The sun began to sink behind the red-tiled roofs of Weltevreden, leaving a scorched orange hue across the Batavia sky. Julian had stripped off his suffocating wool tunic, replacing it with a light linen shirt he had bought from a Chinese merchant at the morning market. Without an official escort, he felt like a free man for the first time.
"You look more... human without that uniform, Tuan Elias," Kartikasari's voice broke the silence.
They walked toward an open field on the outskirts of the city. There, a crowd of locals had already gathered under a large bamboo canopy. The air was thick with the scent of Sate grilling over charcoal and the spicy aroma of Kretek tobacco smoked by the men.
"I feel lighter," Julian replied, his eyes moving from one face to another. "Where are we going?"
"To a place where truths are told through wood and shadows," Kartika answered mysteriously.
They arrived before a small wooden stage. In the center, an old man sat cross-legged in front of a large wooden chest. Behind him, a group of musicians began to strike the Gamelan—bronze instruments that produced a mystical chiming sound that seemed to vibrate through the humid night air.
It was a Wayang Golek performance.
Julian was transfixed. In the hands of the Dalang, the wooden puppets seemed to breathe. Their heads were finely carved, wearing miniature Batik and shimmering gold crowns. Their movements were incredibly fluid—far more graceful than the nobles at the dance halls of Amsterdam.
"That is Sangkuni," Kartika whispered, pointing to a puppet with a red face and a cunning smile. "He is the instigator. He whispers in the ears of kings, making them destroy each other for his own ambition."
Julian stared at the puppet, then thought of Friedrich. "Does everyone in this city have a role in that wooden box, Kartika?"
Kartika turned, her eyes reflecting the flickering light of the oil lamps. "We are all puppets, Elias. The only difference is who holds our strings. Some are controlled by money, some by love, and others... by secrets."
The "hahahihi" of the crowd's laughter erupted as the puppeteer cracked a joke in the local dialect. Julian smiled along, even though he didn't understand a word. The warmth of the night, the sweet taste of the Kue Putu he was chewing, and Kartika's presence beside him made him forget the lurking threats for a moment.
But as the performance reached its climax, a man dressed entirely in black stood in the distance, watching them from behind a massive banyan tree. Julian felt it—a cold, piercing gaze.
"It is time to go," Kartika whispered suddenly, her smile vanishing. "The night in Batavia has ears, and some ears work for the Governor."
Culture & Language Notes:
Sate: Meat skewers grilled over charcoal.
Kretek: Clove cigarettes, iconic to Indonesia.
Kue Putu: A traditional steamed cake made of rice flour, filled with palm sugar, and topped with grated coconut.
Sangkuni: A famous antagonist character in puppet theater, known for his cunning and manipulative nature.
Beringin (Banyan Tree): Often associated with mystery and spiritual presence in local folklore.