The Kingdom of Noitcif

Chapter Thirty-Eight - The Final Word

  It was a brisk autumn afternoon. Espen and Rosalind were standing together on the tallest tower of Noitcif, overlooking the islands of Noitcif. Earlier that morning, they had traveled with Tarquin to the Island of Erutnevda and hiked up to the top of a large hill; then went to the Island of Ydemoc, where they conversed and laughed with the villagers over a glass of punch; and finally, to the Island of Aipotu, where they sat next to the same pool where Espen accompanied Lysander on his first tour of the kingdom.

  But now, here they were, on the top of the castle tower, completely at peace with the world as they gazed out across the sky. Tarquin had just left them to attend to business, but he didn't leave without expressing his appreciation for the time they spent together.

  The two remaining friends chatted about Rosalind's knight's apprenticeship, Espen's recent flights on Fabula, and their old school times at Meadow Brook, until they could think of nothing else to say. Now, they were enjoying the peace of staring in silence at the beautiful kingdom laid out in front of them; a kingdom that Espen – not too long ago - doubted to be real.

  Rosalind's curly black hair and Espen's straight red hair blew in a gentle breeze, and Wesley's daughter reached up to adjust his new crown – one that had been designed by the Hollingberry brothers and crafted by few skilled blacksmiths. With the unscratched gold surface gleaming and many diamonds, or other precious gems glinting, the king's crown looked just as good as the one that Engres had stolen – perhaps better.

  "You know, Penny," Rosalind said as her hand returned to leaning on the stone balcony, "you make a great king."

  Espen smiled. "Thank you, Rosalind," he said truthfully, but the tranquil atmosphere made him incapable of saying anything further.

  Yes, Espen was a great king. But, he was also just a boy.

The End