Chapter 128: Castle of Memories
The twins looked up at him with eyes that had lost much of their childhood innocence, their expressions reflecting a sadness that no child should ever have to bear.
"Okay," they said in unison, their voices lacking the enthusiasm that had once characterized their every word. There was no argument, no playful resistance—just the weary acceptance of children who had learned that the world was far more frightening and unpredictable than they had ever imagined.
But then, with the resilience that children sometimes display in the face of unimaginable hardship, one of them asked, "Can we take one of the sheepy?"
The innocent nickname they had given to the enchanted suits of armor brought a genuine chuckle from their father, the first real expression of joy Arthur had witnessed from the king in a while. Despite everything that had happened, his daughters could still find small comforts in the strangest places.
"Of course," he replied, and the girls’ faces brightened with slight smiles that warmed the king’s heart even as it was breaking.
Arthur watched as the twins approached one of the sheepmen and clung to its armored arms with the trust that only children can display. The empty suit seemed to accept its role as companion and protector, moving with careful precision to avoid accidentally harming the small figures that depended on it. Together, the three of them left the throne room, the girls chattering quietly to their metallic guardian as they made their way toward their chambers.
Once his daughters were safely out of sight, the king’s carefully maintained facade crumbled completely. His shoulders sagged under the weight of his burdens, and his face became a mask of grim determination as he addressed the two remaining sheepmen.
"Guard the library," he commanded one of them, his voice carrying the authority of a monarch even in his darkest hour. "And you," he said to the other, "watch over the altar room. Let no one enter either location."
The enchanted suits of armor acknowledged their orders with subtle nods before departing to take up their assigned positions. Arthur understood that the king was making his final preparations, ensuring that certain knowledge would remain protected even after he was gone.
What followed was perhaps the most complex magical working Arthur had ever witnessed. Using techniques that seemed to draw from the deepest wells of his knowledge, the king began to weave a spell that would transform him into the fifth and final totem of the castle’s protection system. The magic was intricate beyond belief, requiring precise gestures and incantations that took hours to complete.
As part of this final enchantment, the king linked the throne room door to the lives of the sheepmen, creating a magical lock that could only be opened by their destruction.
When the spell was complete, Arthur watched as the king settled himself upon the throne one final time. There he sat, unmoving and resolute, as the corruption that had been spreading through his body finally claimed its ultimate victory. The transformation was not violent or dramatic—it was simply inevitable, like the changing of seasons or the setting of the sun.