This and all parts of the story (c) Remo Kurka 2025
Arc IV: Fire on the Coast — Aftermath, 1824
Kofi — senior advisor in Kumasi, now dealing with the weight of victory and loss.
Osei Yaw Akoto — new Asantehene, trying to consolidate power after MacCarthy’s defeat.
Aputai — rebel leader, whose hatred has hardened; his final reckoning looming.
Ama Baa — guerilla lieutenant, torn between loyalty to the cause and the horrors she’s witnessed.
J.T. Williams — former British colonial secretary, prisoner in Kumasi, forced to live among the grisly trophies.
Fante survivors — displaced, traumatized, seeking justice or vengeance.
British government & African Company — rankled, ashamed, plotting their next move.
Kumasi, shortly after Nsamankow
The Golden Stool room is silent except for the crackle of torches. A skull, rimmed with gold — MacCarthy’s skull — rests on a carved pedestal before Osei Yaw Akoto. The skull illuminates by torchlight, casting grotesque shadows on the carved wooden walls.
Kofi stands near Ama Baa, watching. He cannot look directly at the skull.
Osei Yaw Akoto (voice heavy):
“Here lies the symbol of their arrogance. Let the redcoats know: not all bones shine when buried.”
Ama Baa’s eyes glint in torchlight — half triumph, half mourning.
Ama Baa (whispering to Kofi):
“Did he hate the skull, or what it represented?”
Kofi (quietly):
“Both. Hatred doesn’t always know the right target.”
Kumasi — Williams’ Captivity
J.T. Williams sleeps on straw in a small mud hut. Beside him, separated by a wooden beam, are the bones of MacCarthy and Wetherell, their heads displayed as trophies.
He cannot sleep. He sees them in dreams: MacCarthy’s lips moving, Wetherell’s eyes accusing.
Williams (to himself):
“I did what I could. I had duty. But duty… it kills.”
In the morning, Ama Baa brings food. He sees her as she is: not a monster, but someone hollowed by violence.
Williams:
“Why do you bring me kindness?”
Ama Baa:
“Because I once believed in better. And now… guilt is one burden we both carry.”
Cape Coast region – villages destroyed, refugees on the move
Survivors wander from ash-raked villages. Children sob; mothers cry out for missing husbands. The traders of old are gone. The forts are shadows of what they were.
Some carry news of British inaction. Others speak of promises broken after Torrane. All see that the treaty that once seemed to bring peace is now stained with blood.
Kumasi – King’s Council
King Osei Yaw Akoto, young but determined, holds court. Generals report.
General Besi:
“The British will not dare send another governor. They are smart enough to know the Pra.”
Elder Nana Akom:
“Still, word in Cape Coast is they will lie. They cannot accept this humiliation. Expect raids, expect demands.”
Osei Yaw Akoto listens more than he speaks.
Osei Yaw Akoto:
“Let us then show strength. Let us rebuild what war has scarred. And let us remember: bones make shadows, but flesh still fights.”
Kofi nods. Watches the young king’s face: resolute, but already marked by the war’s cost.
In the bush near Assin — his camp, 1824
Aputai sits upon a felled tree, smoking, bloodied. He hears distant drums — not his, but those of minor Ashanti columns sent after him.
Ama Baa:
“They push at our edges.”
Aputai (smoke swirling around him):
“Let them come. I have nothing left to lose.”
He stands, sword drawn.
Aputai:
“Ashanti soldiers. British traders. Fante tribes. All pawns in the same game.”
He turns to a young recruit, who trembles.
Aputai:
“Do you hate me?”
Recruit:
“I only want this to stop.”
Aputai:
“Then you do not understand. This is not a war. This is a reckoning.I hate what they built with blood. I hate what they called peace.
If the world remembers me, let it remember this: the hate that outlives bones.”
London, mid‑1824
Reports flood in: MacCarthy dead. Williams prisoner. Skulls displayed. Fante outraged. Ashanti triumphant.
Parliament debates. Newspapers print horror and fascination. The African Company is shamed. British public opinion shifts: some call for war. Others fear becoming entangled in what they see as endless empire.
Kumasi, late 1824
At dusk, Kofi walks the perimeter of the palace. The air smells of smoke, of embers, of rain to come. Ama Baa passes him, her face streaked with soot and resolve.
Kofi:
“You still believe in this fight?”
Ama Baa:
“Not the war.
But that what’s broken must be burned.”
Kofi:
“And Aputai? What will his bones be remembered for?”
Ama Baa looks toward the jungle.
Ama Baa:
“That hatred can build legends — and destroy kingdoms.”
Final Chapter: Ashes, Empire, and the End of Aputai
Continues Here