Arthur lies in a run-down shepherd’s hut by the Riv­er Tigris, his body weak and strug­gling to process the pover­ty that sur­rounds him. The cold tea and tat­tered rags offer lit­tle com­fort, and yet, amidst the despair, he dis­cov­ers his jour­nal lying on the floor. With his breath shal­low and labored, Arthur picks up his jour­nal, deter­mined to write a final reflec­tion on the course of his life. His thoughts drift to the influ­ences that have shaped his exis­tence, specif­i­cal­ly his long-held love for poet­ry and the writ­ten word. Over the years, Arthur has devot­ed him­self to the art of col­lect­ing, inter­pret­ing, and trans­lat­ing lit­er­ary works, espe­cial­ly an ancient epic that has pro­vid­ed him with end­less joy. The poet­ry, woven into his heart and soul, becomes a source of solace, even as his life comes to a close in a hum­ble set­ting.

Arthur has often been praised for his tal­ents, his moth­er being the most ardent sup­port­er, while his father’s approval came inter­mit­tent­ly. His col­leagues have also rec­og­nized his skill, but the belief of his wife remains a mys­tery to him. As he reflects on his life, Arthur comes to the real­iza­tion that while tal­ent may have been a gift, it is his pas­sion for lit­er­a­ture that has defined him. His heart has been rest­less, for­ev­er search­ing to break bound­aries and push lim­its, much like the ancient kings he admires—Gilgamesh and Ashur­ba­n­i­pal. These kings endured immense tri­als, and their sto­ries echo in Arthur’s mind as he com­pares him­self to them. He now views him­self as “King of the Sew­ers and Slums,” a far cry from the grandeur of his his­tor­i­cal coun­ter­parts. He rec­og­nizes that his own iden­ti­ty has been shaped not just by the words he loved but by the life he led far from roy­al palaces.

As tears begin to form in his eyes, Arthur mourns the lost oppor­tu­ni­ties in his life, par­tic­u­lar­ly in his roles as a father and hus­band. He feels the weight of lone­li­ness where com­pan­ion­ship and inti­ma­cy should have been, as secrets remained unspo­ken and desires unful­filled. His schol­ar­ly pur­suit of ancient texts has always been a refuge, but the com­plex­i­ties of love—something he has nev­er ful­ly understood—elude him. Arthur con­tem­plates the epic nar­ra­tives he has stud­ied, acknowl­edg­ing that they belong not to any one per­son but to the col­lec­tive human expe­ri­ence. In his hands, he holds a blue tablet—an arti­fact from his travels—intended as a gift to Leila, a sym­bol of both con­nec­tion and dis­con­nec­tion. It is through these nar­ra­tives and his deep bond with Leila that Arthur finds some mea­sure of peace, despite the heartache he car­ries.

As his life draws to an end, Arthur envi­sions the Epic of Gil­gamesh liv­ing on across time, its allure reach­ing new gen­er­a­tions of admir­ers who will find beau­ty in its imper­fec­tions. The epic, a tes­ta­ment to human emo­tion and mor­tal­i­ty, will tran­scend bor­ders, serv­ing as a bridge between past and future. Arthur believes that art, in all its forms, is a legacy—a way for human­i­ty to rec­og­nize and remem­ber their ances­tors’ strug­gles, tri­umphs, and fragili­ty. In his final moments, Arthur accepts his own mor­tal­i­ty, see­ing it as a nec­es­sary part of the cycle of life. He recalls the teach­ings about death not as an end, but as a new begin­ning, find­ing peace in the knowl­edge that his jour­ney, like those of the heroes in the epics, is only part of a larg­er, nev­er-end­ing nar­ra­tive.

When Arthur breathes his last on August 1876, he leaves behind a lega­cy of intel­lec­tu­al pur­suit, explo­ration, and emo­tion­al depth. Mah­moud arrives to bring news of his pass­ing, and Leila, deeply affect­ed by their shared con­nec­tion, awaits his arrival in the after­life. Arthur’s body is to be laid to rest at the Cas­tle of the Rock, and his mem­o­ry will endure, not just as a schol­ar, but as King Arthur of the Sew­ers and Slums. His life—a blend of tri­umph and struggle—will remain etched in his­to­ry, a reflec­tion of the com­plex­i­ties of the human expe­ri­ence, where lit­er­a­ture, love, and loss inter­sect in ways both pro­found and time­less.