The sunlight had shifted, softer now, gilding the garden in the mellow tones of afternoon. A gentle warmth lingered on the marble bench, and the breeze carried the faint, sweet scent of lotus and jasmine. Birds had quieted their midday songs, and the fountains' trickle seemed slower, more languid.

Urvashi stirred, eyelids fluttering as she emerged from sleep. She blinked at the golden shafts filtering through the trellises above, surprised at how quickly she had dozed off. Huh... I didn't even realize I was that tired, she thought, stretching lightly, her body arching gracefully against the marble pillar. Without thinking, a soft, almost airy murmur escaped her lips: "Ah... perfect nap weather."

Her eyes widened the instant the words left her mouth, and simultaneously she realised the presence of another human being beside her. A quiet sound of amusement reached her, and she turned slightly to find Adeettiya nearby, sitting at a distance on the very same bench, his face resting on one hand, his gaze fixed on her. There was a faint, playful glint in his eyes, the posture relaxed yet undeniably princely.

"Perfect nap... weather?" he repeated, tilting his head slightly, as if savoring the modern cadence of her words.

Urvashi blinked, cheeks flushing faintly with shame. I should have been more careful.

Adeettiya's gaze softened just enough to remain polite, though a teasing edge lingered. "Lady Urvashi," he asked with calm regality, "I trust your vishram was satisfying? Did the sun and the breeze treat you kindly?"

Urvashi blinked a couple of times, then let out a soft, sheepish laugh. "Well... I guess it was. The sun was warm, the breeze was nice... and, um, the garden smells amazing. I couldn't have asked for a better spot to just—y'know—doze off."

Adeettiya's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of amusement in their depths. He clearly understood the context in which those foreign syllables were uttered. But the meaning, the casual "y'know" and "doze off," eluded him. He repeated with an inquisitive tone, "Doze off?"

Urvashi's ears colored faintly. Realizing her casual phrasing was improper and questionable, she straightened and replied with calm respect, shifting to Sanskrit: "विस्त्रान्तः अहम्। सूर्यस्यानन्देन समीकृतः मम विश्रामः।" (I rested fully, enjoying the sun's warmth.)

Adeettiya's expression softened, the hint of playful curiosity remaining in his eyes, but he inclined his head politely. "I see. Even amidst trials and tribulations, one may find simple comforts," he said with quiet regality.

Urvashi offered a small, respectful nod, satisfied that her meaning was now clear, the modern slip tucked away, replaced by decorum.

Adeettiya rose and straightened himself, his posture impeccable, and offered a small, measured smile. "Lady Urvashi, the sun has lingered long enough over your rest. You should rise now, we have much yet to explore, and the Dakshina Mandap awaits our visit."

Urvashi stretched lightly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, and smiled softly. "Very well, Your Highness. I suppose even the most perfect nap cannot last forever," she replied, her tone polite, with just a hint of playful acknowledgment.

He led her slowly from the grove, past fountains glimmering in the afternoon sun, back towards the corridors that connected the garden to the rest of the palace. Each step carried them from the heart of the palace's soul towards the seat of its strength and governance, the Dakshina Mandapa. The corridors grew wider, the stone floors echoing more heavily under their footsteps. Carvings along the walls depicted warriors in battle, shields raised, swords in motion, their faces etched with valor, resolve and victory. The faint clatter of training from the armory reached them, distant yet deliberate, as if announcing that this wing was alive with courage and strength.

A grand archway, inscribed in gold motifs and framed by carved guardians, marked the entrance to Dakshina Mandapa. Above it, a verse had been etched by the palace scribes centuries ago, celebrating the glory and courage of this complex:

"वीर्येण युक्तं राज्यम्, धर्मेण निर्मितं शालिनम्।
सदनं सैन्यसंपन्नं, पराक्रमस्य प्रीणितम्॥"

"A kingdom fortified with courage, built with righteous intent;
A hall resplendent with warriors, cherished for valor eternal."

Urvashi's gaze lingered on the verse, the ancient Sanskrit flowing like a chant across centuries. She craned her neck upwards and squinted her eyes to read the text. The inscriptions were mirrored along the walls inside, each telling a story of the rulers, generals, and ministers who had labored here to protect and govern the kingdom.

"This," Adeettiya said quietly, motioning to a courtyard visible through open arches, "is where our army trains, where strategy and valor are honed. Every drill, every formation, every lesson here is woven into the strength of the palace. Even now, centuries after its construction, the Dakshina Mandapa remains the lifeblood of our governance and defense."

The walls were lined with friezes of battles fought and alliances forged, each carved figure frozen mid-stride in eternal valor. Sunlight streamed through high windows, illuminating the gold inlaid script of decrees, and the faint metallic tang of training weapons from the courtyard, the dust and sweat drifted toward them.

They emerged into a vast, open courtyard, the heart of the palace's martial training grounds. Soldiers moved in disciplined formations, their armor glinting in the sunlight, polished metal catching rays like shards of fire. Shields clashed against spears with a rhythmic metallic cadence that echoed off the surrounding stone walls, reverberating through the courtyard like the heartbeat of an army.

Amidst the drills and practiced maneuvers, a crowd had begun to gather near the center of the courtyard, drawn to a particular duel that commanded attention. Adeettiya's sharp gaze swept over the spectators, then rested on Urvashi. "Lady Urvashi, the courtyard can be a dangerous place for onlookers. Please take your place in the seating area over there," he instructed politely, pointing to a raised shaded platform lined with polished stone benches.

Urvashi nodded, moving gracefully to follow his direction. Adeettiya, meanwhile, strode confidently towards the center of the arena, the aura of authority in every measured stride, to better observe the fighters.

Around the center, two figures were locked in a dynamic clash. One was broad-shouldered, precise in his movements, and carried an air of undeniable command, the commander-in-chief, Senapati Achyut. His armor gleamed under the sun, and his every move was calculated; his spear movements deliberate yet fluid. Opposite to him stood a skilled soldier, equally strong and disciplined, yet slightly less composed, his strikes fierce but lacking the refined control of the veteran commander.

From the snippets of their movements, Adeettiya could already discern the outcome. Achyut's stance was impeccable, each shift of weight optimized for both offense and defense. His opponent's attacks, while strong, were predictable, and gaps in defense were beginning to show. The duel was almost a performance, a controlled display of skill and strength, with Achyut dominating the flow of the engagement without haste, yet leaving no doubt of his superiority.

Spectators hollered in anticipation, the metallic clang of weapons punctuating the charged air. His eyes followed every feint, every strike, yet he allowed himself a faint, approving nod. "Observe closely, Lady Urvashi," he murmured softly from the arena floor, though she was still distant in the seating area, "there is much to learn in the poise of a true commander."

The duel had fully captured the attention of the gathered soldiers and attendants. Senapati Achyut, the commander-in-chief, moved with measured precision, every step calculated and deliberate. His spear glinted under the afternoon sun as he pivoted smoothly, the metal slicing the air with a faint whistle. Each advance was purposeful, each retreat a strategic repositioning, as though the ground itself was part of his command.

Opposite him, his challenger lunged fiercely, his strikes, as discerned by Adeettiya, heavy and aggressive. He aimed to overwhelm, swinging with raw power, yet each movement was met with an effortless parry. Achyut absorbed the force of the blows with controlled deflections, redirecting momentum with minimal exertion. The rhythm of the clash was hypnotic, a dance of attack and defense, punctuated by the steady metallic clang of spear against shield. Adeettiya decided to view the rest of the battle from the raised benches. Climbing the steps, he decided to take a seat beside Urvashi who was busy viewing the brawl laid out before her.

The onlookers could see the subtle distinctions: the challenger's stance was rigid, his weight too far forward, leaving him slightly exposed with every strike. Achyut, by contrast, maintained perfect balance, shifting weight seamlessly from one foot to another, his eyes tracking the tiniest twitch in his opponent's muscles. Every feint, every backward step, and every thrust carried silent lessons of command, composure, and mastery.

Adeettiya gestured lazily toward the center of the courtyard. "Notice the way Senapati Achyut shifts his weight," he said, his voice calm and measured. "Every step, every pivot is deliberate. Even in defense, he maintains control, turning what might be a weakness into advantage. Observe how his spear never overcommits, yet it commands both reach and precision. A true commander knows when to strike, and when to wait."

Urvashi leaned forward slightly from her seat, eyes following the subtle movements of the commander's feet and spear. "I... see," she murmured, intrigued, her mind tracing the interplay of skill, balance, and strategy.

Adeettiya allowed a faint, approving smile to curve his lips. "Not many could face such an opponent and remain composed," he added lightly, almost playfully. "It is not merely strength, but poise and calculation that decide the outcome of a duel."

At one point, the challenger overcommitted to a sweeping strike, leaving his side briefly unguarded. With fluid grace, Achyut sidestepped and tapped his spear lightly against his opponent's shield; a controlled, almost casual maneuver that sent the other soldier staggering back a step. Murmurs rippled through the spectators; it was clear that the fight, while a display of skill, was already being dictated by Achyut's superior technique.

As the duel progressed, the soldier's attacks grew slightly desperate, predictable, and uneven. Achyut, sensing the precise moment, feigned a backward step, drawing his opponent into overextending once more. With a swift, seamless motion, Achyut struck the spear lightly against the soldier's chest plate, forcing him to stumble to one knee. The crowd inhaled in a collective pause, then erupted softly into cheers of respect for the commander's skill.

Achyut lowered his spear, giving a courteous nod to his defeated opponent, who straightened with a mixture of exhaustion and acknowledgment of the gap in mastery. The duel was concluded—Achyut had won decisively, yet without cruelty, leaving both competitors unharmed. The duel unanimously concluded with Achyut standing tall, spear lowered, his opponent acknowledging the defeat with a measured nod. The crowd cheered loudly, impressed by their commander's skill and composure.

From the seating area, Adeettiya observed quietly, his gaze appreciative yet analytical, noting the control, strategy, and restraint that marked his commander's victory. He inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment of the commander's skill. "Not bad, not bad." he repeated softly, this time with a touch more finality, before mentally deciding to have a warm-up with the victor.