As Baahubali and Kattappa approached the eastern borders of Kunthala, they were met with scenery unlike any they had ever witnessed.
Rolling hills blanketed with golden wheat stretched across the horizon, with irrigation channels carved with precision snaking through the fields. Windmills slowly rotated in the evening breeze, and further ahead, lanterns lit the roads with a warm, steady glow—powered by the very electricity Baahubali had heard rumors about but dismissed as exaggerations.
The sun dipped low, casting the land in hues of amber and lilac as they crossed into Kunthala's main district, dressed as commoners.
Baahubali's eyes glimmered with curiosity as he scanned the surroundings. Though a prince, he had spent most of his life in Mahishmati and its battlefields. The sight of such meticulous organization and apparent prosperity stirred a deep fascination within him.
---
The road into the town was well-paved, with carts and pedestrians moving in an orderly yet bustling flow. What caught Baahubali's attention first were the children, no older than seven or eight, sitting beneath shaded awnings reading from scrolls.
Their teachers stood by, explaining with patience and kindness. Some children were tracing letters with sticks on small wooden slates, while others eagerly repeated the alphabets.
Baahubali's eyes narrowed.
"Mama," he called out, using the affectionate title for Kattappa, "this is... different."
Kattappa, who had been surveying the streets cautiously, glanced at the small schoolyard. His gruff features softened for a moment.
"Yes," he muttered, a rare note of awe in his voice. "Education for commoners... Kunthala truly is unlike any other kingdom."
Further ahead, they saw farmers using improved plows—metal blades glimmering under the sun, far sturdier and more efficient than the wooden ones still used in Mahishmati. Water wheels powered by the current of a river drew water into irrigation channels, feeding the crops without the need for manual effort.
Baahubali, watching the mechanism intently, dismounted his horse.
"They use the river itself to turn the wheels," he marveled. "And they don't even require oxen or labor to draw water."
Nearby, a young woman guiding a plow overheard him and offered a polite smile.
"That's Lord Virendra's innovation," she said proudly. "He taught us how to make these wheels. Now, we use less effort and harvest more."
Baahubali stilled, struck by the casual reverence with which she mentioned Virendra's name. He glanced at Kattappa, who gave a rare chuckle.
"It seems your curiosity has brought you to the very place that haunts Mahishmati's court with unease," Kattappa muttered.
---
As they moved further into the town's main square, the view was even more breathtaking. Shops with glass windows displayed wares—spices, cloth, and handcrafted jewelry—while people moved freely, stopping to talk or browse without the typical urgency of fear or poverty.
Street lamps, fitted with bulbs, illuminated the area in a soft, golden light, making the streets appear as bright as dawn even as night approached.
Baahubali came to an abrupt stop. He stared, open-mouthed, at the sight of glowing orbs lining the road.
"Mama... the streets are illuminated, but where are the flames?"
Kattappa smiled knowingly.
"Electricity."
Baahubali's eyes widened. Though he had heard rumors of this, seeing it firsthand made it real. He stepped closer to one of the lamps, studying the small glass bulb inside.
The light flickered slightly but burned steadily.
Just then, a group of travelers entered the town gates. Seeing the lit streets, they gasped in disbelief.
"By the gods... the entire town is ablaze with light, yet I see no fire!" one man exclaimed, falling to his knees, believing he had witnessed divine magic.
A local vendor smiled and gestured toward the travelers.
"It is no magic, travelers. This is the light gifted to us by our prince, Lord Virendra!"
Pride and reverence filled his voice, and others nearby nodded in agreement, their eyes brimming with admiration.
Baahubali's chest tightened slightly. He was used to hearing such praise directed at Amarendra, at Mahishmati, but to see another kingdom celebrated with such love and respect stirred something within him—a mixture of admiration and curiosity.
---
As night fell, Baahubali and Kattappa entered a small tavern near the market. The inside was lively but clean, unlike the run-down inns they had seen in lesser kingdoms.
Several men and women, most likely farmers and traders, sat around tables, eating simple but hearty meals of roasted meats and seasoned rice. A bard sang a song in the corner, his voice soft but clear.
Baahubali and Kattappa sat at the back of the tavern, keeping a low profile. They listened intently to the locals' conversations.
"Have you heard? Mahishmati barely survived the Kalakeya assault, yet Kunthala's army has grown stronger," one man said, shaking his head in disbelief.
"I heard they have cannons now! With fire and thunder that can break stone walls!" another added.
The first man shook his head, lowering his voice.
"I also heard their prince discovered how to light the palace with sun-fire. The gods have blessed him."
A woman nearby chuckled softly.
"It's not sun-fire, fool. It's the prince's invention—electricity. You should get yourself an education if you want to keep up."
Baahubali glanced at Kattappa, who was smiling behind his goblet of water.
"Even the women here speak with the wisdom of a scholar," Baahubali murmured. "Mahishmati has never seen anything like this."
The evening wore on, but the conversations about Virendra's reforms, inventions, and influence were ever-present. It became clear to Baahubali that Kunthala had not merely survived—it had flourished under Virendra's guidance.
---
The next morning, Baahubali and Kattappa rode out toward the Kunthala palace. The grand citadel stood tall and imposing on a rocky hilltop, its ramparts fortified with the same modern techniques Virendra had introduced.
The stonework was smoother, the defenses stronger, and the gates larger. Watchtowers with torches and mirrors allowed for better communication and visibility.
Baahubali halted his horse at the crest of the hill. He took in the kingdom before him, bathed in golden sunlight.
The villages were thriving, the roads were strong, and even the humblest homes seemed more secure.
For a long moment, he sat in silence.
"What are you thinking, Bahu?" Kattappa asked softly.
Baahubali's eyes narrowed slightly.
"I've seen many kingdoms, Mama," he murmured. "But none that commands both power and wisdom the way Kunthala does."
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"This prince Virendra... I must meet him."
Kattappa's expression remained impassive, but a glimmer of tension crossed his eyes.
"You may be in for more than you expect, Bahu," he muttered. "Virendra is not an ordinary man."
As they began their descent toward the palace gates, Baahubali's curiosity burned brighter than ever, eager to see with his own eyes the man whose wisdom and ingenuity had made Kunthala the envy of every kingdom.
---
The midday sun hung lazily over Kunthala's rolling hills as Baahubali and Kattappa rode along a narrow, forested path just beyond the capital's outskirts. The fragrance of wildflowers drifted through the air, and the occasional burst of birdsong accompanied the clopping of their horses' hooves.
The terrain was rugged but picturesque, with small streams trickling down rocky slopes and patches of forest lining the winding road.
Baahubali, still mulling over the wonders he had seen in Kunthala, stared ahead with a contemplative expression.
"Mama, this kingdom... it's unlike any other," he murmured, his voice low with admiration. "It is as though they have plucked knowledge from the future and planted it here."
Kattappa nodded slightly, his sharp eyes scanning the road ahead.
"Aye, Bahu. It seems that in peace, Virendra has armed them better than war ever could."
Just as Baahubali was about to respond, a glint of polished steel caught his eye through a gap in the trees. He slowed his horse, squinting ahead.
"Wait... do you see that?" he whispered.
Through the foliage, they spotted a small procession moving along a dusty road parallel to their path. At its center was a gilded carriage with modest but elegant detailing, surrounded by a small entourage of guards and attendants. What immediately struck Baahubali was the lack of heavy protection. There were only ten soldiers on horseback, an unusually small number for what seemed to be a royal convoy.
Curious, Baahubali dismounted silently, motioning for Kattappa to follow. They crouched low behind a dense patch of shrubs, watching the procession with keen eyes.
The carriage window slid open slightly, and Baahubali caught a glimpse of her—the woman within. Devasena, though clad in a simple saree of soft blue and gold, carried herself with unmistakable royal poise. A loose veil covered part of her face, but even from the distance, her radiant beauty and piercing eyes were undeniable.
"Mama... who is she?" Baahubali whispered, his eyes narrowing with curiosity.
Kattappa shifted slightly, his gaze hardening.
"That... is Princess Devasena, Virendra's younger sister."
Baahubali's brows lifted slightly. Though he had heard of Devasena's name mentioned in passing, this was his first time seeing her. His eyes lingered on her face, then shifted to the modest size of the escort.
"Why would a princess travel with so few guards?" he muttered, his voice tinged with concern.
Kattappa's eyes narrowed with suspicion.
"This is no ordinary outing, my prince. She must be traveling somewhere without much public attention."
---
The procession wound through the forest path, moving toward a small temple shrine built at the foot of a hill, some distance away from the capital.
Baahubali and Kattappa kept their distance, covertly following through the forest underbrush, their horses left behind.
As they drew closer, Baahubali spotted traces of poverty and desperation along the outskirts—a few disheveled beggars, their clothes in tatters, huddled near the path.
The Kalakeya war and subsequent turmoil had driven many to flee their homes. The area was scattered with small clusters of refugees, most too weak to pose any threat.
But Baahubali's sharp eyes caught something darker—movement in the trees.
A group of bandits, a dozen or so men, with tattered armor and rusted weapons, slipped through the forest shadows. Their movements were slow but deliberate, predatory eyes locked on the princess's entourage.
"Mama... look."
Kattappa's hand instinctively moved to the hilt of his sword, his eyes narrowing.
"Desperate men, Bahu. Bandits, no doubt."
Baahubali's jaw tightened.
"We should help."
But before he could move, Kattappa gripped his arm firmly.
"Wait."
Baahubali shot him a confused glance, but Kattappa's gaze was sharp and unyielding.
"Let us see if they truly need our help first. We must understand the strengths of this kingdom better."
---
The bandits pounced from the underbrush, weapons raised. The Kunthala guards reacted swiftly, drawing their swords and blocking the initial assault. But they were outnumbered, and several guards were struck down.
One bandit slashed at Devasena's carriage, shattering its decorative paneling. The princess's attendants screamed in fear, and the horses reared violently.
Baahubali's muscles tensed. His instinct to charge into battle surged—but Kattappa's hand on his shoulder held him back.
"Just watch, my prince," he whispered.
And then, Devasena stepped out of the carriage.
The bandits barely noticed her at first, assuming she was a mere noblewoman. But her fierce eyes were steely and unwavering. With fluid grace, she gripped a bow from the carriage side and slung a quiver over her shoulder.
Before the bandits could react, she fired three consecutive arrows in rapid succession, each one hitting its mark. The first struck a bandit's hand, making him drop his sword. The second pierced the thigh of another, sending him staggering backward. The third embedded itself in the neck of the leader, who collapsed with a choking gasp.
Baahubali's eyes widened slightly, impressed by the accuracy and speed of her shots.
"Mama..." he muttered, his voice trailing off in disbelief.
Devasena moved with deadly precision, loosing arrow after arrow. Even as the bandits charged, she remained calm and composed, her feet moving lightly but steadily, positioning herself strategically.
When one of the bandits came close, she twirled around gracefully, snatched a dagger from her hip, and plunged it into his side without hesitation.
Baahubali's eyes glimmered with a rare spark of admiration.
"She is... magnificent," he murmured, almost to himself.
One of the bandits lunged at her from behind—but she, sensing the movement, spun and loosed an arrow without even looking. The arrow pierced the man's chest, dropping him instantly.
Within moments, the remaining bandits, realizing they were hopelessly outmatched, fled into the forest, leaving their fallen behind.
Devasena's guards, though injured, bowed to her, awed by her bravery.
She wiped the blood from her dagger on her sleeve, her eyes calm and unfazed.
---
As Devasena turned to remount her carriage, her sharp eyes caught the glimmer of steel in the underbrush. She narrowed her gaze and locked eyes with Baahubali, who was half-concealed behind a tree.
For a long moment, they stared at each other.
Her eyes, still smoldering with the fury of battle, scanned the tall, broad-shouldered man with piercing eyes. She could tell immediately that he was no ordinary traveler. The way he held himself—the silent poise of a warrior—betrayed his true identity.
Her gaze shifted slightly, catching Kattappa's face—the infamous commander of Mahishmati. Her eyes narrowed slightly, and she gave a half-smile of recognition, clearly knowing they were no mere wanderers.
Without a word, she turned and mounted her horse, raising a single brow in a knowing expression.
Her eyes lingered on Baahubali for one heartbeat longer than necessary before she rode off toward the temple, her entourage following closely behind.
Baahubali exhaled slowly, his gaze lingering on the spot where she disappeared into the forest. His heart, so accustomed to the battlefield's fury, thudded heavily in his chest—not with the rush of war, but with something else entirely.
"Mama," he muttered quietly.
Kattappa smirked knowingly.
"Yes, Bahu?"
Baahubali's lips curved into a faint smile, his eyes still fixed on the path she had taken.
"I think I've seen the most beautiful sight of my life."