Quen Nim by Steve Shilstone

a short distance away in the two Castles, one floating, one grounded.
    The grounded Castle, the Castle Boad, teemed with cartjaggers testing loadstraps or rubbing oil on vedling cart axles or pushing and pulling carts into line. Hutters milled about, gossiping about the news and awaiting the appearances of the Kinng and the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. What news? The startling announcement flew about that the Royal Pair would leave for retirement that very morning. No extra words. Just those. They were leaving. A few nester musicians, who’d traveled all the way from Blossom Castle to play at the expected wedding, hastily assembled to perform a proper farewell concert. Two lesser Fools juggling breadboards cartwheeled back and then forth across the courtyard while the lead Fool judged their efforts and took notes. A wild flock of fleece staggered in confusion while herd miffens flitted over and around ‘em in effort to keep ‘em together. Thus and so was the Castle courtyard a boiling noisy hive of activity. The door to the Great Hall swung open. All hubbub ceased. Even the stupidest flooce fell on its side and blinked its eight eyes and waved its feelers in silence.
    â€œThe Highest Most Royal Serenities Possible!” roared the Grand Herald, stepping forth clad in splendid purple and silver with a white cravat centered by a flashing brilliant fat amethyst pin.
    The Kinng appeared, carrying the limp form of the Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen. The hushed hum of respectful murmurs passed from the front to the back of the crowd. Haughtily the Kinng marched in slow time, pace, pause, pace, pause. He placed his Royal burden in the gilded cart at the head of the line and arranged the coverlet tenderly and smoothed it. He climbed to the velvet bench. He did all of this with great and commendable and Kinng-worthy dignity. He nodded to the formally assembled cartjaggers, all of ‘em bending low. The Kinng cleared his throat, so such inadvertently making clear how silent was the silence. He opened his mouth to speak, but instead of his comforting shout, Queeeeeeeeeeeeeeen Zilp’s droning voice was heard. The Kinng looked stunned, like as if the sound had emerged from him, and a moment later he looked relieved, when he realized it hadn’t.
    â€œCitizens, our destruction is complete. Though I rave wildly, there will be no peace ever more for me. My cruel sister has tasted her revenge. It is not to be borne willingly. I bear it willingly, singing lightly and dancing. There is nothing left of me but the shadow of a forgotten merry sprite. There is nothing left to do but leave in humiliation. My wish is to leave you, citizens, with one last look at my benevolent and radiant smile.”
    So saying, she raised herself almost perceptively and stared blankly straight ahead. The Kinng nodded again to the cartjaggers, so such the signal to move. The cartjaggers sprang to their shafts, and the procession proceeded out and away from the Castle. The nester musicians played until the last of the carts was lost from view. They lowered their instruments, embarrassed and confused. The Castle Boad was without Royalty! Citizens and others, hutters and all, looked one at the other. Toes of boots scraped at the cobbles. Sculgers and crapes shrugged and returned to the kitchens. Where else could they have gone?
    Hutters wandered into the fields and took up hoes and clippers as if dazed. Stackers, brushers, washers, brickers, everyone all slowly returned to duty, but moving in the so such newly common dazed way. A single thought was soft syrup oozing through each mind. No Royals ruling the Boad, All Fidd and Leee Combined? No Royals ruling?
    In Cloud Castle City, floating in seeming serenity above a nearby oat field, a smaller bustling frenzy took place in Lady May’s Throne Room. Lady May herself flew about flapping her wings with such vigor and force that the tapestries lifted in flutters from the walls.
    â€œWhat about the Boad, All Fidd