A. N. One of my favorite things about using true POVs is that it enables me to show a situation from multiple perspectives. It does not mean that I agree with everything in those perspectives.

Oreius

Cair Paravel would fall. No, it will be allowed to fall.

The general looked out at the distant cloud of smoke rising from the west road. Sir Donnel had sent word a few days earlier that the Archenlanders outnumbered him ten to one, and that he was about to surrender Beruna "to the rightful king." The message still rankled. Coward, Oreius thought. Numbers do not win a battle. I should never have knighted that satyr, or allowed him such an important command. What valor on the battlefield had he ever shown? Donnel could have made the Archenlanders pay a heavy price to cross the river, but he did not have the courage or the honor.

Oreius had wanted to march out, to meet the invaders in the open field. For all their might, the Archenlanders have only fought one battle in their lives. We are Narnians, and we could have broken them. He thought of the Battle of Beruna, and a dozen other battles where the armored wedge of centaurs, followed by other loyal Narnians, had broken the enemy lines like a knife cutting through soft butter. There were two hundred trained Narnian soldiers in Cair Paravel, and thousands of Narnians within call who could be armed. He had sent out messages, calling for the people to assemble at Cair Paravel and resist the foreigners. But only an old sergeant bear and a few young fops had shown up, and then the fops had left when they realized how few they were. Do the people have no honor left? No courage in their hearts?

But Oreius believed he knew why the people did not come, though he could never understand it. When the Pevensies called, the people rallied; when it was the council that called, it was ignored. The people do not come, because we are leaderless. The abandonment was a final repudiation of the council. It was time to find a new leader. And it could have been a Narnian leader, if not for that traitor Peridan.

Oreius would never follow an Archenlander. He remembered pleading with Lune for men, back during the Long Winter, when he had ascended to chief of his clan. I humbled myself to ask for help, and he refused to send the lowest of his knights. Only Peridan had answered his plea, and now the Archenlander's lack of honor was laid bare.

Archenland never aided us when we invoked the old alliance, and yet the Pevensies renewed the alliance and saved them from the wrath of Calmoren. And they repay us by seeking to take control of Narnia when we are leaderless. And Peridan…I should have known a peasant would have no honor.

He went back inside. Tumnus was hunched over at the table, his face in his hands. Oreius could not bring himself to feel sorry for the faun. We might still have stopped the invasion, he thought, if Tumnus had one ounce of sinew in his body. After the militia failed to arrive, the Regent had given orders for the army not to resist, and for Cair Paravel to prepare to surrender. "We have no choice," Tumnus had said. "Do you want the blood of two hundred Narnians on your hands?"

And we would still have had our honor. A centaur of the House of Paardmens had never surrendered before. When the White Witch shattered Swanwhite's armies, the centaurs had gone into hiding and survived there for a hundred years, when most Narnians accepted the change in regime. Not one of them surrendered when all seemed lost at Beruna, nor had they yielded to the giants of Ettinsmoor or the Lone Island rebels. But the council had agreed to obey Tumnus, and so he would keep his word and not fight that day. It especially rankled that Peridan would be with the Archen army. The man had broken the trust of the council. Now the rest of the council, honorable Narnians all, were bound by honor to yield to the army of a false king, crowned by a man who had no honor.

Sallowpad flapped his way into the throne room, followed by Argens the Dwarf. "They'll be here within an hour," the raven reported.

"There is still time," Oreius urged. "Give the order, and we shall meet them with honor."

"I already gave you an order," snapped Tumnus. "To meet them with honor and respect."

"Respect." Aye, to meet them in open battle would be to respect them. It would be far more than they deserve for the century in which they abandoned us, and for the treachery by which they now claim the throne.

"At least let us vote to expel Peridan from the council, and declare him a traitor to Narnia," Argens urged.

"Do you want to draw the wrath of the invaders on us?" exclaimed Sallowpad.

Better that than to do nothing. "If the Archenlanders consider the decree of any significance, that would implicitly acknowledge our authority," Oreius pointed out. "But at least let our people know of Peridan's treachery."

Tumnus tapped his hooves on the floor, thinking. "Very well. But nobody would know of it, anyway. We don't have time to send out a proclamation. So it would be entirely pro forma…"

"I vote aye," declared Argens. "As long as it's done."

"And I as well. Sallowpad, are you with us or against us?"

The raven shook his head. "I see no reason for this, besides assuaging our anger."

"Well, the ayes have it. It is the right thing to do." Argens had managed to find some paper, and Tumnus took a sheet and began writing. "Peridan, once a lord of Narnia, is hereby attainted and expelled from the royal council for acting without its approval and authority in inviting Corin, son of Lune, to take the throne of Narnia by force, from the rightful regency for the Pevensies. Signed in the presence and with the approval of General Oreius and Master Argens of the royal council, in Cair Paravel, on the eighth of August of the year 317." He signed and passed it to Oreius and Argens. "Now, who wants to keep it? Our new rulers may see this as treason."

Argens stood on his chair and reached for the paper. "I'll take it. I'm not staying here, anyway. Don't want to be breathing the same air as Archenlanders."

If honor did not require me to stay with my men, I would go with you, Master Argens. At least the dwarf would be free, and not have to bow to the Archen stripling.

"What about you, Master Sallowpad?" the faun asked.

"I'll stay here and serve. I have too many agents watching the Calmorenes and Telmarines to simply leave. They're the real enemy, not the Archenlanders."

"The Calmorenes and the Telmarines do not occupy our territory and threaten our freedom," Oreius declared. And neither do they falsely claim to have honor, as these Archenlanders do.

That ruffled Sallowpad's feathers. He began to say something, but Tumnus raised his hand for silence. "Must we squabble during our last meeting, too?"

"Our last meeting?" Oreius declared in surprise. "You mean to surrender all our authority as well? You plan to dissolve the council?"

Tumnus sighed. "We only held that authority in place of the Pevensies. I'm sure Corin will hold it for them as well, even if he's no true king. He was like a son to them, after all. He'll return it when they return."

"A false son," sneered Argens.

Tumnus still hopes that a Pevensie will return. That is good. The faun was saying something about faith, but Oreius did not hear. What is that smell?

Sallowpad had noticed as well. "Is that pitch I smell? Is someone trying to burn down the palace?"

As if in answer, the doors to the hall swung open and a cheetah guard burst in. "The shipyard master! He's ordered the fleet burned!" she gasped.

"Quick, upstairs." The room above the throne room had an excellent view of the harbor, and Tumnus led them there as quickly as his gouty legs would allow. There was no doubt about the truth of the leopard's words. Flames were shooting up from all seven warships in the harbor, the entirety of Narnia's navy. And the flames were spreading fast; the yardmaster had obviously been thorough. There would be no time to try and put out the fires.

Oreius looked around. Tumnus was leaning heavily on the sill. Argens was breathing hard, and Sallowpad's feathers stood on end. "This is madness," exclaimed the raven. "That's our primary defense against Calmoren! What possessed the yardmaster?"

"He said that he'd never let Narnian ships fall into Archen hands," explained the cheetah. "And said he'd have any worker who refused hung."

"Go, have the townspeople at least that ensure the fires do not spread further," Tumnus managed to gasp out. His breathing was strained, though Oreius could not tell if it was from the exertion or shock. The cheetah bowed and fled down the stairs.

"The only head in a noose will be his, when the Archenlanders catch him," snapped Sallowpad when they were alone.

"Or one of ours," Tumnus pointed out. "Who did we decide would be responsible for the navy?"

The other three councilors looked at each other. "We reached no agreement," Argens said finally. "It's the shipmaster's responsibility, I suppose."

"But they might blame us," Sallowpad pointed out.

Tumnus shook his head. "I suppose as Regent it's my responsibility. The council has been dissolved; if they look higher, the blame will be on me. And I accept that."

"We'll have to get you out of here, then." Sallowpad reached up and grasped Tumnus' hand. "I know secret ways out of the castle, and can get you back west. You'll be of no use here now; there's no point dying. Come." Tumnus still looked in shock, and followed the raven. He was never a warrior, Oreius thought with a bit of disdain.

Oreius slowly walked back down the stairs to the throne room. He hated stairs; he longed to feel grass below his feet again and hear the horns of war. There is no honor in deeds like this, he thought. The yardmaster should have taken the ships out to sea and fought on. But he felt a twinge of envy. Narnians would see the yardmaster as a person who resisted, when the council and army could not. Songs would doubtless be composed and sung of the Defiance of Cair Paravel, and of the hero who burned his ships. If only I could be out there; maybe the people would have rallied against the invaders.

Argens walked down beside him and strode to the council table. But to his surprise, the dwarf only picked up his chair and turned it around to face Oreius before sitting down. "You're planning something," the dwarf said, cocking his head to a side.

"Yes." He hates the Archenlanders as much as I do. "Tumnus made me give my word not to attack the Archenlanders here. But once they've settled, I mean to leave with my army and raise the people against them. I will not swear loyalty to Corin."

"I already knew that," the dwarf scoffed. "You've got something else, too, don't you? Reasons for the people to rebel?"

"One reason. There…"

The dwarf held up a hand. "It's best you don't tell me, in case I'm questioned on the road. But you've only got one, and that's a problem. Wait."

Is he a craven as well? "Wait!" Oreius sputtered. "Surrender my honor by serving a usurper?"

"You will say you serve Corin," explained Argens calmly. "Whether you actually do is quite a different matter. We'll be rid of them in the end, and who cares what path it takes? But as of now, your army would be crushed. Calm, we don't want you suffering a heart attack now. We need the people to be so disgusted at the Archenlanders that they'll actually join us. As of now, that hasn't happened. The shipyard master did us a great service by burning the fleet; it shows that Narnians will resist, and people will think about following his example."

For a moment Oreius wondered if Argens knew more than he admitted about the burning of the shipyard, but decided against it. A true, Narnian member of the royal council would never do such a dishonorable thing.

"But that's not enough," Argens continued. "It's like tea. It has to brew for a time. Let Corin and the Archenlanders alienate the people, and a rebellion actually will have a chance. Who wants a foreign king and a foreign army of occupation? They won't touch you; the submission of our army is too valuable. Just wait and let things brew."

Oreius did not like accepting orders, but it seemed that the dwarf had a plan. "Till when?"

The dwarf smiled. "Till all is ready. I have work to do, but I shall return." He picked up the ledgers. "It'll be like old days."

"We shall fight together, as we fought against the White Witch."

"I'm too stout for that now. But a sharp mind is even more dangerous." Argens bowed and left the room, a ledger tucked under each arm. Oreius did not bother asking for more information. It would be safer for me not to know his secrets, as well. He wondered if he should have told Argens his own secret, but decided it had been right to keep it safe. The time will come. He is right that we must wait, as much as I hate to admit it.

He gave the room a last look. The Archenlanders would hide the four thrones, he was sure. They would seek to veil their treachery against the memory of the Pevensies. But he would always remember.

His son, Sir Malthas, was drawing the army up outside the castle walls. They would not skulk behind stone and wood like cowed wolves with their tails between their legs; they would stand proudly, in perfect formation, with flags flying. But he had ordered the green and red lion standards of the Pevensies to be hidden; the army would never have to haul them down to satisfy the invaders.

To his surprise, the Archen army had stopped outside of town. But it was still in column; it was not forming for battle. "Why have they stopped?" he asked his son. "Do they suspect we would attack them now, like men without honor?"

"Prince Corin and his lords went to the shipyard," Malthas explained. He called him prince, not king. That is good.

But then he felt a pang of realization and anger. "They mean to force us to wait on them," he declared, "As if we were their lapservants."

"I don't think we have much choice," Malthas said mildly.

"No, we don't." Oreius ground his teeth as he took his place at the head of his troops. Where is the honor of old Narnia? Has even my son become soft? Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Sallowpad flapping his way towards him. "Is it done?"

"He'll be safe," the raven answered. He cocked his head at the centaur. "I can do the honors, if you wish."

"It is no honor to surrender. If you wish to do it, I would be thankful." Oreius meant every word. He had been thinking of how he would not have to bow to Corin; now it would be easier to avoid it, and thus avoid any stain to his honor when he renounced the Archen usurper.

Now a solitary rider was going from the town back to the Archen army, and their vanguard was beginning to move forwards. Oreius was not impressed as the long lines of knights came into view. Their armor and weapons were fine, but too fine. He had little doubt that only a few had ever seen battle. One of my men would have been worth five of theirs, and we have their honor a dozen times over. And the man at their head impressed him even less. He remembered Lord Tran from a visit to Anvard, and the man had seemed a shallow, dissolute braggart, without an ounce of noble blood. Now he was riding forwards with all the proud confidence of inexperience. I shall meet you in battle one day, and we shall see who the true knight is.

"I've been sent to accept your fealty to Corin, rightful King of Narnia," Tran said loudly as he rode up to them. "His majesty is indisposed at the moment." This Archen usurper has no regard for Narnian honor, Oreius thought. He sends a subordinate and expects us to bow to him. "Where's the rest of the council?" the Archenlander continued. "There were two others, I think. A little fellow and the Regent."

"The council has been dissolved," Sallowpad explained. "Lord Tumnus is indisposed and has returned home, and Master Argens has resigned his position as Treasurer. I am in charge now."

Oreius suppressed his anger as Lord Tran looked incredulously down from the height of his horse at the raven. "I see," Tran finally grumbled. "Well, do you swear fealty and service to Corin as King of Narnia?" The raven assented. "And you, General Oreius? The king will be glad to have your service, I'm sure. I hear that you centaurs have two stomachs?"

"I shall serve the true king," Oreius declared. He did not bow.

That satisfied Tran, and then he was entering Cair Paravel with his army. Oreius dismissed his men as soon as the Archen army was through. "If Corin wants his lordling to take his place, then we won't wait for him," he told Malthas.

"He's coming now," his son pointed out. A small party was walking towards the castle from the harbor. Oreius recognized Corin. He had to admit the boy was rather handsome. But at the moment he was pale, his hands were bleeding, and he seemed dazed. His brother supported him as he entered the castle without a word, and a gaggle of lords and knights followed him. And they want us to serve that weakling, Oreius scoffed in his mind. But the sight of the last man in the procession drew his attention. "Peridan," he hissed. He wanted nothing more than to throw his glove in the traitor's face, to challenge him to a duel right there. But I cannot die yet. I must tolerate his presence. "Why?" he instead said.

Peridan did not blink. "I did it for the realm," he said. "For Narnia."

"No." Oreius felt like laughing. "You did it for yourself."


Next POV: Peridan

"I have never known ornaments to improve my thinking," noted Peridan dryly. "At any rate, I'm sure you're not here to discuss the latest styles of furniture."