[Slokais]

In the center of New Kolda, Jemus Jamneh looked out upon his creation. Not his idea, but rather his execution. Progress has been moving quickly as workers have reached peak productivity. Although workers greatly outnumbered citizens by a factor of 7 to 1 they had become compliant due to hard work, the will of Dawla, and the de-programing programs. Those who stepped out of line were subjected to the enlightenment of their ancestors for days straight in a cell. Eventually after the humiliation and exhaustion of the program, those who once resisted seemed content to return to their duties within the city.

Jemus Jammeh did not create the Dawla Movement, it was his teacher David Temaga. Temaga was blessed with visions of both God and the spirit mother Dawla. With these visions, he was able to find the host of Dawla, a woman who guided Temaga to create the Dawla organization. In 2005, Jemus declared himself to both God and in service of Dawla who had created the Kolda people from her womb. Yet the greatest of the Koldan people was yet to come, Dawla had foreseen a child born to a Koldan father, who would be the second coming of Christ upon his 15th birthday. As 2025 approached, a young boy born to Joseph and a Brissican woman named Mary was set to reach the age of his enlightenment. Jammeh was made aware of this not by the female host of Diawara but instead by her spirit which had become one with an AI model. However not even the average follower of Diawara was aware of this fact. Jemus as well as Joseph and Mary had been the ones permitted to consult with Diawara through the supercomputer.

“Joseph is at the door,” Diawara AI said through his office’s sound system.
“Let him in dear Creator,” Jemus said
The door slid open and Joseph Thinagou, the vice-presidential candidate, greeted Jemus. However, Jemus had known for much longer.
“Good to see you, Dear Joseph” Jemus said
“To you as well, I have several topics to discuss related to the election,” Joseph said as he sat across the desk from Jemus.
“I assume this is in regards to President Senghor?”
“Yes, he has rejected Diawara, he only sees our movement for its economic influence,” Joseph said
“Very, well. He has made a decision which has decided his fate” Jemus said
“Another piece of news, Senghor believes this election will be close and has asked for a communication with Diawara faithful to support him instead of you”
“Does he know the full extent of our operations?”
“No, he believes the High Council of Darwla is the true authority,” Joseph said
“Very good, although we won’t be doing any of that,” Jemus said
“I would say the same but even the KLF-U’s own pollsters predict a close election, a DAP victory would undermine a decade of work”
“I agree, although we still have to retain ballot status with 5% of the vote”
“If things go to plan we won’t have to obey those rules anymore,” Joseph said
“Very, well. I will ask Darwla for guidance” Jemus said.
He typed into a keyboard on his desk “Should Darwla faithful support the KLF-U to guarantee success, use up to K-10 security clearance information”
A few seconds after he typed it, the voice of Darwla based on a female voice model responded.
“Yes, the faithful should support the KLF-U, considering assets within the cabinet”
“Very, well,” Jemus said
“Wise guidance from our creator, I will begin preparations for even the workers of New Kolda to vote,” Joseph said.
“You should be proud of your child’s mother,” Jemus said
“If we are talking about family matters, why bring your daughter from abroad?” Joseph responded.
“I could ruin your whole reputation tomorrow, Joseph. An illegitimate son born to a 16-year-old mother, a Brissican mother as your other son finds himself on the wrong side of the law in Brissiac” Jemus said
“What?” Joseph responded angrily
“Ousmane has found himself in trouble with the Brissican police”
“Damn, I believed his travel to Brissiac would cure him of his behavior”
“I have dealt with it, consider a favor on my part”

Brissican police eventually caught up to Ousmane Thinagou, they came to his room the next morning. After demanding he come with them immediately, Ousmane cooperated. The one favor of being the son of an influential KLF-U politician was that police or legal discipline was never a concern. He knew his father would scold or be cold to him upon returning to Kolda proper. Although Brissiac operated very much separately, the KLF-U had its connections.

Ousmane was booked for three counts of coordinated assault, they hauled him out of the front of the hotel much to the confusion of other guests. Once he was outside, Ousmane was hauled into the back of a police van and was handcuffed to an iron bar. Looking around, Ousmane wasn’t the only one being arrested as the same young boys who had helped him escape were now in the back of the van with him. They stared at him as the van continued down the road.
Ousmane turned to a boy in a white and blue striped shirt “Why, did you help me” he asked in Kango
“We saw you were in trouble, you’re one of the good ones,” he said, looking down.
“I’m gonna get you all out, do your parents know?” Ousmane asked
The boys looked at each other
“They are working too, everybody at home is. We all live together in an estate outside of town”
“I’m a politician in Kolda. I’ll make sure you all get home” Ousmane said again.
“Politicians always make promises,” one of the boys said.
“I’m a good one, the other’s both Brissican and Koldan may look past the everyday person, but I see you as Koldans” Ousmane said as the van stopped once again.
Ousmane was brought into a holding room, with blank metal walls and one long two-way mirror looked back at him. He had been separated from the boys, who must have been brought in for questioning. “How, hopeless,” he thought. An entire life from youth working to make a few dollars, while the locals think you're nothing but a waste of society. This time, Ousmane would take the blame, say it was all him, and take whatever punishment so these boys could live a half-decent life. As the son of a major politician, Ousmane realized in his late teens, he was living a different life than so many of his countrymen. In addition, his father's involvement in arms trafficking led to Ousmane taking on a false surname when he applied for university abroad. Ousmane Thiangou became Ousmane Sarr, a name so generic he shared it with fellow countrymen studying at San Fernando University in Slokais.

After several minutes of waiting, an officer returned
“I’m sorry Missiouer Thiangou, you are free to leave”
Ousmane was used to this, his father must have found out or they found out about his father.
“Are the boys free to go?” Ousmane asked.
“No, they started the attack, it was only natural you responded,” the officer said opening the door of the holding room.
“Those boys are just, if not more innocent than I” Ousmane said.
“Not my decision, superiors made it for me” the officer said as they walked down a brightly lit hallway.
“If money is an issue, I can pay for the boy's bail” Ousmane pleaded.
The officer opened another door, leading Ousmane back onto the street. In the road was the familiar sight of a Koldan government vehicle, and in front beside the driver was the frame of Ousmane’s father.

The road to New Kolda was bumpy, Julie had gathered a group of Islamic and DAP forces together for an assault on the city. It was no longer a Mbaye rescue mission, but a strike at the heart of the Diawara conspiracy. The DAP forces were either older veterans or fresh-faced city kids cosplaying as revolutionaries, they would be modeled into proper soldiers soon. Julie had been with them several years ago, a college student at Howard Prince-Gonzalez University in Slokais, when it became clear in 2014, that the KLF was not letting go of power, she was drawn to action. First a simple campus protest with like-minded activist friends, yet it didn’t feel genuine. People are more concerned with “intersectionality” and “literature” than actually doing anything. Additionally, ill-informed individuals praised Gano and his brave anti-colonialism. Julie had to do something.

Upon graduation, she returned to her grandparent's home in Guediawaye. Over cups of traditional Mallacan mint tea made by her grandmother, Julie developed a plan. She got into contact with a revolutionary named Savior Bagheri, an eccentric but intelligent man who was initially concerned Julie was a foreign spy. Yet after several summers of work on a farm and training range in Rivieres backcountry, she gained Bagheri’s trust.
“We are making final preparations, Savior,” Julie said as she entered his tent at an advance camp in the Moujeriian bush.
They had joined an existing Saw’ab Liberation Front camp, although there was initial concern with Julie and several other female soldiers not wearing “proper, moral coverings”. Julie had met them halfway with a traditional Mallacan headwrap.
“Quiet, I am consulting the ancestors,” Bagheri said, as he overlooked a set of figurines.
“I am praising the spirits for a successful battle” Bagheri added as he lit a candle and turned to face Julie.
“Are they on our side?” Julie asked
“Yes, the Dawla is a false prophet who fell from heaven. True power comes from the spirits and the soul, not a false prophet”
“Good, we are having a meeting in the main tent,” Julie said, turning to leave.
“It’s not just my spirits on our side, although I suggest you send a prayer to your god before we enter battle”

The meeting was held under the shadow of a large boulder, a tent forming a high ceiling. Saw’ab fighters walked around gathering chairs together around a central table with stacks of paper.
“Good to see you,” Saleet al-Ebrahim said, Al-Ebrahim was one of Kolda’s most wanted men and also a former member of Parliament who resigned in 2021.
“And to you as well,” Julie said, sitting down in a chair.
“I’m glad you have decided to cover yourself properly,” he said, sitting in a chair nearby.
After a few moments, Al-Ebrahim grabbed a piece of paper
“Let, us begin”
“First of all, I would like to acknowledge this historic cooperation to strike a blow to the Diawara cult,” Al-Ebrahim said, he then motioned for a man to step forward.
“This is Rabi’an, he lives a few miles from the New Kolda site. Please enlighten the group of the site”
To this moment, they had been speaking in Kreole, a lingua franca of French, Kango, and Arabic. Yet Rabi’an only spoke in his native language Arabic.
“The cultists have occupied the site for many years, yet ever since the start of their campaign against the Saw’ab people they have been quickly building on a several-mile-wide site” Rabi’an said as he pulled out a piece of paper.

“They take workers from elsewhere and dress them in grey robes, the true cultists wearing white and have them build buildings of pure marble, in addition, they have mine and well a few kilometers away from the central city,” he said.
“We will send a force to these areas, mostly made of SLF troops,” Al-Ebrahim said
“Yes,” Rabia’an said
“They have already built a power planet, a prison, and a high-security tower in the center” Rabi’an added.
“Mbaye should be in there,” Julie said to Bagheri who had joined her.
“Indeed,” Al-Ebrahim said.
“Although your friend isn’t our primary mission, it’s the spiritual leader of the Diawara, Jemus Jammeh” he added.
Al-Ebrahim then went around the table explaining each group's mission, with Al-Ebrahim leading an elite force to block the road out of New Kolda.
“Jammeh will flee on foot. I shall meet him on the road. Face to face. Holy judgment will be delivered”