[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.”

[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.