Morning arrived at the Mataram Palace square like a fresh breeze from the awakening earth. A thin mist danced above the grass, while the sun's rays crept slowly, touching the joglo roof with a soothing golden light. The sounds of footsteps and shouts from the training troops echoed in the air, rolling like the rhythm of the waves on the south coast. The clanging of wooden weapons, the echoing shouts of commands, and heavy breathing signaled the unyielding fighting spirit of the land of Mataram.
But amid the commotion, there was a figure standing still like a rock in the middle of a storm. Ardhan, a foreign young man who had been in the spotlight for the past few weeks, stood in the middle of the training arena, his body upright but relaxed, his eyes dark but peaceful, staring into the distance as if seeing something beyond the horizon. A small keris decorated with a lurik pattern hung at his waist, not for battle, but as a symbol of respect for tradition. He rarely drew it, because for him, the true weapon was not sharp metal, but peace of mind.
In recent days, Ardhan's name has been the talk of Mataram. Stories of a young man dressed in strange clothes who is capable of performing unusual martial arts moves have reached the ears of nobles and commoners alike. Some consider him a gift from heaven, while others see him as a threat. Praise and envy go hand in hand, like two sides of a coin that cannot be separated. Among the soldiers, whispers of envy begin to spread: who exactly is this young man who has appeared out of nowhere, displaying skills that even the old trainers may not have mastered?
On the side of the hall, Panembahan Danang Sutawijaya sat on a throne made of teak wood with carved dragons. His gaze was sharp, but behind it lay a wisdom that considered all things. Next to him stood Ki Ageng Pemanahan, an old man whose eyes seemed to see deeper than just the surface of human beings. Several high-ranking officials and commanders were also present, including Raden Bagus Wiratmaja, the person who was most convinced that Ardhan was no ordinary traveler.
"Show us that move again," said one of the admirals with a stern face, his voice heavy like the clang of a metal gong. "So that all of Mataram knows whether what they heard was just a story or reality."
Ardhan bowed his head in respect. He took a deep breath, letting the cool morning air fill his chest. Then calmly, he touched the small mushaf in his pocket and whispered a prayer that only he could hear. After that, he stepped into the center of the arena, his feet treading lightly but firmly. His eyes reflected calmness, but behind them lay a strength that not everyone could understand.
He opened his steps slowly. Both hands moved like waves of water, soft but with energy flowing beneath the surface. The move was called Tapak Naga Menggulung Awan (Dragon's Palm Rolling Clouds), a treasure that was said to have been created by a hermit from the slopes of Mount Merapi, combining human breath with the rotation of the wind and the currents of the earth. The movement was not just martial arts; it was like a dancing prayer, uniting body, soul, and the universe in harmony.
As Ardhan began to turn his body, the direction of the wind around the field changed. The air vibrated softly, as if responding to the presence of invisible energy. Each of Ardhan's steps contained rhythm; each movement of his hands left a faint trail of blue light that could only be seen by those who were sensitive to the vibrations of inner energy. It was as if the heavens and the earth bowed down to watch the dance.
The soldiers fell silent. Those who had been chatting now held their breath. When Ardhan ended his movement with a single strike of his palm on the ground, there was a sound like a small thunderclap. The wind blew, the leaves around him swirled upward, and dust flew up, forming a perfect circle. A young soldier standing too close was pushed back several steps, feeling startled as if he had felt the touch of invisible energy.
Silence enveloped the air. Then came murmurs of admiration, followed by whispers of disbelief. Some soldiers discussed hesitantly, while others stared with wide eyes. However, among them, there were also those whose faces looked tense, not because they were fascinated, but because they felt disturbed.
At the back of the line stood Kyai Jaya Wira, a senior soldier over fifty years old, with a sturdy build and a stern face, the scar on his cheek a sign of his experience in many battles. He was known as the main trainer of the Mataram core force, and now seeing a young man being worshipped in front of him made him feel like a needle piercing his honor. His face reddened, his hands clenched.
"Enough," his voice boomed. "We are soldiers, not dancers. This dazzling skill may attract attention, but it will not save lives on the battlefield."
Some people bowed their heads, afraid of being swept up in the anger. However, before the atmosphere could calm down, someone stepped forward, Brahman Teguh, Kyai Jaya's right-hand man, who was known for being quick-tempered. He looked at Ardhan with a challenging gaze. "If that move is as powerful as you claim, prove it in front of Panembahan. Let's see if the dragon you boast about is truly capable of rolling clouds, or if it's just an illusion."
The atmosphere grew tense. All eyes were on Danang Sutawijaya. The panembahan raised his hand, signaling for everyone to calm down. "All right," he said calmly. "If you want to test it, do so fairly. Without malice, without weapons. This is not a place for killing, but for self-assessment."
Ardhan bowed his head in respect. He was not looking for a fight, but he also realized that refusing would be considered cowardly. "I obey the Panembahan's orders," he said softly. "If it is your will, allow me to learn to assess myself."
The arena had been cleared. The gamelan music stopped, while all members surrounded the empty area. Kyai Jaya stood at the edge of the arena, his eyes sharply observing the situation. Brahman Teguh took off his robe, revealing his muscular body covered in scars. On the other side, Ardhan stood expressionless, only closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
The fight began with a short cheer. Brahman Teguh launched the first attack, his movements quick and precise like a trained soldier. He swung his fist toward Ardhan's chest with great force. But Ardhan simply tilted his body, easily deflecting the blow as if he were simply moving a leaf that had fallen into the water. Every attack from Brahman was countered with gentle circular movements, deflecting his opponent's energy without strong contact. He moved like an elusive shadow.
"Fight seriously, boy!" shouted Brahman as he stamped his foot, then leaped forward with a spinning attack that made the ground shake. But at that moment, Ardhan fully utilized the Dragon Palm technique. Ardhan's movements suddenly became very fast, like a whirlwind that sucked in everything that came close. His left hand slapped, while his right hand spun upward, and in an instant, he delivered a palm strike. The air vibrated violently.
Brahman was lifted off the ground, thrown several steps before finally falling and rolling. But strangely, he was not injured. Ardhan controlled his power so as not to cause injury to his opponent. He only cut off the flow of energy from the attack at the exact point of balance. The audience fell silent, then the atmosphere became quiet throughout the square.
Ardhan did not move closer as the winner. Instead, he bowed his head and slowly approached Brahman Teguh, who was still gasping for breath. He helped him sit down and patted his shoulder respectfully. "I don't mean to belittle you, sir," he said softly. "This knowledge is only a tool, not the ultimate goal. It should be a protector, not a destroyer."
Brahman stared at him for a long time. His breathing was heavy, but the anger on his face slowly began to fade. He smiled wryly and nodded slowly. "You win, young man. But more than that, you have reminded me that knowledge without virtue will only lead to arrogance."
Applause echoed around the arena. Some young soldiers cheered, while others whispered in awe. Even Kyai Jaya, who had previously been adamantly opposed, now bowed his head slowly. "I misjudged you," he said briefly. "I thought you just wanted to show off. It turns out you still know your manners."
Panembahan Danang Sutawijaya rose from his seat. "This is a true example of a knight," he exclaimed loudly. "Win without arrogance, lose without hatred. Remember, all the knowledge you have learned will be useless if your hearts are harder than stone."
Ki Ageng Pemanahan smiled slightly. He looked at Ardhan with his wise old eyes, as if seeing a bright future. In his heart, he was certain: this young man would be part of Mataram's great destiny.
However, amid the applause and praise, there were also cold stares that many people ignored. A young official whispered to his colleague, "If Pajang knew that Mataram had young people like this, they would certainly not remain silent." The whisper was like a dark seed waiting to grow in the fertile soil of palace intrigue.
As evening approached, training resumed, but the atmosphere was now different. The soldiers trained with renewed enthusiasm. They not only wanted to become strong, but also wanted to understand the meaning behind that strength. Ardhan became a symbol that true strength did not come from anger, but from a balance between faith and courage.
When the afternoon gently arrived, Ardhan left the square. He walked towards a small hut on the edge of the palace complex, his simple dwelling. He sat on the bamboo porch, opened a small book, and read a few verses in a low voice. In his heart, there was a feeling of gratitude and caution. Today he had succeeded, but he realized that every success attracted attention, and attention was often more risky than defeat.
From afar, the silhouette of the moon began to appear, and the wind carried the melody of gamelan music from the main hall. Ardhan closed his book and gazed at the darkening sky. He whispered, "O Allah, protect me from arrogance. If this knowledge comes from You, then do not let it distance me from You."
The night closed the day quietly. However, behind that calm, the wheel of fate began to turn slowly. Behind the palace walls, the nobles began to whisper, the soldiers began to choose sides, and the shadows of Pajang's power began to creep in from the north. The Dragon's Footprint had indeed rolled away the clouds today, but behind those clouds, a greater storm was ready to emerge.
To be continued…