The palace of Majapahit awake at dawn. A thousand servants moved through its long wooden halls, carrying bronze trays, sweeping the tiled courtyards, and preparing for the day's court. The air smelled of incense and burning sandalwood, a fragrance that always clung to the seat of power.
Hayam Wuruk sit on his carved teak throne, a lion-shaped backrest curling around him. In the eyes of the people, he was already whispered as RajasaNegara (Rajasa can mean lion or king, Negara mean Country or kingdom). But today, he sought more than just titles. He sought control.
Gajah Mada entered with his measured steps, clad in dark iket (traditional Belt) wrapped tightly around his waist. His presence filled the chamber like the strike of a gong calm, resonant, undeniable.
"Prabu," the Mahapatih bowed deeply, calling him by the honorific for king. "The court awaits your command. The nobles have gathered, and so have the merchants. Rumors of your new decrees stir them like restless fish in shallow water."(Prabu is mean Yor majesty'
Hayam Wuruk's lips curled slightly. He had been preparing for this moment. A council meeting where nobles and merchants forced to sit and listen to him. Forced to recognize his authority.
"Let them in," Hayam Wuruk commanded. His voice was soft, but it carried the tone of iron.
The doors of the pendhapa (open-sided audience hall with a high roof) swing open, revealing a mixture of faces adipati (regional lords), wealthy merchants, and religious leaders clad in saffron robes. Their sandals scraped against the polished floor as they assembled in neat lines, though none dared raise their eyes too boldly.
Hayam Wuruk observed them like a chessboard laid before him. Each noble, each merchant, each priest,pawns, rooks, bishops, knights. And he, the king, was both player and ruler of the game.
---
"Honored lords of Majapahit," he began, his tone sharp yet steady, "for too long, corruption has eaten into the wealth of our land. Coinage is debased, prices unstable, and trade stolen by the greed of a few. No more."
A ripple moved through the gathered crowd. Some exchanged uneasy glances. A few priests frowned, as if the young king's words trespassed upon the authority of the gods themselves.
"I will standardize our kepeng (bronze coin currency widely used in Java)," Hayam Wuruk continued. "No lord shall mint his own. Only the royal treasury will control the measure of gold, silver, and bronze. Merchants will weigh with the same standard, whether they trade in the markets of Trowulan or across the sea."
The merchants stirred, whispering to one another. A powerful move stability meant prosperity for them. The nobles, however, stiffened. To them, this was a chain around their necks.
---
At the side of the hall, Gajah Mada folded his arms, silent but watchful. His eyes narrowed slightly not in disapproval, but in calculation. He admired the young king's boldness, though he knew such a decree would ignite resistance.
One noble finally spoke, voice trembling with carefully hidden anger.
"Prabu… such decrees diminish the freedom of our houses. For generations, our rights have been honored. Will Your Majesty now strip them away?"
The hall turned silent. All eyes looked to the throne.
Hayam Wuruk leaned forward, his gaze like a blade.
"Freedom?" he said softly. "Your freedom has made the people suffer. While you grow fat from manipulating the coins, the farmers starve, unable to trade fairly. If you call that freedom, then yes. I will strip it away."
A chill swept the court. The merchants lowered their heads in approval, some even daring to smile. The nobles clenched their fists. The priests remained unreadable.
---
Then, in a move none expected, Hayam Wuruk raised his hand.
"But I am not blind to the spirit of my people. The karawitan (traditional Javanese ensemble, precursor to gamelan music) and the poets of our land are treasures equal to coin and steel. Thus, I will sponsor a grand festival music, dance, and theater to celebrate the unity of Majapahit. The people shall see not only the iron of my law, but the glory of our culture."
The announcement stunned the court. Nobles blinked, confused by the sudden turn. Merchants whispered excitedly festivals meant trade and customers. Priests frowned, wary of being overshadowed.
Hayam Wuruk's expression remained cold, but deep within, Adrian's modern mind was already weaving threads:
Stabilize the economy. Gain the merchants. Bind the people with culture. Corner the nobles with law.
Every piece had its place.
The game had begun.
(Majapahit Palace)
The council chamber was thick with tension, though no one dared to speak first after the young king's sudden proclamation. Hayam Wuruk, still new to the throne, had carried himself with an authority that even seasoned ministers had not expected.
Gajah Mada's sharp eyes scanned the room. He could almost taste the unease radiating from the nobles seated around the carved teak table. Some lowered their gazes, others fidgeted with their ceremonial keris (a traditional dagger, both weapon and symbol of honor). The Prime Minister did not miss these subtle reactions fear, doubt, and a flicker of defiance.
"So… they are already testing him," Gajah Mada thought grimly. "These men served under Tribhuwana Tunggadewi, his mother, a ruler both wise and respected. They expect a boy to falter. But…"—his gaze shifted back to the king"…this boy is not ordinary."*
Hayam Wuruk leaned back slightly, his expression calm, almost bored. Yet there was a sharpness in his eyes, like the glint of a blade hidden in silk. He let the silence stretch until it became suffocating, a deliberate move that Gajah Mada immediately recognized.
Finally, the king spoke.
"Tell me," Hayam Wuruk's voice was steady, controlled. "What good is a minister who advises only for his own pocket? What worth is a noble whose loyalty can be bought with foreign gold?"
The question was rhetorical, yet its weight made several nobles stiffen. Gajah Mada allowed himself the faintest smile. This was no naïve youth speakingit was a predator circling its prey.
One minister, plump and sweating, cleared his throat. "M-Maharaja… surely Your Majesty does not doubt the loyalty of this council?"(Maharaja same like Prabu, would you like to use Prabu or Maharaja? Tell Me Your Opinion)
Hayam Wuruk's lips curved upward, but there was no warmth in it. "Loyalty is proven, not declared."
The words struck like a blade. Gajah Mada felt admiration bloom in his chest. The king was young, yes, but his presence was commanding. More ruthless than his predecessors… perhaps even more ruthless than me.
The silence thickened once again. A servant entered quietly, refilling goblets with spiced water, the scent of cloves drifting into the chamber. No one dared move until the king gestured with a flick of his hand.
"Patih Gajah Mada," the king said, finally turning his attention to the Prime Minister. "You have long spoken of Palapa, your vow of unification. Tell me what resistance should I expect within my own walls before I turn my gaze outward?"
The question was layered. Gajah Mada recognized the trap immediately. The young king was not merely seeking counsel he was testing his most trusted servant, weighing his response.
The Prime Minister inclined his head respectfully. "Maharaja, within these walls lies the greatest battlefield. An enemy clad in fine silk is more dangerous than one bearing steel. If Your Majesty commands, I shall watch their steps… and cut away the rot before it spreads."
Hayam Wuruk's smile deepened, this time tinged with menace. "Good. Then see that you do. I will not have parasites feeding off my reign."
A murmur rippled through the council, quickly silenced under the weight of the king's gaze.
Gajah Mada, seasoned by decades of politics and war, felt an unfamiliar sensation stir within him both pride and unease. The boy upon the throne was no ordinary sovereign. There was a coldness behind his words, a mind sharpened by something beyond their time.
"Perhaps this is destiny… or perhaps something more."
And as the meeting dragged on with reports of harvests, disputes, and border whispers, Gajah Mada found himself watching the king more closely than ever.
For the first time in many years, the Prime Minister felt the stirrings of caution.