Lahat ng Kabanata ng Toward the Sun: Kabanata 1 - Kabanata 9

Java, 1586The wind howled across the coast.The sun blazed from the peak of a sharp blue sky, while massive waves exploded against the black rocks lining Karang Bendan's shoreline.On a stretch of smooth sand, two men stood facing each other, separated by little more than eight feet.The first one was tall and lean, sporting a neatly trimmed mustache above his upper lip. He wore a purple tunic tailored from the finest fabric money could buy, and the headband was equally expensive. One glance was enough to tell anyone that this was a man who had never worried about the contents of his purse.His opponent presented quite a different picture.The second man wore simple black clothing that looked more suited to a mountain farmer than a warrior. His headcloth was also cheap. He had tall and imposing build, with a thick mustache and bushy sideburn adorning his face. A massive machete rested at his belt.Taken together, he looked exactly like the sort of outlaw parents warned their children

A horse thundered toward the pavilion at a full gallop.Several servants who were lighting lanterns around the sprawling estate looked up in alarm. Whoever was arriving wasn't an ordinary guest.He leaped from the saddle before the horse had even come to a complete stop—and somehow managed not to land face-first in the dirt.The sun had just vanished beyond the horizon, leaving streaks of gray-blue twilight overhead, when the broad-shouldered man strode hurriedly toward the pavilion. Behind him, several house guards chased after the runaway horse.The newcomer had barely reached the steps when a large figure emerged from the main house.Bajul."Is it about the dead body they burned earlier?" Bajul asked immediately."Yes. Where's Wisnumurti?""Inside. Come on."The two men entered the main residence.In the front room, several men seated on a bamboo platform immediately rose to greet the newcomer. He wore a long-sleeved jacket, a knee-length cloth wrap, and a finely crafted kris tucke

Jaladri scrambled back up the gentle riverbank and rejoined Wisnumurti and Bajul. The sun was already high overhead, beginning its slow drift westward.After half a day on the road from Karang Bendan, they had found the perfect place to stop—a small stream with crystal-clear water winding through the countryside.The three men ate lunch from the banana-leaf-wrapped meals prepared by Ki Soma’s household.Now their stomachs were full.They could ride straight through until reaching Kenipir, which lay west of Karang Bendan.The route between the two settlements was well maintained. Because travelers moved along it frequently, the road remained wide and level enough for horses, wagons, and ox carts to pass comfortably.It was also remarkably safe.Bandits rarely preyed on travelers between Karang Bendan and Kenipir, allowing ordinary people to travel without needing large caravans or hired swords for protection.Farther west and northwest, however—beyond Kenipir and toward the Royal City

The young village girl was almost certainly the latest beauty Prince Candrakumala had decided to add to his collection of concubines. Perhaps one of his men had heard about her while passing through villages like Brabo and carried the story back to him. The prince became interested, and now his senopati had arrived to collect her.As a wanderer, Wisnumurti had seen scenes like this far too many times. Normally, he would have stayed out of it. The affairs of royalty were dangerous ground.The problem this time was the violence. He understood exactly why Jaladri had nearly exploded moments earlier. They had just come from two villages where infants and toddlers lay butchered among the dead. Seeing a baby tumble from her mother’s arms after three armed men shoved her to the ground was enough to send anyone’s blood pressure through the roof.Perhaps the family had shown less than perfect obedience. Perhaps the girl herself had resisted. It was only natural. She was about to be taken from

“This just got interesting, didn’t it? Especially because we already know exactly who’s around you that could’ve trained you in martial arts. There’s Bajul. Ki Gede. Pratiwi. If any of them thought you had talent and wanted to help, they’d simply call you over—or better yet, drag you into a sparring match. So why all the cloak-and-dagger nonsense? Who was that man? Why did he choose you instead of Bajul?”“And you don’t feel anything unusual now, do you?” Bajul asked. “Because that kick from the Senopati wasn’t meant to scare you. It was meant to cripple you. I honestly thought you were dead. At the very least, unconscious for a week. But you’re walking around like nothing happened.”Jaladri rubbed the spot on his chest where Natpada’s foot had landed.“It hurt right here for a minute. I couldn’t breathe for a little while. Then... it just went away. I’m fine now.”“It was Senopati Natpada who took the real beating,” Wisnumurti said. “He’s probably still seeing stars. He flew halfway