Finishing with the laundry, Arkadevi gathers the damp clothes into a wooden basket, preparing to leave, only to turn and gasp.
The basket drops, spilling wet fabric onto the grassy ground.
"Bramasti?! What are you doing here?" Her voice is cold, eyes sharp with unease.
Bramasti forces a sheepish smile and crouches to retrieve the fallen clothes.
"I was looking for you. I got worried something happened."
He hands her the basket, his tone light, his gestures polite. He follows her back to the house, pretending to ease the tension.
But Arkadevi remains distant and cold. Later, even as Bramasti helps hanging the clothes in the backyard, Arkadevi never lets her guard down.
"You shouldn't be here."
Bramasti tilts his head. "Why? I haven't done anything wrong."
Arkadevi meets his gaze, unyielding. "My husband isn't home. If anyone sees us alone together, people will start talking."
Bramasti steps closer, lowering his voice. "That's exactly why I'm here."
"You?!" Her tone sharpens, suspicion flaring.
Bramasti exhales, his voice smooth. "I know Rangkabhumi. He cares more about his fortress than his wife. What kind of husband leaves his woman alone for so long?"
Arkadevi turns away. She rushes to finish hanging the clothes, refusing to engage.
But Bramasti persists. "You deserve better than him."
Arkadevi spins to face him. "Don't even think about it." Her eyes blaze with disgust. "Even if I weren't Rangkabhumi's wife, I still wouldn't accept a man like you."
Bramasti's pride snaps.
His hand shoots out, gripping her wrist before she can hang the last piece of clothing.
"A man like me?" His smile twists. "What's wrong with me? You act so high and mighty, Arkadevi. Just because you were a palace maid, you think you're noble?"
Arkadevi spits in his face.
"Rangkabhumi has treated you like a brother," she hisses. "And this is how you repay him?"
Bramasti slowly licks the saliva from his lips. His eyes darken.
"So what?"
His grip tightens. His other hand snakes around her waist.
Arkadevi thrashes. "Let me go!"
Bramasti chuckles, pressing closer. "When was the last time Rangkabhumi kissed you? Touched you? Made you feel… wanted?"
"You filth!" Arkadevi struggles, shoving at his chest. "I am close to Prabu Jayantaka. I will report you to the king!"
It's a serious threat, a deadly one. But Bramasti doesn't care anymore. Lust, temptation, and the cursed Kris pulsing beneath his robe, they drown out reason.
With a sudden lunge, he crushes his lips against hers. Arkadevi screams, twisting violently.
Then they collapse onto the ground, tangled in the cloth from the clothesline.
"HELP! SOMEONE… HELP ME!"
And then…
TUNG!
A dull thud cracks against Bramasti's skull. He jerks, momentarily stunned.
His head snaps up, just in time for…
TUNG!!!
Another hit.
Bramasti staggers, blinking rapidly. Once his vision clears, he freezes. Standing before him is Adanu Raksa.
The boy grips a wooden stick, his tiny hands trembling. His face is a mix of confusion and guilt.
"…Uncle Bramasti?" He stares, puzzled. "What… what are you doing?"
Bramasti scrambles away from Arkadevi, plastering on an innocent smile.
"Oh, no! I was just helping your mother with the clothes!" He forces a laugh. "She slipped… I was just… catching her before she fell!"
Arkadevi says nothing. She dusts herself off and silently gathers the scattered clothes.
Adanu frowns, uncertain.
Then Arkadevi speaks. "Your father will be home tomorrow."
Adanu's face brightens instantly. "Really?! Father is coming home?!"
Arkadevi turns to Bramasti, her gaze icy.
"Yes. He's coming home."
But Bramasti knows it's a lie. He knows Rangkabhumi isn't returning anytime soon. The Galuguh armies are advancing from the east, and Rangkabhumi is tied to the fortress.
Bramasti, as his messenger, is privy to this knowledge. Even so, Arkadevi's words still carry a warning, and Bramasti understands.
So for now, he must pretend nothing happened.
***
The next day…
At the fortress, just a hill away from Talang Asri village…
The air is thick with the scent of sweat and metal. Soldiers move about, sharpening spears and reinforcing barricades. Horses stomp restlessly, snorting in the cool morning air.
The clang of steel rings from the training yard. Banners bearing Chakradwipa's emblem flutter under the golden sunrise.
Amid the bustling camp, Rangkabhumi stands tall, scanning the fortress with quiet authority. But then, his focus shifts as Bramasti approaches, rubbing his swollen head.
"Bramasti! You're back?" Rangkabhumi greets warmly. "How's my son? Has he managed to hit you yet?"
Bramasti forces a laugh. "Hah! That kid? It's too early for him. He can't even hold a stick properly."
Yet…
As he keeps walking away, his hand instinctively rubs his bruised head.
"Damn… why does it still hurt?" he mutters under his breath.
Rangkabhumi catches the words. But, unaware of what transpired back home, he only smirks before turning back to his men, supervising their training.
Near the fortress gate, seasoned officers share a hearty meal, sharpening blades, trading boasts of past battles.
The air hums with warmth, alive with joy and laughter, at least, until the thunder of galloping hooves shatters the moment.
A scout arrives, breathless, panicked.
"SENAPATI! SENAPATI RANGKABHUMI!!!"
The officers fall silent.
The scout leaps from his horse, face pale with urgency.
"The Galuguh army has moved." He gasps. "They'll reach us before sundown tomorrow."
Tension thickens. Some soldiers grip their spears tighter. Others exchange nervous glances.
Rangkabhumi steps forward, calm. "How many?"
The scout swallows hard. "One hundred horsemen. Four hundred infantries. And from their border…"
He hesitates.
Then, his voice trembles.
"They are preparing two thousand more."
Rangkabhumi's expression hardens. The threat isn't just the fort. It's Chakradwipa itself. If Galuguh is mobilizing such a force, they're not merely attacking the border. They're planning to invade.
"We can't hold the fort against an army that size," one soldier mutters.
Rangkabhumi turns toward the voice, his sharp gaze scanning his men. Before he can respond, he spots Bramasti approaching.
"Bramasti!" He calls. "Ride to Senapati Kagendra in Muncar Regency. Inform him of the situation and request reinforcements."
Bramasti bows, then rushes to his horse. Without hesitation, he kicks into a gallop, dust billowing behind him as he speeds away.
But his path is not north, not towards Muncar Regency. Instead, he veers toward a nearby hill, a twisted grin spreading across his face.
"Gyahahaha! This is perfect. Let him die at Galuguh's hands. Soon, Arkadevi will be mine! She belongs to me!"
At the hilltop stands a modest hut, one Bramasti has clearly visited before. It's small and weathered, its bamboo walls faded and brittle from years of neglect.
Bramasti moves with familiarity, reaching beneath a bamboo couch and retrieving a hidden jug of wine. Stepping to the cliff's edge, he takes a deep gulp, savoring the burn.
He settles onto a broad, weathered tree stump, its surface smooth from years of exposure. Positioned at the cliff's edge, it offers an unobstructed view of the fortress below.
"Let's see how you defend your precious border, Rangkabhumi." He sneers. "Don't worry! I'll look after your wife. Just as you always asked me to. Gyahahaha!"
From his vantage point, he notices movement in the valley. Soldiers rush toward Talang Asri, warning the villagers.
Farmers abandon their fields, fleeing toward the village, while eager young men march toward the fortress, ready to volunteer. Their bravery is admirable. But against an army of thousands, it will make no difference.