The Kingdom of Noitcif

Chapter Six - The Prince's Backstory

  After Tarquin had tied Verbum to a sapphire post and took off his tack so the unicorn could cool down, the messenger led Espen at a brisk pace up a few flights of stairs until they reached the top of one of the lower turrets of the castle. Then, they proceeded to walk down a large, open-air hallway straight through the middle of the cylinder-shaped tower, until Tarquin turned at a wooden door. He gave three hard knocks with the brass knocker before the door opened to reveal a finely dressed and very dignified doorman.

  "Prince Estevan to see King Hyperion," Tarquin stated in a hushed tone.

  The doorman nodded, opening the door wider for them to enter. Espen was taken aback as the servant bowed elegantly as he and Tarquin passed over the threshold.

  The circular room inside the castle turret was cheery, and decorated with multicolored tapestries and paintings depicting days of old. Plants were placed on the floor, tables, and windowsill, and a fire upon the stone hearth was crackling merrily. In the midst of this beautiful array lay a man. The bed he was upon was adorned with precious jewels and bore silk blankets - a perfect compliment to his appearance. His bright hazel eyes seemed to glow in the lamplight, and his auburn hair fell just below his chin. Espen widened his eyes, for the man in the bed looked exactly like an older version of himself.

  "My king," Tarquin breathed, giving a flourishing bow.

  Espen quickly did the same.

  "May I present Prince Estevan." Tarquin bowed again, this time, in the teenager's direction.

  Espen was rooted to the spot, for he didn't know what to do next. Luckily, the weakened king answered for him as he motioned for him to come near. He looked so young... the teen found it hard to believe he was sick and dying.

  "Is it... is it really you, Estevan?" the king asked in a soft tone as he took the boy's hand. "So many years... so many years..." Hyperion's voice trailed off as he inspected Espen carefully.

  The prince's emotions were in turmoil, not exactly sure what to make of this. His mother had always told him his father had died long ago, and now, this man was claiming to be him. Although, despite the surreal situation, Espen found it hard to doubt the fact that Hyperion was indeed his dad. It just seemed to fit...

  "Estevan," Hyperion breathed, squeezing the prince's hand a bit harder.

  The king's hand was without blemish or fault, and the sight of it made Espen open his mouth and whisper, "Why are you sick?"

  "I fell ill a month ago, and the doctors are finding it difficult to determine the exact cause. However, it does not prove to be contagious, so there is no need for you to worry about catching it, my son," he responded, the hint of a smile upon his lips.

  "King Hyperion... I know you should not be doing much talking," Tarquin spoke up, taking a step towards the king's bed, "but Estevan here would like to know the story of why he does not remember this kingdom, and why he has not come here before. I can always bring him back tomorrow for you to talk to him more personally."

  "Of course, of course," Hyperion breathed, staring into Espen's eyes. "This must have been so confusing for you, my son. I do apologize. It would be the least I could do to explain these mysteries."

  "Thank you," was all Espen could think to say.

  The king nodded before beginning.