By the time Rajula saw the capital for the first time, the sun was beginning to sink behind the mountains.
She stopped walking.
For a moment she simply stared.
The city stretched across the valley like a sea of stone and color. Tall walls surrounded it, guarded by watchtowers where banners fluttered in the evening wind. Beyond the walls rose temples, markets, and the distant silhouette of the royal palace.
Rajula let out a quiet whistle.
"So that's where the prince lives…"
The merchants walking with her chuckled.
"Impressive, isn't it?" one of them said.
Rajula nodded slowly.
"It's… loud."
Even from the hillside she could hear it — voices, carts rolling over stone roads, animals, music, bells.
Her peaceful mountain valley suddenly felt very far away.
The older merchant patted one of the horses.
"Well, this is where we split paths."
Rajula looked at him.
"You're not going inside?"
"We sell goods outside the southern markets. Less trouble that way."
Rajula nodded.
"That makes sense."
The merchant studied her for a moment.
"You'll be alright?"
Rajula shrugged casually.
"I survived the mountains."
The merchant laughed.
"Fair enough."
They parted at the gate road.
Rajula walked alone toward the massive wooden doors of the city.
Two armored guards stood beside the entrance.
As Rajula approached, one of them raised a hand.
"Stop."
Rajula stopped.
"Name?" the guard asked.
"Rajula."
"From where?"
"Darma Valley."
The guards exchanged a quick glance.
"Purpose of visit?"
Rajula thought for a moment.
Then she said honestly,
"Curiosity."
The younger guard snorted.
"Curiosity?"
Rajula shrugged.
"I've never seen a capital before."
The older guard studied her bag, her clothes, the dust of travel on her boots.
Finally he stepped aside.
"Don't cause trouble."
Rajula smiled.
"No promises."
And just like that…
She stepped inside the capital.
The city overwhelmed her immediately.
People were everywhere.
Merchants shouting prices.
Children running through the streets.
Musicians playing flutes near the temple steps.
Carts piled with spices, silk, fruits, pottery, and things Rajula had never even seen before.
The smell of food filled the air.
Rajula turned slowly, trying to see everything at once.
"This place is chaos."
A passing woman laughed.
"You'll get used to it."
Rajula wandered deeper into the market streets.
A man selling roasted chestnuts waved at her.
"Fresh! Hot! Best in the city!"
Rajula walked over.
"How much?"
"Two coins."
Rajula handed him the coins and took the small paper pouch.
She bit into one.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Alright," she admitted, "that's actually good."
The vendor grinned proudly.
"Of course it is."
Rajula leaned against the stall casually.
"So tell me something."
The vendor raised an eyebrow.
"What?"
"Where's the palace?"
The man pointed up the hill rising at the center of the city.
Rajula followed his finger.
The palace stood there like a mountain of its own.
Stone walls, golden rooftops, tall towers catching the last light of the sunset.
Rajula stared for a moment.
"That's… big."
The vendor laughed.
"What did you expect? A hut?"
Rajula smirked.
"I grew up in mountains. Our huts are very respectable."
The vendor chuckled.
"You planning to visit the palace?"
Rajula popped another chestnut into her mouth.
"Maybe."
The vendor leaned closer.
"Then you should know something."
Rajula looked at him.
"What?"
"Common people don't just walk into the palace."
Rajula smiled.
"Good thing I'm not common then."
The vendor laughed loudly.
"I like you, mountain girl."
Rajula continued exploring the market streets.
She stopped at stalls, watched performers, and listened to the arguments of merchants bargaining loudly with customers.
At one point she paused near a group of children watching a street performer juggle clay pots.
Rajula crouched beside them.
One little boy glanced at her.
"You're not from here."
Rajula blinked.
"How do you know?"
"You're staring at everything like a goat that found a mirror."
Rajula burst out laughing.
"That's a very specific insult."
The boy shrugged.
"My grandmother says it."
Rajula ruffled his hair.
"Well tell your grandmother she's very wise."
As night slowly settled over the capital, lanterns began to glow across the streets.
The market didn't quiet down.
If anything, it became even more lively.
Music echoed from taverns.
Storytellers gathered crowds in the squares.
Rajula stood on a bridge overlooking the river cutting through the city.
The palace towers glowed faintly in the distance.
Somewhere up there…
Was Prince Malushahi.
Rajula leaned on the stone railing.
"So," she murmured to herself.
"I finally made it."
But instead of excitement…
She felt something unexpected.
Comfort.
The city felt strange.
Loud.
Unpredictable.
But also full of life.
Rajula smiled faintly.
"Maybe I'll explore a bit before meeting the prince."
Behind her, two palace soldiers walked through the street, discussing something quietly.
"…the prince refused again," one of them said.
Rajula's ears perked up.
"Refused what?" the other asked.
"Another marriage proposal."
Rajula slowly turned her head.
The soldiers continued walking.
"Third one this month," the first soldier said.
"The ministers are furious."
Rajula watched them disappear into the crowd.
Then she looked up toward the palace again.
Her smile slowly returned.
"Well…"
She pushed away from the railing.
"This should be interesting."
And somewhere high above the city…
In the palace that overlooked the glowing capital…
Prince Malushahi stood on his balcony, staring at the same lantern-lit streets.
Completely unaware that the girl tied to his fate by an old promise had already arrived in his city.