[A] The Catalyst {Plot Thread! All Old Narnians welcome!}

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[Character of the Month]

Character of the Month
Prince Caspian

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Played by Cara

"Cara has managed to...create a character that is both mythical and life-like. Impulsive, moody, and yet kind and good-hearted, Caspian is just beginning to show the makings of a true leader."
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[Prince Caspian]

{{ooc;; Takes place directly after This Thread.}}

Caspian paced anxiously, waiting for further word. Last he’d heard, a Narnian was deathly ill and the suspected cause of said illness was Telmarine “medicine”. There were so many things running through the young king’s mind as he thought this over. The same “medicine”, perhaps, that Drinian had tried to convince Caspian to take? Not that Caspian suspected his old friend of foul play, of course. But Miraz? Definitely. Maybe his judgement, which he rarely trusted, wasn’t so far off after all. But that didn’t change the fact that somehow, someone had gotten some of the Telmarine medicine into their possession. Had Drinian’s party given it willingly, or had one of his own people taken it? Who was at fault? Had Drinian’s party known the danger, or were they just as oblivious to it as Caspian and his followers? And what were the Old Narnians going to say, how were they going to react? Caspian wanted to shelter Drinian from this – he didn’t care much about the rest of them – but what could he do without throwing into question his own capability as a leader?

But maybe he was over-reacting. Maybe all of this would settle itself. Maybe it would end well. Maybe Drinian and his party had already fled. Not that Caspian wanted them to go, he wanted the comfort of his old friend here, but... he couldn’t guarantee anything if this resulted in the death of an Old Narnian.

“Sire?”

“Yes, what is it?” Caspian drew aside the flaps to the tent, feeling chilled at the grave look on the messenger’s face. “Any news then?”

“Yes, the noble Narnian has died,” was the grim response. “The best healers were brought but nothing could be done. This is certainly Telmarine doing.”

Caspian’s mouth grew dry and his thoughts scattered. This was not looking good. It would cause direct danger to the Telmarines currently in the camp but worse yet, it would have greater repercussions than that. They were lucky to have gone so long without actual warfare. They had been hoping so fervently for the promised help from Aslan or whomever he might sent. But it wasn’t looking like they were getting help – at least, not yet. This was going to cause fighting to start, this was going to be the catalyst, the thing that sent the whole thing over the edge. They’d gone as long as they possibly could with some semblance of “peace” but they all knew it wasn’t going to last. Shame this had to be the thing that ruined the quiet. 

He couldn’t risk letting anyone think his loyalty lay with Drinian and his men over that of the Narnians he fought for. He had to deal with this clearly, and with a level head. But that was going to be difficult.

“What would you have us do?”

“Make certain that our guests do not leave camp,” he said dully. He had to think, he had to figure out the best plan of action. “Bring together an assembly of Narnians. I will find someone to fetch the Telmarines.” He couldn’t deal with this in private, he would be under too much suspicion. He needed to have all of this in the open despite the fact that he would certainly rather not. “We will get to the bottom of this and put the situation to rights. At least, the best that it can be. A Narnian is dead and by what accounts I do not know. This is not something we will easily push aside.” He ran his fingers through his hair and waved the messenger on. “Hurry to it, I don’t think this can wait.”

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep had been away most of the day, traveling to the very outskirts of the camp.  There was nothing in particular that he had been chasing after, nor anything from which he felt need to escape.  Only, his pride had been rather wounded by the fact that he had been excluded from the meeting between Caspian and that Telmarine - never mind the fact that all of the other old Narnians had been as well; Reepicheep liked to consider himself one of Caspian's closest friends and certainly his most ardent supporter.  He, after all, had been the one gathering weapons in Caspian's name, training his men in swordsmanship, and rallying many for his cause.  So, to sit in solitude and lick his wounds, he had gone a little out of the camp, but had ended up making a new enemy as well as a new friend.  Now returning, he found the camp in the midst of a quiet rush that disturbed him.  No one was speaking, other than in hushed voices, but everyone seemed in a great hurry to go somewhere.  His beady eyes narrowing (had he been left out of yet another one of Caspian's plans?) he dropped onto all fours to chase after a messenger.  He experienced the usual difficulty in trying to get the messenger's attention, but when he succeeded in doing so, he received his answer: Caspian was calling a meeting for all of the Old Narnians.  Though he knew not exactly why it was to be held, this meeting gave Reepicheep a petty, smug satisfaction that the prince seemed to be at least acknowledging the Old Narnians' presence once more.

And to the meeting he would go.  After thanking the messenger, he started off in the direction of Caspian's tent.  It seemed grander than most, though that was not likely to be the case, seeing as provisions were so scarce as it was.  There were no luxuries to be afforded for anyone, not even a prince.  That was one of the many things Reepicheep, and the other Old Narnians, liked about Caspian: he was a practical sort, never asking for anything in excess or thinking himself entitled to anything more than what the Narnians received.  Indeed, he was becoming a true Narnian, as humble of heart as the creatures who had pledged their loyalty to him.  Well, not all of them had pledged their loyalty to him, but those who had not done so could certainly not be called humble anyway - rather, they were arrogant and stupid, in the opinion of Reepicheep and many of his comrades.  Reepicheep did not really have anything against the Dwarfs, in general, but he did feel quite irritated by their refusal to follow Aslan; "irritated" being an understatement.  Yea, some of the more black-hearted beasts still seemed to be in want of the White Witch's presence.  It was frightening, even disgusting.  It was against everything that the other Narnians, and even Caspian it seemed now, stood for - which he supposed was the point, but even the often dull-witted Dwarfs Reepicheep would have expected to learn that nothing good happened in Aslan's absence, or even that of a human ruler, after thirteen hundred years. 

Perhaps that was what Caspian meant to speak to them about.  At the rate things were going, Reepicheep knew that they could ill afford the loss of any soldiers to dissent - so many already were paralyzed by illness or other things, and the Telmarines' numbers, though he hated to say it, were far greater than theirs.  Certainly, they had some advantage in the element of surprise - after all, not too long ago, the Old Narnians, according to the Telmarines, had been completely extinct.  It would make sense that Caspian would attempt to rally the Old Narnians to his cause, especially after he had spent the entire day talking to their enemy - something that indeed did not make sense.  Reepicheep hoped this would be an explanation for his actions.  Aslan knew he could use something to lift his spirits after the events of the day.  With any luck, they would be engaged in battle within the fortnight.  His little mouth smiled at the thought of it.  If Aslan was on their side - and surely he was - then they might be able to rout the Telmarines after all.  Then the Narnians would have their land back, and their lives as they had once been - though no one could even remember.  And Caspian would be crowned king.  Really, none of it mattered, what came after.  Reepicheep may be dead at the end of it all.  Though he dreamed always of sailing to the utter East, he would not deny himself the opportunity to give up his life for the cause of the Narnians, just as he had already given his life to the cause in spirit if not in blood.  His life belonged to Narnia, to Caspian, and to Aslan.  And if it was spared after he fulfilled his duty, only then would he follow his dreams.

It was a dream come true to be fighting for Narnia at all, really.  One day soon, he would be knighted, and then his life and his service to Narnia would be complete.  But for now, he would toil on without any tangible reward, because he knew a reward was coming, and the real reward came simply in the earning of it.  His head cleared, heart encouraged, and hope restored, he pushed through the flaps of the tent (rather heavy, they seemed to him, and a good deal larger than they needed to be - for certainly a Giant wasn't going to be in the tent...  was he?) with a renewed confidence in his swagger.  "My liege," he greeted Caspian with a sweeping bow at the prince's feet.  Looking up with bright eyes at the Telmarine-turned-Narnian who he so admired, he continued, "I am forever at your service.  For what matter did you inquire after our presence?"  He anciously awaited his orders, his tail twitching in anticipation.

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian turned at the sound of a light approach. He had become incredibly paranoid as of late; it used to be that people could be walking around outside his room at the castle and he did not care, nor did he notice. But now it took little to alert his attention. However, the visitor was no threat, but rather a joy, and Caspian couldn’t help but grin at the sight of Reepicheep standing there, eagerly looking up at him. Caspian reigned in his excitement at seeing the mouse – he was still unaccustomed to the idea of a mouse being so... large, so intelligent and so noble – and he gave the mouse a solemn bow in greeting.

“Dear, noble mouse, I am happy you are one of the first to arrive.” He was sure that leaving him out during the meeting with Drinian was sure to have injured the mouse’s pride. That was far from the intent – if Drinian had been just any Telmarine missive, Caspian would have spoken to him publicly. But it was because Caspian feared how he might react to the news Drin would present that he had taken it alone. It had proved worthwhile too; things were falling into place a little better than he’d hoped. But that didn’t change the fact that now he had amends to make; right now, he doubted many of the Narnians would understand why he did what he did.

“There is a grave matter before us,” Caspian said slowly. He wondered how much he would be wise to tell, then decided it was all going to come out anyway. It had to. That was why he was calling the Narnians. “One of ours has died while in the possession of a Telmarine vial. Foul play, poison, is suspected but not yet confirmed.” He didn’t understand why any of Drinian’s men – for surely it couldn’t have been Drinian himself, right? – would poison just any Old Narnian. One would think they would be strategic. Not to say that any loss was terrible but why wouldn’t they target Glenstorm, or Reepicheep, or Trufflehunter... one he called into council? Granted, it could be full well that they were just too bright to take anything from a Telmarine.

Caspian sighed. “I have an important task for you, Reepicheep. One that must be carried out swiftly, and with the greatest of responsibility. A task I trust to you, if you will take it.” He turned away, steadied himself, and turned back. “The Telmarines must be bought to me. They must be brought before the Narnians to account for this gross error.” He ran his fingers through his hair. “I will not pass judgement until I’ve heard everything, but it certainly doesn’t look good for them.”

[Reepicheep]

It had been sadly rare to see the prince smile as of late, so when Caspian did so at the sight of Reepicheep, a thrill of pride jolted the Mouse's heart to know that he was the one who brought such joy to his beloved leader.  He had been admittedly hurt, or rather his pride had been, by the earlier exclusion he had undergone (and nonetheless by Caspian's hand!), but now he seemed to be back in the prince's good graces.  ...Or perhaps he always had been.  After all, there must be a reason why he had not been invited to the meeting between Caspian and the Telmarine, and he supposed he would not have very much enjoyed sitting across a table from a Telmarine (though of course few knew better than he that war and honor were certainly not about enjoying oneself!).  Rather he would have been standing atop the table, which in all likelihood might have frightened the Telmarine, so that certainly would not have been fair.  Ah, yes.  That was it.  Good, kind Caspian!  His prince had only meant to be a fair host to their savage guests.  Though Reepicheep would have liked little more than scaring a Telmarine, he knew that the Telmarines were supposed to have come in peace, and any chivalrous knight would keep to their honor and act likewise.  The Mouse felt a surge of admiration, as he often did, for his leader. 

"As am I, my liege," he replied somberly, though inside he felt the greatest happiness and pleasure to be spoken of so highly.  It was only natural, he supposed, that someone should recognize him for his work, but that it would be by the prince...  That was truly something.  Perhaps he was more important than even he had realized!  It was enough to be called noble, but for Caspian, his comrade and hero, to call him dear?  Why, that was nearly too much!  Of course he deserved it, but still - an honorable knight never expected praise for their work; they did it only to maintain their honor, of course.  Was it possible that he was having a private meeting with Caspian now so that he might be praised?  It was too much to hope for!  But it was only the two of them, which was quite strange - private meetings were quite unusual, as the fuss generated by the one-on-one session with a Telmarine had demonstrated.  But it soon became clear that his more somber mood was the one that should remain, for, seeing how rare this meeting was, he knew something important had happened, most likely as a result of the Telmarine coming here.  In an unusual silence he continued to listen to Caspian.  Something serious indeed was happening, and he must find out what, as he was certain to soon.

Reepicheep stood erect and unmoving as he tried to process Caspian's words, trembling in righteous fury but unable to react for the moment.  After realizing that what the prince said was true, he burst out in the only way he could.  His tiny fingers clutched at the butt of his rapier as if to draw strength from it, and he repeated incredulously, "Back?  They killed one of our own, and you wish to allow them back to harm?"  Viciously, he shook his head, pacing in small, tight circles with his typical lack of patience.  "Begging your leave, my liege, do you not think it best to reduce any possible chance of further injury?"  His voice was pleading - Caspian trusted him and with good reason: he knew what he was doing, perhaps better than any other Old Narnian did, and thus he had the honor of being one of Caspian's closest advisors, if he could be called an advisor to the prince.  Their relationship was mutually beneficial, and he knew Caspian valued his opinion.  Just as Reepicheep very much valued Caspian's opinion (for, being a prince and their leader, it was practically taken as fact).  But if Caspian said no, he would go anyway.  Skillfully, he drew his rapier and flipped it into his hand with a flourish.  His face grim, he added pointedly, "And by that, I mean injury to our party."

Rapier in hand, he ceased his pacing.  Caspian knew what he was doing and had interacted with Telmarines more than Reepicheep.  If he had known enough to escape the Telmarines in the first place, then he clearly knew how to deal with them now.  Reepicheep knew that he had no place in telling Caspian what to do, nor ask to do something contrary to plan.  The fact that this task had been entrusted to him meant that he was trusted to do it and do it right, and undoubtedly it was a great honor to be bestowed upon him.  Perhaps if they were brought back they could be accordingly punished as Caspian promised.  Though Reepicheep would have much rather done it himself without the threat of more trouble, he was obliged to listen to Caspian and follow orders.  It was what every honorable knight did.  "I will leave you and do as you request," he said quietly, a strange afterthought.  "I thank you for your trust.  Your will shall be carried out accordingly."

[Arina Penley Carison]

Choni -ugh, how she was hating calling herself that over the last weeks- had kept the afternoon for herself. She had helped in the camp that morning and then just practiced with her bow and rode with Tyber as if they hadn't been in Narnia, volunteering in the war that they'd stumbled into. Anything was better than being at home, though. It was late when she finally went back to camp, giddy from just spending time riding and trying to leave her stress behind. She pat Tyber's neck as he slowed to a languid walking pace and she dismounted to walk next to him.

The mood of the camp almost immediately dispelled any form of happiness she'd been clinging to, but she refused to give it up that easily. There was always a certain mood hanging over the camp and it hadn't gotten any better with the Telmarines  there with them. Choni was determined to not be brought down. The camp could use a little uplifting morale. In fact, there should be someone appointed to do just that- keep morale up. Goodness knew they could use it. She was busying herself thinking up something that could build such a morale -a rally? a party?- when she heard the call for a meeting of the Old Narnians. Well. She may not be an Old Narnian, but she was a member of the camp. She supposed she'd have to go and see what Caspian was up to this time. Perhaps it had something to do with the extra weight that seemed to be adding to the already depressing atmosphere.

She lead Tyber to where the other horses grazed before making her way to the prince. Or king. He wasn't exactly the king yet, was he? He was just supposed to be. She arrived just in time to see the Mouse speaking to him before leaving to 'carry out his will.' She wanted to roll her eyes, but resisted the urge. There didn't seem to be anyone else there and the prince-king looked, for lack of a better word, distraught. Choni paused. She was used to him looking... cocky.

"You called for a meeting?" she began hesitantly. "Should I merely wait for others to join, Sire?" She might not be particularly fond of him, but she would pay him the respects and titles he deserved. That is, until he reached a point where he really made her mad.

[Swiftshadow]

“Swiftshadow! Nightwind!” An eagle swept in and landed on a branch in front of the two centaurs. 

“What!” Swiftshadow came to a halt, but pawed the ground impatiently.  Her husband, Nightwind, placed a calming hand on her equine back before she could say anything else, but it didn’t stop her from fixing the eagle with a fierce glare. She was so close to breaking free from the suffocating camp, for the first time in several weeks.  Glenstorm had released her for the rest of the day, so she knew she wasn’t needed for anything.  And she would have heard a ruckus if there’d been a Telmarine attack on the camp. So why was this bird keeping her from the gallop through the woods that she was so looking forward to?

The eagle ignored Swiftshadow – which didn’t help her mood – and addressed her husband.  “I was to help spread the word that King Caspian requests an assembly of Narnians without delay,” he reported. Swiftshadow and Nightwind exchanged glances at this, and thus saw that they were equally clueless as to what this meeting could be about. Before they could ask, however, the eagle was gone. “We’d better see what His Majesty wants,” said Nightwind. “Our outing will have to wait.”

“Yes,” said the centauress simply.  This rebellion always came before her own personal desires.  If they succeeded in defeating the Telmarines, she would be free to go for a gallop with her husband any time she pleased. Her pent up frustration did not dissipate, however, but simply receded for now, waiting to be let loose.

After a brisk trot, the two arrived at the assembly.  A large number of Narnians were there already, but they were at least not among the last. After a few minutes of joining in among the murmuring, Swiftshadow worked out that a Narnian had just died.  But why did that necessitate an assembly? A death was tragic, but with the sickness going around the camp, not quite unexpected. No one seemed to know much more for certain, however. There was plenty of speculation, but Swiftshadow would wait to see what parts of the rumors, if any, were true.

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian wished he could properly explain. He knew Reepicheep didn’t think his request all too wise, but it was. It had to be! Caspian knew Drinian would never intentionally harm anyone – and if he did kill, it would be only out of necessity and never by such sly, veiled means. But what of Drinian’s men? The young prince needed to figure this out, he needed to speak with Drinian, he needed to figure out exactly what had happened and where things had gone sour. Because the Narnians would demand justice. And while Drinian and his fellow Telmarines might have been safer if Caspian had just let them be, if he’d just told them to leave and never return, it wouldn’t solve the issue at hand. He did not wish Drinian to suffer for this but if one of his men were responsible... Caspian held no loyalty to any of them. “I know perhaps this does not seem like the best path,” Caspian said slowly, studying the noble mouse, “But it is a necessary one. Thank you; may Aslan bless your honour and loyalty.” He turned away as Reepicheep left.

Was he doing the right thing?

He was conflicted. He’d made his share of mistakes already, and he had prolonged this all so much. He had been waiting, hoping that help from Aslan might come. Perhaps they’d been wrong, perhaps the horn would only summon help for she whom it had been meant – the great Queen Susan herself. Perhaps blowing the horn did no good for them. Perhaps he had been too hasty in sounding it.

No matter, what was done was history. He could change none of it now. He needed to make the best of a bad situation and carry on the best he knew how. He was new to this – he’d gone from pampered prince to leader of a people that, up until a few weeks ago, he’d thought were nothing more than fairytale beings. It was something odd to wrap his head around. He didn’t know how to lead, he didn’t know how to rule. But, sad as it was, he was the best equipped for the role and, despite some argument, it was pretty well accepted that he was where he should be. But why did he feel so unsure of himself then?

He hated to show weakness, but no doubt he looked out of sorts. How long passed, he was not sure, but he grew impatient and pushed aside the flaps of his tent, peering around for any sign of Reepicheep and the Telmarines. Nothing. Creatures were starting to assemble and really, what was he to tell them now? What if the Telmarines had already fled? What if they’d caught wind that they’d been exposed – or had been accused? Ought Caspian send several after them, or would Reepicheep’s request be enough? Surely with Drinian in the lead, Reepicheep’s word, a missive from Caspian himself, would be respected. Or so he could only hope. There was a flickering doubt of Drinian’s loyalty but it was fleeting and quickly cast aside. He couldn’t think that way. He mustn’t.

"You called for a meeting? Should I merely wait for others to join, Sire?"

Caspian turned sharply, caught off guard by the voice behind him. He blinked, looked the young woman over, and tried to put a name to the face. Oh, he recognized her. She’d spoken her dissent before. But a name... it didn’t matter. Not now. He could figure that out later. “Yes, a meeting,” he replied distantly, glancing away. “I think the others are assembling even now.” He frowned. “And Reepicheep should have our guests back shortly.” He turned towards her again, shrugging. “I suppose I ought to begin, I think everyone is curious and, in all likelihood, a little concerned.” He nodded towards the gathering crowd and started to walk towards them, motioning for her to follow.

[Arina Penley Carison]

Choni followed the prince who would be king, unusually quiet. Something was afoot and all the camp was astir. She hated not knowing what it was, left in the dark without her faithful subjects from home to keep her informed of the ongoings of the world. Whatever it was, it had hung something sinister over them.

"Guests?" she couldn't help but ask. "The Telmarines?" Of course the Telmarines. Enemies in camp- if something had gone amiss, they would have the finger pointed at them first. She didn't like them here any more than anyone else and the Prince's apparent friendship with one made her more than a little wary of their reason for being here, but it could just as easily be a set up to make them look guilty. A reason to attack them. Her stomach twisted.

Joining the crowd, she stood near Swiftshadow. The two were not friends, but the centaur was the first familiar face she recognized. Turning her attentions to Caspian, she stood upright, back ramrod straight and hands held neatly in front of her. Sometimes she forgot that she was supposed to be masquerading as a farmer's daughter.

[Lord Drinian]

Following in the wake of the spirited Mouse, Drinian, brow furrowed and silent, approached a sizeable crowd gathered about the entrance of the How.

Unbidden, Drinian's stomach dropped and his hands, cold and clammy, trembled slightly. The Mouse had said someone had died. And they had done it. Did Caspian think the same? How could he? They would not have -- could not have. . .

Drinian had chosen Adelliana because he trusted her. Miraz had chosen Deverell because. . . Drinian's chest constricted. Could he have . . .? He joined them later . . . It was, perhaps, possible . . .

A woman -- the one who had been with the group in the forest -- seemed dubious they were "guests" here. This did not bode well.

Evening his breath as he approached, Drinian gave a slight bow to Caspian, not wishing to appear servile but hoping to show his compliance and respect for his friend. "I've been told you wished to speak with us," he said. The words sounded so canned and hollow.

[Kitsune]

Kitsune watched as the other Old Narnians assembled.  This was one of those times when she was unsure she had made the right decision.  The Old Narnians were letting humans into their camp.  She tried her best to hide her distrust, but it was quite difficult.  These humans would have to earn her trust, she thought.  She listened quietly, waiting for a good time to offer her input.

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep, a bit breathless from the journey (which had been marched at the double, by his own insistence and the with the assistance of his rapier) and more so from trying to restrict his tongue, arrived with his despised charges into Aslan's How and presented himself with a magnificent bow before Caspian.  "I have returned, my liege," he announced, unneeded, as he rose, "with what you have requested."  The derision was not lost from his voice as he intentionally referred to the Telmarines without personalization.  He was angered that Drinian had spoken before him (obviously Reepicheep held more importance and thus should be speaking for both of them, despite what previous evidence seemed to show), and his mood was steadily worsening, with good reason.  The only slight reason he might find happiness was that Drinian had hesitated at the entrance.  Yes, you ought to be nervous, he thought with a smug smirk.  But his solemn facade returned instantaneously and he looked at his prince with an innocent face.

There were many creatures gathered around Caspian, many more than had been there when Reepicheep had spoken to him the first time.  Reepicheep had been the only one there, the first time, and while he was glad to see that the Narnians had all paid attention to heed the wishes of a leader they were still coming to accept, he was also simultaneously saddened by the loss of intimacy between himself and Caspian.  After all, though the first meeting, only a short while ago, had been unpleasant, at least he was able to speak to Caspian in confidence.  Now, while all the Narnians seemed rightfully informed of the bad news, there would likely be a stirring of panic which surely could not improve the situation.  He wanted to ensure that some attention would remain upon him, and that he would be given due credit for what he had done, horrid task that it was, so long that he received no blame.  Now he waited with bated breath, along with the rest of the company of Narnians, to see for just what purpose it was that Caspian had required that these wretched creatures be returned.

((ooc: short, sorry... didn't want to give you TOO much to reply xD))

[Kitsune]

Kitsune listened intently to Reepicheep and Caspian.  She couldn't believe Reepicheep.  Why was he so devoted to this human?  Didn't he know that the humans were the source of all the trouble in Narnia?  She didn't think it was wise to side with the humans, especially since the Telmarines had killed her parents.  She painted them all with the same stroke.  This Caspian would have to earn her trust and it wasnt going to be won easily.
She sighed to herself and shook her head.  She walked over to Reepicheep and whispered, "How can you trust this human?  Do you not know the trouble his kind have caused? I really think we are better off without them."

[Kalo Ashclaw]

OOC: Ah, time to join in the plot. And try out my new charry. Forgive me if this is a bit short. 

IC: Kalo circled the camp, his powerful wings beating a steady rhythm as he thought about the last time he had been here. It was only shortly after Caspian had joined them. The young gryphon had had mixed feelings over the entry of the young prince into their ranks, but when he left, things had already started looking better. Even as he flew overhead now, the ranks looked swelled by a slight amount. The Narnians looked a little disheveled and wary, though, as if they had been through a lot. Many things have happened since I was last here... he thought, his neck feathers ruffling involuntarily.

Kalo drew his wings closer and slowly spiraled down, extending his claws to land neatly on the ground next to the huge monolith of the Stone Table. As usual, few had noticed his entrance. His silvery-gray feathers blended nicely with the rocky surroundings, and he stayed on the edges of the Narnians. Even as he watched, a group of humans, Telmarines no less, wandered through the crowd as they followed a noble-looking mouse. Kalo glanced around, and his eyes came to rest on a young leopard eyeing the procession. The gryphon walked quietly forward until he was next to the cat.
 
The leopard visibly jumped in surprise when Kalo spoke, unaware that he had been so close. But in a few moments, the gryphon found out as much as he could about what had occurred over the last few weeks. The camp had been plagued by bad weather and sickness, had recovered, and a scouting party had brought back these Telmarines a few days ago; one of which appeared to be Caspian’s friend. Kalo murmured a swift thanks to the cat before racing away. He moved swiftly and fluidly through the other Narnians until he had reached the place of the meeting well ahead of the Telmarines. Caspian was already speaking to a few other creatures.

Kalo was uncertain what would happen. He did not know enough about these newcomers to pass judgment on whether they had poisoned the medicine on purpose, but the fact that a Narnian had died might persuade others to cast them as guilty immediately. Kalo was more thoughtful than that, and decided to wait and see. He took a place on the edge of the group, unnoticed by the rest of them as their discussion continued. The Telmarines, following the mouse from earlier, approached. Their leader had a look of nervous apprehension on his face, and the gryphon knew why. This meeting could decide any number of things. The Narnians might even decide to execute the group, though Kalo was uncertain if they’d go to that extreme. For now, he merely waited.

[Pattertwig]

Pattertwig ran in as quickly as he could.  He was out of breath.
"Prince Caspian, do you have anything you want me to do?" he panted.

[Kitsune]

Kitsune sighed.  She felt she had to let Prince Caspian know privately how she felt.  Perhaps that would help him realize that the animals needed him to see things from their point of view.

[Arina Penley Carison]

No matter which way this went, it would not end well. If Caspian found the Telmarines innocent, the Narnians would be furious and if he found them guilty, they might do something rash. Choni fidgeted where she stood, listening to the whispers ripple through the gathered creatures even as the Drinian fellow and the prince spoke. She didn't know what the Telmarines did or didn't do, but she felt that the best course of action would be to turn them away, send them from the camp immediately to placate the Narnians and prevent a bad situation from getting worse.

She almost felt bad for the 'guests' as Caspian would call them and looked at their leader with almost sympathy. When he had arrives, he did truly seem to be friends with Caspian, even if his companions may have had ulterior motives.

One voice she heard, coming from that of a Fox, kept whispering her dislike of humans in general, including the prince. She grit her teeth. She didn't much care for the Prince, but he did seem the only one capable of leading this army in some organized fashion. Had the animal merely not been here long enough to notice how much the prince was doing and what he was giving up to do it? Or maybe her sudden defensiveness over the boy and his leadership was that she, too, was human.

She gave a little huff. "Just like there are good and evil creatures, so are there good and evil humans," she said quietly, though loud enough that she hoped the Fox would hear.

[Kitsune]

Kitsune walked over to Arina.  She said as calmly as she could.  "You have no idea what I've been through.  My parents were murdered by humans.  And for what? Pure sport!  I'm only here because I feel that Aslan wants me here.  I know Caspian is not to blame for my parents' death.  But I still don't trust him.  He--and you--will have to earn my trust."

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian walked towards the gathering of the old Narnians, his head held high, his thoughts running rampant. He was aware of Choni walking away to join another, but there were so many faces now that he was having a hard time picking out any one over the other. That and he was feeling anxious about this whole thing. Was he making the right decision – having brought them back? He wanted everything to be settled but maybe he should have settled it in private. No, he decided, he couldn’t risk causing any more trouble in the camp. This was a full blown issue; if he tried to deal with it secretly, suspicion might fall on him. And if suspicion fell on him, then things would only get worse. He needed to deal with it in public and he needed to take Narnian opinion on it. He frowned as he fingered the vial that had been retrieved from the scene.

“Thank you for gathering,” he called, trying to quiet the talking group. “Thank you. There is a matter of the utmost importance that needs to be settled and it’s a matter that I think ought to be open to discussion. This is the easiest way to do that.” He looked around, pulling out the vial. He felt the weight of the world on his shoulders, he felt like the sixteen  year old boy-prince that he was, instead of the grown king that they wanted him to be. They had pretty heavy expectations on him; he wasn’t sure he could live up to them. In fact, he highly doubted that he’d be able to live up to them. But he had to try.

He slipped the vial back into his pocket when he saw Drinian and Reepicheep approach. The rest of Drinian’s party was following too. Caspian sighed. He hoped this didn’t go too poorly. He hadn’t  meant to risk Drinian’s safety but this was certainly a matter that had to e settled. Because much as Drinian didn’t like it, Caspian’s loyalty had to rest with these Narnians now. At least, for now. This was his army; he had to protect them. And apparently he’d done a bad job of it – if Telmarine poison could injure one of his own. What had he been thinking? He never should have let Miraz’s messengers into his camp. It was stupid. He should have sent them back the moment that they had arrived.

Caspian couldn’t smile, not even at the sight of Drinian. He sighed and nodded as his friend approached. He would have offered some sort of greeting, some sort of explanation but Reepicheep was no sooner there and announcing that he’d brought those whom Caspian had requested. Caspian gave Reepicheep a little bow and a tight, attempt at a smile. “Thank you, noble Reepicheep. You always serve well.” He would honour the good mouse greatly when all of this was over. But then, he would elevate Drinian too. If they all got out of this alright, that was. No, Caspian didn’t really think his friend had caused them any harm. His party, maybe. Actually, Caspian was almost sure of it.

He was approached by Pattertwig and he gave the squirrel a forced smile. “|Thank you, Pattertwig. Please, check the camp for me and make sure everyone’s here.” In all actuality, it was an unnecessary little quest but the squirrel seemed so eager to do something that Caspian didn’t have the heart to turn him down.

Then, he pulled the vial out of his pocket and let the crowd settle. “As you all know, one of our own has died. From whatever was in this vial.” He turned to Drinian, his expression expectant, his tone one of hurt betrayal. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this?”

[Lord Drinian]

There seemed no mirth -- no hope, even -- in the countenance of Caspian and Drinian was loath to continue his course, even stopping in his progress, perhaps further from the Prince than might have been required.

He couldn't do this. This wasn't a meeting. This was a trial. And Drinian and his men, the charged, knew not for what.

He said a silent prayer, to whom he did not know. He had not believed in Deity, but now, the thought that there must be a force higher than Man -- perfected, benevolent -- was welcoming.

“As you all know, one of our own has died. From whatever was in this vial.” He turned to Drinian, his expression expectant, his tone one of hurt betrayal. “I don’t suppose you know anything about this?”

And now Drinian knew. The colour drained from his face as he looked at the vial. "I am learning more about it as we speak, Prince Caspian," he addressed. "It is my own vial. Of medicine. Given to me by K--" yes, he needed to use the word, "King Miraz, as he gave me the one for you which we shattered; this one for my own use."

That he had not been a favourite of Miraz's, Drinian well knew. Suspected, even. Loathed. But to this degree. . . It had been difficult, but not unfathomable, for Drinian to understand that King Miraz would have wanted Caspian dead to the point of offering poison under the guise of good will. That Miraz would do the same to a man currently pledged to him. . . Without being certain of betrayal . . .

Though Miraz had been right in his suspicions. Drinian and now pledged himself to Caspian, breaking his oath with Miraz. It was not an honourable thing to do. Perhaps it deserved and warranted death. Drinian had at a time thought as much, but had decided even death preferable to serving a master he did not approve of.

And now, Drinian wondered if anyone knew, if anyone but Caspian knew him. And what he would die for. Drinian wondered, in the end, what it would be that he did die for, and whether it would be for the cause of his choosing. Drinian felt his courage waver, even before Deverell--no!. He was before his men. He must do this.

He stood straighter and moved forward until he had arrived before Prince Caspian, holding his hand out for the vial. He turned his head to the side so that Caspian and his people might all hear. "Would I had shattered it before now, but I declare that this morning when last in my sight it was in my tent with my things! It was taken, and unknowingly from me. I am sorry for the Narnian's death, but its blame is not upon us. It is upon he who gave the vial to me. And upon he who has taken it from my things."

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep shot a glare of irritation at the bickering Fox and the Lady, wondering why it was that they seemed to believe themselves the authority of Caspian by talking during his important meeting.  They were so irksome.  Could they shut their mouths for one moment so that Caspian could speak?  He had not dragged these Telmarines here for nothing, after all, and there was little he wanted to hear more than what they had to say.  Other than, of course, what Caspian had to say to them.  The words of those two meant nothing to him, but the words of Caspian…  Well, they were a good deal dearer to him.  They seemed almost as holy and sacred as those of Aslan, which he had never heard, but which he imagined would be truly beautiful and miraculous to hear.  Caspian, similarly, was a sort of messenger, he supposed – perhaps even sent by Caspian to set up a pathway for the Lion’s return!  In the midst of all of these awful events, perhaps there was still hope.  Reepicheep had to believe it.

“Shut up!” he shouted indiscriminately, and at the same moment, the crowd suddenly fell silent.  Pleased with himself, he gave a little smile, and then looked again to Caspian.  The smile grew when his beloved prince took note of his services, and Reepicheep thought for a moment that he was about to die and go to Aslan’s country, he was so happy with the recognition.  Not even the mention of Pattertwig, with whom Reepicheep seemed to be forever in competition for the attentions of Caspian and the duties which he gave to honorable creatures, could bring down his spirits.  Or so he thought, anyway.  His mood soured nearly instantaneously when the Telmarines were brought forth to speak.  Even though a moment ago he had been looking forward to hearing what they had to say, it was only so that he could probably rebut whatever their argument was, and now that it had actually happened, he had to say, he was a bit disappointed.  At least if they had told the truth, he would have been able to shoot down their leader properly, but if he was going to lie, well, it would take a bit more work.  His tiny mouth frowned as he listened.

He stood unmoving beside the prince as the leader of the Telmarines approached, his beady eyes glaring up at the ones which were too high to stare back.  Unnoticed as he was, he still could gaze with great anger upon the Telmarine until the moment came for his wrath to be unleashed.  It had been far too long, especially since he had been waiting for said moment since even before the killing had happened.  But Reepicheep could not restrain himself to stand silent for long. “Lies!” he shouted, as soon as the Telmarine had finished speaking. “You say you had no hand in bringing the murder upon our people?  Was it not your party who brought this here, as you just made known to us?  And then you would blame a Narnian!  As if someone would kill themselves?!  Pah!”  Angrily, he spat at the foot of the Telmarine – the highest of insults for the lowest of creatures, he thought in grim satisfaction. “In my eyes, sir, you are no better than the dirt at our feet.  You, and the king you follow - all of you!”  For a long moment, he stood there, seething, before realizing his grievous error. 

Caspian, too, was one of these.

"My liege," he stammered, "I-I...  Forgive me," he finished sadly, bowing his head in shame and defeat.

[Arina Penley Carison]

Although it was rather rude and probably didn't help the Fox's opinion of humans, Choni ignored her for the time being to turn her attentions to Caspian. Perhaps the matter could be discussed later, but it did seem as though it weren't as important as the meaning of this gathering of judgmental creatures. The tiny, yet very loud and strong voice of the Mouse rang out to all ears, issuing immediate silence.

And, almost just as soon, the volatile situation teetered on explosion. The admittance of the Telmarine group leaders' knowledge of the vial Caspian produced did not bode well and his declaration of his intentions to shatter it fell on ears that had already heard what they needed for a conviction. Neither was his word any good that he swore it among his things. Choni swallowed hard as the silence seemed to deepen around the group and she nearly jumped out of her skin when once again, the Mouse spoke, not bothering to hide his outrage and obvious disbelief in Drinian's story. She had to feel the slightest bit sorry for him as he realized he had spoken out of turn and ill of his own commander. An honest mistake. She didn't know the Mouse personally, but Choni had come to notice that he was a very small creature full of very big pride.

Pulling on the only nerve she possessed at the moment, she took a step forward. "I agree with the noble Mouse," she said confidently, her voice sounding very small in the vast empty quiet. She took a breath that did nothing to calm her. "Lord Drinian, you yourself have just admitted to being the one who brought this medicine with you, on your person. Whether or not it was by your hand that the Narnian died cannot be proven or disproven at the moment, but you are guilty of providing the means, whether you had the knowledge or not. In short, this... tragedy would not have occurred had you not had it at all." Choni still felt badly about what the Telmarine's had gone through and she was not accusing them of outright killing the Narnian. She was merely pointing out the obvious.

Thinking there to be nothing else to add, she took a step back with a bow of her head to the Mouse. He should not feel bad for voicing his thoughts. This was, after all, she believed, a place to do so. A place to pass judgement on the Telmarine's and their actions. Choni just wanted to make sure they were judged on the evidence provided and not happenstance.

[Kalo Ashclaw]

Kalo stayed in his inconspicuous spot near the edge on the side of the group, watching the proceedings with interest. When Caspian drew out the tiny vial, he leaned forward, blue eyes brightening with curiosity. Surely any Narnian with a remote grasp of intelligence would realize not to take something from Telmarines? Or perhaps whoever it was had been too trusting. Who would be trusting of a Telmarine enough to take a strange liquid of unknown origin?

Kalo snorted at the foolishness of whoever it was; this would not have happened had the Narnian in question had more sense. His attention was drawn back to the Prince and the Telmarines when voices began to rise. With a suddenness that made the gryphon ruffle his feathers, the mouse began to shout infuriated accusations at the Telmarine party. Many Narnians seemed to be nodding in agreement with Reepicheep, though Kalo stayed silent, his face expressionless. Who were they to claim that this Telmarine, Drinian, he believed, was lying? He could just as easily be telling the truth. Reepicheep did have a point in saying that this wouldn't have happened had the vial not been brought here in the first place.

"Perhaps the Telmarines could have been sent back more quickly. That may be important to remember in later times. Though I do not believe outright that he is lying," Kalo finally put in when the human woman spoke. Caspian's policy had failed, unfortunately. Despite being apparent friends (as Kalo had found out just recently), he should have sent the Telmarines on their way as soon as greetings were made and messages relayed. Kalo thought it was a good idea; perhaps in the future they would make a note of making sure everyone who visited was sent away again as soon as possible.

However, he realized that this could escalate beyond any thoughts of simple policy remaking. Corrections in future decisions might not even have the chance to occur, as Kalo judged by the fierce looks the Telmarines were getting from the Narnians. This could escalate to something dreadful, something that both parties probably wished to avoid. However, Kalo thought he might be one of a minority there. Many of the Narnians, the majority even, seemed to want to drive out or punish the Telmarines immediately, without hesitation. The gryphon would have preferred simply escorting the Telmarines out of the area and making sure to learn from this mistake. Anything more dramatic would cause emotions to fly, and from experience Kalo knew that if this happened, severe and regrettable damage could be dealt.

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian could feel the tension in the air. Still he wondered; had he done the right thing by bringing them back? But he knew he needed to protect whatever trust the Narnians had in him – especially after the incident with Adimon. As such, the issue needed to be settled, and it needed to be settled by the majority of the Narnians. He could do no more secret dealings with Telmarines; if his army did not trust him in this, how would they trust him later? His meeting with Drinian earlier had caused no harm to the Narnians – at least, not before this. And Caspian wished  he could tell them that Drinian had sworn to fight on their side! Perhaps it might make things easier. But he could not, because he could not out his friend before the two who’d also been sent by Miraz. This was a most difficult place to be in. And he was torn on what to do, and what to say, and how to best dissuade the anger of his people if they wished to do something rash. Caspian would not, could not, allow any harm to come to Drinian. He’d never be able to live with himself.

He was aware of Drinian’s eyes on him, he was aware of practically everyone’s eyes on him – and those who were not watching him were surely watching the Telmarine visitors. The enemy. The charged. With what, exactly, it wasn’t completely certain. That was why they were here. To get to the bottom of this. It needed to be said. It needed to be made public. Caspian’s actions from here on in would need to be fairly transparent. It was unfair to the creatures and people assembled before him to be anything but. He wanted to reassure his friend but, at present, he wasn’t sure there was much to say. However, he resolved in his heart that whatever happened, Drinian would not suffer under his hands. Or the hands of his own army.

As his friend moved forward and held out his hand, Caspian set the vial upon his open palm. “I wish... I wish you might have shattered it earlier too, my friend.” His voice was low, words sad. “Shortly after destroying the one meant for me.” It would have saved them all this trouble. If Caspian’s vial was suspect, how could there be any doubting that one meant for Drinian was as well? Miraz liked no one, especially no one who had any close contact with his nephew. He sighed and glanced away, slightly uneasy with how his friend would make eye contact with no one else. Just Caspian. He didn’t know what to do! He believed his friend; he didn’t honestly think Drinian was capable of murdering anyone.

There was little time for thinking; Reepicheep had to say his piece and while Caspian had no qualms with everyone getting a chance to say what they thought – that was, after all, why he’d called this – the mouse was angry. Incredibly angry. And he made it quite obvious in the way that he shouted and accused. And then he settled, realizing he’d made what could possibly have been a grave error. But while Caspian was bothered by the honourable mouse’s statements, it wasn’t because they were untrue. It was mostly because they weren’t.

Caspian turned his eyes to Reepicheep, who looked quite forlorn. “Good Reepicheep, you needn’t worry yourself a bit about you. You have good reason not to trust, or like, my people. The Telmarines.” He hesitated, not sure how to continue. “There are few ways in which any of us have shown any good will towards you and yours; your opinion is not rash but founded on centuries of terrible, cruel behaviour. I wish to attempt to remedy and make amends for that. You needn’t apologize.” He lifted his eyes to Drinian and shrugged.

Choni stepped forward and Caspian was curious. She seemed almost hesitant to speak – something he’d found to be quite unlike her. Stating that she agreed with the mouse, and that she believed Drinian but thought he should have never brought the vial here to begin with. Another of the creatures announced that perhaps the Telmarines should have been sent away quicker – something they should remember in future negotiations. The words did sting a little; Caspian’s decision to allow them to stay a little, or keep them around more like it, was being called into question. But while he would have liked to have gotten defensive, it would get them nowhere and besides, the point was valid. If they’d been sent on their way right after they’d come, this would never have happened. Perhaps some would think that they should have simply been turned away at first but no, it was good that Caspian had spoken with Drinian. At least he knew of his friend’s loyalties but, would they be the same after this whole incident? Caspian wished he could get him out of all of it completely.

“And what of your men?” Caspian asked, turning to the man before him. “You’re not lying, I know that without a doubt in my heart, Lord Drinian.” He attempted a reassuring smile. “But I know not their honour, I know not that they can be trusted.”

Turning his attention back to the Narnians, he paused. “What action ought to be taken?” He was hesitant to send them back now; Miraz was obviously out to kill Drinian, just as he’d like to kill Caspian. And if he sent them back and they made known the somewhat unstable state of the camp, Miraz might see fit to strike. It would almost be better to keep them here, but he knew full well what the Narnians thought about prisoners. The last one escaped and they weren’t eager to make that mistake again. He glanced at Drinian, wishing he could do something more.

[Lord Drinian]

The Mouse was bristling. He heard the spitting of his words and finally, felt the light impact of the insult thrown upon him. Drinian's jaw clenched and he looked steadfastly forward. He would not be incited to anger. It was not his place or his duty. He was still to bring peace to this. Calm.

Drinian started first with his stomach, here, which was warring mutinously against him. He willed the twisting and churning to stop as he took deep, measured breaths. Willing his hands to unclench.

That he should be guilty for bringing something which was stolen and thus harmful was preposterous. Was a man punished for owning a sword which, when stolen, was put to use by another? Or, worse, when the thief of the sword accidentally fell upon it? That Miraz had produced a vial of poison in the guise of medicine -- execution with the promise of salvation; that Drinian had believed himself in good graces with Miraz, only to find himself unfortunately saved from assassination. . . was this not punishment enough for his crime of gullibility? Did not this all point to the true culprit and author of the crime?

He addressed no one's complaints but Caspian's, for it was none but his which mattered. As ruler, one had to be, to some degree, subject to one's subject. But when the moment of pronouncement came, the subjects were subject to their ruler. Upon this, Drinian firmly clung and he gazed steadfastly upon Caspian. Their ruler. All of theirs.

What he provided was a mutual lament. And a shrug. A shrug. Drinian lowered his head, shaking it a moment, more out of fear for Caspian's authority than for his own well-being. Leaders did not shrug. They could not admit bafflement for the world. However helpless, however hopeless, it was not wise for a leader to appear without plan. Without productive paths. Had he ever, in ruling his duchy, shrugged in the face of hardship . . . he'd have lost rapport with his men.

Drinian was not a stranger to leadership; he had been a duke before he was old enough to reach the top of his bureau. He was a stranger to this deception. Cloak and dagger. He was, of course, a stranger to Miraz and his new Telmar, because he wanted Drinian shut out of it.

But they weren't just in Telmar. Or Narnia. They were in Bernal. His land, and that gave Drinian an unspoken courage. It was like as not he knew this land as well as -- if not better -- than any others here. And perhaps Caspian. Who was also no stranger to power but, due to his uncle, perhaps had never had the chance for governing.

Drinian took the offered vial silently, face grim. He had meant to show it to Miraz. To test him, if he might, on the man's intentions. It was possible he himself did not know. Unlikely, but possible. It would be best to catch him in his own words and game. Before the other Lords. He'd not have the chance now, he was certain.

"And what of your men? I know not their honour, I know not that they can be trusted.”

Drinian straightened at this and spoke in clear, slow words. "They are my men, under my charge. I accept accountability for their actions and, should they be found through incontrovertible reason to be actors of error or wrongdoing, the power lies in me to exercise justice." Yes. If they had been broken into Drinian's things without bidding, then would be a time of deliberation and punishment. For now, they had neither crime nor culprit. "If they are found to be actors of wrongdoing against your people and the white banner of truce which we arrived under, we shall together decide upon just action." He would not say 'punishment'. "For the breach is on both sides."

The speech might have cost him. It did not seem Caspian had been asking for a response but rather to pose a question, but Drinian was here to stand as a witness to their credibility. The faith of their cause. He was not to stand silent to be acted upon; a martyr.

"What action out to be taken?" Caspian asked his people, and Drinian was now sincerely alarmed. Some voices had already been raised for retribution. Retribution for what? The confusion threatened to bring a ruling before the crime had been established.

"To my knowledge," Drinian interposed in the same, clear and level voice, "there is some confusion regarding the circumstances of acquisition and ingestion. Perhaps, your Majesty, it would. . ." He'd just used the sovereign's title: 'Majesty.' Drinian allowed only a moment's distraction -- no unsaying, no backing down -- before proceeding, "be prudent to establish the situation, to better understand the situation and, through it, assess the degree of the offense and likely culprits."  He now looked at all the Narnians.

"We all know this:" here, he held the vial up. "The vial was taken from my things by a hand other than mine. Before we come to know by whose hands, we might ask: how did the Narnian come by the poison? Was it offered him in some drink? Was it drunk willingly?"

This was Caspian's speech to give, but he had not given it. Drinian felt a certain sort of guilt in thus speaking, but asking for "action" seemed rather like asking for a riot.

[Kitsune]

Kitsune walked over to Caspian. 
"I'm not sure you should trust these people, Prince." she said.  "Those are the same people who killed my family.  Just a word of advice."  She wasn't ready to trust him just yet.  But she felt she needed to give him some advice.  "If you need a strategy, I'd be glad to help.  I think I could come up with a good plan.  Just tell me everything you know first."

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep’s large, rounded ears swiveled forward to catch the sound of the words, which seemed so out of place.  Drinian had brought not one but two vials of the poisonous “medicine”, and while this should have made the Mouse and his comrades all the more suspicious, the fact that the first bottle had indeed been destroyed upon Drinian’s own suspicion threw a bit of a twist into the story.  While Reepicheep was tempted to believe that Drinian had known both vials were tainted, or at the very least insist that recognizing the first but not the second might have been a ploy, in his heart he knew the truth: this Telmarine was innocent of the crime of which he was being accused.  No man would go through the trouble of saving the life of the leader of the Narnians if he did not wish for the Narnians to succeed.  As fiercely as Reepicheep wished he could hate this Telmarine man, he found that he could no longer do so – not after he learned that Caspian was vouching for him, the man who had saved his life and was even possibly his friend.  This, he supposed, was an even more important feat.

Grudgingly, he stepped down.  Even if Drinian was innocent, that did not necessarily pardon his men; however, even if Drinian was responsible for the actions of his charges, the Narnians were the sort of folk to judge more righteously than that.  And surely, if one Telmarine man was excused, then the blame would fall upon the others all the more fiercely.  Still, Caspian seemed to deem it necessary that Reepicheep be punished even further for his considerably rash judgment.  His gentle words served as the harshest of chastisement; Reepicheep would rather stand and take a beating with the flat of a blade than have to undergo the humbling of mercy and forgiveness which he did not deserve.  Caspian, he realized, was not any normal Telmarine, but even so, he should have recognized that any insult to the Telmarine people as a whole would also come across as an insult to Caspian.  For, even if he did not act like one, he was still Telmarine.  No matter how much all of them would have liked to forget it.

What action should be taken?  In unusual silence, which had surely been brought on by his shame and confusion, Reepicheep considered this question.  He knew that all of the Narnians, himself included, would a moment ago have liked very much to keep the Telmarines here and question them brutally, perhaps torture the answers out of them.  But now, Reepicheep realized that they had nothing to give.  At least not Drinian.  And the other men seemed too stupid to be capable of such a brilliant and terrible plan.  So, it would be best if they left.  They had more to fear from vengeful Narnians than they did from the king they served – or so Reepicheep had gathered from looking about at the angry faces around him.  He was not entirely convinced that he wanted to be the one to voice this opinion (for which the Narnians, hoping for justice, would despise him, and for which the innocent Telmarines – what an oxymoron! – would not understand and would similarly despise him).  But when Drinian spoke again, he knew that he must.

Your Majesty.  It was the title of a king, hardly befitting any prince, let alone one who had been shunned and nearly killed by his own king.  The fact that Drinian used this title in reference to Caspian was awe-inspiring, and if nothing else had done so, convinced Reepicheep of his innocence.  Only someone who was truly loyal to Caspian would use such a title, for such a solemn thing could not possibly be used by mistake.  The words were pronounced with unmistakable gravity, in a room which was so silent, one could likely have heard a pin drop instead of those heavy words.  For a moment, Reepicheep felt almost as if he could not breathe.  What would bring a Telmarine to say such a thing?  Certainly, not one who was loyal to Miraz.  And if this man was loyal to the cause of Caspian, by extension, then, he was loyal to the Narnians.  And such a man could not be allowed to die at their hand – even if a Narnian had accidentally died by his.  No, Reepicheep reminded himself, by that of Miraz.  Drinian had just been a vessel, a poor, ignorant one, who could not possibly have known the consequences of his actions.

In a sudden and surely unexpected reversal of his previous words and thoughts, Reepicheep piped up again. “It is no matter how or why the Narnian has died.  All that matters is that he has died, and killing another, one who may be innocent, will not revive the other.”  He took a deep breath, quite surprised at himself.  Where had these words come from?  Never had this been his philosophy.  Was not restoring the honor of someone else quite a part of one’s own honor?  All debts must be paid, and crimes be avenged.  But Reepicheep still felt that perhaps this man was not the one to blame for the crime, and was only a hapless scapegoat.  The time would come – hopefully soon – for them to fight the real enemy: Miraz.  And perhaps this man would be on their side. “My comrades, I avow we shall have our chance to avenge ourselves and our kinsmen.  But not today.  Let these Telmarines leave us, I say, before any more trouble arises.”  Still a bit shocked, he looked to Caspian hopefully for further instruction, or perhaps – dare he think it? – approval.

[Prince Caspian]

Whether Drinian was cross with him, or simply on a quest to defend himself, Caspian couldn’t quite tell. The second, of course, Was fine enough, the first, maybe not so much. Caspian was trying as hard as he could and it was difficult when he was constantly second guessing himself. To be honest, he really didn’t have a clue what he was doing. As Caspian thought back on it, he couldn’t recall much learning about governing. It seemed to him that Miraz never had anyone teach him much about leadership because Miraz never really intended to see Caspian need it. Miraz wanted a son all along – no surprise there – and Caspian was only going to be in the way. Caspian had his excuses, but he wasn’t going to use them. There was plenty about leading that was just common sense, and he was going to have to rely on that. He was learning as he went, he was observing his mistakes – of which he made many – and trying to learn from them. Unfortunately, he apparently wasn’t learning fast enough.

It seemed to Caspian that his friend was too eager to jump in. “ By action,” Caspian said slowly, “ I meant not punishment or retribution, but a means of finding an answer to the question before us.” He felt chastised, something that he’d never liked, even less so now, in front of his army. Drinian was, and always had been, one of the few who even could chastise the prince without fear of reprisal, though in that moment, Caspian was still irritated as he folded his arms behind his back. “Well then,” he said, turning from Drinian to the crowd assembled before them. “Will any among us admit to taking the vial from among the Lord Drinian’s things? It would be quite terrible to accuse an innocent of wrong doing; the Lord and his men have not been retrieved and brought here to be accused, so much as to find out what happened.” Caspian was having a difficult time with his split loyalties. To Drinian, to the Narnians who could not know that Drinian was on his side... It was all so very straining, so difficult, for the young Prince who was still so inexperienced in the matters of ruling, leading, making such weighty decisions... At the castle, he’d had hardly any decisions he had to make at all, if he didn’t want to.

Caspian was approached by a fox who, in no uncertain terms, told him that the Telmarines should not be trusted. “Not all people are cut from the same cloth,” he said slowly, “The Lord Drinian is an honest man; you can trust what he says to be true as certainly as you can trust me. I know so much as that.” As for strategy; there was no real need for “strategy” at present. Not really and nothing that he’d leave to one creature – especially one who was so untrusting of the Telmarines as this fox was. And everything known about the situation had been made known to all who were here; that was the point of the gathering. He gave the fox a small nod, but could say nothing else on the matter; this was for public discussion.

And then Reepicheep spoke up, and seemed to have a change of heart. He declared that it mattered not how or why the Narnian had died, but that they would have their revenge – at a later time – against the one who was truly to blame. Miraz. He suggested that the Telmarines leave before any more trouble could befall the camp and Caspian couldn’t help but agree. Partially. But he feared for his friend; if Miraz would poison the vial for Drinian too, who knew what other dangers awaited him upon his return to the camp. Caspian hesitated, thinking it through. Yes, it probably would be best if they were sent back. But what would be the end result of that? It wouldn’t end well.

“Yes, Reepicheep, I suspect you might be right.” The mouse, when he wasn’t being so hot headed and driven by passion, was often right – or at least had the right sort of idea. “It would be best.”

He turned to Drinian then, hesitant. “If you go back,” he said, his voice low, “Surely you realize now more than ever just how much danger you’ll be in?” He wanted to ask him to stay, for several reasons, but he could not do so in public company. Mainly because Drinian’s men were not to hear of it. Although, his friend was already in enough danger upon his return to Miraz’s camp – a little more couldn’t make much of a difference. Still, Caspian was loathe to take any further chances.

[Kalo Ashclaw]

Kalo had resumed his inconspicuous location once more, and was resting at the edge of the group like a shadow, unnoticed. He was hanging carefully on to every word, however. His attention was riveted, for he had become very interested in the outcome of this meeting. Drinian, so far, seemed innocent of crime. Kalo had no judgment on his men, though; they had not spoken or gave any indication of their innocence or guilt. The Narnians seemed to have finally calmed down, as well.

The gray gryphon gave a faint sigh of relief as Reepicheep spoke out for sending the Telmarines away. He had seemed to reach the same conclusion as Kalo, and he thought it was the most peaceful and least risky action. Caspian seemed to hold the mouse in very high regard, and so would hopefully listen to his words. However, Kalo noticed the look of worry on the Prince’s face as he considered sending them away.

He caught Caspian’s words, his large, black-tipped ears pricked to listen carefully. Kalo’s ice-blue eyes narrowed as he realized that Caspian seemed a greater friend to Drinian than he had first realized. Drinian was in danger from Miraz, if the King had tried to poison him, but why? His suspicion might have been warranted by something… perhaps Drinian was a bigger ally of the Prince than the rest of the Narnians, and Drinian’s men, knew. Kalo stepped quietly forward, keeping his ears and eyes fixed on the two men in the center.

If Drinian was under threat by leaving, and if he was Caspian’s friend or even ally, was that why the Prince was hesitant to send him off? It must be. If that was the case, perhaps something else could be done to ensure the safety of the man. If he truly was an ally, then it might be beneficial to the Narnian cause. Kalo thought for a moment before slinking up near Caspian. Despite his large size, he was still less of a focus than the Telmarines, and so his words were almost completely unnoticed.

“If my liege wishes it, I can make sure this man gets back home, or wherever he is going, safely, unless he is summoned directly to the King,” Kalo said in a barely audible voice. Only Caspian would have heard the fleeting words. The gryphon drew back amongst the crowd, watching the Prince pointedly. To him, it seemed an adequate solution to the problem. Drinian would remain safe from threats if Kalo followed behind. Despite being a gryphon, he was a master of stealth. Decades of practice greatly helped that fact. As long as he wasn’t completely surrounded by many Telmarines, his safety would be ensured. This way, the Telmarines could leave, but Caspian would at least have a little reassurance of his friend’s temporary safety.  Of course, Drinian would no longer be safe once Kalo left, but it seemed like the greatest time of danger to him would be right away, anyway. The only hindrance to the gryphon’s idea was if King Miraz wanted to see Drinian personally.

[Pattertwig]

Pattertwig was listening silently, which he was not very good at doing.  But he knew there were times for just listening.  But an idea had entered his head.  He thought there might be more treachery afoot.  King Miraz was a sly one.  There had to be something else in store.
"I have a suggestion." he offered.  "Perhaps I should accompany Drinian as well.  I could also spy and see what else is going on."

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian, standing between Caspian and the Narnians, flinched internally as the prince spoke in his slow, metered speech -- the voice Caspian had adopted just at the age when he had learned that whining got him nothing but that deliberate condescension did.

Yes, he'd hit a chord. But he wasn't sorry for a thing he'd said. Except, perhaps, 'your majesty.' Deverell was a man to notice that sort of thing; any man, or creature ought to have been. And he'd been careless in his address, but not in his defense.

As Caspian crisply amended his prior words, Drinian kept his face turned outward to the rest of the Narnians. Willing it to be vacant of any emotion but self-control. Confidence.

“Well then,” Caspian said, turning from Drinian to the crowd assembled before them. “Will any among us admit to taking the vial from among the Lord Drinian’s things?"

Would they admit it? Drinian looked back out at the crowd, then over his shoulder and back to Caspian in slight disbelief. When phrased like that? Of course not. Had this been a trivial conversation, Drinian might have laughed bitterly. Caspian had never paid much attention during rhetoric lessons; Drinian could not help but wish, with his personal safety on the line, that he had.

But at least he had clarified that this was not a trial. Yet it appeared, at this rate, they would get no answers, for it seemed no sort of inquest, either. And from the Mouse's odd outburst, now in his favour, it seemed that some were no longer interested in them. Still, Drinian's desire to know what had happened, why any creature had been about in his things, and, what was more, if his own men might be working against him, was unsettled. Drinian was unsatisfied and could not, in his position, demand satisfaction.

Caspian ended his general address to pull Drinian back to his side, speaking quietly into his ear: “If you go back,” he said, his voice low, “Surely you realize now more than ever just how much danger you’ll be in?”

Frowning, his muscles along his jaw twitched at Caspian's whispered words. "Yes, I'm beginning to see exactly," he admitted tightly, knowing that if accusations and trouble did not befall him in the Narnian camp, it would in the Telmarine. He'd made himself too much the enemy of everyone by being everyone's friend.  "But," Drinian added, turning away from the Narnians to address his friend at his side, "it is too dangerous for you should I stay. . .". Unless the Narnians knew. And he and his men never returned.

As it was, Drinian was only one man fighting for Caspian. But if he were to return, he might enlist the aid of his nine-hundred and forty-nine men. That many souls to fight for Caspian -- more than treble their current strength -- and his army would stand a chance. But only if Drinian returned to the Telmarines to inform them. To rally them to the cause. To commit a bold treason beneath Miraz's nose.

If he remained, he would need to be open with the Narnian camp exactly where he stood. And to do so, he would need to ensure either the captivity or the cooperation of his men.

A creature -- Drinian did not know what it might be called -- had crept up with liquid silence and smoothness and was now speaking privately to Caspian and he saw he had lost the attention of his friend. He silently grazed his eyes across the group, looking particularly at Thal and Adelliana to ensure they were being treated with proper respect and no violence.

He looked back to them and felt a bolt of fear run through him like a chill. "Caspian. . ." he broke in slowly, tilting his head back to his friend, "you sent for us -- and the Mouse came upon Deverell, Dharr, and I. . . but did no one retrieve the fourth member of our party?"

He had not, initially, been in their party. He had been a scout in search of Adimon Tescar whom the Leopard Senzi had pinned to the ground. Drinian had saved him from that predicament and for that, the man had continued to stay at his side during the campaign. He was most palpably absent from this position at this moment.

At this moment of distress, the quick, silvery voice of a Squirrel piped in: "I have a suggestion." he offered.  "Perhaps I should accompany Drinian as well.  I could also spy and see what else is going on."

Drinian's jaw muscles again clenched. "I do not think that wise, Sir . . . Squirrel," he addressed. "I need no escort to return to my camp." Drinian could not deny that an escort would be welcome for his own safety, yet he could also not ignore that such a party would arouse the suspicions of Miraz. As it was, he might yet appear a loyal subject to Miraz, but not while visibly in league with Narnians.

[Reepicheep]

Reepicheep looked around, a bit stunned, at the creatures and two humans who were gathered in the room.  No one admitted to taking the vial, as should have been expected.  Narnians had great pride in their heritage.  It was likely that the one who had taken the vial was the same one to die.  Reepicheep would like to think that the Narnians would have been more community-oriented, and would have given a little of the medicine to whoever needed it, but seeing as this was not the case, perhaps selfishness had saved them all from that horrible fate; no one else had died because of the hidden poison.  He agreed with Caspian that it would do no good now to punish someone for a crime that had already been committed and could no longer be revoked.  Of course, under normal circumstances, he would have been the first to cry for vengeance, but this was certainly no normal circumstance.  In times such as these, Reepicheep was certain of nothing, not even the validity of the code of behavior to which he clung so tightly.

He puffed up with pride when told that his sentiments had been correct.  Well, of course they had.  Besides Caspian, well, and perhaps Glenstorm too, he was probably the wisest creature here.  It was possible that he was even wiser than Caspian, because the Mouse was much more well-versed in Narnian warfare than was the Telmarine prince.  But the fact of the matter was, that such things didn’t really matter at all.  They were going to have to work together if they were ever going to agree on their plan of action, and so far, they hadn’t done a good job of either.  Now it seemed that the animals were more willing to make an attempt at an agreement, and a few creatures moved forward to circle around Caspian and Drinian.  Reepicheep’s delicate ears flickered the catch the sounds of their hushed voices.  It was difficult to make out exactly what they were saying over the low murmur of other Narnians who were more interested in speaking to each other about what was being said rather than just trying to be quiet and listen to it.  Irked, he tried in vain to move closer.

Though currently his path was inhibited by a rather unnaturally large Rabbit, Reepicheep continued his tenacious efforts to press in towards Caspian.  It seemed that more and more Animals and Creatures had materialized from nowhere, and all of them were also desirous to get closer to the prince.  Reepicheep could only be grateful that the four Telmarines had not similarly multiplied.  For a small Animal who had little force save that of his rapier (which, of course, could not very well be used against his own countrymen), it was difficult for Reepicheep to get his way.  But the advantage of being a small Animal was that he could squeeze through areas which others could not.  Darting aside from the Rabbit, he slipped underneath the belly of a grand Centaur, pleading to Aslan that his presence was not noticed by the war-beast.  He managed to slip in to the inner circle made by Caspian and his secretive advisers, not in time to hear most of what had been side, but he was there when mention of a fourth Telmarine was made.

Visibly did he bristle when it seemed as though blame was being placed upon him for the absence of this fourth Telmarine.  Of course he did not mind it in the slightest that this man was not one of the far too many Telmarines who had made their way to the How, but nor did he like it that he was being faulted for failing to retrieve the man. “I saw no fourth member of your party,” he hissed, just loud enough to be heard by Drinian and hopefully by no one else.  In a room like this, so crowded with creatures and with only one exit, more panic than had already been instilled by the original tragedy would be absolutely disastrous. “If you have lost him, the blame is upon your own shoulders.”  Reepicheep could only roll his eyes at the silly Pattertwig.  So far, the Squirrel had done nothing helpful, and the Mouse felt nothing for him save annoyance. “He’s probably half way back to Miraz by now.  There’s no use pursuing him, unless you want to be chased back here by an army.” 

Reepicheep glared up again at the Telmarine who was called Drinian. “He will tell Miraz where you are, and we will have the entirety of the Telmarine army after us to have you back.  Pah! – you should be worth so much.  Let them come!  I shall fight proudly for Narnia.  But know, sir, that their coming is your own doing.”  He could not say that he was angry, exactly, at the man who he was trying doggedly to trust.  If Drinian was Caspian’s friend, well, that was saying something.  And he could not truly be faulted for bringing the Telmarine army here; would they not have come anyway?  And just as Reepicheep had said, he would be glad to fight them, to end this war once and for all, to take back what rightfully belonged to them.  He only needed a place to direct his fury, and for the moment, at least, that place was unfortunately at Drinian.  Now, he turned to Caspian, his voice quiet to avoid the panic which would soon overtake the Narnians anyway, if he was right in his thoughts that the Telmarine army would soon be on their way.  “My liege, if my suspicions are indeed correct, we will need to prepare for battle at once.”

((ooc: Hope this made sense… somewhat…  If it didn’t, then the gist of it is that Reep thinks the fourth man who Drinian “lost” is going to go back to Miraz, tell Miraz where Drinian is, and Miraz will send the Telmarine army to attack the How.))

[Pattertwig]

Pattertwig nodded in agreement.  "I believe we will definitely have some trouble ahead.  We must be ready."

[Phoebe Hale]

Being a big eavesdropper was Phoebe's specialty. Hearing voices, and running around were two things. Spying was another. For a girl, Miss Phoebe had been very suspicious of things, hard to trick, to fool. Hard to deceive and lie to. "Ready," she echoed, taking a step nearer to the gathering of people. "We should be. After all, this is a battle, a war and we need to prepare. Anytime is a chance for war," she said, forgetting she was speaking to persons and people she didn't even know. She forgot herself, in haste, for she was speaking.

She was once again the young leader of a rebellion a year ago. "Sir, I firmly believe that none of us has taken the said vial you have mentioned. Not me, of course; I just arrived. It's either that someone took it or no one did, or something." She paused to think. Her head spun, making her dizzy but excited. "The 'fourth man' you say might as well be a spy, and if he does tell Miraz, we're dead, which is why, I repeat, we should be vigilant."

Her breathing was heavy. Yet her voice was soft, sure. She spoke with trembling, with excitement, with worry. Her eyes sparkled and flashed with quick alarm. "If Miraz does know already, it might be of no use to prepare! He would've caught after us or something... He might..." Her voice faltered. It broke. That meant Phoebe was upset. She was already thinking Miraz might pursue the camp. She looked up. "So, who do you think the fourth man is?"

She shook her head. Her curls tumbled down her shoulders. Her shivering started to stop. The friction she felt was slowly easing. It took effort to do so and she felt she could only try. Her cheeks flushed; she remembered herself. Cupping her mouth, she looked down. She was embarrassed.

[Lord Drinian]

I saw no fourth member of your party," the Mouse hissed and the muscle in Drinian's temple flinched as he tightened his jaw. "If you have lost him, the blame is upon your own shoulders.”

At this, Drinian could not forgo the implications. He bit back his response that he had not lost his man, that he had been asleep in his tent -- as it was in the middle of the night -- that it was was not his duty to gather his men up for an unknown purpose. "I do my duty; when you came upon me, I was not told to gather my men nor was I given the opportunity, for that would have been my wish."

His eyes flashed, for Drinian recalled well the drawn sword and the spit upon his boot. The Mouse's valour seemed mercurial. Ready to insult, ready to defend, ready to protect his own honour.

“He will tell Miraz where you are, and we will have the entirety of the Telmarine army after us to have you back.  Pah! – you should be worth so much.  Let them come!  I shall fight proudly for Narnia.  But know, sir, that their coming is your own doing.”

Drinian's eyes narrowed at this, but he said nothing, intent as he was to listen to the Mouse's whisperings to his young friend. “My liege, if my suspicions are indeed correct, we will need to prepare for battle at once.”

He was not the only one listening, for the voice of a young female chimed in. "Ready," she called. Drinian turned sharply to see it belonged to a flaxen-haired maiden, but not the one he had met earlier yesterday. It was a curious assemblage, and for a moment, Drinian marveled that Caspian had managed to attract a diverse following.

"We should be. After all, this is a battle, a war and we need to prepare. Anytime is a chance for war."

The maiden continued, speaking of the spy and the vial. There was no mystery there: he was a scout. The Narnians had taken his things and had suffered the fate intended for him. Her reasons were illogical, yet Drinian found he did not have the time to refute.

"If Miraz knows already, there will be war?" he echoed their words. "I ask humbly what it is that Miraz might know through this messenger that he did not know already; what it is that will throw him into war. He knows your precise location. He already knows your numbers. Unless this is a meeting of some purpose more sinister than you have owned to me -- to get to the bottom of a tragic death --, there has been no breach of the white banner. There should therefore be no cause to go to war. It is not a battle," he insisted firmly. "No declaration has been made and no action has been taken. If you go against this, you break the truce and my trust."

He looked firmly at Caspian.

"I will ride out -- with a Narnian envoy should you question my creditibility -- to assure Miraz of my safety, to quell any misinformation, so that he may know the truth should an army come to meet us. There is nothing to hide. I will not allow the desire for war to overcome the need for peace." He suspected now -- something he had not felt prior -- that the Narnians wanted war, and not only that, revenge as much as the Telmarines.

They were merely opposites of the same thing; driven by the same thing. Moving towards the same thing.

The camp itself seemed in turmoil. Side-stepping, undercutting, ill-managed, varying causes . . . it was no wonder they were anxious to be at war against a unified army. It was the only thing they could unite against. War was the only thing that had brought them together.

Could a profitable nation truly spring from such a cause as this?

"Caspian," he pled, waiting for a response from their leader.

[Arina Penley Carison]

The situation, the mere conversation, was becoming one that seemed destined to lead to bloodshed. The leader of the Telmarine party saw it immediately and was trying his best to stop it, appealing to Caspian. But what good would that do if all in attendance saw nothing but red? Would they revolt against the Prince himself should he side with the man? The last thing Choni had wanted when she crossed the border into Narnia was to get mixed up in anything drastic, but here she was. So, she would do what she could.

"The point of this meeting is indeed getting buried by assumptions and anger, if I may, but they are well founded. And if we are all striving to uphold the white banner in play during this power struggle, then while we should always be prepared for an attack, we should not provoke it." Every time she opened her mouth, she felt foolish. Why would they listen to her? She was an Archenlander. "I am not Narnian. But I'm still here because I believe in your cause and I want to help. The best way to help now is to keep as many lives from being lost as possible. Lord Drinian's logic is sound." She kept her hands firmly clasped in front of her to keep them from fidgeting.

The look on the Lord's face as he looked to his friend for help and understanding tugged at her heart. "I volunteer to escort him to the king. As a protector and a witness, not a spy." Who needed sword lessons anyway? She gave the Prince an imploring look and hoped that the Narnians beside her and behind her would listen to reason.

[Reepicheep]

At Drinian’s words, Reepicheep felt his temper flame, and he did not attempt to tamp it down.  Or at least, he did not attempt very ardently.  He knew that he must contain himself, at least while in the company of Caspian, and try to get along with the others.  Because if they could not get along in their own camp, then there was no way they would be able to band together to defeat the Telmarines.  While Reepicheep would have liked to think that he could do it single-handedly, he knew it simply was not possible.  But if it had been Reepicheep’s decision, no men would have been gathered at all – they would have been killed at in instant.  However, he had been given orders, orders which he had to follow.  He, too, had done his duty.  And now, of course, he saw the importance of keeping the Telmarines – or at least Drinian – alive, even though they could be quite irritating.  They were irksome, but Drinian was right.  At least in some things.

In others, however, he was not.  Reepicheep’s ire was immediately provoked upon hearing Drinian say that the banner of truce had not been violated. “Tell that to the family of the Narnian who now lies dead!” he cried. “Whether it is your fault personally or not, this supposed peace of which you speak has indeed been violated,” he asserted. “And I say since we were not the first to strike a blow, it is time we strike back.”  His beady eyes narrowed, he looked to Caspian for reassurance; the prince had been silent thus far on the issue, and this was entirely unexpected.  He had been brought here to lead the Narnians.  He had been brought here to make war, not peace.  …hadn’t he?  Reepicheep was no longer sure what to think, seeing that not everything was black and white.  The fact that one Telmarine could lead them had taught him this.  And the fact that another could be both good and irksome had only reinforced the idea.

When Drinian announced that he would not allow the desire for war to override the desire for peace, Reepicheep was absolutely fuming.  There would be no peace until there was war; certainly, there was no peace now! “Miraz! he spat contemptuously. “Is that what your precious king has been telling you, then? Has he been spouting even more lies than those of which we already knew?  I should not be surprised!  Has he been convincing you that there even is a truce, when he has been killing our ancestors for over a thousand years?”  The infuriated Mouse shook his head viciously, turning his glare to the lady who had spoken.  What place did she have to speak up?  She was neither a warrior nor Narnian, as far as he knew.  She could be leading them all into a trap by offering to escort Drinian back to his death! “No.  No, you cannot go back.  They would kill you.”  Once again, he looked to the prince for direction. “Your Highness, am I not correct in saying this?”

[ooc: aggh, sorry it’s short, it sucks, and it probably doesn’t make any sense.  Needed to post for the activity check.  I live life on the edge. xP]

[Kitsune]

Kitsune watched Reepicheep curiously.  She tensed herself, making ready for anything.
(Sorry I haven't been posting.  But I completely forgot my password!)

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian was pleased by the many offers of his own to accompany Drinian back to safety. However, Caspian was not so sure that it was the wisest of decisions. To send his friend back with a protector, while it might – for a while – guarantee his safety, it would also guarantee that Miraz would know where Drinian stood. Which wasn’t with Miraz. And that would throw in all sorts of complications, with unforeseen consequences, that Caspian wasn’t all too ready for. This situation concerning Drinian was indeed a rather lose-lose sort of situation; it seemed that whichever way it went, there was evil waiting to spring out at them. Of course, this was a war – with, thus far, no actual battles – so he supposed it was to be expected. If Drinian was sent back, he would face Miraz... but with the possibility of assembling his men and bringing at least the majority of them back. And Caspian could happily use an increase in numbers. Drinian could stay, that was another option, but then they would have to be perfectly honest with all of the Narnians present – and Drinian’s men, apparently – just where the young Lord stood. Which certainly also had its risks.

And then the conversation turn another sour turn – Caspian felt like he’d like to hold his head and walk away. What nonsense this was! Now there was another, unaccounted for, who was probably scampering off back to Miraz to report on the whole thing. Reepicheep blamed the situation on Drinian, Drinian seemed to blame the mouse, in a way and in this, Caspian could find no fault. The noble mouse was a hasty creature. Having been sent to fetch Drinian and his party he would have done just that, no questions asked, no time for preparation on their part. And if perhaps their fourth man had already slipped away, or had been sleeping or off away from the main group, then yes, Reepicheep likely would have brought them back without the other. There were so many things happening at once, so many suggestions, so many who felt they had some need to speak up when really, they were neither presenting new information nor logical conclusions. But it didn’t matter, that’s what he’d brought upon himself with this meeting. Lesson for next time an important situation came up – a select group of trusted Narnians. Not the whole damned camp. The fatigue was really getting to him, he needed to be thinking more clearly.

Aslan, help me, he offered up silently as he struggled to compose his thoughts. I know not what I’m meant to do.

His confidence did not grow, nor did his ideas strengthen or fall into place. But at the very least, he felt a little stronger and knew he had to take charge of this situation. He couldn’t just bow out, despite the fact that everything had now gotten a little over his head. He’d let it get there, and that was no way to rule a country – and it seemed that with all the squabbles and difficulty, this one needed a steady hand in that “ruling”.

“Enough.” Caspian said firmly, raising his hand. “I have heard enough.” He waited for silence, hoping that it would come – and that the group wasn’t too far gone to pay attention to him. However, it seemed they were not without control, despite the emotions running high, and they did manage to quiet enough so he had no need to shout. It was only then that he continued. “This is a war, we should be prepared for battle at any moment.” He gave Reepicheep a little nod of acknowledgement. Yes, the mouse did have a point there. “So yes, we will prepare for battle, however,” his gaze spared no one as he took stock of the assembled, “we will not assume a battle is forthcoming – at least not as a result of this incident. The Lord Drinian is correct; this has merely been an inquiry into the death of a Narnian and no more than that.” He paused to gather his thoughts which were, to some degree, starting to make a little more sense.

“I will send no one to accompany the Lord and his.” Caspian said then, completely undecided on the matter though he fought to keep from showing it. “To do so would only raise unnecessary suspicion in Miraz’s camp, and put Lord Drinian in harm’s way. It is pointless.” He surveyed the gathered crowd once more before folding his arms behind his back. “You may all leave to ready yourselves; sharpen your weapons, ready your armour because we must be ready at a moment’s notice. But this is not new; I sincerely hope that when you return to your dwellings, you’ll already be set. However, keep this in mind; we will not be the first to attack. We will not be the ones to cause war, regardless of how we yearn to see our struggle to assemble, survive and win our freedom come to profit. We will move only when Miraz does. Is that clear?”

As the crowd grew noisy again – Caspian hoped it meant they were heading off – he turned to Drinian.

“I’d like a word with you, before you go.” He said quietly.

[Reepicheep]

((ooc: sorry, again, for going out of order - wanted to get in one last post before this thread is over))

Reepicheep’s ears had flicked back in annoyance, or rather, in fury, because he hardly ever did such a thing, and the fact that he did now indicated quite clearly that he was in an unusually bad mood.   However, Caspian appeared to be in something of an unusual mood himself, because the power in his voice when he addressed the Narnians (and Telmarines) crowded around him in the room was awe-inspiring and previously unheard.  At once Reepicheep’s ears flickered forward into their normal position so that he could hear what his leader had to say, but he had not needed to adjust his ears in order to do so – Caspian’s words were loud, clear, and more forceful than any he could recall yet hearing from him.  He was somewhat impressed, and at the same time taken aback.  Perhaps he was slightly hurt in feeling that Caspian was personally rebuking him, and he was justified in this feeling (or at least so he thought).  The Telmarines, it seemed to him, had caused the initial problem; why should he be punished?  For that matter, why should any Narnian?  Particular not with death!

But, because Caspian was speaking, and had demanded silence, he was obliged to listen in silence.  So did every other Narnian present, possibly because they were just as surprised as he was by Caspian’s forcefulness.  It was certain that they had needed to hear it from him, because he needed to be respected in here if he ever expected to be followed on the battlefield.  Reepicheep looked up when his proposal was mentioned, but it was followed just as quickly by an obvious compromise which considerably dampened his spirits.   At least it was mentioned that there might be a battle coming.  However, Reepicheep could not agree entirely that it would not be the result of this incident – which he indeed noticed had been conveniently played off using vague pronouns.  Of course there had been a variety of offenses against them, not the least of which was a “mere death”!  How could Caspian so understate the violent death of one of his own soldiers?  Why, it was bordering on treachery!  However, Reepicheep realized that he had committed treachery to his own country as it was, however deservedly, and that their leader could not exactly betray them.

This was also made clear by Caspian’s announcement that Drinian should return to his own camp, unaccompanied.  Reepicheep bowed his head in obvious submission, recognizing this declaration as an obvious attempt to avoid more trouble, particularly on his own behalf.  He knew Caspian, and Drinian, and likely others, considered the loss of this fourth man to be on his own tiny shoulders.  And the burden was a very great one to bear, even for someone not so small as he was.  A dismissal was given, and he raised his head, unsure to whom the last, quietest, statement had been addressed.  He was not sure if he wished it for himself or not; it was sure to be an upbraiding, was it not?  This being said, he was almost grateful when it turned out that the wish for discussion instead belonged to Drinian.  He looked to Caspian, then Drinian, then Caspian again.  Then he turned to leave, his paw on his rapier and his tail drooping in defeat.  In the upcoming war, the last thing he had expected was that the first casualty would be the unity between the Narnian camp.  It had been hard to forge, but metals made in hot fire were expected to be strongest.  He supposed such a prediction, tested by time, remained yet to be seen – for surely the fire which would be hottest of all had yet to fully spark.

[Arina Penley Carison]

Choni's mouth opened instantly at the Prince's choice of words concerning the death of the Narnian. They were poorly chosen and very nearly offensive to the memory of the creature in question. Unfortunately the boy who would be king had called for a silence- nay, commanded it of his 'subjects' as he went on. To defy the order would be to invite punishment or worse. She would have words with him when next she could pull him aside and she would spare nothing of her anger for politeness nor respect. Merely an inquiry. He would never be so careless again once she was through with him. Either that, or he'd ignore her and send her away. She was not even of this domain.

She could not help but admire, at least in the smallest degree, that he had suddenly become decisive. In all of five seconds, he seemed to have completely transformed himself from the little, whiny boy she knew into... A leader? Her anger was momentarily placated as he once again commanded the whole crowd, weaving a spell over them with his strong words full of confidence and kingship. It was quick to break when he dismissed them all and she remembered her rage. Taking several steps towards him, he turned to speak to Lord Drinian. The group behind her was not at all happy, but they seemed to be going to do as they were told anyway. She scowled, at the prince, her nostrils flared and eyes shooting daggers. It would wait until morning, then.

Turning on her heel, hair flying about at the sudden movement, she marched away, hands fisted at her sides and already preparing a speech of outrage in her mind.

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian tried not to smile, tried to quell the swelling pride that shone through his face as Caspian spoke. Rebuked. Himself and the Narnians. It might be taken awrong; he might appear happy to hear Caspian lash out, but the truth was that Caspian had asserted himself. For the first time in recollection, he'd not allowed himself to be acted upon, to be the victim, to be complacent. He was forging his own destiny, and in this, Drinian saw the promise of years of training. The fulfillment of dreams that Drinian had, he guiltily admitted, placed upon the shoulders of the young prince.

Drinian now felt comfortable in calling him King. When he was called forward, he bowed, trying to focus on his lord and not the Mouse which skulked off with dark looks that Drinian didn't like. He did not know of what mettle the Mouse was; he hoped he was not the sort for retribution, for Drinian would be gone soon and it would be Caspian, perhaps, on whom angry eyes settled.

As he drew close to Caspian, his brows knit sincerely and he ventured a subtle smile. "Nobly spoken, your majesty," Drinian congratulated in a low voice, though frowning somewhat as the Narnians seemed to broodily break assembly. Hadn't they gotten what they had wanted? Were they not preparing for war? Did they not have a leader who clearly and visibly put their welfare above his own?

He did not need to take up their cause. He might have fled, saved his life. Crossed the sea. He had not needed to fight for them, and yet he had. It was not a title or a role he had inherited. It was one he had clothed himself in through sacrifice.

Which, really, was most noble, indeed.

[Kalo Ashclaw]

Kalo listened the Narnians, dismayed at their lack of coherity or certainty. The camp lacked direction, especially in this matter. This is what I have returned to? the gryphon thought, ice-blue eyes surveying his fellow recruits to the cause. Finally, Caspian spoke up, his voice ringing out with authority and certainty, and quieting the Narnians at last. Kalo couldn't help but feel relief that the young leader was finally taking full command of the situation. Though it was important to take the opinion of the people into account in serious matters such as this, all these conflicting arguments and thoughts jumbled chaotically together did nothing but make the situation worse. Luckily, Caspian was wise enough to keep order from collapsing.

The silvery-gray gryphon was not put-off at all by Caspian's statement that there would be no escort. The other Narnians had run away with his original idea; escorting Drinian to Miraz would be unwise indeed! Kalo had only wished to observe, not escort. Such a large party as had requested to go would be easily noticed. Even if they did not interfere, some of the creatures who had wanted to go were not exactly stealthy. The gryphon's eyes glittered in a faint smile, barely flickering across his face as he thought.

Caspian ordered the Narnians to leave, and allow him to speak with Drinian. Kalo gave a slow nod of consent, but did not fully retreat. He withdrew politely until he was without earshot of the Prince and Drinian, but allowed his shadowy figure to remain in full view. He was not ready to leave quite yet. He was hoping for another mission, and this was as good an opportunity as ever to initiate it. Perhaps it would be possible to convince Caspian to allow him to follow Drinian. He wasn’t like the other Narnians; he was trained in stealth and silence. Self-trained, yes, but he had more experience than the majority of the other spies in the camp. Despite his large size, he could become practically invisible at his choosing.

Surely Caspian will be curious to know what will happen to Drinian. Maybe his concern will be great enough that he’ll allow me to spy. Miraz’s soldiers are not skilled enough to spot me, and even if I am seen, that will not damage Drinian’s reputation. It will merely be assumed that I am spying for our advantage, and not also to see what will happen to him, Kalo thought, planning what he could say to Caspian to strengthen his case. The young leader seemed more concerned for Drinian than he let on to the Narnians, and Kalo was hoping that concern would help him.