King III

The grandiose chamber bore witness to the entrance of Vitas, the air thick with an unspoken tension as he observed his siblings in their distinct states of contemplation. His younger brother, with eyes as piercing as the ancestral sword hanging on the wall, stared unwaveringly at the king, a silent acknowledgment of the familial duty that bound them. On the other side of the room, Vitas' younger sister gazed into the distance, her eyes averted as if seeking solace from the lavish surroundings.

Vitas, clad in regal attire that mirrored his royal lineage, addressed his father, the king, with a voice that echoed with both curiosity and an underlying resentment. "What is the matter for this meeting, father?" The question, laden with unspoken grievances, reverberated through the room, stirring the echoes of strained familial relationships.

The king, seated upon an imposing throne, met Vitas' inquiry with a gaze that held the weight of both authority and weariness. The room, adorned with rich tapestries that told tales of a bygone era, seemed to absorb the unspoken dynamics that played out among the royal progeny.

As the king prepared to unveil the purpose of this abrupt gathering, a silent undercurrent of disdain simmered beneath the surface. None of the king's children harbored affection for him; in fact, they despised him. The intricacies of familial disdain, a secret dance of emotions, were woven into the fabric of their interactions.

Vitas' younger brother maintained a stoic facade, his gaze unwavering as if steeling himself for what was to come. The younger sister, her attention fixed on the distant horizon, seemed detached from the familial drama, her eyes reflecting the distance she maintained from the patriarchal figure seated on the throne.

The king, aware of the simmering resentment that pervaded the room, addressed his children with a measured tone, unperturbed by the subtle discord that lingered. The chamber, with its regal embellishments, became a stage for a complex interplay of power, duty, and familial discord.

The king, seated on his imposing throne, began to unravel the purpose of the sudden gathering. His eyes, weary yet unwavering, held the weight of untold secrets as he addressed his children. "As you all know, your mother has been missing," he began, his voice echoing through the grand chamber. The mention of their absent mother lingered in the air, casting a shadow over the room.

A collective murmur of concern and surprise swept through the siblings, their eyes exchanging glances fraught with unspoken questions. The king's proclamation held an air of gravity that resonated with the mystery of their mother's disappearance.

"I'm going to restrict your social behavior," the king continued, dropping a revelation that hung like a heavy tapestry between them. The shock was palpable; the sons and daughter exchanged glances, each one grappling with the implications of their father's decision.

The daughter, a spirited figure draped in regal attire, could not contain her protest. "Father, you can't do this to me," she exclaimed, her voice carrying a hint of defiance. "My social life is important, and you can't simply restrict it like this."

The king, unmoved by the outburst, maintained a stoic composure. His gaze, unyielding, met the fiery defiance of his daughter. In the silent exchange, the unspoken tension between father and daughter crackled like the charged air before a storm.

The chamber, adorned with the opulence of a royal legacy, became a stage for the familial drama unfolding. The king's decree had stirred a tempest of emotions among the siblings, their reactions ranging from surprise to outright rebellion.

The daughter's protest, while impassioned, fell on deaf ears as the king's resolve remained unshaken. The grand chamber, with its towering pillars and intricate tapestries, bore witness to a power dynamic that transcended familial bonds.

The king's gaze, a subtle shift in its intensity, turned toward Viktor, the air thickening with unspoken anticipation. "From now on," he declared, his voice carrying the weight of authority, "your study will be conducted directly in your room. Agatha will come here to teach you."

The proclamation hung in the air like a heavy curtain, the implications sinking in with a weight that seemed to suffocate the room. The grand chamber, once a space of regal deliberations, now bore witness to the reshaping of Viktor's academic future.

Viktor, caught in the crosshairs of his father's decision, felt the ground beneath him shift. The mention of Agatha's solitary visits to his room struck a chord of isolation, and the image of his confidants, his friends, fading into the background loomed over him like an impending storm.

As the realization dawned on Viktor that he might never again meet his friends in the familiar setting of shared studies, a tempest of emotions brewed within him. The grandeur of the room blurred as an uncontrollable outburst erupted from Viktor's depths.

"Why?" Viktor's voice reverberated through the chamber, a blend of frustration and defiance. His gaze, once cast down in submission, now met the king's with an intensity fueled by rebellion. "Why are you doing this? You can't keep me confined like this. My friends—"

The king's demeanor, unmoved by the outburst, remained regal and composed. The grand chamber, with its towering pillars and hushed tapestries, became a witness to the clash of wills between father and son.

Viktor's emotions, a tumultuous sea, surged within him as he grappled with the perceived injustice. The very fabric of his known world seemed to fray, and the once-grand chamber became a battleground where familial bonds clashed with the weight of royal decree.

The echo of Viktor's outburst lingered in the chamber, a tempest of rebellious fervor that seemed to dissipate against the unyielding facade of the king. The regal atmosphere, tainted by the scent of defiance, transitioned seamlessly into the next chapter of the king's commands.

"Enter," the monarch intoned, the weight of authority coloring his words. The heavy wooden door creaked open, allowing a procession of knights to file into the room. Among them stood Kanan, his eyes carrying a stoic resolve.

The three siblings turned their attention to the knights standing at the threshold, a collective gaze that spoke volumes of uncertainty and unspoken questions. Vitas, the elder brother, broke the silence with a query that hung in the air like a shadow.

"Is this what I think it is, father?" Vitas inquired, his eyes narrowing with a mixture of suspicion and anticipation. The king's gaze, unyielding, met that of his son, an acknowledgment of the gravity of the impending revelation.

The king's response cut through the hushed tension. "Yes," he declared, his gaze shifting toward the knights standing at the entrance. "From today on, I'm going to assign each of you with one of the knights." The pronouncement, laced with an air of finality, settled upon the room like a decree etched in stone.

The siblings exchanged wary glances, the weight of their individual destinies hanging in the balance. The knights, clad in armor that gleamed with the symbol of royal allegiance, stood as silent sentinels to the king's command. The chamber, once a haven of familial dynamics, transformed into a tableau of power and submission.

Viktor, still simmering with the residue of his outburst, met the gaze of the knight who would be his assigned guardian. The unspoken tension between them mirrored the broader discord that played out within the familial tapestry.