancing with the maidens. That is who should be sitting there.” As the festivities reached their peak, Chifotu gave the signal, a nod barely visible. Fleak stepped out from the line of dancers. She held a golden goblet encrusted with stones. It was filled with the finest palm wine mixed with the deadly contents of the clay vial.

 The drums lowered to a soft hum. The crowd going silent. Fake walked with the grace of water, her hips swaying gently. She approached the high table and knelt, her head bowed in perfect submission. Kabi, the tiger of Yosola, and to the queen. Fake’s voice sang out sweet and melodious.

 My queen, the women of your solar wish to honor you. We know the burden of the palace is heavy. We know there has been strife, but today we seek peace. Please accept this cup as a sign of our loyalty and love. The crowd murmured their approval. Ah, Fake is such a good child. An old woman wiped it here. See how she humbles herself.

 Adoni looked at Fake. She looked at the goblet. She looked at the chiefs who were smiling too widely. Adun stood up. The crowd expected her to accept the drink. Instead, Aduni slapped the goblet out of Faki’s hand. The wine splashed all over Faki’s expensive lace. Are you mad? Aduni screamed. You think I don’t know the smell of hypocrisy? You who have never greeted me since I married the king. Today you bring wine.

 You think I’m stupid? The crowd gasped. Ah, she’s wicked. someone shouted. Fake was only trying to be nice. The king stood up, his face dark with anger. Adoney, that is enough. You have disgraced a guest. She is not a guest. She is a snake, Aduni retorted, pointing at Fake. And I don’t drink from the cups of snakes.

 Apologize to her, the king commanded, his voice booming. You have gone too far. Your bad character is embarrassing me. Adun’s eyes filled with tears. The first time anyone had seen her cry, but she did not bow. I will not apologize for refusing to die, Kabesi. If you want a polite corpse, go and marry one from the cemetery.

 She stormed out of the festival. The king sat back down, robbing his temples. The chiefs exchanged glances. The plan had failed, but they had succeeded in driving a wedge between the king and queen. Night fell over the palace, but it brought no sleep. The festival had ended in murmurss and confusion. In the courtyard, the servants were cleaning up the mess.

 A young palace guard, staring absent-mindedly at the moon, heard a strange sound near the high table. A stray village dog had wandered into the courtyard. It found the puddle of wine where Aduni had slapped the cup. The dog lapped it up greedily. The guard watched, intending to chase the dog away, but before he could shout, the dog froze.

 It let out a high-pitched shriek of agony. The dog began to spin in circles, snapping its jaws at the air. It attacked a wooden chair, biting into the wood until its gums bled. It formed at the mouth, eyes rolling back into its head. Then, with one final convulsion, the dog fell stiff and dead. The guard’s blood turned to ice.

 He looked at the dead dog. He looked at the stain on the floor. He realized whose cup that wine had come from. He ran straight to the king’s private chamber. “Kabesi! Kabi!” The king opened the door, still dressed in his robes, looking tired and defeated. “What is it?” “The wine, Kabesi,” the guard panted, falling to his knees.

 “The wine!” the queen spilled. A dog drank it. The dog went mad and died instantly. The king stood frozen. Then he walked to the window and looked out at the moon. He realized the truth. If Aduni had been polite, if she had been good and accepted the drink to save Faith, she would be dead or worse, mad.

 Her bad character, her refusal to follow social rules, had saved her life. He went to Adon’s chambers. She was packing her bags. “I am going back to my father’s house,” she said, wiping her eyes. “I am tired. I fight your enemies. I fight your staff. And you shout at me in public.” Aduni, the king said softly, don’t aduni me. Go and marry Fake.

 Let her kill you with kindness. The king laughed. He walked over and took the bag from her hands. Sit down, my wife. I have a story to tell you. Adonis sat, crossing her arms. 3 years ago, the king began. My father, the former king, died. He didn’t die of old age. He was poisoned slowly by people who smiled at him every day, by chiefs who called him great tiger while they mixed venom in his tea. Adun’s eyes widened.

 “I knew they were doing it to me, too,” the king continued. “I felt my strength leaving, but I couldn’t stop them. The palace is built on protocol. If I refuse a gift, I insult a clan. If I sack a chief without proof, I start a war.” I was trapped in a cage of politeness. He took her hand. I went to the oracle. The oracle told me, “You are surrounded by smiling killers.

 Only a woman who fears no man, who seeks no favor, and who has no filter can save you. You need a warrior who does not care about being liked.” The king looked deep into her eyes. When I saw you at the market that day shouting at the woman for cheating you. I didn’t see a troublemaker. I saw a woman who valued the truth over reputation. I saw my salvation.

Aduni was silent. For the first time in her life, she was speechless. So you were that farmer at the market that day? She asked smiling after finally finding her speech. Yes, that was me. I didn’t marry you for peace, Aduni. The king whispered. I married you for war. And tonight you fought a battle I didn’t even see coming.

 He told her about the dog. Aduni stood up slowly. The fire in her eyes returned, but this time it was cold and calculated. So she said, “Chief Otum and Fake tried to kill me.” “Yes,” the king said. Aduni smoothened her rapper. Kabi, sit down. I am not going to my father’s house again. The next morning, the king summoned the entire village.

 Chief Otum, Chief Balogu, and Fake stood at the front looking smug. They thought the king was going to announce his divorce from the wicked queen. King Admi sat on the throne. Aduni sat beside him. She was not smiling. People of Yosola, the king began. Yesterday, a great crime was committed. She Fortune stepped forward. Yes, Kabiesi. The queen disgraced us.

She must be punished. Silence, the king roared. The power in his voice shook the walls. He had not sounded this strong in years. “Bring the evidence,” the king commanded. The guards brought in the dead dog. The crowd murmured. This dog drank the wine Fake offered to my queen. The king said, “Fake, would you like to take a sip from that same goblet now? We saved it for you.

” Fake trembled. Her knees gave way. Kabi, I I drink it, Aduni shouted. If your heart is pure, the wine will be sweet. Drink it. Fake collapsed weeping. It was Chief Otum. He forced me. He said if I didn’t do it, he would burn my father’s shop. He gave me the poison. The crowd screamed.

 Chief Otun tried to run, but the guard seized him. Chief Balogun tried to blend into the crowd, but Adun spotted him. Hold that one too, Aduni pointed. He is the one who hired the corrupt treasurer. I saw them whispering behind the stables. The conspiracy unraveled. The polite society of the palace was exposed as a den of vipers. The chiefs who had been stealing the kingdom’s wealth, the cooks who had been weakening the king, they were all exposed.

 And who exposed them? Not the gentle observers, but Aduni, the woman who listened at keyholes, who shouted at liars, and who refused to be silenced. Chief and his conspirators were banished from the kingdom forever. Fake was disgraced and sent to work in the royal farms for 5 years to learn the value of hard labor.

 The village of Yosola changed. Aduni was still Aduni. She was still loud. She still scolded people at the market if they tried to sell rotten vegetables. She still walked with a heavy step. But the people no longer called her the terror. They called her the iron lily. They realized that kindness without truth is just deception.

 They realized that sometimes you need a bitter pill to cure a sickness. One evening, years later, King Adomi and Queen Aduni sat on the palace balcony watching their two children play. The children were loud, energetic, and stubborn. “That boy is just like you,” the king laughed as the prince argued with a guard about the rules of a game.

 “Good,” Adun replied, sipping her palm wine. “The world has enough sheep. He will be a lion.” The king looked at his wife, the lady with the worst character in the village, and thanked the gods that he hadn’t married the nice girl. The nice girl would have buried him. The difficult woman had saved him. And that is the truth that shocked everyone.

 That sometimes the person you think is your enemy because they are hard on you is actually the only one who loves you enough to tell you the truth.