The Batavia sun was at its zenith, baking the zinc roofs and asphalt streets until the air seemed to shimmer. Julian sat in his new study, a small room in a corner of the palace that always smelled of old books and camphor. Before him lay the documents he had smuggled from The Hague, alongside the latest intelligence report Friedrich had handed him this morning.
He stared at the data, line by line, with stinging eyes. Adrian. He was now twenty years old. Only a slight age difference from Julian himself. At twenty, Julian was busy learning to dance in palace halls and attending lectures on international law. And Adrian? Adrian had spent twenty years of his life as a shadow, moving from one settlement to another, learning how to survive the pursuit of colonial spies.
Then there was Anne Marie. Eighteen years old. That name felt so fragile to Julian's ears. A young girl who should have just been discovering the world, yet in Friedrich's notes, she was labeled as "the most dangerous asset due to her resemblance to the royal family."
"Only a two-year difference," Julian muttered, touching a blurry photo he had stolen from Friedrich's desk last night.
In the photo, a girl stood in front of a window of an old house in the Kota Tua area. Although her face wasn't entirely clear, her jawline and the way she stood were identical to the portrait of Julian's aunt back in the Netherlands. Anne Marie didn't just have Van de Berg blood; she was a walking mirror of the family that had discarded her.
Suddenly, the door swung open without a knock. Friedrich stepped in with a heavy, authoritative stride. The scent of his cigar immediately ruined the room's tranquility.
"You've been staring at those papers for too long, Julian," Friedrich said, leaning against Julian's teak desk. "Twenty and eighteen. Very productive ages to start a rebellion, aren't they?"
"They are still so young, Friedrich," Julian replied, trying to hide the tremor in his voice. "They are not a military threat."
Friedrich laughed, a sound devoid of humanity. "In this land, age means nothing. A twenty-year-old boy with royal blood can gather thousands of followers overnight. And that eighteen-year-old girl? She could be the perfect martyr."
Friedrich leaned in, staring directly into Julian's eyes. "I received a report that Adrian was seen at a Kopi Joss stall near the station last night. He wasn't alone. He was with a girl whose description matches your sister's perfectly. If you don't bring them to me soon, I will send the Marechaussee to level the entire block."
Julian felt sick to his stomach. He remembered Kartika calling Adrian a symbol and Elena calling him a ghost. Now, he realized how heavy the burden Adrian carried on his twenty-year-old shoulders was. He had to protect a teenage Anne Marie while being a shield for the people who hoped in him.
"I will go there tonight," Julian whispered.
"Good," Friedrich replied, slapping Julian's shoulder roughly. "Remember, Julian. You aren't saving siblings. You are pruning a rotten branch so the tree stays upright. Bring them to me, or you will see how quickly those eighteen years can end at the tip of a noose."
After Friedrich left, Julian slumped in his chair. He picked up a piece of cold Kue Cucur from his side table, seeking a bit of comfort in its palm sugar sweetness, but his tongue felt numb. At their very young age, Adrian and Anne Marie had become the most wanted fugitives in the Dutch East Indies, and Julian was the only person standing between them and death.
Culture & Language Notes
Kopi Joss: A unique way of serving coffee with a piece of glowing red charcoal dipped into it, popular in some parts of Java; represents the "heat" and grit of the local streets where Adrian hides.
Marechaussee: The elite paramilitary force of the Royal Netherlands East Indies Army (KNIL), known for their ruthlessness in counter-insurgency.
Kue Cucur: A traditional snack made of fried rice flour and palm sugar, with a chewy texture and sweet taste.
Kota Tua: The Old Town area of Batavia, filled with decaying colonial buildings and narrow alleys, providing a noir-esque backdrop for the search.