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[Lord Drinian]

"My liege, you shouldn't have," Drinian reiterated regarding the food with some exasperation as he was led below into the How to where the Broken Table lay. "We brought our own supplies and stores; I'd much rather dip my hands into Miraz's coffer than your own, when you will be needing all your resources."

They had now arrived at their destination and Drinian felt his voice die in his throat, falling into silence in this place. Drinian had visited the place many times himself, but usually alone. It was a good place to do thinking: secret, quiet, and protected. He could only imagine it was these features that drew Caspian to this place as well. And yet, even with the legends aside -- though Drinian suspected they were more-tha-legends now -- there was something melancholy and tomb-like in this place. Drinian did not like the fact that he cold not see the sky.

As familiar with the How as he was, Drinian took little pains to orient himself beyond noting what modifications the prince had made. This done, he turned back to his friend, giving a strained smile. "It is good to see you," he said softly. "I wish it were in better conditions. I wish you were in better condition," he said, a light teasing tone in his voice. His face suddenly became animated as a recollection struck him.

"It took me some time," he said, fishing into the inner pocket of his coat, "to convince King Miraz, but I've secured this," he said, pulling out a crystal vial of what appeared to be some tonic or other.

"Our own supplies are limited, but I have this medicine," Drinian said, offering the vial. "It has saved several in our own camp, but few have been stricken as yours have. If you accept Miraz’s terms,” he said with a bit of a grimace, “surrender. . . we shall share the medicine in common between both camps.” He did not, just yet, delve into the minutae of the negotiation; Drinian suspected Caspian would never agree, and it was not what he had wanted to say to the Prince anyhow.

“Regardless of your acceptance of these terms, this is yours to have.” He hesitated, knowing that the good in Caspian might give this medicine to one of his own army, someone ill, but Drinian would much rather see Caspian at the height of health. Deviating from his message from Miraz, he insisted, "As leader, you will need your strength."

Drinian thought about how much pains and efforts it had taken to secure one solitary vial, with the promise of more. Miraz had at first resisted, feeling that to strengthen Caspian would be to fortify the Narnian army. However, finally perceiving that Drinian was one of the sole members of the camp which still inspired confidence in Caspian, he had relented, acknowledging the potential that such a friendship might have for manipulation. He would need to keep Drinian complacent; he would need to gain Caspian's trust. Finally, he had been very willing to provide the prince with the medicine.

[Prince Caspian]

“Friend, please,” Caspian replied, “There is so little hospitality that I might offer, you must not deny me this. It is no great sacrifice – we will be taken care of. I care little for battle lines at present, I’m simply happy to have you here. I’ve missed my days at the castle.” Sighing somewhat regretfully, Caspian led Drinian farther into the How until they reached their destination and then he turned to study his friend. Drinian’s expression could not be read by Caspian, though he felt like he understood it nonetheless. The How was certainly a quieting place; if the legends were true – which Caspian believed that they were – something great, but terrible, happened here. And if they weren’t... this location had still been held in honour for centuries. Regardless, the How was a majestic place in all its simplicity.

Caspian gave his companion a warm smile. “It is good to see you also,” he replied, “better than I think you could understand.” Nothing was familiar to Caspian here, nothing was comforting. He knew he was where he was supposed to be but he could draw on nothing to comfort himself when he felt alone. The Narnians were wary of him, at least most of them were – they were still unsure that a Telmarine was fit to lead them, especially one as inexperienced as himself. He’d already made decisions that had caused discourse in the group – namely the capture and holding of Adimon, instead of killing him. He wasn’t doing a very good job at all of this. It was discouraging, to say the least.

Drinian spoke again, pulling a small vial from his pocket, which he handed to Caspian. The young prince took it warily, not sure what to say. Drinian went on to tell him that the vial was for him and, if he would surrender to Miraz’s terms – surrender, ha! – then more medicine would be shared between the camps. He said that regardless, the vial was for Caspian – and he told the prince that he would need to be at the height of his health. Caspian appreciated the thought, but didn’t feel right about this. He could not allow himself to depend on the handouts of Miraz. “I cannot take this,”Caspian said, holding it out to Drinian. “I do appreciate the thought but what good does it do me to rely on the medicines of Miraz? If I cannot get well on my own then the army will simply have to do without me.”

Maybe it was a matter of pride, but he didn’t see it that way. He trusted Drinian, but he didn’t trust Miraz. Who could know that Miraz hadn’t conjured up some sort of trick? Hadn’t put something in that vial that would do more harm than good? Caspian couldn’t know. Dealing with Miraz meant he had to be more suspicious than he’d like to be.

“I am sorry,” he said after a few moments of silence, “but I cannot surrender. Miraz is a tyrant and I cannot... even if I wanted to go back, I couldn’t. He tried to kill me, Drinian. So what do I have for me there? I could die, certainly, in Miraz’s castle – likely as a prisoner – or I could face the risk of death here, but also the hope of something much better. Either way, the benefits all lay in staying with the Narnians until we’ve won or died.” He was sure that wasn’t the answer that Drinian wanted. However, there was nothing Caspian could do now. When he fled the castle to save his life so many weeks – was it really weeks, or months or had it been longer – ago... well, he’d known he could never actually go back.

[Lord Drinian]

“It is good to see you also,” he replied, “better than I think you could understand.”

Drinian's brow knit as he thought this over. To pretend to be Caspian's enemy at camp and to now wish to profess otherwise -- it was good to see Caspian, but unlike the Prince, he could not escape a moment's anxiety over appearances. Even in a private audience, he could not be too exuberant. Nor could Caspian well afford it, if he wished the faith of his men. . .creatures.

"Perhaps not," he conceded.

Caspian's rejection of the medicine he had anticipated. The cause, however, surprised him somewhat. "You are right to mistrust the . . . good intentions of Miraz, but I have gone to great lengths to secure this myself. . ." He was silent several moments as he considered Miraz's eventual willingness, now convinced it had been prompted not by Drinian's just persuasion, but an opportunity to serve his own means. The depth of Miraz's treachery and, what was more, Drinian's use as an accessory in betrayal, stung keenly.

Drinian swallowed painfully and nodded. "Yes," he said, his voice a slight rasp as he stooped over to lay the vial upon the ground. He straightened and placed it beneath the toe of his boot, increasing the pressure until he heard the shatter. He watched the liquid seep into the flagstones, feeling a burning sense of shame that he might be so deceived in Miraz and, in turn, run such a risk for his friend. And if Caspian had believed his assurances? What might have happened then? "This is no good. You are right, of course."

But only right to a certain degree.

“I am sorry, but I cannot surrender. Miraz is a tyrant and I cannot... even if I wanted to go back, I couldn’t. He tried to kill me, Drinian. So what do I have for me there? I could die, certainly, in Miraz’s castle – likely as a prisoner – or I could face the risk of death here, but also the hope of something much better. Either way, the benefits all lay in staying with the Narnians until we’ve won or died.”

"I must explain in full Miraz's conditions. Should you surrender, the creatures are allotted a region of Ettinsmoor where the creatures may reside; but they are to remain there. You, however, shall go across the sea." Drinian thought a moment of Lords Bern, Octesian, Restimar, Rhoop, and the others. "I was determined to accompany you, were this your choice." He took a deep breath. "As it is not, I, humbly and quite unsolicited, propose a plan of my own. That you do not fight this war for the Old Narnians. That you fight it for all Narnians, old and new." He felt his emotions rising and took another breath, striving now more than ever to remain quite rational.

"You say, my lord, that you cannot go back. But that is unwise; you must go back. But not to Miraz's Narnia, not to Miraz's Telmar. To your own. You are the rightful heir, and we are forced to stand behind Miraz as King because we have no alternative." He lowered his voice. "Because you left us." Clasping the prince's hand, he said fervently, "Stand with this army and stand for Telmar, march under the flag, and fight for your country as well as theirs, and you shall have the true of heart join you in the fight."

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian watched as Drinian broke the vial under his foot. He was content he could trust Drinian – though he’d never held a true doubt otherwise – but he knew he couldn’t trust Miraz. He had hoped Drinian hadn’t thought Caspian doubtful of his word. “I hope I’ve not caused offense, by refusing the vial,” Caspian said slowly, looking for an answer in his friend’s face. “I trust you, of course, you’ve never given me reason to doubt you. But battle lines must divide us, for now, and so I must be wary and careful. Besides,” he said with a sigh, “I need to fight this one on my own.” He could not live with himself if he was indebted to Miraz. Who knew what the king might have arranged put in that vial? Surely Drinian couldn’t have had it in his sight the entire time. Even his fellow travellers to the Narnian camp could have been responsible for tampering with it. These weeks, or had they been months, had made Caspian a suspicious man. They had aged him considerably, and he wished for the carefree days of youth once more. But alas, those days could never be. At the end of all of this, he would either be king, or dead.

Ah so Miraz had it all thought out, did he? Send Caspian across the sea, like he’d sent the lords of Caspian’s father? No, Caspian wouldn’t have that. Nor would he let the woodland creatures be contained to a plot of Ettinsmoor when chances were high that Miraz would strike again the moment Caspian was away. “I wish I could have made your mission easier, my friend,” Caspian said quite honestly. “I’m sorry your trip was in vain.” But he would not surrender. Maybe the day would come when he and Drinian could be on the same side once more. But until that point... Caspian had to put his own mission first. He had to do what he knew was right.

"As it is not, I, humbly and quite unsolicited, propose a plan of my own. That you do not fight this war for the Old Narnians. That you fight it for all Narnians, old and new."

Caspian looked to Drinian, puzzled by the proposition. His friend seemed eager to explain, though determined to keep his emotions in check. A wise move, not because of any danger from Caspian but because who knew which of the Narnians – or Drinian’s party – were listening in. It would be far better to keep voices quiet and thoughts calm so none burst in on the assumption the pair was quarrelling. The Narnians, Caspian had found, especially ones like valiant Reepicheep, could be rash and brave to a fault.

"You say, my lord, that you cannot go back. But that is unwise; you must go back. But not to Miraz's Narnia, not to Miraz's Telmar. To your own. You are the rightful heir, and we are forced to stand behind Miraz as King because we have no alternative. Because you left us." Drinian clasped his hand and Caspian gave his eager friend a warm smile. "Stand with this army and stand for Telmar, march under the flag, and fight for your country as well as theirs, and you shall have the true of heart join you in the fight."

“You were always the one with the ideas,” Caspian said wistfully, “the one who inspired me. But can’t you see, my friend? I am fighting for all of the Narnians. Should any “new” Narnians, as you put it – for I am nothing but a new Narnian myself – care to join me I will take them with open arms as brother and friend. I will fight alongside anyone who will fight for the Great Lion.” Drinian’s words did sting, though he tried not to let them bother him. “And I did not wish to leave you, but what choice did I have? It was flee or die and how was I to know how to protect myself when Miraz sent his men on me in the dead of the night?” He ran his fingers over his forehead then up over his hair, brushing it out of his eyes. Clasping his hands atop his head, he looked sadly at Drinian. “I fear there are very few ‘true of heart’ left amongst Miraz’s people.” This conversation would go nowhere, Caspian was sure of it.

“This is the right thing to do,” he said quietly, “I cannot abandon them now. We took this country from them and now it is time to right the wrongs that were done them. They will be our equals, and us theirs.” He sighed. “You could join me, you know.” He was sure Drinian would say he could not. “Like old times, remember? You and I make a great team.” One day... when all of this was over, they would make a great team again. “But whatever side you lay your alliance with, you must know I will always call you friend.”

Caspian didn’t understand how the vile murderer Miraz could have any support, yet somehow he did.

“If any Telmarines wish to join us, we will gladly take them. And if not... we will fight them as we must. I hate that it must be this way, but these creatures are as much my people as the Telmarines now.”

[Lord Drinian]

"Besides, I need to fight this one on my own.”

Drinian's jaw tensed at this and he seemed very eager to fight this. Caspian had always had a thirst to prove himself to his elders, to his subjects, to his tutors. It had helped the boy rise fast in intellect, skill, and leadership. But it also led to one overactive sense of independent stubbornness. That could land him in a great deal of trouble. Caspian was being foolhearty and, perhaps, even a little prideful in this assertion.

But, long ago, Drinian had pledged allegiance to him. It was why Drinian, in public, was known to call Caspian "my liege." He did not take this duty as vassal lightly and so, he did not speak.

“I wish I could have made your mission easier, my friend,” Caspian said quite honestly. “I’m sorry your trip was in vain.”

"My lord, it was not," Drinian corrected. [/b]"I do not think Miraz expected a surrender any more than you did. It was, I suppose, a formality. I see in the vial his purposes,"[/b] he said, pointing to the wet ground. "And if that was the goal, I rejoice it has failed." Still, Drinian dreaded that there might be some other purpose. Intelligence, perhaps, that would need to be gathered -- he suspected this to be Deverell's command. He would rather not facilitate in divulging condemning information but knew that, if pressed to give an answer, he could not disguise it without risk to his own life and his duchy.

"As for my purposes," Drinian said, eyes focussing on Caspian with a new intensity and a bit of a smirk about his lips, "I've not really touched upon those yet."

Caspian's words, encouraging those Telmarines who would fight with him to join him, were heartening. Though Drinian did frown opening as Caspian questioned his own people.

"I fear there are very few ‘true of heart’ left amongst Miraz’s people.”

"Yes, sire, certainly amongst Miraz's people, there would be few who would see to your ascendancy. I'm not talking about Miraz's people; I am talking about the Telmarine people." He sighed and laid both hands upon the younger man's shoulders, shaking him slightly. "Do you not see that the Telmarines are a people divided? Your departure was abrupt; you are the son of the king. Anyone with half a brain knows the rightful heir. Those who deny you the throne question your competence. Or fear Miraz." Drinian had taken great pains to speak to most of the lords in Miraz's retinue. All very tightly-lipped, terrified their words might be weights that could tip the scale, and perhaps Drinian had been too free with his. But he had ascertained that most lords followed from obstinance, fear, or self-serving principles. Few felt it to be the right thing. Ignorance could be combatted, fear shattered, and new benefits could be discovered. It was not a lost cause. It was only when morals clashed that a conflict was inevitable.

A hand still on his shoulder, he steered Caspian to a carved ledge upon which they could both sit. "My duty is to bear your response back to Miraz and the camp. Higness, I strongly advise that in my message you give them something strong to stand around. Something that will bring out those true in heart. For while you hide your purposes and your goals from us, Miraz denigrates you and uses everything he can to villify you to the people. You, being absent from us, have no opportunity to speak. You do not know what has been done."

He sighed and began the catalogue of unpleasantness that his king was obliged to hear. "Books about Old Narnia have been burned. Books of government as well. Books of philosophy teaching tolerance and synthesis. . . and their owners and adherents are scarcely better off." He sighed. "I have managed to secrete most of the books in my possession, but there was nothing I could do for others. Professor Cornelius has been imprisoned."

He stopped his message here, softening his expression to one of sympathy. Caspian had ever been close to his tutor. He did not imagine the news to be easy to bear.

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian’s hands were laid upon Caspian’s shoulders, and the young prince-king was lightly shaken. He gave Drinian a wry smile, able to see the urgency in his expression and hear it in his voice. Yes, this was a matter of utmost importance, though Caspian was still astounded that good old Drinian, one of his dearest friends from the court, was actually standing before him. Caspian had never taken correction, nor instruction well, except from those he admired most. Drinian was – always had been, and would forever be – one of the few men who could openly disagree with him without Caspian feeling foolish or threatened. Discussions with Drinian, whether light hearted or of a more serious nature such as this one, were always worth the time they took and then some. His opinion was highly respected. Caspian supposed it didn’t hurt that his friend, while he voiced his disagreement on occasion, would always stand by him when push came to shove. That was why this was so difficult; Caspian couldn’t justly ask him to stay here where he wanted him, because he knew that there was much on the line for Drinian as well.

“I do not see them as people divided,” he replied faintly, “but then, I’ve not had opportunity to. Yes, my departure was abrupt but out of necessity, not desire. If they are divided, that does prove another matter.” At the very least, Drinian was making him think things through a little differently. That wasn’t to say he was going to give up his mission, he felt at home here amongst the Old Narnians in a way he hadn’t back at the castle. Probably just because they needed him. But if what Drinian said was true, perhaps his people – for in a way he still viewed them as his people – needed him also. Which put him in a terrible spot. They needed a king, but so did the Old Narnians. He followed with a sigh as Drinian led him towards a ledge upon which they both sat. There was so much weighing on his mind, and he was still slightly unrecovered from the illness he had fallen prey to. It was a wonder he hadn’t died but it only made him more steadfast in his beliefs. He was meant to be here. The Great Lion wanted him here. Who was he to argue? Even if his attempts only paved the way for a future success that he might not be a part of – though he prayed that was not the case.

Drinian said that his duty was to give Caspian’s message to Miraz and the camp. Caspian thought this over – he could trust Drinian to be a true messenger, one who would speak as Caspian spoke and deliver the same message. In times such as these, that sort of trust was difficult to find, even amongst the inner workings of one’s own war council. Caspian was surrounded by knowledgeable creatures but none had seen the makings of a real war in their lifetimes. Some, such as the Centaurs, had prepared for generations for this. Some only knew of the old legends. Some hardly knew that. The group that followed Caspian had little to their advantage except the knowledge that they were fighting for The Lion. And if he would show up, then they would be guaranteed success. But if he didn’t... if they weren’t operating on his time – and it was so hard to know...

The news from Drinian was not particularly warming. The burning of books was particularly tragic; so much knowledge would be lost. Knowledge that Caspian had taken for granted – he’d been privy to anything he could get his hands on, in his youth, though some knowledge had to be acquired with the help of his tutor, Professor Cornelius for to Miraz, it was foolish or childish or fake. However, Caspian was quickly seeing the truth of these legends with his own eyes.

"I have managed to secrete most of the books in my possession, but there was nothing I could do for others. Professor Cornelius has been imprisoned."

Caspian followed, pleased at least that something might have been saved from Miraz’s wrath. However, the second statement of Drinian’s, which came out quite without warning or precursor, startled Caspian. He took a moment to mull this over, to let it sink in. The professor? His professor? Imprisoned? This was certainly too much to take in all at once and Caspian ran his fingers absently through his hair.

“Imprisoned? Professor Cornelius?” His voice was pained, his expression blank though that quickly shifted and he pulled himself to his feet, pacing anxiously. “On what grounds?” He demanded. “What threat is he to Miraz? Of course...” he sighed, “he was the one that got me out before... well, before Miraz could have me killed.” Little had made Caspian so angry thus far. “But of course Miraz couldn’t make this known to his followers, at least not all of them. What is his explanation then, of such an act, or does he see himself above justifications now?” Caspian wouldn’t put it past him. “Does he imprison without cause?” He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. “This won’t do, this won’t do at all.” He would get the professor out of there, regardless of what it took. But he couldn’t jump into anything rashly, the castle was well fortified and Caspian’s army wouldn’t stand behind such a foolhardy rescue attempt. He had to think clearly, he had to make the right decision or everything could fall apart – not that it wasn’t already in danger of doing so.

“I have faced death twice, Drin,” Caspian said slowly, though his voice was strong and his eyes alight with a renewed sense of determination. “Once, as I lay sleeping, oblivious to the threat of Miraz until I was hastily woken and driven from the castle. And once hardly days before; while even now I’m not fully recovered. How does one face death twice, in so short a time, and come out of it unscathed? Surely there must be a bigger reason than I can understand for my standing here before you today. Is it coincidence that I ended up here? Ended up as king and leader to a society I hardly dared to believe might exist? A renegade group of exiles who trusted no man till I – yet hold steadfast to the idea that a man must rule over them?” He sighed, feeling weary but not beaten. “I will take any man, any animal, any creature that will fight for, and with, me under The Lion without regard to whether they are Old Narnian, or new. Neither I, nor mine, will be intimidated by the threat of Miraz and we will fight for what is right, not for what is comfortable.” He folded his arms behind his back, glancing in the direction the other Narnians might be gathered, some probably waiting for news of the meeting. He couldn’t see them, but he knew that in their curiosity, they would be there.

Smiling faintly to himself, Caspian shrugged. “The possibilities are endless, if the two groups of Narnians – Old and New – could only work together. The resources we’d hardly begun to understand that lay hidden! The skill of the dwarves... I’ve never seen such finely made swords or armour. The knowledge of the animals, the secrets of the dryads, it’s incomprehensible. If only the trees would walk among us, as they did in old.” He chuckled then, glancing at Drinian. “I know, I must sound as though I’m talking in fairy tales but I assure you, all of it is true. Miraz has might, and he has soldiers. But we have something unexplainable and if only I could figure it out...” He shrugged.

“Tell Miraz he will not frighten us, nor will he manipulate us. We’ll not be easily cast down or pushed aside.”

[Prince Caspian]

Drinian’s hands were laid upon Caspian’s shoulders, and the young prince-king was lightly shaken. He gave Drinian a wry smile, able to see the urgency in his expression and hear it in his voice. Yes, this was a matter of utmost importance, though Caspian was still astounded that good old Drinian, one of his dearest friends from the court, was actually standing before him. Caspian had never taken correction, nor instruction well, except from those he admired most. Drinian was – always had been, and would forever be – one of the few men who could openly disagree with him without Caspian feeling foolish or threatened. Discussions with Drinian, whether light hearted or of a more serious nature such as this one, were always worth the time they took and then some. His opinion was highly respected. Caspian supposed it didn’t hurt that his friend, while he voiced his disagreement on occasion, would always stand by him when push came to shove. That was why this was so difficult; Caspian couldn’t justly ask him to stay here where he wanted him, because he knew that there was much on the line for Drinian as well.

“I do not see them as people divided,” he replied faintly, “but then, I’ve not had opportunity to. Yes, my departure was abrupt but out of necessity, not desire. If they are divided, that does prove another matter.” At the very least, Drinian was making him think things through a little differently. That wasn’t to say he was going to give up his mission, he felt at home here amongst the Old Narnians in a way he hadn’t back at the castle. Probably just because they needed him. But if what Drinian said was true, perhaps his people – for in a way he still viewed them as his people – needed him also. Which put him in a terrible spot. They needed a king, but so did the Old Narnians. He followed with a sigh as Drinian led him towards a ledge upon which they both sat. There was so much weighing on his mind, and he was still slightly unrecovered from the illness he had fallen prey to. It was a wonder he hadn’t died but it only made him more steadfast in his beliefs. He was meant to be here. The Great Lion wanted him here. Who was he to argue? Even if his attempts only paved the way for a future success that he might not be a part of – though he prayed that was not the case.

Drinian said that his duty was to give Caspian’s message to Miraz and the camp. Caspian thought this over – he could trust Drinian to be a true messenger, one who would speak as Caspian spoke and deliver the same message. In times such as these, that sort of trust was difficult to find, even amongst the inner workings of one’s own war council. Caspian was surrounded by knowledgeable creatures but none had seen the makings of a real war in their lifetimes. Some, such as the Centaurs, had prepared for generations for this. Some only knew of the old legends. Some hardly knew that. The group that followed Caspian had little to their advantage except the knowledge that they were fighting for The Lion. And if he would show up, then they would be guaranteed success. But if he didn’t... if they weren’t operating on his time – and it was so hard to know...

The news from Drinian was not particularly warming. The burning of books was particularly tragic; so much knowledge would be lost. Knowledge that Caspian had taken for granted – he’d been privy to anything he could get his hands on, in his youth, though some knowledge had to be acquired with the help of his tutor, Professor Cornelius for to Miraz, it was foolish or childish or fake. However, Caspian was quickly seeing the truth of these legends with his own eyes.

"I have managed to secrete most of the books in my possession, but there was nothing I could do for others. Professor Cornelius has been imprisoned."

Caspian followed, pleased at least that something might have been saved from Miraz’s wrath. However, the second statement of Drinian’s, which came out quite without warning or precursor, startled Caspian. He took a moment to mull this over, to let it sink in. The professor? His professor? Imprisoned? This was certainly too much to take in all at once and Caspian ran his fingers absently through his hair.

“Imprisoned? Professor Cornelius?” His voice was pained, his expression blank though that quickly shifted and he pulled himself to his feet, pacing anxiously. “On what grounds?” He demanded. “What threat is he to Miraz? Of course...” he sighed, “he was the one that got me out before... well, before Miraz could have me killed.” Little had made Caspian so angry thus far. “But of course Miraz couldn’t make this known to his followers, at least not all of them. What is his explanation then, of such an act, or does he see himself above justifications now?” Caspian wouldn’t put it past him. “Does he imprison without cause?” He was sure he already knew the answer to that question. “This won’t do, this won’t do at all.” He would get the professor out of there, regardless of what it took. But he couldn’t jump into anything rashly, the castle was well fortified and Caspian’s army wouldn’t stand behind such a foolhardy rescue attempt. He had to think clearly, he had to make the right decision or everything could fall apart – not that it wasn’t already in danger of doing so.

“I have faced death twice, Drin,” Caspian said slowly, though his voice was strong and his eyes alight with a renewed sense of determination. “Once, as I lay sleeping, oblivious to the threat of Miraz until I was hastily woken and driven from the castle. And once hardly days before; while even now I’m not fully recovered. How does one face death twice, in so short a time, and come out of it unscathed? Surely there must be a bigger reason than I can understand for my standing here before you today. Is it coincidence that I ended up here? Ended up as king and leader to a society I hardly dared to believe might exist? A renegade group of exiles who trusted no man till I – yet hold steadfast to the idea that a man must rule over them?” He sighed, feeling weary but not beaten. “I will take any man, any animal, any creature that will fight for, and with, me under The Lion without regard to whether they are Old Narnian, or new. Neither I, nor mine, will be intimidated by the threat of Miraz and we will fight for what is right, not for what is comfortable.” He folded his arms behind his back, glancing in the direction the other Narnians might be gathered, some probably waiting for news of the meeting. He couldn’t see them, but he knew that in their curiosity, they would be there.

Smiling faintly to himself, Caspian shrugged. “The possibilities are endless, if the two groups of Narnians – Old and New – could only work together. The resources we’d hardly begun to understand that lay hidden! The skill of the dwarves... I’ve never seen such finely made swords or armour. The knowledge of the animals, the secrets of the dryads, it’s incomprehensible. If only the trees would walk among us, as they did in old.” He chuckled then, glancing at Drinian. “I know, I must sound as though I’m talking in fairy tales but I assure you, all of it is true. Miraz has might, and he has soldiers. But we have something unexplainable and if only I could figure it out...” He shrugged.

“Tell Miraz he will not frighten us, nor will he manipulate us. We’ll not be easily cast down or pushed aside.”

[Lord Drinian]

Drinian's expression grew consoling as he once more laid his hand on the prince's shoulder, ensuring that he did not rise, as agitated and weak as he still was. "He was imprisoned for sedition, Caspian," Drinian said as though this were the most clear thing in the world. "Anyone who owns those books can, by Miraz's new laws, be questioned for sedition and, if necessary, tried for treason. The books Cornelius had lie in direct opposition with Miraz's regime. It is not a free state he seeks to create, but one with no dissent. You -- surely, with this being his goal, he could not have done otherwise. Such rulers will ever capitalise upon the dissent of others in order to increase their holding with the people." Certainly, Drinian was preaching the philosophies of his books, what his father had taught him of tyrants. It was unpleasant, but he wanted Caspian to know. He needed to.

He tried to soften this with a smile, but the expression grew more pained as Caspian first spoke of his own hardships -- from which Drinian had, in his own way, suffered through much anxiety and sleeplessness on the account of his friends. He then tried to fully to speak of beautiful things, which was more painful still. Lovely things. Drinian had often been the primary audience to hear of Caspian's new learnings -- he never learned directly of the Old Narnians from Cornelius, but had heard much of it through Caspian's excited recountings. As they had explored as youths, creating castles in the sky and vanquishing invisible dragons, Drinian had encouraged such talk.

But it was time for real things. Drinian could not afford for a moment to escape, even to talk of dwarven metallurgy.

“Tell Miraz he will not frighten us, nor will he manipulate us. We’ll not be easily cast down or pushed aside.”

"Caspian," he said gravely, "that I believe and am glad to hear it. Miraz suspected you would not surrender." His voice changed as did his eyes, becoming in a moment more sorrowful than ever. He was silent for a long time, wondered if he ought to tell his young friend this bit of news. Finally, he gathered the strength and with a cleansing breath, sagged his shoulders. He looked up at the ceiling as he spoke, unable to look directly into his friend's eyes. "I was told that, should I be unable to bring you to terms of surrender, I would lead my men in battle and head the fray against your forces when the time for battle came." Miraz had been all too clear that this was punishment, not honour. Those forces in the front sustained the greatest casualties, and to be the first to attack a dearly loved friend . . . to lose so many men when the loss of them had been Miraz's threat to begin with. . .

With trepidation, he now read his friend's face for his reaction.

[Prince Caspian]

Caspian watched Drinian, wondering at the change in his voice and his eyes. He sounded far too grave for Caspian’s liking, and he hesitated, wondering if he had said something wrong. He watched with concern as Drinian’s shoulders sagged, wondering why his friend seemed so incapable of looking him in the eye. “What is it, friend? What’s bothering you?” This side of Drinian was a rarely seen one and it concerned Caspian to no end. So he waited for the inevitable words to come, words Caspian was sure he wouldn’t like.

“I was told that, should I be unable to bring you to terms of surrender, I would lead my men in battle and head the fray against your forces when the time for battle came.”

He froze at Drinian’s words. He had been right to fear them. Considerably paler than he’d been moments before, Caspian nodded faintly, pained. “That is grievous news indeed,” he murmured. “You will do as you must, Drinian, and if that is the only way...” he ran his fingers of his face, trying to force himself to think. “I’d not blame you for it, not fault you at all. I only wish I could make this easier on you, for Miraz has played his cards perfectly to his advantage. He knows...” He turned and walked away from Drinian then, his mind racing. He could picture it, he didn’t think he could do it. But just as Drinian would do as he must, so would Caspian. How could they be on opposite sides? Drinian wanted him to lead a civil rebellion, he wanted to split the kingdom. He wanted Caspian to take his rightful place as king – but Caspian would never have considered waging war against Miraz had his usurping uncle not tried to kill him. If only Drinian had suggested this before everything had come out!

He was overwhelmed with any number of emotions – all of them warring to be at the foremost of his mind. Fear... fear of so many things! Fear of losing, of failing himself and the Old Narnians... fear of dying and fear of killing. Fear of causing harm to his dearest friend – if it came down to it, could he fight Drinian? He’d rather take his own life, but where was the honour in that? Coupled with the fear, there was anger. Some of the anger was irrational, some was stemmed by fear and more was driven by grief, by loss. Of course, he was overwhelmingly angry with Miraz. Miraz was his uncle! His uncle, of all people! Didn’t the man have some sort of unwritten obligation to take care of him? No, of course not, he did not abide to any law, either governmental or moral. He was a monster. Too, his anger – though this was irrational – lay a little with Drinian. Why was he allowing Miraz to push him around? Why was he on this foolish errand? He knew Caspian wouldn’t surrender! It didn’t sound as though he wanted Caspian to surrender either. If he was truly loyal, he would join Caspian whether or not he believed in the cause!

But no, Caspian told himself, that was immensely unfair and incredibly selfish. This was no laughing matter, this was no little thing. This could shape the nation, this was putting an incredible number of lives at risk. And if his friend was better off, at least for the time being, in Miraz’s camp then so be it. Caspian would not hold it against him.

Bringing his fist down against the wall of the tunnel Caspian pressed his forehead against the cool dirt and took a few steadying breaths. He tried to calm himself, tried to put his thoughts in order. When he finally turned around, his smile was weak, his face still pale. “We’ll do what we have to do. And when Miraz sends your men against me... I’ll not fight you.” What that meant, he wasn’t sure. If that meant he died in the process, so be it. “I’m sorry, friend. I chose my role and I wish you didn’t have to suffer for it. When we get out of this... if I get out of this...” he shrugged weakly, “we’ll see how everything turns out.”

[Lord Drinian]

"Miraz has played his cards, but Caspian, there is one card I can yet play -- that he might not suspect. And he does not suspect it because it is very, very. . ." Well, foolhearty. He shook his head and watched with strained emotion as Caspian rested his head against the wall and closed his eyes.

"My lord, please. You must sit," he muttered, rising and doing what he could to guide Caspian back down to the ledge. He looked too ill, too pale. He ought not to have said this. Mind scrambling, Drinian tried to put to words the plan he had considered all the ride over, adding to it Caspian's words.

"We’ll do what we have to do. And when Miraz sends your men against me... I’ll not fight you. I’m sorry, friend. I chose my role and I wish you didn’t have to suffer for it. When we get out of this... if I get out of this...” he shrugged weakly, “we’ll see how everything turns out.”

"Of course you won't fight me," Drinian reassured in an anxious voice. "Because I won't be fighting against you. Caspian, think of it: I will be the first of the Telmarine army to get to you. Miraz has, in a way, asked me and my men to rush to you. With your permission, I ask to be one of the men you spoke of -- the ones who leave Miraz to fight by your side." This, of course, would leave Drinian and his men still on the front lines, but now facing a new army. To rush to join Caspian, only to face the army they'd just fled -- it would be heavy casualties once more, and if Caspian did not succeed, it would be certain death to him.

He could expect more mercy from Caspian in opposing him than Miraz, but truly, that was why he must fight Miraz. "I said I'd go across the sea with you, highness." He attempted a small smile. "What's just a little bit of land to that?" But it felt like much more. They were separated by so much, and the dangers so great. . . But the reward greater for it.

[Prince Caspian]

He allowed Drinian to lead him back to the ledge, though his mind was racing. He felt a fool, certainly, for letting his emotions get the best of him. But this was a trying time for Caspian, who’d never had to worry about much of anything throughout the whole of his life. He went from adored prince, to runaway exile in a matter of hours. He went from doing as he was told (mostly), to leading an army of creatures he hadn’t even known existed, at least, not with any great certainty. The arrival of his friend had given him some comfort but that comfort had been rather promptly stripped from him. “And what is your card, Drinian?” Caspian asked dully. He didn’t want to sit. He wanted to pace. He wanted to walk out his anxiety so when he was made to face his soldiers once more, he would not look so drawn and weary as he surely must look at present. He didn’t think his day could get any worse than it was now.

Caspian turned his eyes up to study his friend as the bones of his plan were laid forth. It had potential, though in all likelihood it would simply end in the death of both of them, instead of just one or the other. However, if that was the only way to prevent warring between the two of them, Caspian would settle. Besides, to have Drinian fight by his side – even if it was both their first and last fight together – would be some great honour. Especially knowing how little Drinian wanted to fight, or even have anything to do with this war. His guilt returned. Drinian shouldn’t be here, and he shouldn’t be involved in any of this. It wasn’t right, nor was it fair. He frowned. “I would happily have you by my side,” Caspian said, “but you have no interest in wars or bloodshed. If only there was some other way – alas, I can think of nothing.” He would offer to hide Drinian away but of course this offer would be refused. Caspian knew Drinian better than that. He just wished that his friend did not have to fight – something that went sorely against the man that he was – and that his own choices would not have made things so difficult.

Still, there was no looking back now. The battle lines had been drawn, the roles cast. Now all that was left was the impending war for it was bound to start any time now. What would prompt it? What would be the provoking factor? And where was that help they were supposed to get? Maybe after decades of no use, the horn no longer worked. Maybe it only worked for the good Queen Susan. Maybe whatever help that had been sent had been hindered in some way. Whatever the issue was, Caspian had come to the conclusion that he couldn’t rely on it. He had to rely on what he had – and right now, that was sorely lacking.

However, Caspian did feel his mood improve somewhat. Knowing he would not have to fight his friend eased the fear Drinian had cast. “And one day we will go across the sea,” he replied warmly, though his voice was still strained. “Reepicheep – the valiant mouse – wants to sail to the edge of the world, to the utter east. And you, Drinian, will sail us there if you’d care to do so. You can have a ship, a gallant ship, you can have a whole fleet if you’d like it!” If only he could spend hours on end, thinking of the future. But it was a future that might never come, considering the way things were presently turning out. When the battle was won, when Miraz was put in his place... then Caspian could think of the good that could come if he was king.

“No doubt the fighting will start soon,” Caspian said, turning the subject back to the task at hand. “And I am admittedly at a loss.” If only the trees would wake. What a benefit they would be! But he could not count on hopes, he could only count on what he had. He fell silent. “I’m glad you’ve come, Drinian, though of course I wish the situation could have been different. Better. One day it will be.” He would remain positive. “You are the closest thing I have to family; to me you will always be more than friend, but brother also.” He pulled himself to his feet. “Perhaps we ought to part company. Too long here and both our sides – your party, and my soldiers – will get suspicious. They’ve already had enough reason to doubt my judgement.” The issue with Adimon was a sore one, and his illness hadn’t helped. He was doing the best he could, and making the best choices that he could, but he was still learning. He was still figuring all of this out. At the very least, he had been born and raised to lead. It gave him somewhat of an advantage.

“Or was there something else you wished to say?” He was reluctant to part company, for who knew when they might get a moment like this again until the whole thing was over?

[Lord Drinian]

“I would happily have you by my side,” Caspian said, “but you have no interest in wars or bloodshed. If only there was some other way – alas, I can think of nothing.”

Drinian gave a sort of breathless smile at this; that his friend wanted him there he had assumed. That he trusted him enough to fight for him was another honour entirely. "It is the only place I could imagine myself being, sire." He pulled on the end of his jerkin a moment as he thought. "I could never be a warmongerer; battle is a business particularly offensive and a work of evil. And yet there is the paradox of a just war. One must battle evil and Caspian," he said, looking at his friend sincerely, "at camp, I have seen a new side of Miraz. He delights in bloodshed. There will be no peace with Miraz. I fight for peace when I fight with you. We must end his reign." They were the most bold words of Drinian to date and he took a slightly shuddering breath, amazed at the extent his words must take him.

The talk of future ameliorated his alarm, however and he gave a lopsided smile. "A Mouse?" he chuckled. "I will travel with you and whatever companions you surround yourself with these days. As long," he said pointedly, "as I am numbered with them." To himself, Drinian could not help but compare Caspian's offer of a fleet to Miraz's own. He had only three days previous been made captain in a non-existent navy, a motion which was at once meant to mock and pacify him. Drinian had accepted the promotion because he could not do otherwise, but with Caspian, there was real possibility. True honour and adventure.

Yes, it had to be this way. He must be with Caspian and his army.

"I have, you may recall, a good deal of land. And with it, men at my command. I cannot promise that all will follow me to your side -- that will be a choice I leave to them -- but I hope, out of the nine-hundred and forty-nine*," he could not help but recite the number with a smile, "some will follow. They do not want Miraz's army on their land any more than I do." They didn't however, much appreciate the Narnians upon it either and feared that the land, the most outlying of the duchies, would be the first to be awarded the Narnians. Indeed, the duchy had been given to Drinian's great-grandfather by Caspian XIII as a reward for his service in the initial war against the Old Narnians.

"No doubt, you are right. Your army does not care for me," Drinian said, raising his eyebrows and continuing, lest Caspian should feel an ounce of guilt. "They must not care for me, for now. . . we cannot appear to have come to this agreement, highness. I believe my party -- who already mistrust me -- will make separate reports to Miraz and I cannot control what they will say."

"Was there something else you wished to say?"

Drinian could think of many things -- encouragement, regrets, hopes, memories, jokes even. But he smiled and clapped his hand on Caspian's shoulder. "Nothing but to say that it is good to see you, my lord."

*I've taken this number from the traditional regiment. In the American Civil War, regiments covered an area approximate to what I have estimated the duchy of Bernal to be. I rounded down, as Bernal is vastly rural.

[Prince Caspian]

While Caspian was not looking forward to this war, and to the battles that were bound to come, he was looking forward to one thing – having Drinian’s support. It torn at him to know that he and his friend had to be on opposite sides of a war, however, knowing that Drinian would fight with him eased a good many of his concerns. However, this did pose several further complications. When Drinian’s army was coming to him, how could Caspian keep his own from attacking? He trusted Drin with his life, but the Old Narnians certainly didn’t feel that way. True, could all of Drinian’s army be trusted? Things were only going to get more confusing before they cleared up but it was going to be worth it in the long run.

“Yes, I suppose you’re right. It’s best to keep everything quiet, for now. It wouldn’t do to have Miraz suspecting anything.” He knew his uncle could be bloodthirsty, he knew his uncle would do anything to get what he wanted. “Because he will. He’s trusting of no one.” Absolutely no one. In fact, Miraz never even trusted Caspian. “And it has been good to see you, friend. Nothing could have made me happier.” He reconsidered this. “Actually, that isn’t completely true.” Grinning wryly, Caspian playfully shoved Drinian like he used to when they were younger. “Hearing that the war was over could have made me happier, but your visit is a close second.”

He glanced towards the tunnel to the waiting Narnians and sighed. “I guess it’s time to get back then; they’ll be wondering what’s going on.” He set his jaw and ran through possible explanations in his mind. The easiest explanation was that Miraz had requested a surrender, and he had denied it. And if he was asked why the discussions had taken so long? They were trying to reach terms, perhaps, though they both knew it was impossible. Eventually the Narnians would have to know what was discussed but they couldn’t know now. The success of the plan required secrecy, for a little while.

“I hope your accommodations, while you are here, are acceptable. And I hope that you are treated with the respect that a visiting dignitary deserves – especially one I happily call friend.” He gave Drinian a warm smile, then led him towards the gathering of Narnians, though still out of earshot. “I hope your trip back to the camp is an easy one.” Running his fingers through his hair, he chuckled. “I never imagined I would be on such good terms with the enemy.” The situation was stressful, but slightly amusing. “It’ll make this whole war slightly more awkward, don’t you think?” The Narnians were coming into view and he had to lessen the amusement on his face, looking considerably more sombre.