[A] And so it begins [Battle thread -- Narnian and Telmarine Forces]

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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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[King Miraz]

It had taken more time than Miraz would have liked -- and more time than he would have admitted to anyone not present -- to gather a branch of the army to crush the Narnian foes and retrieve Lord Drinian. It was now nearly night -- their conference had happened early afternoon. He could not imagine that with all these men, and all this time to prepare, they were still so poorly drilled.

King Miraz sat upon a horse at the edge of their camp. It afforded him a view of what would, he presumed, be the charge, and likely the inglorious defeat of the Narnians. Despite the fact that he wold not be going to battle or participating in this skirmish -- it was, he assured his Lords, unnecessary and an insult to their dignity to suppose Miraz himself would need to be present for such a minor affair -- he dressed himself with full armour and was flanked by his more elder advisors, Sopespian among them. Together, they watched the sizeable Telmarine faction gather. It seemed, from a distance, disorganised: ants scurrying to and fro instead of the great, big black blocks moving as one -- something he had come to expect of infantry movement. Glozelle would start overseeing more rigorous exercises; he had thought his men better prepared than this.

But notwithstanding this, he observed with pride the Bernalese regiment -- which was accounted for at nine-hundred and forty-nine -- gathering in their armour, lifting their shields and arms as they followed the direction of Glozelle, met with by Séguier's forces. And this was only a fraction of his forces. In need of discipline, perhaps, but they were his.

He could not hear what Glozelle was saying to Drinian's and his men at that moment, but he had given the orders: crush the foe. If they could find Drinian, subdue him or dispose of him. But this was really not about Drinian. No, this was about Caspian. And squashing his forces, whatever they might be. There was little doubt there were at least some Old Narnians -- their short friend assured him of that -- but there could not be many. So either Caspian had garnered support from beyond Telmarine borders (Miraz at this point would not entertain internal conspiracy, though he always had one eye open to it), or this would be an easy endeavour.

If there was no help from Archenland or Calormen, they would crush these Narnians like bugs beneath a rock.

[Prince Caspian]

_{((I hope you do not mind that I’ve jumped in, to lead the exchange from the other side. xD I wasn’t sure whether or not Caspian was to know, fully, what was coming, so if anything needs changing, I’ll be happy to do so. Unfortunately, I’ve not been paying as much attention to plottage threads as I ought to have been, I suppose.))}

On the Old Narnian Side

Despite the fact that Caspian was quite sure he knew the challenges that faced them now, his fear was extinguished by a raw sort of determination. He knew that the fighting would not be held off for long. In fact, with Drinian having gone on his way to return to the camp of Caspian’s usurping uncle, there could be few, if any, days left before the first skirmish.  He felt like he was walking on eggshells; constantly calling on this or that member of his army to account for how prepared, as a whole, they were. Was everyone armed? Did everyone know their place, know strategy, know the plans – albeit limited – that had been set forth? Caspian knew his army’s best hope of success laid in the chance that Miraz had too foolishly underestimated them. And so, in private, he pleaded with the great Lion, pleaded for some sort of tangible advantage. Some sort of physical manifestation of His blessing on their venture. Where was that aforementioned help that had been promised? Had the magic of the horn been meant solely for the Queen Susan of old? But no, he didn’t believe that. And he felt convicted that what he was doing, what they were doing, was the right thing to do.

In these past few days, Caspian felt as though he’d aged another several years. That disastrous meeting of his army had shown him many things and he had come to several conclusions about his own strength as a leader, and his limited abilities. He could do this; but he could not be hesitant. He could show no weakness, no indecisiveness, no hesitance. Because he was going to have to make decisions that, while agonizing to him, needed to be made. And if it appeared to anyone else that he did not trust his own judgement, how could he ask anyone else to trust his judgement?  To remove any signs of weakness from himself, however, was easier decided than done. And in becoming a more forward, confident leader, he did not wish to appear aloof or uncompassionate to the plight of those who had sworn their loyalty to him. It was a difficult balance to maintain. But he was determined.

He had discovered some disheartening things about the death of one of his soldiers; by the looks of it, it hadn’t been at the hands of Drinian’s men at all. It had been caused by the vial from Drinian’s pack, yes, but neither shared nor administered by the Telmarine. Which left Caspian with a foul taste in his mouth – which of those whom he trusted would steal from ambassadors protected under the white banner of (temporary) peace? And that was what he had been agonizing over when several of those whom he had sent out to scout returned with less than pleasant news. Miraz’s army was on the move. Towards them, if not still a little ways off. Of course such a trial would present itself in one of his greatest moments of self doubt, he thought with some frustration. His thoughts were then fleetingly on his friend, hoping that Drinian was safe and not suffering for the rebellion of Caspian’s. While the young prince doubted that Miraz had anything with which he could legitimately accuse the Lord Drinian, Caspian also doubted that Miraz was above punishment for the sake of punishment, not justice.

Oh, this would not be the only battle, of that Caspian was sure. They would fight today – or tomorrow, perhaps – and it would seem to go on forever. But this would not be the end of it; one little battle would not win the war at large. Miraz might think so, but Caspian had more faith in his ever growing army than that. Unless of course it was he who was guilty of underestimating.

He surveyed his army with much pride. They had come along way, the lot of them. And they were growing in strength and number every day. He knew they were itching for battle, but that itch would soon be scratched and then they would wish they could return to the days that had led up to today. They had been long, anxious days, but no bloodshed. They were no on the precipice of change, of unspeakable danger. This was what they had all been waiting for. Miraz’s army drew near and they would not be caught unprepared.

[General Glozelle]

From where he sat on the green grass of the soon-to-be-battlefield, General Favino Glozelle exhaled silently, carefully.  Every movement was practiced, graceful, as if he knew he were being watched.  He did not dare to relax, knowing full well that the armor now tight around his chest would restrict him unkindly from doing so in the event that he happened to forget.  His hands clenched and unclenched slowly, unconsciously around the worn leather reins that directed his mount, which for now jostled beneath him, as antsy and impatient as its rider.  But the man was nervous, rather just anticipating the events which were to come.  Glozelle had been waiting for this day for a long time, and he suspected that all of the people – and even creatures – in Telmar had as well.

He had been directed to bring his soldiers, and Drinian’s, here – supposedly in an effort to bring Drinian back safely.  But most of the men gathered here, or at least the intelligent ones (sometimes it did not seem that there were many) knew that this was not the truth.  Drinian was in just as much – nay, more – danger than anyone else here, because he was something of a target.  Not that Miraz was doing much personally to ensure this, other than sitting back on his horse and watching while his subjects were urged forward, possibly into death.  Glozelle did not feel much fear when he looked upon the Narnian camp, which was only slightly bigger than he had imagined it, though bigger nonetheless.  No, he thought to himself with a determined look on his face, he did not feel any fear at all, for he feared nothing.

Only death.  But, that would not come today; not to him. Only to the Narnians.  And, if he was lucky – or if his plan worked – to another important Telmarine, one who was not him.  One who was above him.  But no one else knew of this plan, so if it did not work, no one ever needed to, or know that Glozelle had masterminded it.  Yes, things looked good indeed for the Telmarine general.  Things were going swimmingly.  If Drinian’s men were suspicious of him, personally, they were wise enough to make no mention of it, for he would have caught them if they had with the aid of one of his many spies.  Nothing, Glozelle was convinced, could go wrong today.  And so nothing would.

Glozelle was not entirely sure of what Miraz wanted – was he ever? – but he did know that they were ordered to find Drinian, and, more importantly, crush the enemy.  If only Miraz knew who “his” soldiers truly viewed as their enemy…  But the Narnians would do, for now.  They had served as something of an annoyance for the Telmarines for a long time anyway, and it was best that they were disposed of while they still had the chance.  Glozelle did not intend to wait another few months for Miraz to make up his mind again.  No – the time was now. “Men, soldiers, Telmarines!” he shouted, his normally quiet, somewhat rough voice carrying over the crowd as they suddenly went silent to hear their orders. “Today, Telmar will be victorious!”  This was met with cheers, to his nod of approval. “March on to meet the enemy, men, and we shall destroy them!”  With this command, he raised his lance in one hand and with the other turned his horse about to bring up the flank.  It was time.  They were truly on their way.