The moment their eyes followed Baruna’s pointing finger, several soldiers broke into a run, their heavy boots thundering against the cobblestones as they charged toward Setiaji. The middle-aged man turned and fled without a backward glance, his legs pumping with a speed that belied his years.He had never imagined this betrayal could come from Baruna—his friend of so many years, the man he had once shared meals and battle stories with beneath the stars. To think that Baruna had not only turned his back on their bond but had also reported his return to the palace of Kalingga filled him with a rage so hot it burned through his veins.“You cursed traitor, Baruna… I swear I will make you pay for this,” Setiaji muttered under his breath, his feet flying across the ground so swiftly that passersby stared in amazement. The streets of the capital, once familiar to him, now became a maze he wove through with desperate skill.Setiaji did not dare head straight for the inn—he knew that would lea

Surajaya’s brow furrowed deeper with concern, his eyes darkening as he processed the news. “The nineteen men who joined us—did they betray us too?”“No,” Aji replied quickly, shaking his head to dispel the thought. “The traitor was Setiaji’s old friend—Baruna is his name.”“Does this mean our plan is ruined?” Surajaya asked, his voice heavy with worry. After all they had worked for, to see it fall apart now would be a bitter blow.“Not as far as I can tell,” Aji said, his expression calm and measured despite the danger they faced. “Setiaji never mentioned us to Baruna when he was gathering information. But to be safe, I will take Ratih out of the capital first—get her to the nearby village where she can be protected.”“Very well,” Surajaya agreed, nodding firmly. “I will remain here—I have already uncovered what we need to know about Princess Larasati.”Aji gave a short nod of acknowledgment. “We will speak in full when I return.”With that, Aji led Ratih out of the inn into the quiet

In all the years that King Surajaya had ruled over the great kingdom of Kalingga, no trial had ever shaken the foundations of his reign. Wars were waged and won with effortless grace; rival realms bent their knees to his banner without hesitation; even the most stubborn of crises dissolved beneath the weight of his will. His dominion stretched across valleys and hills, binding neighboring lands to Kalingga’s throne as surely as iron chains hold fast to stone. For the King, power was not merely a gift—it was a tool he wielded with the precision of a master artisan shaping gemstone.It was in this moment of quiet sovereignty that a figure entered his private chamber, her presence illuminating the room as surely as the morning sun breaks through storm clouds. She moved with the fluid grace of a river winding through green fields—tall of stature, her form honed by years of riding through forests and practicing the ancient arts of her people. Every line of her bearing spoke of royal blood,

With steps heavy as lead and shoulders slumped as if every ounce of strength had been drained from his frame, the handsome warrior made his way back toward Princess Larasati’s carriage. Dust coated his white tunic, and sweat had carved dark paths down his cheeks—yet his eyes remained clear and steady as he looked upon the Princess, who leaned anxiously from the window, her brow furrowed with worry.“The danger has passed, Your Highness,” Aji announced, his voice carrying just enough weariness to seem genuine. “The tiger has fled into the forest and will not trouble us further.”“Are you injured?” Larasati asked at once, leaning forward as if to reach out to him. “That beast was monstrous—surely it must have struck you?”“I am unharmed, Your Highness,” he replied softly, offering her a small, reassuring smile. “Only weary from the exertion. Such a creature demands every ounce of one’s focus.”“Then come—enter the carriage,” she insisted, moving aside to make room for him. “We are but a

Within the walls of his chambers, Aji stood lost in thought, his gaze fixed upon the moonlit gardens below as he plotted his next moves. His goal was clear: to draw King Surajaya into single combat, a duel untainted by the presence of guards or courtiers—one where justice could be served without endangering the innocent.“The palace defenses are tighter than woven steel,” he murmured to himself, his voice barely more than a whisper in the quiet room. “It seems my plans will require more time than I had hoped—days may stretch into weeks before the moment is right.”His thoughts turned to his wife, Ratih, waiting for him at the inn beyond the city walls. He had promised to return to her within seven days, but now he knew his absence would be far longer. Guilt pricked at his heart—she had stood by him through every trial, and he hated to keep her waiting, to leave her in the dark about the dangers he now faced within the palace’s gilded halls.Lost in these musings, he was startled by th