Arya stood at the entrance of Suryagadh, the capital city of the Ashtaraj triad. A massive wall encircled the city, and only those of high standing were permitted inside. The journey from the outer gates to the main entrance was long, heavily guarded at every turn. It was Arya's first time seeing Suryagadh, and every rumor he had heard about the place seemed true.
The city was unlike anything he had ever witnessed. Majestic palaces dominated the skyline, a clean river flowed through its center, and greenery was abundant. Unlike the crowded, chaotic streets of Lohitpuri or his birthplace, Panchanagri, Suryagadh exuded order.
As he took it all in, Savignya's voice interrupted his thoughts with a knowing smile. "Admire the beauty later. First, look at the guards and the people."
Arya obeyed, his gaze shifting. The guards were heavily armored, their weapons gleaming with precision craftsmanship—far superior to what even Sharvas possessed. But what caught his attention most were the people. Ashvaraths, Vanmargis, and Sadhus walked among humans, some adorned in regal robes, others carrying weapons or sacred scrolls. He had heard of these races in rumors but had never seen them in the flesh. They moved with a quiet confidence, exuding wealth and power.
The streets were vast and lined with grand homes and sprawling markets. Yet, unlike other cities, there was no shouting, no desperate bargaining. Commerce was conducted in an almost dignified silence. There were no stray animals, no homeless people begging for scraps. Everyone seemed well-fed, well-dressed, and at ease. It was an unsettling contrast to the struggles of the world beyond these walls.
As they advanced toward the city center, the once-distant towers loomed above them, stretching impossibly high into the sky. Soon, they left the grand streets behind, entering a district where colossal castles dominated the horizon. These structures dwarfed anything Arya had ever known—far larger than his own fortress.
"What is this place?" Arya murmured. "A whole city inside a castle?"
The scale was unfathomable. The castle walls rose at least forty feet, their sheer size eliminating any notion of infiltration. The closer they got, the more the grandeur sank in. This was not just a fortress—it was a kingdom within a kingdom.
At the castle's gate, guards blocked their passage. No one could enter without a letter of approval from a state head or one of their high officers. Savignya's men retrieved the letter and presented it. The guards examined it briefly before stepping aside, allowing them through.
Arya turned to Savignya. "They don't recognise you? Why do you need a letter?"
Savignya smirked. "Are you mocking me?"
"No, I just assumed someone of your stature wouldn't need permission."
"You underestimate the Ashtarajas," she said, her tone turning serious. "They are not mere state heads—they govern the entire triad. Their power is unmatched. Anything you can imagine, they already possess. They protect themselves and their people with absolute vigilance. I may hold influence, but here, I am just a subordinate."
Arya absorbed her words in silence before another question formed. "So… all eight of them live in this castle?"
Savignya laughed, shaking her head. "You think all eight share one castle? That's adorable. This fortress belongs to only one state head—the one I report to. Some of them own even larger castles, sometimes two or three."
Arya scoffed. "That's too much. One man doesn't need all this."
Savignya gave him a knowing glance. "Keep your opinions to yourself once we're inside. Speak only when spoken to."
Arya nodded.
The convoy halted at the castle's grand entrance. The guards stepped aside, allowing Savignya and Arya to descend from their chariots. The others in the convoy turned back toward the city gates. Inside, guards in golden armor and maroon robes greeted Savignya with formal nods before leading them into the castle.
Arya's breath caught as they entered. Every inch of the castle's interior was crafted from marble, its towering pillars stretching to the sky. Gigantic chandeliers bathed the hall in a golden glow. The sheer scale of the place was overwhelming.
At the castle's core was an open courtyard, its vast staircases winding upward in a central spiral, granting access to six floors. Each floor had balconies overlooking the center, allowing sunlight to pour through massive skylights.
Then, six figures approached. Unlike the outer guards, these men moved in perfect synchrony, clad in identical golden armor and flowing maroon robes. In their presence, even the castle's grandeur felt secondary.
Arya followed them silently, his curiosity barely contained. Instead of ascending the staircases, they were led to a lift—an innovation he had never seen before. Slaves operated the mechanism, pulling the lever to hoist them up. The platform ascended smoothly, stopping at the sixth floor.
They stepped into a grand hall lined with desks where officers worked in utter silence. Gigantic windows flooded the space with sunlight, casting long shadows on the marble floors. The atmosphere was unnervingly controlled, every movement calculated.
Then, from the depths of the hall, a figure emerged.
Arya stiffened.
It was tall and thin—almost unnaturally so. Its pale skin was ghostly against the dark, heavy robes it wore. Hollow, dark eyes stared from a gaunt face, an unsettling contrast to the vibrant opulence of the castle. There was something profoundly unnatural about its presence.
Arya instinctively took a step back, his body tensing.
Savignya, however, held firm. Her expression remained composed as she greeted the figure politely, her voice steady and unshaken.