Meeting the Bekel Again

"Duke Wirahasa!"

The heavy and firm voice immediately shook the knife, which was on the verge of coming out of its hiding place, causing the cup made of natural stone to fall to the floor.

"Are you drunk?" Wirahasa wasn't too suspicious as he promptly greeted Panewu and got up from his grand chair.

The voice of the man had now changed to the sound of approaching footsteps.

"I am not a Duke, Panewu Panggito. Not yet. It feels like you're mocking me with that title. Kediri is already in ruins. There are no more Javanese rulers here."

"Who is this man?"

"Why did Panewu come here? Let's move to another room. There's something I need to discuss."

Jagat Wengi still didn't dare to turn his body to see the figure of this Panggito. One of the most influential Panewu in the Kingdom of Kediri, besides Panewu Sawito. These two individuals competed with each other to gain the attention of Jayakatwang, but now the king was no more, so who knows whose attention they were fighting for at the moment. (1)

Panewu Sawito had employed Jagat Wengi through Bekel and two of his soldier subordinates. However, Jagat Wengi had no idea what Panggito was doing in the palace.

Without facing the two former Panewu in Kediri, Jagat Wengi slowly made his way out of Bale Paseban. All the Mongol soldiers here were watching his every move.

"Jagat Wengi! We're not done yet!"

The shout came simultaneously with two soldiers following him from behind. They were armed with spears with sword blades at the tips.

The corridors were dimly lit with a few hanging oil lamps, and large torches were displayed in every corner of the connecting corridors within the palace.

He wanted to get out of there to release the stuffiness and heat in his body due to the alcohol. Just to breathe in some fresh air amidst the lingering smell of blood.

There was nowhere else to go except the central courtyard adorned with a fountain pool with a statue of Goddess Durga in the middle. He sat there for a moment. Two pairs of eyes immediately focused on him.

The water in the pool appeared murky, similar to the alcohol he had consumed earlier. And suddenly he realized that this feeling must have arisen from the flow of alcohol within his body. The desire to kill was so strong when the mocking laughter came out of Wirahasa's mouth.

Perhaps another cup of alcohol would refresh his body. The palace's alcohol was truly unparalleled. He would have to find its storage and take some with him later.

"Hey, blind-eyed one! Fetch me some alcohol!" Jagat Wengi's hand formed a hollow shape in his palm. With a gesture, the soldier, called the blind-eyed one, should have understood his request.

However, the soldier one blind-eyed just remained silent, exchanging glances with his companion.

"Fine. I'll find it myself. Mongols reek. Don't you ever bathe in your own country?"

Jagat Wengi complained, speaking to himself under tight guard. He had become like an important official in the palace, escorted by two palace guards behind him. He rambled incoherently while observing the hanging wall decorations along the corridor.

He felt that the path was straight, but his gaze on the white marble floor seemed to randomly pass a long line in the middle. He tapped his head briefly, trying to alleviate the headache momentarily. Making sure that it was only his eyes spinning, not the world.

Laughter and foreign songs immediately greeted Jagat Wengi's ears. He arrived at a garden with several pavilions and huts. As he looked up, he noticed a large gate above his head.

Not only did he see the jokes of the Mongol soldiers, but he also witnessed Javanese women dancing to entertain these smelly and ugly men.

Jagat Wengi continued walking and observed the bustling surroundings filled with unfamiliar faces and different attire. Then his eyes caught sight of a medium-sized pitcher without an owner.

He guessed that it was alcohol from the storage, but as he approached to take the pitcher, someone snatched it away and carried it off.

"Hey!! Don't take my palm wine!"

The person's appearance resembled a Javanese warrior as they lacked the armor of the Tartar Mongols. They wore trousers that reached their calves and were bare-chested, just like Jagat Wengi.

Jagat Wengi followed the Javanese warrior until they reached a spacious pavilion. He joined his friends who were surrounding someone lying on the ground.

It seemed that someone was injured, he thought. He reassured himself of the commotion when the previous pitcher was poured into a bamboo cup and brought to his lips, then moved to the crook of his arm.

There seemed to be blood there, flowing. Someone like a healer should have been prepared in this palace. A wounded warrior, and Jagat Wengi requested that from his two accompanying guards behind him.

Of course, they remained silent like statues. They didn't want to help fetch the alcohol, let alone call for a healer.

Armed with the remaining concoction in his possession, Jagat Wengi walked closer and dispersed the crowd with a small bag in his hand.

All eyes looked at him in surprise due to Jagat Wengi's appearance, clearly different from them as a warrior. They had their ranks attached to the bracelets on their arms or the metal encircling their headbands.

A commoner in the palace, escorted by two Mongol soldiers behind him, certainly wasn't an ordinary person. These soldiers parted and made way for Jagat Wengi to carry out his intention.

He had already opened the small fabric bag containing finely ground powders. He had given the same material to Lady Rasmi, the wife of Rakryan Tumenggung.

As he concentrated on the concoction on his finger, he didn't notice the piercing gaze of the lying soldier. But when his index finger touched the wound on the crook of his arm, at that moment, he became aware that he was being watched.

For a moment, they both stared at each other, almost simultaneously uttering, "You...".

How surprised Jagat Wengi was to see who the wounded soldier actually was.

It turned out to be Bekel, the one who employed him!

His index finger, already stained with the concoction, quickly pressed tightly into Bekel's wound. His agile left hand covered the mouth that was screaming in pain.

"Hold on, Lord Bekel. Hold on. This is how it hurts, only at the beginning. Endure for a moment!"

The pressure grew stronger, causing Jagat Wengi's face to lean slightly downward, close to Bekel's ear.

"I can make the hole in your arm even bigger. Don't act foolish, Lord Bekel," he whispered.

Jagat Wengi pressed the wound again to continue his threat. Fresh blood flowed out due to the pressure, increasing in intensity.

Until Bekel agreed to Jagat Wengi's request, the pressure would only tighten at the crook of his arm. Bekel's companions looked worried and attempted to help.

"You, on the side! You're only making it more painful for him. Give him some space. He needs fresh air! Not your body odor." Jagat Wengi took on the role of a healer.

The effort succeeded. Bekel's companions stepped aside, giving them a moment of respite. And Jagat Wengi whispered again.

"I can heal your wound, but you also have to cooperate with me. Understand?"

Bekel nodded. Small beads of sweat emerged from his forehead down to his neck. He calmed down and took a sip of alcohol to alleviate the pain.

From the right side, two soldiers suddenly appeared, their faces filled with indescribable panic.

"Brother! Brother! I couldn't find the alcohol. Are you alright?"

The loud voice in Jagat Wengi's right ear caused him to turn his face, and once again, their eyes locked in a gaze. Remembering and recognizing each other's faces.

These soldiers were the ones who accompanied him in the forest earlier.

"Hey, you! What are you doing here?"

"You calm down. Can't you see that I'm healing your friend?"

The soldier didn't care. The pain he had been falsely accused of inflicting in the forest by Jagat Wengi still echoed in his mind. He pushed Jagat Wengi's body, causing him to fall.

"Capture this traitor! Quickly!"

Some hesitated to approach as two armed guards from the Mongols immediately intercepted them. Although they were only two in the pavilion, these two slanted-eyed individuals showed no fear.

They brandished their spears, giving Jagat Wengi the opportunity to stand up and walk back toward the jug of alcohol he had been eyeing from the beginning.

"Be careful how you deal with me. Don't act foolish," he said confidently.

The peculiar and inquisitive gazes were reflected in furrowed brows.

Who was this Jagat Wengi who could have such an escort?

They could only stand there in silence, watching Jagat Wengi disappear from behind the Mongols.

"Do you see that? They were acting like fools earlier," Jagat Wengi said with a loud laughter that echoed down the hallway.

"Hey, Jagat! Where were you? Come here."

Wirahasa's figure appeared at the end of the corridor, at the entrance to Bale Paseban. Returning to his original position.

He hoped that Panewu Panggito was no longer there. His quick steps took him back into the room, and his assumption turned out to be wrong.

Panggito was still inside!

"There is a good task for you. It aligns with Ulagan's request to you."

"I don't want to kidnap a child. That's not my field."

"That's not what I meant. Listen to this directly from Panewu."

"There is a rogue school that disobeys Prabu Jayakatwang's orders when we were attacked by Majapahit and the Mongols. They possess a book, and the village has many children."

"So what?"

Wirahasa continued Panewu's sentence, stating that Jagat Wengi was requested to retrieve the book from the school and also monitor the village. Take note of the number of children and the village guards.

Another group will handle the village.

Bastard! Jagat Wengi cursed inwardly because he was apparently asked to spy on a village.

He wanted to inquire about the group dealing with child abductions, but that would only involve him further. Reporting on the village's condition wouldn't trouble him. It was this martial arts school that was the concern.

"What do you need, young man?"

"I need good clothes and fabric. Clean water and healthy horses," Jagat Wengi replied promptly.

"Very well. You can depart tomorrow morning."