In an ancient era, in the town of Jogbo, a sacred ritual is spoken of by a priest who describes a pact between the people and their kings. This pact hinges on the use of the brass bell, the revered Saworoide, during the ritual process, a ritual that is said to accompany the rise of each successive king. The tale opens with a sense of fate tethered to tradition, where the bell’s sound marks more than ceremony—it marks the balance of power in Jogbo.
A new king, Lapite, has just ascended to Jogbo’s throne, and there is a long-held belief that Jogbo’s kings never accumulate the same wealth or influence as those from other lands. Lapite learns, through his ally and Chief, Balogun, that this limitation stems from the town’s old ritual practices surrounding kingship. Driven to change the status quo, Lapite takes steps to cheat the ritual process. Yet Balogun receives a stark warning later from the very elder who previously spoke to him: anyone who cheats the process will share his kingship with someone else, and if he ever hears the Saworoide being played, a brutal headache will signal doom. This warning echoes through the court as Lapite’s ambition grows, and it drives him to drastic measures.
In pursuit of power, Lapite orders assassins to strike at the family of Adebomi, whom he sees as a threat. The target is the family, though their youngest child survives the onslaught. He also orders the capture of Ayangalu, the custodian of Saworoide, and the drum that embodies the town’s sacred ritual. Ayangalu is tipped off by a loyal chief and escapes, taking with him Adeboro’s son. In the escape, Saworoide itself is left behind, vulnerable to capture, setting the stage for a clash between power, tradition, and resistance.
To consolidate his hold on the throne, Lapite takes another wife, Tinuola, who is secretly pregnant by her lover. This pregnancy must be kept hidden to preserve the queenly opportunity that comes with Lapite’s rule. Meanwhile, Lapite allies with modern investors to begin a mass extraction of Jogbo’s resources, especially through logging, a move that scorches fields and crops in the process. The royal court descends into opulence, and the King’s administration clamps down on dissent, silencing the press as protests begin to swell among the people who see their land being stripped away. Lapite’s administration shows a brinkmanship stance, ignoring the mounting grievances of citizens who push back through organized protest.
As discontent grows, militancy emerges among the farmers, who find themselves pitted against the workers on the plantations. The workers respond with a strike, escalating tensions in the town. Lapite begins to turn against members of his own cabinet, raiding and arresting his opponents, revealing a tyrant’s temperament that unsettles both allies and subjects. In response, members of the farm owners’ association seek wisdom from Amawomaro, the town priest. He directs them toward a dangerous solution: remove the Adé idẹ, the Brass Crown, from the palace for fifteen days, in the belief that this absence might reset the ritual balance and somehow avert catastrophe.
Seeking external help, the militants receive dubious funds from one of the logging firms, who lends support under the guise of aid but with hidden, self-serving aims. The conflict escalates into attacks designed to destabilize the ceremonial order. They hijack a public ceremony in an attempt to steal the king’s crown, but the crown is recovered—secured through bribes offered to the right people within the system.
Amid the turmoil, a bond forms between Aresejabata and Araparegangan, described as the daughter of Lapite in some quarters. Aresejabata confides in her that, while intoxicated, he is the son of Adebomi—the very man killed earlier in the conflict. When Lapite learns of this, he orders Aresejabata’s assassination, a move that threatens Aresejabata’s life and deepens the web of secrets swallowing Jogbo. Araparegangan urges Aresejabata to flee with her and to escape the gathering and the village’s danger. They slip away to safety as the town’s fissures widen.
A military coup follows, and Lagata rises to power, killing Lapite and seizing control of Jogbo. Balogun and Seriki establish communication with the new government, attempting to stabilize the kingdom and navigate the aftermath of the upheaval. The former militants, however, hatch a plan to unseat Lagata by manipulating the town’s sacred instrument once more. They seek Ayangalu’s return to the stage of power, hoping he can play Saworoide to influence public sentiment and political outcomes.
Yet one of the militants betrays the group, leading to Ayangalu’s arrest. Before his capture, Ayangalu uses his drum’s magic to call forth his son, Ayanniyi. The son returns to Jogbo, and when he plays the Saworoide, Lagata’s new reign is shaken by a severe migraine, a sign of the drum’s potent, protective, and deadly force. The soldiers find themselves mysteriously swayed toward siding with the people, a shift that complicates the new government’s hold on the city. In this dizzying turn of events, Aresejabata steps forward and receives initiation to become the next ruler of Jogbo, closing a cycle that intertwines lineage, ritual power, and political upheaval.
Throughout the tale, the town remains under the watchful eye of both tradition and ambition. The sacred Saworoide, the old rituals, and the looming consequences of power’s misuse weave a complex tapestry in which every act—whether a whispered warning, a political maneuver, or a desperate flight—pushes Jogbo toward an uncertain future. The final turn of events leaves Jogbo perched between the pull of history and the fragile promise of a new king, with Aresejabata poised to pursue a destiny that echoes the town’s enduring reliance on ritual, power, and the ever-present possibility of change.
