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Message: <blockquote data-quote="xenoflare" data-source="post: 1458239" data-attributes="member: 12431">The evening drizzle ended as abruptly as it had arrived, leaving a humid odour that clung uncomfortably closely to Radin’s skin in the jungle heat. He wrinkled his nose in mild embarrassment as he realised just how uncouth he must appear to his father’s court at the keraton, and shifted his large frame awkwardly to take the strain off sitting with his knees. Out of the corner of his eye, he could sense the disapproving glances of the senior members of the court -his elder brother Humam’s being the sternest among them- at his lack of propriety, and he flinched inwardly, feeling very much like a baby monkey who had stumbled into a conclave of hungry tigers. The two siblings’ affinities and appearances were as different as the northern valleys and southern mountains; Humam was lithe and genteel, noble of aspect with his hair artfully arranged into a neat bun, distinguished in both heraldry and dance, while Radin was a tall jago, simple of speech and deed, whose carelessly strewn locks revealed his lack of concern with etiquette. Despite these differences, however, both brothers were foremost practitioners of the martial arts of pencak silat and mystical arts of ilmu batin, and deeply devoted to their father, King Srisukra. The steady drone of idle chatter at the King’s Audience – some minor noble, Lord Wijaya, was praising the King’s wisdom and commenting on the high price of fish these days, ostensibly in an attempt to procure loans from the royal treasury- nearly sent Radin tumbling into sleep, but a sudden moment of rasa overcame him, and his senses kicked into painful focus – there was something preternatural about to intrude into the present. Radin focused his eyes, willing himself not to blink, and peered furtively about the keraton for the imbalances that had alerted the inner voice of his intuition. His gaze met that of his brother’s momentarily, and he -knew- that his brother, the sensitive aesthete, had sensed them too.“Radin.” The aged King Srisukra smiled benignly at his younger son, a question trailing on his wrinkled brow.The young prince flinched, this time, visibly so, as his concentration was broken. “Wha.. Most August Liege and Honoured Father, how may your poor supplicant of a son serve you?”“I was asking, Blessed Child, about the exorbitant prices of fish in the markets these days. What are your comments on this exceedingly interesting discussion that Lord Wijaya has shed so much light on?”Radin smiled uneasily at Lord Wijaya. The courtier smiled back, conveying both hope and something else inscrutable – disguised disdain? feigned respect? – in his bland grin.Thoughts ran through the jago’s mind with the alacrity of a jilted lover’s memories racing for the bliss of yesteryear, as he composed a suitable reply. I am sorry, Honoured Father, if my words are those of a unlettered child, but I will not beg behind the shield of ignorance for what I will say. It is not my intention to offend, but I would like to know why Lord Wijaya wants to borrow the money. He looked to his elder brother for some guidance, but Humam did not meet his gaze– he was still contemplating the flash of rasa. Nothing to it – he was on his own.Radin cleared his throat, uncurled his tense toes, and began to speak…And pandemonium erupted in the court, as his world became fire.</blockquote>

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