In the west, the Oba-Ifà fa Ataràmè was a rising power. They had come as barbarians from the desert, the most uncivilised people around: nomadic Berèberè, but they had grown to equal the Gbéné, the most dominant and ancient of the Sonki-Ifà, the Western Realms. Now they were invading, conquering, surpassing the Gbéné. The Gbéné, who consulted their sickly spirits, ancient gods and deceased ancestors, knew their days were counted. The Onkyi, the easternmost Sonki, did not worship heathen gods and had been shown the light of Kaya more than six hundred and one years ago, but they also feared the blade of the horseman.

The memory of the Onkyi was long. They knew that it was the Ataràmè who had defeated the Mosghasè Gresou, but they also knew that it was the Ataràmè who had left the Hasaisa, the Desert of Death, the most recently, and that ultimately, each Berèberè was the same. They knew of the time before the Ataràmè, when the Gresou had first razed their lands, invading from the northwest. They had not stood a chance against the horsemen tribes and they remembered that. Their memory went back further than that too, back to when the Onkyi were abandoned by the Obibo, when the Alááshu turned to lechery and decadence, when squabbles made the Tozàn garrisons retreat, even before the Berèberè were a threat. Before that, the memory of Obibo invasion was still there and the destruction of the Mandinka in the west. And even before that, the mind was hazy, because the Onkyi had followed priests in those days and never looked beyond their own towns, an isolated people in the middle of the country.

The Onkyi were Karou, although that was more of a loose grouping of people these days. The western Karou were practically Mandinka at this point, called Mankárou by their Onkyi kin, and the eastern Karou had more or less assimilated into Tozàn, becoming part of the diverse Obibo culture through intermarriage, adoption of Obibo culture and abandoning the Karou language. It left the Onkyi as the only "pure" Karou, referred to in Obibo by the name of their state - Onkyira - when they were first conquered by Tozàn. They had their own language without many foreign words, but they had adopted Kayasha as a faith and the cultural customs that came with it, including female superiority. While the border of Tozàn was the border of, well, Tozàn, the Onkyi were the frontier of Kayasha.

It was because of this that they feared a possible confrontation with the west more than they feared the east, even though the Onkyi would be able to sense the hot breath of Tozàn in their neck before that of the Ataràmè. Tozàn was Kayasha, the Katazu herself and female rulers. To the west were only heathens with a history of bringing war, threatening men with foreign gods.

Gànà Olùdiallà, the military leader of Tozàn, had recently learned about the feelings of the Onkyi. She had her mind set on the west too, exactly because there were lands there that followed the words of the prophet Nyanché and belonged to Kaya's beloved. She owed her position as Gànà to the failed Ewo-Ife campaign of her predecessor. Rallying the other ofòkù against that unsuccesful project, that looming military disaster, Olùdiallà had been elected in favour of her predecessor with the clear promise not to immediately invade eastern Ewo-Ife again. That was why she looked west, to the Onkyi. If she was sympathetic enough, the Gànà could, from her court at Nijaay, bring the western faithful into the fold without war.

There were seven princesses of the Onkyi, but they were not equal in power. Olùdiallà visited each of them and began to address each of their personal problems and issues. In one court, she promised to rebuild a bridge and to weed out the bandits who roamed the forests and who had destroyed the bridge in the first place. She brought a little army, had them rebuild the bridge and then she made the army camp in the woods, fighting the bandits for a few months, until they were no more. That had been the weakest princess. To please the strongest one, she brought a caravan with silk and fifty agricultural engineers who transformed the troublesome arable land into an irrigated system, after she also had an aquaduct constructed. In this manner Olùdiallà went around pleasing all the princesses, until they were both happy about her as well as in debt to her.

She called them all to a council and she spoke to them at the same time.

"Your land," Olùdiallà said. "Your land is unprotected. You cannot protect your people against the west, especially not as seven princesses, but I will work with you. First, you must make two of yours, the two strongest princesses, your leaders. If you desire, the Alááfin can give you two the title of orògò and you will even be permitted to sit on the Alááfin's yearly council, where I was chosen. Two orògò can rally your lands much more effectively than seven princesses, but one is too few as she would try to make a queendom.

Your northern borders and southern borders meet Tozàn, so it is through your lands that an enemy from the west could march into the heart of Tozàn the easiest. That is why you must not think only of protecting your own land yourself, but protecting Tozàn with it, lest the Onkyi become a trampling ground for greater realms. In exchange, I would think of protecting our land ourselves, but protecting your lands with it. If we can stop an enemy in Onkyifàn, they will harm neither you or us. Therefore, we will build highways from Tozàn to your land from three directions so an army can be there to protect you within weeks. We will construct forts on your western border, so your own people can protect the land in the weeks it takes for the Tozàn army to arrive.

The roads and the forts would come from our coffers, but they cannot always be maintained like that. Because they are mutually beneficial, in a decade's time the lands of the Onkyi will also be subject to the same taxes as the rest of Tozàn. Is that acceptable?"

The seven princesses did not immediately agree, but they eventually all came to accept. The two strongest lost their independence, but gained power in their own lands and also the permission to vote on the Gànà of Tozàn. If anything, that power protected them from being abused by Tozàn, so they were strongly in favour. The weakest princesses were powerless and unable to reject the proposal, but the middle few muttered for a while. Olùdiallà satisfied their issues through presenting them with beautiful slaves and as such had her proposal accepted by all seven princesses.

After the council, Olùdiallà budgeted the building projects as they started. The highways and the line of southern forts were, unsurprisingly, not cheap. However, she was soon reminded that the expenses of war were far greater, since a war in Onkyifàn would not have provided much in the way of profit. It was a poor region and not that well populated. Slaves and gold were rarer than in most other lands and the Katazu would have complained too, invading such a true and faithful land.

As such, Olùdiallà was more than pleased with the news of the furthering road and fort projects, which, just to be sure, received a garrison of Obibo nobles to be in charge in times of peace. Messenger stations were built along the roads and pigeons were periodically stationed at each fort, ready to fly the long journey eastwards to Uwára at any time, back to their roost. That way, any news could be in the capital within the cycle of night and day.

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