The grand hall of Kadatuan Sriwijaya filled again with footsteps and hushed whispers. The air felt hotter than usual, not from the sun, but from the arrival of the Mataram Kuno envoy.
Mataram's earth-red banner with golden lingga emblem fluttered in the palace courtyard. Sriwijaya soldiers stood rigid, hands alert on spear grips. Today's diplomacy carried no fragrance or smiles; it carried rage.
Inside, Sri Chandrawarman sat calmly on his throne. His ceremonial robe fell perfectly, the sea-dragon gold crown steady on his head. His face was cold, not from indifference, but from having calculated everything.
The Mataram envoy, middle-aged noble Rakryan Wiratma, stepped forward without bowing.
"Excellency Maharaja of Sriwijaya," he declared loudly. "Our merchant ship was attacked in waters under Sriwijaya influence. Cargo seized, guards wounded. This is no coincidence."
Several Sriwijaya officials murmured softly.
Admiral Jayadiguna advanced half a step. "Does Mataram accuse Sriwijaya of orchestrating the attack?"
Rakryan stared sharply. "We accuse negligence, or deliberate allowance."
The hall fell silent.
Sri Chandrawarman raised one hand, stopping his officials. He gave a faint smile that never reached his eyes.
"Mataram is known for wisdom," he said calmly. "I'm sure you understand the difference between pirates and a royal navy."
"Yet those pirates operate in your waters," Rakryan shot back. "And they attacked our ship."
The king of Sriwijaya rose slowly. His steps echoed on the stone floor.
"The sea," he said, "is the world's lifeline. Anyone who sails it knows one thing, security always has a price."
He looked straight at the Mataram envoy.
"And right now," he continued, "the sea is in turmoil. Pirates rise, hunt each other, kill each other. Sriwijaya suffers losses too."
Half-truth, and therefore the sharpest weapon.
Rakryan frowned. "Then what is Sriwijaya doing?"
"We raise bounty prices," the king replied lightly. "We tighten patrols. But the sea is too vast to lock with one hand."
He stopped exactly before the great sea map spread on the hall floor.
"That is why," he said softly yet piercingly, "kingdoms wanting full security… must share the cost."
Silence.
The Mataram envoys exchanged glances.
"Excellency," Rakryan said slowly, "is this a threat?"
Sri Chandrawarman smiled wider. "No. It's reality."
He turned, returning to his throne.
"Pay the security tribute," he continued, "and Mataram ships will receive Sriwijaya escort. Without it… the sea remains the sea."
Rakryan clenched his fist. "Mataram never bows to extortion."
The king of Sriwijaya looked at him flatly. "And Sriwijaya never forces. We simply… let the world run its course."
After tense moments, the Mataram envoy bowed stiffly. "Your message will be delivered."
They turned and left, steps heavy with untargeted anger.
Once the hall doors closed, Trimurti Satya approached in a low voice. "Excellency, is it wise to provoke Mataram?"
Sri Chandrawarman smiled faintly. "They're angry not because their ship was attacked," he said quietly. "They're angry because they realize… they're no longer safe without Sriwijaya."
Jayadiguna added, "But we still don't know the true culprit."
The king stared at the map again, finger pausing over waters around Batam.
"No need to know yet," he said casually. "Whether Chen Tsu Ji, new pirates, or some unnamed monster."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"What matters," he said coldly, "is that this chaos stays controlled."
In the distance, waves broke gently against the Musi River bank, as if the sea itself approved the king's plan.
And unaware to Sriwijaya, the name Saloka Pirates was slowly growing in the cracks of intrigue they had deliberately created.
FORCED TRIBUTE
Medang Palace at the heart of Mataram Kuno stood graceful yet tense. Carved stone walls depicting past gods and kings now witnessed a meeting ablaze with fury. Afternoon wind swept through corridors, carrying dust from the training yard—as if reminding that Mataram's true strength lay on land, not sea.
In Medang Hall, King Dharmawangsa sat on his throne. Body upright, beard neatly groomed, eyes sharp like a general who preferred leading troops to debates.
Before him, ministers and rakryan stood in line.
Rakryan Wiratma, freshly returned from Palembang, bowed deeply.
"Excellency," he said heavily, "Sriwijaya denies direct involvement. But they… offer additional sea protection in exchange for doubled tribute."
The hall rumbled with suppressed anger.
"Veiled extortion," hissed one minister.
"They deliberately let pirates run rampant," another added.
Dharmawangsa raised a hand, silencing all.
"How much?" he asked curtly.
Rakryan drew breath. "Double the previous tribute. For convoy escort and Sriwijaya patrols on Mataram trade routes."
Silence.
King Dharmawangsa rose slowly. Steps firm, jaw clenched.
"Double," he repeated. "For security that should be their responsibility."
He looked at each minister.
"Your opinions."
Rakryan Mahapati, trade minister, stepped forward. "Excellency, our trade depends heavily on Sriwijaya sea lanes. Without protection, losses will exceed the tribute."
A land general countered, "Mataram is no weak kingdom! We can build our own fleet."
Mahapati shook his head. "That takes years. Sriwijaya has ruled the seas for generations."
Dharmawangsa clenched his fist.
He knew they were right, and that fueled his rage.
"So we pay," he said bitterly.
No one dared reply; the answer was obvious.
After long silence, the king exhaled deeply.
"Fine," he said at last. "The tribute… we pay."
Some ministers bowed in relief. Others in shame.
"But hear me clearly," Dharmawangsa continued, voice low yet threatening. "This is not submission. This is time we buy."
He fixed his gaze on Rakryan Wiratma.
"Send word to Sriwijaya. Mataram accepts the security agreement."
Then his voice hardened.
"And from today, I want long-term plans. Accelerate northern coastal shipyards. Train land troops for sea warfare."
Ministers exchanged glances.
"We will have our own sea," the king declared. "And when that day comes… no more tribute."
The hall fell silent again.
Dharmawangsa sat back, eyes staring blankly at wall reliefs of Mataram's past glory.
Inside, the fire of anger still burned.
Sriwijaya may win today.
But history has not finished writing who truly rules the archipelago.
And far out at sea, unnoticed by either great kingdom, a young pirate was carving his own path, a path that would one day force them all to recalculate the meaning of power.