King-father Samori

Samori was born as the twin brother of Namori, the true Ochiyamie of Nubara chosen by Yankopon. This fundamental inequality—being born identical but deemed lesser by divine will—planted seeds of resentment that grew across decades. Everything Namori was (spiritually powerful, chosen by gods, destined for greatness), Samori was not.

Growing up in his brother's shadow while possessing equal intelligence and greater ambition created a man who saw divine favor as arbitrary injustice. Why should birth order or Yankopon's whim determine worth? Samori believed he deserved what Namori received through cosmic lottery.

The Betrayal:

His affair with Dama, Namori's wife, represented both genuine passion and profound betrayal. Samori truly loved her, but that love was inextricably tangled with jealousy of his brother. Possessing Namori's wife meant claiming what should have been his. When Dama stabbed her husband in the back during the twins' confrontation, enabling Samori to kill Namori, it completed his usurpation of his brother's life—taking his role, his wife, and his divine mandate.

The murder should have ended Samori's Web access (ankhs worked only for chosen Ochiyamies), but through sheer will and Dama's complicity, he forced the connection. He wielded stolen power through stolen authority, proving that divine systems could be subverted by determined mortals.

The Children of the Throne Act:

This policy revealed Samori's philosophy: Nubara Academy, where talented children from across the kingdom were "recruited" (often seized from families), trained in combat, politics, and tactics. The official narrative celebrated meritocracy—anyone could rise regardless of birth. The reality was generational trauma: families destroyed, children weaponized, loyalty manufactured through isolation and indoctrination.

Samori genuinely believed this system superior to hereditary succession. Why should noble blood determine fitness to rule when training and testing could identify true talent? He saw parents' grief as acceptable cost for societal advancement, their loss as sacrifice for the greater good.

The Academy produced exceptional results: Nubara fielded the most skilled assassins, administrators, and generals in Yankoponia. But the foundation was built on stolen childhoods and shattered families. Prosperity poisoned by methods used to achieve it.

Yankopon's Curse:

The spider god's punishment manifested as beast transformation—when Samori lost control of rage or fear, he became physically what he'd always been spiritually: a monster that destroyed without discrimination. The night he slaughtered bandits in berserk fury and accidentally killed young Kini (tearing the boy apart), Samori learned his power came with terrible cost.

The curse suggested divine judgment: you wanted power without divine blessing? Here's power you can't control, that hurts those you claim to protect. Samori spent years learning to suppress transformations, but the beast lurked beneath civilized veneer, waiting for weakness.

Philosophy of Power:

Samori chose human dominion over divine blessing, technology over faith, calculated control over spiritual connection. Rather than preserve Ochiyamie bloodlines as Yankopon intended, he forced the god's hand—if divine favor came with divine oversight, better to be free of both. He believed humanity's advancement required breaking free from gods' arbitrary rules.

This philosophy wasn't entirely wrong. Nubara did advance rapidly under his rule—technological innovation, military supremacy, administrative efficiency. But the human cost was immense, and Samori's inability to see people as anything beyond resources for his vision made him monstrous regardless of intentions.

The Fontomfrom War:

Samori's orchestration of Ochiyamie assassinations during the Feast of Betrayal represented his ultimate gambit: destroy the system that had excluded him, force Yankopon to withdraw favor from all of Yankoponia, create power vacuum Nubara could fill. He hired the Golden Scourge mercenaries to execute Ochiyamies during what should have been sacred gathering.

His tactical brilliance showed during the war's chaos—using multiple forces simultaneously, exploiting divisions between kingdoms, maintaining plausible deniability about his true involvement. He was playing multi-dimensional chess while others scrambled to survive.

Relationship with Nefertari:

His discovery that Nefertari was Namori's daughter (his niece) brought unexpected joy. In his twisted logic, this gave him the Ochiyamie heir he'd lacked, the divine legitimacy he'd always craved. His pride in her accomplishments as an assassin wasn't just professional satisfaction—it was familial pride from someone who'd created a family legacy through murder.

He trained her without revealing their blood connection, molding her into the perfect weapon while believing she'd eventually rule beside him, legitimizing his stolen throne through her Ochiyamie bloodline.

Death and Legacy:

Nefertari's killing of Samori represented cosmic justice. The daughter of the brother he'd murdered, using skills he'd had her trained in, turned his own weapon against him. His final moments, showing Nefertari his ankh and revealing family secrets, suggested he died still believing he'd triumphed—he'd found his heir, his legacy would continue.

He never understood that Nefertari's inheritance would be rejecting everything he represented.

Samori's character explored how noble goals (strengthening kingdoms, advancing technology, creating efficient governance) could justify atrocity. His belief that he was building something greater than himself wasn't entirely wrong—Nubara was powerful and advanced. But the foundation was built on stolen childhoods, shattered families, and mass murder.

Philosophy:

"Strength through ruthless advancement, loyalty through controlled conditioning, greatness through sacrificing the few for the many." Samori believed the ends justified means, that visionary leaders must make hard choices lesser people couldn't stomach, that sentimentality was weakness that held civilization back.

He was wrong, but his effectiveness made that wrongness seductive.