Kingsmould, nameless as all of his kind, silently kept his guard, as Pale King approached. Any other bug in the kingdom would already fall to his knees, or at the very least bowed, if not out of respect or worship, then at least not to see radiant visage of his majesty, blinding light of his greatness. Yet, there were no such desires in kingsmould – king created them that way, silent tireless guards, so proud and straight as always he stood, one of the two defending entrance to the majestic White Palace.
Some bugs, perhaps those with less feeling of sanctity, would be able to think King was looking tired. His stature wasn't ideally straight as it was always, everbrilliant light of his Royal soul less bright, if only by a bit. Burden of defeat laying heavy on his shoulders, his Grand Plan thought flawless was but a temporary solution – Infection was back, SHE was back, bit by bit leaking from Dream Realm. Other bugs, his subjects, expressed fear, uncertainty, some even felt that King failed them, other were looking on him with hope, waiting for another miraculous solution. But Kingsmould had no such feelings – for him king as brilliant as always, for he could not be not, so approach of his king, his creator and deity was met with same silent admiration as always. King's eyes focused on Kingsmould.
Even though no different from his kin, he has something which he thought made him a bit more special – form King made them allowed that. He was one of two whose post was in chamber Vessel trained, at times it was used. And though no memories were needed for their work, kingsmoulds had mind was as ordered as their body, so he remembered.
Remembered early days of one deemed Pure One, when it just appeared in palace – even not reaching half of his height, some inner power was felt from it – something kingsmould felt similar to himself, something… deep. And though his pure nail looking comically large, he already showed himself worthy of at least being trained by the Five Great Knights. It was mostly Dryya and Ze'mer, proficient with wielding of a nail, but others also had their part in Vessel's education, though mostly as sparring partners. Vessel seemingly didn't care even about his training, even in the heat of battle lacking any emotion or desire in his hollow eyes. And even less he cared for when tried to communicate outside trainings, even Kind Isma being simply ignored. Already then, if allowed to think, kingsmould would have thought it was ignorance of creature not unable, but unwilling to communicate, or rather second trying to be first. Being made of same void, kingsmould could feel it, but was unable to even think King was wrong in his judgement – he was made that way, after all, unable to doubt his creator.
He remembered vessel growing, Knights less and less constricting themselves in their sparrings. He remembered both King and Queen teaching vessel the usage of soul, focusing it into spells, incorporating it into fighting style, using in sparrings against knights.
And there was also something else Hollow Knight used, something no one could teach him, but something he learnt nonetheless. Fading into darkness and reappearing in other place. Making tendrils of void come out of darkness under his cloak and attack his opponents, as if additional limbs. Those abilities felt so native and so familiar to kingsmould, to dark primal instincts deep under his white shell and even deep inside his dark body, bound by soul of King's orders.
But what he remembers the best was what seemed to be the final test of the Vessel, display of his abilities, his achievements... but also display of majesty of Pale King. That time, he fought his own creation himself. Though short comparing to the fully grown vessel, inexhaustible, literally endless might of soul felt in his stature, making it look even more impressive than his opponent's. And fight began.
Uncountable nails made of soul were met by fewer, but bigger and more precise one, along with strikes of Vessel's own pure nail. Hollow Knight's charges and strikes were stopped by shields made of soul, only for them to be transformed into nails and being fired at once, forcing Vessel once more into defence. Thorny silver vines, forming of soul and spreading the room, restricting Vessel's movement were met by focused explosion of raw power of soul. Spikes came out of floor only for Hollow Knight to jump from place where he stood, or bounce from spikes with his nail, not stopping to defend. Spinning discs with razor sharp ends, flying towards the Vessel in numbers which were even hard to comprehend were deflected by his nail and daggers made of soul, or in case Vessel was not in right position – by tendrils of pure void. That looked as stalemate, but at moment Vessel's frame faded, only to reappear behind Pale King, already enveloping him by void tendrils. Pale King was still stronger and more masterful in usage of soul, he had armies of loyal servants and constructs who would fight for him, but he achieved his goal – a chi... creature was created, which was able to defeat physical manifestation of Higher being in direct fight, and more important, capable of imprisoning and keeping his enemy locked away for the time of existence of his kingdom, Hallownest – for eternity.
King had no need to verbally communicate with his constructs – they always understood him without single word. But now he pronounced words, in which were no need:
- You will be the one, - he said, as his power began to spread, so limitless, yet so helpless in his fight to defend his kingdom. But Hallownest must last eternal. Or else all sacrifices will be in vain. And what is Hallownest, if not it's ruler?
Palace faded away in white sparkles of strange form – walls, towers, terraces, even other kingsmould guarding the gates disappeared, as one thinking himself special silently stood still before his creator.
And then PAIN took his mind, because something flowed into it, King put something in it, something that did not fit there. Slowly yet unstoppably, his memories were falling apart, yet he still clung to his most prized memory – when he witnessed full glory of his deity, king and creator. Pale King could simply order to stop him resisting, but for some reason he just stood there, watching over struggle of his creation.
All faded also from mind of kingsmould, as memories, temporal things were replaced in his mind by things constant – walls, ceilings, elevators, his kin guards or noble courtiers. Yet, as things faded in his mind, being replaces, stood his most treasured things – sounds of spikes coming out of ground, sounds of steel thorny vines creeping on the ground, sounds of razor sharp discs spinning. Sounds filled the White Palace, which was already "not there", as if enveloping it... protecting it. Sounds became things they were remembered from, becoming second line of defence after guardsmen, spikes, thorns and sawblades feeling the palace. There was nothing left from memories of kingsmould – things feeling his mind were only his loyalty, glory of his King and White palace, which felt too real to be just a memory.
Pale King nodded, as he focused soul once again – and he started to fade himself into Dream essence, while soul formed seal over Kingsmould's laying body, sphere of soul energy protecting mind of construct. In the end, that was territory of his enemy, and she would miss chance for revenge if he didn't protect himself and his palace properly.
His physical form barely remaining, he once again pointlessly spoke to his silent construct:
"Through your sacrifice I last. Through your sacrifice also, Hallownest lasts eternal"