Chapter 39 - Foundations Beneath the Crown

The Silk of Fate

Chapter 39 – Foundations Beneath the Crown

The message revealed itself in heat.

He held it near the flame, watching the ink rise slowly—each word drawn from Lianhua’s hand like breath from his own lungs.

Five voices will let me breathe a little longer.
But if you wish for more than delay—prepare your people. The hour will come.

He read it twice. Then again.

And then, Idran began to write.

He summoned Raka first.

Not for a council.

For a walk.

They crossed the outer courtyard, speaking not of trade—but of infrastructure.

“If Majapahit is to be more than a trading empire,” Idran said, “it must first feed its poor.”

“And if it is to accept those who pray differently, it must give them space to breathe.”

“We begin with schools. With courts. With land ownership reform.”

Raka chuckled. “You’re talking like a king.”

“I’m talking like a servant of the future.”

Then he traveled north to Citra’s mill, gathering landowners who had long felt neglected by the capital. He promised them shared profit systems and a new taxation model.

They were wary.

But they listened.

By week’s end, he had drawn a map.

Not of territory.

But of trust.

Villages. Merchants. Temples. Farms.

A network. Not a throne.

If she came to him now, he would not offer her exile.

He would offer her a home.

One night, he stood before his father.

In the king’s hall.

No formal audience. Just the quiet between candlelight and age.

“I want to build something that will last beyond my name,” Idran said.

His father didn’t look at him.

But he replied:

“Then stop speaking in whispers. And start choosing your generals.”

That night, Idran returned to his observatory.

He lit a fresh candle.

And wrote:

When the tide comes, I will not be waiting—I will already be standing on the shore.