(There are 2 version of the narrative in this chapter. The new script format and the traditional one. It is recommended to read the script format.)
____________________
Script format (including extra content)
[EXT. Malacca - early 1510 - DAWN]
Hffyl deftly leaps from rooftop to rooftop, a group of men, armed with an assortment of weapons, pursues him. Their pursuit is relentless, pushing Hffyl's skills to their limit. Spears, machetes, knives, staffs, and even a musket are wielded with precision and intent.
Leaping onto a narrow ledge, Hffyl scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting between the potential paths of escape. He knew he had to confront his pursuers eventually, and with a resolute stance, he turned to face them.
His adversaries towered over him, weapons gleaming in the sunlight. Their expressions were stern and focused. They moved with speed and precision, and Hffyl knew he was in for the fight of his life.
With a deep breath, Hffyl prepared himself. He used his surroundings to his advantage to avoid getting shot. He was outnumbered.
He focused on the man closest to him—the one who's holding a machete—all while keeping an eye on the musket. In a single, swift movement, Hffyl counters the man and uses him as a human shield. With the musketeer's line of sight now blocked, Hffyl quickly takes care of the two men closest to him.
Then he moved on to the rest, but the final duel proved to be too much for him. In the end, Hffyl was defeated, but he knew he had given it his all.
Hffyl: I did my best, Tun Mutahir. It was a tough fight, but I'm glad I was able to hold my own.
Tun Mutahir: You've come a long way since you first arrived in Malacca. Your training has paid off, and your skills as a warrior are truly impressive. But remember, true strength lies not only in physical prowess but in wisdom and character. Wittedness defeats swiftness. Always keep that in mind.
Hffyl: Thank you, Tun Mutahir. Your words mean a great deal to me. I'll continue to train and improve, both as a warrior and as a person.
Tun Mutahir: I have no doubt you will. You have a bright future ahead of you and the potential to become a great leader. Just remember to never let your ego get the best of you and always stay humble.
Hffyl: I will.
Tun Mutahir: Alright then, let's continue. Who would like to be the hero next?
Masked man: I would like to be next.
Tun Mutahir: Sure. Imran, you will be the next hero. Hffyl, ready up with the rest.
Hffyl: (Pick up a machete) Let's see what you got, hero.
Tun Mutahir: Alright, begin the chase.
[EXT. Malacca - DAY]
The bustling streets of Malacca were bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Hffyl, Imran, and Amir walk together.
Imran: You really showed us a thing or two during that training session, Hffyl. Where did you learn moves like that?
Hffyl: I've been lucky to receive guidance from some of the best in Malacca,.
Amir: You always have a way of being at the right place at the right time! I mean, that's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
Hffyl: I couldn't believe it either. It was incredible to have him as a mentor and to guide me around. I've never felt so confident as I did on that one journey to the Mediterranean.
Imran: Talking about the Mediterranean, have you heard about Laksamana Hang Tuah's journey to Istanbul?
Amir: Yes, I've heard whispers about it too. The Portuguese seem to be increasing their presence in the region, even though Laksamana Khoja Hassan is in charge. If Laksamana Hang Tuah hasn't disappeared, maybe he could help.
Hffyl: Gaining more arms and strengthening our defenses seems like a wise decision, given the circumstances.
Imran: True. And with Laksamana at the helm, I'm sure we'll be well-prepared. I hope other admirals will also follow in his footsteps.
[EXT. MALACCA RESIDENCE - DAY]
Messenger: Greetings. The esteemed visitors at the palace have expressed a desire to meet with you. They await your presence.
Hffyl: Visitors? Who could they be? Alright, I'll visit the palace.
Messenger: No problem, Hffyl. I'll be your guide through these vibrant streets.
They arrive at the palace, and Hffyl is greeted by Tun Mutahir and the visitors.
Hffyl: Pak Rahim? And... Mister? What brings you to Malacca?
Pak Rahim: Ah, young Hffyl! It's been a while, hasn't it? We've received a special invitation.
Tun Mutahir: Indeed. Laksamana's departure to Istanbul has left a void in your training. That's why I've invited Pak Rahim to aid in your instruction.
Hffyl: But I thought Pak Rahim was a silversmith.
Pak Rahim: (chuckles) Ah, my boy, there's much you don't know about me. I am well-versed in the ancient art of Kedahan Silat, a form not commonly known but incredibly effective.
Hffyl: Then why don't you teach me from the very start?
Pak Rahim: The Silat of Kedah has been shrouded in mystery and passed down through select families. Its techniques are said to counter many other martial arts, making it an invaluable skill for a warrior.
Tun Mutahir: I felt it was necessary for you to be trained in this discipline, given the growing threats we face. It will equip you with a unique advantage. Besides the growing conflict at the straits. These two might help steer away some troublemakers while Laksamana is away.
Artisan: Two?! I would like to withdraw. I'm only here for the trade.
Pak Rahim: Prepare yourself, lad. Our sessions won't be easy, but they will be rewarding.
Suddenly, they disrupted by the sudden intrusion of guards clad in armor.
Tun Mutahir: Is there an emergency?
The lead guard, recognizable as Commander Alang, approached the Bendahara.
Commander Alang: Tun Mutahir... we are sorry.
The palace guards remain silence while Commander Alang continues.
Commander Alang: By orders of the Sultan, you are under arrest on charges of suspicion of treason.
Hffyl: Commander Alang, what's going on? Surely this is some kind of mistake? As far as I know, Tun Mutahir has always been loyal to Malacca.
Commander Alang: It's not my place to question the Sultan's orders. Evidence has been presented, and it suggests the Bendahara might be planning to be on the throne.
Everyone remain silence in disbelief
Commander Alang: It's Laksamana Khoja Hassan's who explained it. He receive a report from a man who had claimed that he had ordered several things made out of gold.
Pak Rahim: There's gotta be some explanation, Commander.
Tun Mutahir: Everyone, calm down. If the Sultan wants to investigate these claims, I'll cooperate. The truth will come out, no matter what.
Hffyl: This can't be happening... I can't believe they're taking him away.
Commander Alang: Guards, let's go. We've got a job to do.
The three murmurs of disbelief and sadness.
In the days that followed...
Palace Rumor-Monger: Psst, have you heard? Tun Mutahir's trial is happening soon. They say the evidence against him is damning.
Loyal Palace Servant: I can't believe it... Tun Mutahir, a traitor? It just doesn't make sense.
Palace Rumor-Monger: Well, the trial's gonna reveal the truth, whether we like it or not. But I still can't shake the feeling that something's not right.
Loyal Palace Servant: Yeah, it's like a dark cloud hanging over our heads. I hope justice is served.
At the trial's conclusion...
Sultan of Malacca: Tun Mutahir, you've been found guilty of treason against the Sultanate of Malacca. The penalty is clear.
Tun Hasan: voice trembling My father is innocent! He's served Malacca faithfully for decades!
The crowd whispers and murmurs.
Executioner: solemnly It's time.
Tun Mutahir: with dignity I accept my fate, but remember, I am innocent.
Tun Hasan: (sorrowful) Father, I will never forget you.
The executioner carrying out the sentence. Seri Nara Diraja, Tun Hassan Temenggung, Bendahara Tun Mutahir and Tun Ali were executed. No more elaborations, not even a dive into a deeper investigation. The Malacca governing system is falling apart.
____________________
Original version (a bit outdated. recommended to not read)
As Hffyl deftly leaps from rooftop to rooftop, a group of men, armed with an assortment of weapons, pursues him. Their pursuit is relentless, pushing Hffyl's skills to their limit. Spears, machetes, knives, staffs, and even a musket are wielded with precision and intent.
Hffyl's heart pounds in his chest as he lands on a narrow ledge, his breath coming in measured, controlled bursts. His eyes scan his surroundings, assessing the potential paths of escape. He knows he must confront his pursuers.
With a resolute stance, Hffyl faces his adversaries. Their weapons gleam in the sunlight, and their expressions are stern and focused. The anticipation in the air is palpable.
One by one, they attack, their movements a testament to their training. Hffyl defends himself with a blend of martial arts he has learned in Malacca and his innate agility. The clash of weapons and the sound of skilled combat fill the air.
As the battle unfolds, Hffyl's determination and adaptability shine. He parries strikes, disarms opponents, and uses his surroundings to his advantage. The men he faces are seasoned warriors, and yet, Hffyl holds his own.
Amidst the intensity of the training, Bendahara Tun Mutahir observes from a distance. His eyes are sharp, assessing Hffyl's progress. He knows that Hffyl's journey has been one of growth, adaptation, and learning.
Finally, after a series of intense exchanges, Hffyl emerges victorious. The men lower their weapons, their expressions changing from determination to respect.
Tun Mutahir approaches Hffyl, a nod of approval in his eyes. "Well done, Hffyl. Your skills have grown immensely since your arrival in Malacca."
Hffyl, panting but satisfied, bows in respect. "Thank you, royal master. I owe it to the training and guidance I've received here."
Tun Mutahir smiles, a hint of pride in his gaze. "You have become a formidable warrior, Hffyl. But remember, true strength lies not only in physical prowess but in wisdom and character."
The bustling streets of Malacca, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Hffyl, Imran, and Amir walk together, their voices carrying laughter and camaraderie amidst the lively atmosphere of the city.
Imran couldn't help but tease Hffyl about his remarkable combat skills, acquired during a recent training session.
"You really showed us a thing or two during that training session, Hffyl. Where did you learn moves like that?" Imran asked, a playful glint in his eye.
Hffyl, ever modest, responded with a humble smile. "I've been lucky to receive guidance from some of the best in Malacca, including the Laksamana."
Amir, with mock sulkiness, chimed in, "You always have a way of being at the right place at the right time! I mean, training with the Laksamana himself before his departure? That's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity."
Hffyl's smile remained, but he understood his friends' sentiments. "I was just as surprised as you are. The Laksamana is a force to be reckoned with. Training under him was an honor."
Their conversation shifted to the Laksamana's recent journey to Istanbul, driven by the rising Portuguese threats in the region.
"Have you heard about the Laksamana's journey to Istanbul?" Imran inquired, a note of concern in his voice.
Amir nodded in agreement. "Yes, I've heard whispers about it too. The Portuguese seem to be increasing their presence in the region."
Hffyl acknowledged the gravity of the situation. "Gaining more arms and strengthening our defenses seems like a wise decision, given the circumstances."
Imran, nodding thoughtfully, added, "True. And with the Laksamana at the helm, I'm sure we'll be well-prepared."
Amir, while expressing his support for the Laksamana's mission, couldn't help but reveal a touch of envy. "Still, I can't help but feel a twinge of jealousy knowing that you managed to train with him before he left."
Hffyl laughed heartily, easing the mood. "Well, maybe when he returns, you'll get your chance too."
Imran joined in the optimism. "One can only hope!"
In the calm surroundings of Hffyl's residence in Malacca, the sunlight bathed the courtyard, casting warm and inviting hues across its expanse. Hffyl, engrossed in thought, was pulled from his reverie by the arrival of a palace messenger. The man's outfit, a testament to the opulence and grandeur of the Malaccan court, immediately conveyed the gravity of his visit.
"Greetings, Hffyl," the messenger began with a deferential bow. "The esteemed visitors at the palace have expressed a desire to meet with you. They await your presence."
Hffyl's brows knitted in curiosity. Visitors? And at the palace no less? It was a summons both unexpected and intriguing. Rising gracefully, he responded, "Visitors? I wonder who they could be. Very well, could you accompany me to the palace?"
As the two made their way through the vibrant streets, Hffyl's steps were measured, each one echoing with the rhythm of anticipation. The identity of these mysterious guests and their interest in him remained shrouded in mystery.
The ornate chambers of the Malacca palace. Tun Mutahir stands at the center, flanked by Pak Rahim and the artisan. The lavish decor and the soft glow of lanterns create an intimate setting. Hffyl enters, surprise evident in his eyes.
Hffyl bowed respectfully, his surprise and curiosity evident in his eyes as he greeted the unexpected guests.
"Pak Rahim? And... Master Artisan?" he inquired, his voice tinged with astonishment. "What are you doing here in Malacca?"
Pak Rahim, wearing a broad grin, stepped forward. "Ah, young Hffyl! It's been a while, hasn't it? We've come upon a special invitation."
Tun Mutahir nodded, confirming Pak Rahim's words. "Indeed," he began, "Hffyl, the Laksamana's departure to Istanbul has left a void in your training. To ensure you continue on the path of martial prowess, I've invited Pak Rahim to aid in your instruction."
Hffyl's eyebrows lifted in surprise. "But, Pak Rahim is a silversmith, not a Silat master."
Pak Rahim chuckled heartily. "Ah, my boy, there's much you don't know about me. I am well-versed in the ancient art of Kedahan Silat – a form not commonly known, but incredibly effective."
The artisan, who had remained silent until now, joined the conversation with a warm smile. "Remember, Hffyl, the very hands that crafted your golok have also mastered the fluid movements of this unique martial art."
Hffyl's eyes widened as realization dawned upon him. "So, the techniques you subtly introduced while crafting... they were Silat moves?"
Pak Rahim nodded, his eyes twinkling with pride. "Precisely. The Silat of Kedah has been shrouded in mystery, passed down through select families. Its techniques are said to counter many other martial arts, making it an invaluable skill for a warrior."
Tun Mutahir, with a fatherly expression, explained further, "I felt it necessary for you to be trained in this discipline, given the growing threats we face. It will equip you with a unique advantage, Hffyl."
Hffyl's gratitude shone in his eyes as he replied, "Thank you, Tun Mutahir. And thank you, Pak Rahim, for agreeing to train me."
Pak Rahim replied, "Prepare yourself, lad. Our sessions won't be easy, but they will be rewarding."
Inside the grand halls of the Malacca palace, the tranquil ambiance was disrupted by the sudden intrusion of guards clad in armor. Their stern faces and swift movements radiated an urgency that left no room for doubt: they were on a serious mission.
Hffyl, Pak Rahim, and the artisan were in the midst of a training session when the disturbance occurred. They turned their heads, watching in confusion as more guards stormed into the room, moving with singular intent toward Tun Mutahir.
The lead guard, recognizable as Commander Alang, approached the Bendahara. "Tun Mutahir," he began, his voice firm yet filled with regret, "By orders of the Sultan, you are under arrest on charges of suspicion of treason."
Murmurs of disbelief rippled throughout the room. The air grew heavy with tension.
Hffyl, his face a mask of shock, stepped forward. "Commander Alang, surely this is some kind of mistake? Tun Mutahir has always been loyal to Malacca!"
Commander Alang, visibly uncomfortable, responded, "It's not my place to question the Sultan's orders. Evidence has been presented, and it suggests the Bendahara might be collaborating with our enemies."
Pak Rahim, trying to mediate, interjected, "There must be some explanation for this. Tun Mutahir has dedicated his life to Malacca."
Tun Mutahir, who had remained silent, raised his hand to quell the rising voices. With a calm and dignified demeanor, he addressed the assembly. "If the Sultan wishes to investigate these claims, I will willingly cooperate. The truth will prevail."
The guards swiftly moved into formation, preparing to escort Tun Mutahir away. As they made their way out, Hffyl's eyes met the Bendahara's. The depth of sadness in that brief exchange was palpable.
With Tun Mutahir's departure, the chamber descended into an oppressive silence. All were left grappling with the implications of the day's events, wondering how the pillars of trust within the palace had been so deeply shaken.
In the days that followed Tun Mutahir's arrest, a dark cloud of uncertainty loomed over the palace of Malacca. Whispers and rumors filled the corridors, and a heavy tension gripped the hearts of those who had known and respected the Bendahara for years.
Tun Mutahir's trial was conducted swiftly, shrouded in secrecy. The charges of treason, linked to dealings with the Portuguese, cast a long shadow over his reputation. While the palace's loyalists clung to the belief that he would be exonerated, the weight of the evidence presented by the prosecution seemed insurmountable.
As the trial reached its conclusion, a solemn procession made its way to the palace courtyard. Tun Mutahir, once a revered figure within the kingdom, now stood before a grim assembly of guards, court officials, and onlookers.
His son, Tun Hasan, who had been a pillar of support for his father throughout the ordeal, stood beside him. Their faces bore the weight of resignation, their eyes reflecting a profound sorrow.
The Sultan of Malacca, somber but resolute, presided over the execution. With a heavy heart, he pronounced the verdict.
"Tun Mutahir, you have been found guilty of treason against the Sultanate of Malacca. The penalty for such a grave offense is regrettably clear."
Tun Mutahir accepted the judgment with unwavering dignity, and Tun Hasan, his voice trembling with emotion, pleaded his father's innocence.
"My father is innocent! He has served Malacca faithfully for decades!"
The crowd watched in silence as the executioner, masked and solemn, stepped forward. Tun Mutahir and Tun Hasan exchanged a final, heartfelt gaze, a silent farewell between a father and a son.
With a swift and solemn stroke, the executioner carried out the sentence. The once-mighty Bendahara and his devoted son fell, their sacrifice marking a dark chapter in Malacca's history.
The courtyard was filled with a heavy silence, broken only by the whispering winds that seemed to mourn the tragedy that had befallen the palace. The shadow of doubt and despair that had descended upon Malacca would take years to lift, and the memory of Tun Mutahir and his son would forever linger as a somber reminder of the price of loyalty and the fragility of trust.