Slanders

(There are 2 version of narrative in this chapter. The new script format and the traditional one. It is recommended to read the script format.)

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Script format (including extra content)

[EXT. MALACCA'S GATE—EVENING]

Hffyl was seen riding a horse into the city's gate. He came back after leaving for a while to visit Pattani. He spotted Amir at the city gates.

Hffyl: So, Amir, what's the word on the street? What's got you all riled up?

Amir: Bendahara Tun Mutahir had passed. He's been executed.

Hffyl: (stunned) What?

Amir: True, I've been hearing whispers. They're saying the Bendahara's been framed, you know? Tun Hassan Temenggung, Seri Nara Diraja, and Tun Ali had been executed as well.

Hffyl: Framed, you say? And why are you bringing this to my attention?

Amir: Listen, kid. There's talk going 'round that the Portuguese are involved, some say that Laksamana Khoja Hassan didn't do his work well. Some say that King Mendaliar is behind They're pulling strings and playing dirty. This ain't just some random scheme, it's a full-blown conspiracy.

Hffyl: So, you reckon there's more to all this than meets the eye?

Amir: Precisely. It goes deeper than the Bendahara. It's about the heart and soul of Malacca, the economy, and our own safety. We can't let them get away with this.

Hffyl: (gazing intently) True, the Bendahara was the Sultan's right-hand, keeping things in check. And the Temenggung, the Chief of Security, they're both vital for our survival.

Amir: That's not all. The Portuguese are messing with our trade, throwing everything off balance. They want control over the trade route, no less.

Hffyl: That's a double blow. We lost Temenggung, and Khoja Hassan has been fired. Malacca will be left exposed. Who's going to protect us, then?

Amir: Exactly. We're on the same page. We need to dig deep and find out who's pulling the strings. We can't let them tear down everything we've built.

Hffyl: Aye, we need to tread carefully. We're wading into dangerous waters here. But for the honor of Malacca, we can't afford to back down. Or not, our hold on politics and the economy could fall. No... The whole of Malacca could fall.

[EXT. COURTYARD - DAWN]

A concealed courtyard within the palace walls, early morning. The light breaks gently through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground.

Pak Rahim: This silat originated early from the kingdom of Langkasuka in the 10th century and was improvised, it is an art that is both ancient and powerful.

Hffyl: What makes it different from the other martial arts, Pak Rahim?

Pak Rahim: Its uniqueness lies in its subtlety. There's no stance. One simply stands straight, giving no hint to the opponent about the next move.

Amir: No stance? But won't that leave us vulnerable?

Pak Rahim: The strength of it is in its defense. By remaining upright, you catch your opponent off guard. They can't predict your move. And by focusing 99% on defense, we ensure our protection. The mere 1% offense is enough to take down an adversary when the time is right.

Hffyl: Interesting. It sounds a bit different than the Silat the Temenggung taught me.

Pak Rahim: (nodded) Indeed. But remember, there's no stepping back. Either stand still, sidestep, or move forward. Retreat is not an option.

Amir: So we face our opponent head-on, always ready.

Pak Rahim: Exactly. But let me stress this - this art is not to be displayed in public or to the enemy. Keep it to yourselves. If they learn and copy our techniques, they could find a way to counter them. This art is our secret weapon.

Hffyl: We understand, Pak Rahim. We will honor this trust.

several hours later...

As the last moves of their session concluded, the three men found themselves in the center of the courtyard, beads of sweat dripping from their foreheads, their chests heaving from the intense practice. Pak Rahim signaled for them to sit in a circle on the cool stone floor. The gentle morning breeze rustled the leaves above them.

Pak Rahim: (clear his throat) Before we finish today, there are some fundamental tenets that you must understand and promise to uphold.

Hffyl and Amir exchanged a glance, nodding silently in agreement, ready to listen.

Pak Rahim: First, you must always respect your parents. They are the reason you are here, and it's through their sacrifices and love that you've been able to walk this path. No matter where life or silat takes you, always remember and honor them.

Imran: I understand, Pak Rahim.

Pak Rahim: Secondly, respect your teacher. This does not just apply to silat but in all aspects of life. The knowledge and wisdom they pass on to you are invaluable. To disrespect a teacher is to disrespect the art and knowledge itself.

Amir: We will, Pak Rahim.

Pak Rahim: Third, never engage in hostile combat with a fellow practitioner. We are a brotherhood, and to fight amongst ourselves is to weaken our collective strength.

Lastly, always maintain respect for other silats. Every martial art has its roots, its story, and its pride. To insult another silat is not just an affront to its practitioners but a display of ignorance and arrogance. Always carry yourself with humility.

Amir: We will carry these teachings with us, Pak Rahim. Not just in our practice, but in our hearts.

Pak Rahim: If you follow these tenets, not only will you be skilled practitioners but also honorable men. And that is the true essence of this art.

[EXT. COURTYARD'S GAZEBO - MORNING]

Hffyl and Amir settled in the courtyard of Pak Rahim's training area, seeking wisdom in the early morning's gentle sunlight. Meanwhile, Imran had stumbled upon a playful litter of kittens.

Imran: (Petting a kitten.)

Hffyl: Pak Rahim, the whispers about Tun Mutahir's arrest grow louder. Many believe he was framed. What are your thoughts on this matter?

Pak Rahim: Rumors, my young friends, are like the wind. They blow in every direction, oftentimes without substance. Yet, occasionally, the wind carries fragments of truth.

Amir: Is it possible that there is a traitor within the palace?

Pak Rahim: Loyalties shift as quickly as the sands in the desert. The palace is no exception. Trust becomes a rare and precious currency, and those who covet power might resort to deception as their tool.

Imran's laughter and pleas for rescue provided a whimsical counterpoint. His initial encounter with the kittens had multiplied, with an ever-growing army of feline co-conspirators dragging him away.

Imran: (struggling) Hey, put me down. Put me down!

Hffyl: (ignores) And what news about the Laksamana?

Pak Rahim: Ah, the new Laksamana arrival is expected within two weeks. Laksamana Khoja Hassan has been fired, if I'm correct. His expedition to Istanbul, aimed at securing arms in the face of the Portuguese threat, has extended beyond the original timeline. However, his return promises renewed strength and hope for our kingdom.

Imran: Help! These cats are swarming me!

As the days passed, the unease in Malacca grew. The absence of the Laksamana, Temenggung, and Bendahara and the looming threat of the Portuguese cast a shadow over the once-vibrant city.

[INT. COMMON AREA - EVENING]

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hffyl gathered a small but determined group of individuals to discuss their options. Among them were Syafiq, Amir, a few dedicated city guards, Captain Rahmat, and Imran, who had finally extricated himself from the clutches of the mischievous kittens.

City Guards: The Portuguese had already set up a base near our shores.

Hffyl: We cannot afford to wait any longer. We must bolster our defenses while we await Laksamana's return. The Portuguese may strike at any moment.

Captain Rahmat: I have a small vessel that can be swiftly readied for defense. We can use that.

Syafiq: We'll stand by your side then, Captain.

Amir and the city guards nodded.

With the plan in motion, they hurried to Captain Rahmat's ship, a sturdy but modest vessel. Hffyl though not yet an expert sailor. Their mission was clear: to patrol the waters surrounding Malacca and act as a vigilant shield against any potential threat.

Days turned into nights, and their naval defense became a symbol. They had honed their skills through constant practice, with Hffyl learning the art of sailing on the fly. But it was during one fateful encounter with a small Portuguese skirmish that fate took an unexpected turn.

As they engaged in a skirmish at sea, Hffyl, gripping his trusted golok, fought valiantly alongside his comrades. The clash of steel on steel, the creaking of the ship, and the salty sea spray filled the air. Amidst the chaos, Hffyl found himself momentarily disarmed, his golok slipping from his grasp and into the unforgiving depths of the sea.

The battle ended with the Portuguese retreating, but Hffyl's heart sank as he realized he had lost his weapon. The golok now rested on the ocean floor.

With heavy hearts, they returned to Malacca, victorious in defending their city but burdened by the loss of Hffyl's weapon.

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Original version (a bit outdated. recommended to not read)

Hffyl, once a stranger to these lands and now intertwined with its fate, found himself at the crossroads of emotion and duty. However, this evening was different. The silhouette of Amir approached him with an urgency that piqued Hffyl's interest.

"Hffyl," Amir began, his voice a low whisper, "I've heard troubling rumors. They speak of deceit and a conspiracy that goes deeper than we imagined. Many believe the Bendahara was framed."

Hffyl's gaze intensified. "And why bring this to me?"

Amir met his gaze firmly. "Many in Malacca whisper of Portuguese influence, of bribes and betrayals. They say the Bendahara was a threat to some ambitious parties within the court and those allied with the Portuguese. If there's anyone who can navigate this treacherous path and unearth the truth, it's you."

Hffyl spoke. "The Bendahara was responsible for advising the Sultan on governance matters. He managed the state treasury, oversaw administrative issues, and handled various matters related to internal governance and politics. The Temenggung, however, was Chief of Security and Public Order. Without them both, Malacca is in a vulnerable state."

Amir added. "Not only that, since the Portuguese arrival, they had disrupted the existing trade relationships of the Gujaratis, Arabs, and Chinese, and created competition for control of the lucrative spice trade. And with the Sultan losing his advisor, our hold in politics and the economy could fall."

"No... The whole of Malacca could fall."

Amir's eyes narrowed in thought as he continued, "Hffyl, it's not just the Bendahara we should worry about. What if Laksamana would be framed as well? He's the one guiding you in Silat, and his skills are invaluable to Malacca's defense. If he's taken out of the picture, who will protect us?"

Hffyl leaned in, his mind racing with the implications of Amir's words. "You may be onto something. If the conspirators are willing to frame the Bendahara, then no one in the court is safe. We need to find out who's behind this, and quickly."

Amir nodded in agreement, his determination matching Hffyl's. "We must tread carefully, my friend. These are dangerous waters we're navigating. But the honor and stability of Malacca are at stake."

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Scene: A concealed courtyard within the palace walls, early morning. The light breaks gently through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the ground. The ambiance is tranquil, yet there's a sense of underlying tension.

Pak Rahim spoke with a calm and authoritative voice, setting the stage for the lesson ahead. "This silat you're about to learn is Silat Cekak. Originated early from the kingdom of Langkasuka in the 10th century and improvised, it is an art that is both ancient and powerful."

Hffyl couldn't help but express his curiosity. "What makes it different from the other martial arts, Pak Rahim?"

The seasoned instructor paused, his demeanor exuding wisdom. "Its uniqueness lies in its subtlety. There's no stance in Silat Cekak. One simply stands erect, giving no hint to the opponent about the next move."

Amir couldn't conceal his surprise. "No stance? But won't that leave us vulnerable?"

Pak Rahim's smile held a hint of pride in the art he was about to impart. "The strength of Silat Cekak is in its defense. By remaining upright, you catch your opponent off guard. They can't predict your move. And by focusing 99% on defense, we ensure our protection. The mere 1% of offense is enough to take down an adversary when the time is right."

Hffyl's intrigue grew with each revelation. "It sounds challenging yet intriguing."

Pak Rahim nodded, emphasizing the importance of their training. "Indeed. But remember, there's no stepping back in Silat Cekak. Either stand still, sidestep, or move forward. Retreat is not an option."

Amir, absorbing the lesson, acknowledged, "So we face our opponent head-on, always ready."

Pak Rahim stressed a critical point. "Exactly. But let me stress this - this art is not to be displayed in public, nor to the enemy. Keep it to yourselves. If they learn and copy our techniques, they could find a way to counter them. This art is our secret weapon."

Hffyl affirmed their commitment. "We understand, Pak Rahim. We will honor this trust."

As the last moves of their session concluded, the three men found themselves in the center of the courtyard, beads of sweat dripping from their foreheads, their chests heaving from the intense practice. Pak Rahim, ever the composed teacher, signaled them to sit in a circle on the cool stone floor. The gentle morning breeze rustled the leaves above them, creating a serene backdrop to the weighty conversation that was about to unfold.

Pak Rahim cleared his throat, drawing their attention. "Before we finish today, there are some fundamental tenets of Silat Cekak that you must understand and promise to uphold."

Hffyl and Amir exchanged a glance, nodding silently in agreement, ready to listen.

Pak Rahim began, "First, you must always respect your parents. They are the reason you are here, and it's through their sacrifices and love that you've been able to walk this path. No matter where life or silat takes you, always remember and honor them."

The three young men nodded. Hffyl responded softly, "I understand, Pak Rahim."

The older man continued, "Secondly, respect your teacher. This does not just apply to silat but in all aspects of life. The knowledge and wisdom they pass on to you are invaluable. To disrespect a teacher is to disrespect the art and knowledge itself."

Amir voiced his agreement, "We will, Pak Rahim."

Pak Rahim's eyes bore a serious look as he delved deeper into the principles. "Third, never engage in hostile combat with a fellow practitioner of Silat Cekak. We are a brotherhood, and to fight amongst ourselves is to weaken our collective strength."

Hffyl clenched his fist, understanding the gravity of the words, "Unity is strength. I'll remember."

The final rule was emphasized with a solemn tone, "Lastly, always maintain respect for other silats. Every martial art has its roots, its story, its pride. To insult another silat is not just an affront to its practitioners but a display of ignorance and arrogance. Always carry yourself with humility."

Amir, feeling the weight of the teachings, replied, "We will carry these teachings with us, Pak Rahim. Not just in our practice, but in our hearts."

Pak Rahim smiled warmly, placing a reassuring hand on both their shoulders. "If you follow these tenets, not only will you be skilled practitioners of Silat Cekak but also honorable men. And that is the true essence of this art."

Hffyl and Amir settled in the tranquil courtyard of Pak Rahim's training area, seeking wisdom in the early morning's gentle sunlight. Meanwhile, Imran had stumbled upon a playful litter of kittens, unwittingly becoming the center of their amusement.

In a hushed tone, Hffyl broached the subject that had been circulating like a storm in the palace: "Pak Rahim, the whispers about Tun Mutahir's arrest grow louder. Many believe he was framed. What are your thoughts on this matter?"

Pak Rahim, his eyes reflecting a lifetime of experiences, responded with a measured tone, "Rumors, my young friends, are like the wind. They blow in every direction, oftentimes without substance. Yet, occasionally, the wind carries fragments of truth."

Amir, his concern evident, ventured further, "Is it possible that there is a traitor within the palace, Pak Rahim?"

Pak Rahim nodded thoughtfully. "In times of political turmoil, loyalties shift as quickly as the sands in the desert. The palace is no exception. Trust becomes a rare and precious currency, and those who covet power might resort to deception as their tool."

As the trio delved deeper into the labyrinthine politics of the palace, Imran's laughter and pleas for rescue provided a whimsical counterpoint. His initial encounter with the kittens had multiplied into a comical scene, with an ever-growing army of feline co-conspirators dragging him away.

Amir couldn't stifle a chuckle at the sight before returning his attention to Pak Rahim. "And what news of the Laksamana? When shall he return?"

Pak Rahim's countenance brightened with anticipation. "Ah, the Laksamana's arrival is expected within two week. His expedition to Istanbul, aimed at securing arms in the face of the Portuguese threat, has extended beyond the original timeline. However, his return promises renewed strength and hope for our kingdom."

Even as Imran's comical predicament reached its zenith, Hffyl, Amir, and Pak Rahim continued their solemn discussion, mindful that winds of change were sweeping through Malacca, and the destiny of their realm hung in the balance.

As the days passed, the unease in Malacca grew. The absence of the Laksamana and the looming threat of the Portuguese cast a shadow over the once-vibrant city. Hffyl, ever the determined and loyal protector, couldn't bear to see his newfound home in a state of vulnerability.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Hffyl gathered a small but determined group of individuals to discuss their options. Among them were Syafiq, Amir, a few dedicated city guards, Captain Rahmat, and Imran, who had finally extricated himself from the clutches of the mischievous kittens.

Hffyl addressed the group with a sense of urgency, "We cannot afford to wait any longer. We must bolster our defenses while we await the Laksamana's return. The Portuguese may strike at any moment."

Captain Rahmat, a weathered sailor, nodded in agreement. "I have a small vessel that can be swiftly readied for defense. Hffyl, with your courage and leadership, we can protect our city."

Syafiq, his loyalty to Hffyl unwavering, chimed in, "We'll stand by your side, my friend."

Amir and the city guards nodded, their determination evident.

With the plan in motion, they hurried to Captain Rahmat's ship, a sturdy but modest vessel that had weathered many storms. Hffyl, though not yet an expert sailor, took the helm with determination. Their mission was clear: to patrol the waters surrounding Malacca and act as a vigilant shield against any potential threat.

Days turned into nights, and their makeshift naval defense became a symbol of resilience. They had honed their skills through constant practice, with Hffyl learning the art of sailing on the fly. But it was during one fateful encounter with a small Portuguese skirmish that fate took an unexpected turn.

As they engaged in a skirmish at sea, Hffyl, gripping his trusted golok, fought valiantly alongside his comrades. The clash of steel on steel, the creaking of the ship, and the salty sea spray filled the air. Amidst the chaos, Hffyl found himself momentarily disarmed, his golok slipping from his grasp and into the unforgiving depths of the sea.

The battle ended with the Portuguese retreating, but Hffyl's heart sank as he realized he had lost his cherished weapon. The golok, a symbol of his journey and growth, now rested on the ocean floor.

With heavy hearts, they returned to Malacca, victorious in defending their city but burdened by the loss of Hffyl's weapon, a reminder that sacrifices were often made in the name of duty and honor.