Chapter 1: Palace Wahala Begin

Omo, my heart first do gbim gbim that morning. The royal chamber wey I land inside na real ancient swag—aso-oke curtains for window, fat damask spread for bed, all the pillows soft like agege bread. The air get that smell of fried plantain mix with old incense, while from far, I hear faint bleating of goats and distant market wahala. E be like say na all those Nollywood movies where person go sleep for Lagos, wake up for village, but this one pass that level. See as spirit dey use me play draft! I just gawk for inside royal bed, dey reason say my destiny don carry me enter new wahala.

My first instinct, as I open eye for this king-size bed, na to reach for my phone, dey mutter, 'Chai, my data don finish again.' Na there I realize say phone no dey—nothing modern for here at all. Omo, na real ancient world I dey.

So, sharp sharp, I begin slack.

I no even reason twice. Na so I balance for palace, dey chop life as e dey hot. If dem bring wine, I dey drink. If dem bring dancers, I dey join. All the forbidden enjoyment wey dem dey talk say king no suppose near, I dey run am. I become king wey even the palace guards dey fear say maybe jazz dey my body.

Na so I dey sing and dance from morning till night, dey enjoy every bad thing wey dey possible.

Every evening, na my voice dey scatter palace. My drummers dey beat talking drum, I dey shake body like say tomorrow no dey. Even palace maids dey yarn say, 'If this king dance pass today, rain go fall for dry season!' Palace cooks sef dey laugh say dem never see king wey dey eat suya with palmwine for morning like me before. I even dash servants money make dem join party. E sweet me.

I swear, I gree to play the biggest mumu king till everything scatter.

I even dey rehearse my foolishness, dey mimic those unserious kings from our town stories. Make dem see say I no get shame. If to say na village square, by now elders for don gather talk say this king na real case.

But before I know am, chiefs begin shout, 'Your Majesty na wise king!'

Omo, the praise no gree stop. Dem dey bow, dey hail me like say I be Solomon wey sabi book pass everybody. E shock me small.

Na that time I realise say wahala dey.

I begin suspect say maybe na prank. This system, e dey play me abi? I even look myself for mirror—abi my foolishness dey look like wisdom for this place? Or dem dey use style set me up?

Wait, how e come be say everywhere dey peaceful, and all the nearby kingdoms dey bring tribute?

Every day, town criers dey come palace with baskets of yam, kolanut, fine goats from other towns. Even the market women dey dance for palace front dey sing my praise. But wait—shey na so foolishness suppose dey bring blessing?