~Chapter 26- Denile's Fate~

~1166~

Norton's mother cried out in anguish when she saw the young man's body, his throat slit. The entire royal family was in mourning and wanted the one responsible brought to justice.

Denile was distraught as well, but for different reasons. He always intended to take over Norton's body once Whedon's body had aged. There were no other suitable male heirs to take over for him now. At least not yet.

Denile did his best to play the part of a stoic father who was remaining strong for the sake of his family. Really, he was just annoyed. Deep within him though, he could sense Whedon's profound sorrow. He hadn't allowed Whedon's consciousness to surface in years, but the utter anguish he was in was powerful. Denile struggled to suppress him entirely.

He carried out the command for the Kingsguard to hunt down the Dolor family as the culprits, but Denile knew that wasn't true. Once again, the Dolor family had treaded closely to the truth and needed to be eliminated.

... But those monks! They were the ones who killed his next heir. The ones who killed Norton. The Prince must've seen the dungeons, and they were eliminating him as a witness. Though, the monks would never admit it.

Denile wanted to punish the monks in some way, but they were untouchable. The symbiotic relationship he maintained with the Hall of the Dead gave them power. He needed them to collect more tributes, and they needed him for the dungeons he created for them. Perhaps, Denile would find a way to do away with those monks in the future.

Two days after Norton's death, a meeting was announced by Commander Ein. He didn't state the nature of the meeting. Denile decided to head to the meeting room alone...

But he noticed an emptiness in the castle. There were guards scattered about, but he didn't see any of the royal family... Norton's funeral wasn't today, was it?

Denile continued to the meeting room regardless. He stepped inside to a familiar large circular table and a stained-glass window with a view of the city. He expected to be met by Ein and many of his royal advisors, but the room was empty... Was he early?

Denile circled the table and sat where he normally did. If he was early, Ein and the others would arrive eventually. But minutes passed, and he began to wonder if this was the correct place or time of the meeting.

Then he heard a crash. Denile stood and stepped towards the window. With a view of the city, he saw a mass of people clambering at the castle gates. What were they doing?

They violently thrashed at the gates... was it a riot? There were no guards to defend it either. Where were the soldiers? Citizens began to climb over the walls into the castle, and Denile's heartbeat quickened.

The door opened and closed to the meeting room. Denile turned and saw Commander Ein standing there alone.

"Commander! Good of you to come! There appears to be a riot! Collect the Kingsguard and deal with them!"

But Ein remained quiet. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, and he began to circle the table.

"What're you doing?" Denile asked.

"The city knows. About the dungeons. We've seen them."

"I don't know what you mean."

"The missing people. You and the Hall of the Dead captured them and have been torturing them."

Denile backed against the window. He remembered what the monks had told him. If he was in a pinch, he could transfer his essence from this body to another. He wanted to maintain the body of a King, but he may not have a choice.

"Are you here to kill me, Commander?" Denile asked through narrowed eyes.

"No... Denile."

Denile's eyes widened. How did he know?

"I know everything. About the ritual. I think I've known you've been within your son for some time now," Ein explained. He walked past the table and grew ever closer to Denile.

"...What're you here for?"

"I'm here to save you," Ein knelt, "I have always been loyal to you, my King. I can't save your son. But I can save you. Take over my body, and I'll take you to safety. You can transfer to another host body to possess later. The priority now is to save you."

Denile began to calm down, "Truly? What about Whedon?"

"You're more important, my King. The citizens can have him," Ein declared.

Denile smiled, "You're a good friend. You always have been."

Denile approached while Ein closed his eyes and bowed his head. Denile placed a hand against Ein's forehead, ensuring skin-to-skin contact. Then he commenced the transfer.

Whedon's body suddenly went unconscious and fell to the floor. Meanwhile, a rush of energy surged through Ein, forcing him to rise to his feet. Denile felt his consciousness take shape within Ein, and his eyes turned grey.

Their bodies felt different. Despite Ein's age, he was far stronger than Whedon. Denile could only imagine his strength in his prime. No wonder he could never beat him in sparring matches back in their youth.

"Are you there, my King?" Ein asked as he looked at Whedon's unconscious body.

Through Ein, Denile answered, "Yes. I am here."

Ein nodded, took a deep breath, and removed a pair of handcuffs from his armor. For what reason, Denile didn't know. Ein placed both hands behind him and cuffed one of them, then the other. He tugged against them, but they were firm and wouldn't be undone.

"What... What're you doing?" Denile asked through Ein's body.

Ein didn't answer him. Instead, he shouted out to the door of the meeting room, "I'm coming out! Make sure to keep your distance from me."

Ein walked out the way he came, kicked the door open, and outside were half a dozen Kingsguard soldiers, all wielding spears pointed directly at him.

Ein spoke, "King Denile is within me. Take me to the prison cells below as discussed. Whedon is in the meeting room. Get him out of the city safely."

"Yes, sir!"

The soldiers kept their spears firmly pointed at Ein while maintaining a few meters of separation.

Denile began to panic. He took as much control of Ein's body as he could and tried to scramble to touch any of the soldiers. But Ein's will was able to keep him from doing much.

"Denile is trying to take control of my body, but I'm keeping him under control," Ein said through gritted teeth, "If I get too close to any of you, go for a kill. You can't let me touch any of you!"

"Y-Yes sir," the soldiers hesitantly replied.

Ein was being closely watched by his own soldiers as he made his way through the castle. Denile was trying to take control of Ein, but the man's iron will would not submit as easily as Whedon did.

Denile noticed a few other soldiers leaving with a human-sized burlap sack over their backs; no doubt Whedon was in there. Where were they taking him?

"What do you think you're doing!?" Denile screamed through Ein. This made the soldiers jump, but they must've had orders to keep moving. "You lied to me!"

Ein's characteristic calmness came through, "You lied to all of us."

They descended many stairs, and Denile started to feel Ein's age. Though he was strong, walking down this many floors did wear down his knees. Denile eyed one of the soldiers escorting them... a young, strong type. If only he could reach him! But they were far too alert.

They reached the basement of the castle and began to travel towards the dungeons that were used for Denile and the Hall of the Dead's tributes. A soldier opened the pathway, and Ein walked in of his own accord.

They went down the staircase and found the dungeons, now emptied of people. Ein walked to one of the cells they had created down there. The door had a single slit where food and other items could be pushed through. A soldier opened the door to it, and Ein began to walk towards it.

Denile took as much control as he could to stop Ein. He tried to have him turn and charge at one of the soldiers, but Ein was resolute.

"Stop this!" Denile pleaded through Ein.

But there was no stopping him. Ein walked into the cell, and they promptly closed it behind him. The soldiers slid a pair of keys in through a slot in the cell door, which Ein promptly used to undo his handcuffs.

"Why?" Denile implored again.

"I'm as guilty as you are, my King. I let you carry out all those atrocities, thanks to blind loyalty. I might as well serve out the sentence with you," Ein explained, "This way, Whedon doesn't have to die with you."

"I'll break free!" Denile screamed, "I'll convince them to let you out!"

"I doubt that. They have orders not to release me if my eye color is grey. Your eye color. Once my eye color goes back to normal, they'll know that you're gone," Ein answered calmly.

"Y-you, can't do this!" Denile shouted. If he was trapped here, he wouldn't be able to make tributes. His essence would fade away... "I will torment you for every second we spend here until I am free. I will carve the mark into your flesh if I must!"

Ein chuckled, "You can try."

"Damn you."

"You used to be a good man, Denile. A good friend... but your fear of death corrupted you. I suppose I could've killed you while you were in Whedon's body... or myself right now to ensure you don't get out. But I've never been one to take the easy way out. I intend to walk out of this cell one day to live out the rest of my life. However long I may have left. I won't let you take any more lives," Ein declared. He sat in the corner of his lonely prison cell and crossed his legs.

Denile screamed and relented at him, cursing his very name with every ounce of strength he had. It was all he could do now.