Hello everyone! Appearances to the contrary I have NOT abandoned these fics... I've been working like crazy and just get burnt out at the end of the day. Hopefully this is starting to change.

Anyway, here's the next bits... More coming soon I hope!

Golden Narnia 16: Visit to Telmar

When they entered into the small courtyard, both Avarro and Lord Joncas were there to welcome them.

"I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last, Lady Lily," Lord Joncas said, a wry look on his face at the subterfuge. "I know my nephew here enjoyed his stay in Narnia while I was busy and away."

"Oh! But I am so excited to be here," 'Lily' replied shyly, eyes wide. "I've never been to Telmar, for all that I don't live that far."

"Hello," Avarro said, a little stiffly, blinking at Lucy's altered face. "You're looking well, Lu—Lily. I'm glad you could come."

'Lily' ducked her head, and looked up at Avarro through her lashes. "I am most happy to be invited, Avarro," she said meekly. "Thank you for having me."

Her diffident behavior seemed to unsettle Avarro. "Well–we have a room made ready for you." He said. "Since you're staying the night. Two nights."

"How kind of you," 'Lily' said, and went to grab her bag. When Lord Joncas waved over a servant to take the bag from her, she bit her lip. "Well, Mum told me not to be a bother and not to let staying at a fine old keep go to my head, sir..." she said reluctantly.

"Er—we won't tell your–your mother," Avarro stumbled, and Lucy had to bite her tongue not to hiss a reminder that he had to pretend she was his friend 'Lily' all weekend, as well.

It was at his request she not come as a Queen, after all! But Lily wouldn't dare to correct her host, especially not the day before his big celebration, so she kept her peace as they entered.

The manor stretched tall and brooding upward. The outer walls were plain, unadorned, steep grey walls that seemed to hunch over the small courtyard.

It was a rather cold-seeming place, she thought, as they went up the steps into a cavernous entryway. Narrow windows, thick damp-seeming walls, and unrelentingly grey. Grey stone overhead, and underfoot, and to every side. Quite different to the warm golden bricks of Anvard, nestled on its hill, and about as opposite as a building could get from the shining white towers of the Cair.

Well. If grey stone was all they had to build with here, who was she to judge? The building certainly looked defensible, anyway.

While they paced through the halls to the living quarters, Avarro threw out a vague tour of sorts, gesturing as they passed corridors and doors. "Down there are the kitchens. That hallway leads to Uncle's quarters; these are my rooms." He nodded at one stout door, and then, pointing to the one across the hallway, "And here's where you'll be staying."

The servant carrying her bag stepped quickly in to place it in the room, and Lucy went in after him. "Oh, how nice!" She said. It was a rather nice room; a smallish square, well filled with a tall bed, a chest of drawers, and two hanging lamps. A narrow deep window let a sliver of light come in, and as she stepped forward, her footsteps were muffled with layered carpets underfoot.

All right, so it wasn't the splendor of the Cair, but it wasn't a hovel. And anyway she was here to please Avarro.

So as Willa slipped into the room, Lucy spun, smiling, and put her hand on Avarro's arm. "'Tis lovely. I'm sure shalt I be most comfortable here," and at her words a little of the uncertain stiffness left him.

"You don't really mean that," he said uncertainly.

"Oh, but I do," she said earnestly, trying not to let her irritation show at his sulkiness.

And he would keep glancing at her face as though trying to see through her disguise. If he didn't stop, someone would figure out she looked different than what Avarro expected, and start wondering just why that was.

Thinking of her disguise, she thought she'd better have Willa check over things, just in case.

Doing her best impression of Susan at her most persuasive and wheedling, Lucy smiled up at Avarro.

"Now, if thou'll let Willa and I get settled in, I'll be happy to catch up with you at dinner."

He nodded, but didn't go.

So she moved forward a step, causing Avarro to step back into the hallway. "I'm looking forward to celebrating your birthday with you." Hand on the door now, easing it closed. Pretending she didn't see his expression change. "We have so much to catch up on!"

And before he could prevent it, the door was shut.

"I'll… er… see you at dinner," he called through the door, and Lucy heard him walk slowly away.

Willa, who was already busily shaking out Lucy's dresses, gave her an expressive look.

"I thought you said he'd improved his wildness and bitter outlook while in Narnia?"

Lucy rolled her eyes a little in acknowledgement. "Well, habits are easy to lose if one doesn't keep up on them," she said lightly, and moved to help Willa organize the few outfits she'd need for the rest of the weekend.

A quiet dinner with Joncas and Avarro followed, in which Joncas made much polite conversation with 'Lily," and Avarro mostly stared at her while he ate.

Lucy hoped the rest of the time at Blanchston would be less awkward, and went to sleep early.

When he went to bed, Avarro found he couldn't sleep. He kept staring at the door, unable to quite believe that she was here, just across the hallway.

What if he went over and knocked?

She was finally away from her family, and her responsibilities, and all those interfering busybodies at Cair. Would she talk with him? Would she let him in? Would she–

He couldn't. For one thing, she was tired after the long trip here. But what if he could? What if, what if.

Body burning, he realized he'd never get to sleep in this state, and rose to rifle through a box Gavril had given him on their last night out.

The powder sure to make someone forget a whole night? No. The vial of love potion? That wouldn't help. No… Where was it? The box was half full of all sorts of carefully measured, tiny amounts of potions and powders and things, but surely Gavin had mentioned something…

Ah–there! A tiny red crumbling pill that smelt of cinnamon, but Gavril assured him would make time seem to fly by, if ever he were bored or anxious for time to pass.

And he did want time to pass. He wanted it to be tomorrow night, so he could ask Gavril of advice while Lucy was right here.

Only, he reminded himself, he didn't want to let on that Lucy was her. Gavril had been sniffing about for weeks now, trying to discern the identity of Avarro's 'mystery girl.' But Avarro didn't want to risk Gavril trying to steal her.

Lucy was his. She just hadn't realized it yet.

He threw the pill into his mouth, and swallowed it down.

The next day, Lucy woke early. Despite the hour, Willa was soon there, remaking Lucy's face, adjusting the fit of her day dress, and reminding her of Edmund's advice on assuming a role.

Lucy wondered how she'd fill the hours until Avarro's party that evening; neither Joncas nor Avarro had mentioned any plans the night previous. So she wandered around the keep, wondering if it was ever anything than damp and faintly dreary in this place, then chided herself for thinking ill of her friend's house.

She certainly couldn't go practice any weapons' work. Lily, she felt, would be fairly nervous around weaponry. But what was Lily going to do all day?

Lucy decided that Lily was hungry, and went in search of the kitchens. It was something to do, at least.

She eventually found them, and startled a cook and her helper, who were working diligently at producing an astonishing amount of dishes. They obviously were not expecting a guest at the keep to enter their little domain.

Despite their surprise, they kindly put a tray of breakfast things together for her, and pointedly shooed her back to her room with it.

Well, obviously her presence in the kitchen would hinder their work. She wondered where all the other servants were. Surely, with a large event happening that evening, there should be more of them cooking and cleaning and preparing?

"I've brought us some breakfast," she said, entering her guest room, and Willa looked up with a smile.

"I would have got that for us," she protested mildly.

"It was an excuse to walk around," Lucy returned. "Although I thought it strange to only see two people working in the kitchen the day of a large party."

"Perhaps they are hiring in others tonight?" Willa inquired, peering at the offerings on the tray and selecting a piece of fruit.

"Did you not notice that awful precipice we had to skirt to get here?" Lucy shuddered. "That's a lot of trouble and risk, when you could just have people work in the keep."

Willa shrugged. "I have known people to do far madder things for far less money than may be afforded by the purse of a duke."

"I suppose that's true." Lucy said, and put the matter out of her mind. "So, what are your plans for the day?"

"If such a thing as a solarium exists here, I'll take some needlework for Queen Susan into its good light and get some work done. If there is not, I have simpler mending I can work on well enough here. And you?"

"I suppose I'll keep walking about, until I run into one of our hosts, I suppose." Lucy said. "And give Avarro his present if I can find him. How early do I need to be back to get ready?"

"Oh, midafternoon should suit," Willa said, casting a critical glace at how Lucy's cosmetic disguise was holding up. "You'll want your hair set, and we must arrange your costume for the masquerade this evening, of course. Do you know how long the gathering is to last?"

"No," Lucy said, frowning. "The invitation was rather sparse on specifics."

"I'll come back here to wait for you after dinner, then," she decided, and waved off Lucy's protest. "Especially if it runs late, you'll want to be able to get out of your gown and go to sleep quickly; remember we have a long day of travel tomorrow." She smiled. "Being sociable can be very tiring."

Lucy, who'd more than once spent an entire night dancing, smiled back. "I suppose you're right. Well, Lily's off to wander about. I'll see you back here soon!"

"Don't forget young Avarro's gift," Willa reminded her, and Lucy slipped it into her pocket and went out the door.

When she eventually found Avarro (some considerable time later) Lucy had to wonder if he'd perhaps been oversleeping. He had a rather unkempt look about him, and his eyes were a bit glassy as though he'd recently woken up.

She wasn't sure how to feel about it; at home, if she had a guest, she made sure they were well and content before indulging herself in anything; but then, she reflected, Avarro wasn't exactly the most selfless person she knew. And it was no business of hers how he chose to entertain his guests.

He greeted her normally enough, despite his rough looks. "L-lily! How are you enjoying your stay at Blanchston? Are you excited for the party?"

"Blanchston is very nice," she said. "And of course I'm excited to celebrate your birthday with you. The masquerade sounds like such fun. Did you think of it?"

"A friend suggested it. What is your costume?"

"I can't tell you that! Guessing who is who is half the fun of it." Lucy chided, and changed the subject. "So would you like your present now or later?"

Real surprise came onto his face. "A present?"

"Just a little thing," she assured him, and handed him the slim package. "I thought you might like this."

He opened the wrapping and the box, and blinked in surprise at the beautifully-made carved wooden pen inside.

Edmund had helped Lucy to choose it; it was a genuinely nice piece, but not so expensive that "Lily," the daughter of a mildly prosperous minor Narnian lord, couldn't afford it.

Avarro's face darkened. "I suppose this is a hint about my poor letter-writing?" he said churlishly. "I know you must write three or four letters to my one."

Lucy was shocked. She hadn't considered he might take it as a hint, or an insult.

"Why, not at all! My father said that every young man should have a good tool for writing as he enters his adulthood." All right, Peter had suggested it, but certainly she couldn't mention his name here. "And I thought you'd like it." She added defensively, feeling a little hurt at his accusatory tone.

That tone made his uncertain gaze fly up to her face.

Well, sort of. He seemed to be having real difficulty focusing.

"I'm sorry," he said, hanging his head. "I didn't mean to sound ungrateful, and I think it's my guilt speaking. You are a much better writer than I am."

"Well, practice makes perfect," she answered, forcing the cheer into her voice a little. How had she not foreseen that a pen would be seen as a hint? Stupid, Lucy! "But it's all right if you don't write, or don't have much to say. Not everyone likes writing."

"This is truly a pen to make you like writing," he answered smoothly, and she smiled at that.

"I am glad you think so," she said, and was interrupted by the chiming of the clock tower. Counting the peals, she was surprised at how late it was. "I know we've just met up, but I need to start getting ready for the masquerade tonight," she said, bracing herself for petulance or wheedling.

To her chagrin, Avarro did not disappoint.

"Are you sure you need to go now? Can't you stay with me a while? I've not spent any time with you so far."

Only because you just stared at me during dinner and were sleeping the day away today. "Yes, I am sure. Don't you have to get ready, too?"

"Oh, some time." He said carelessly. "You're certain?"
"Yes," she said clearly, and slid her arm away from his reaching hand. "I'll see you later."

"I'll look for you!" He called.

Lucy was a little ashamed at how grateful she felt at her escape. What kind of friend was she, to enjoy getting away from someone she was friends with?
And, she reminded herself guiltily, her whole purpose in accepting Avarro's invitation to visit was to repair the friendship she had been sadly neglecting.

Was this how Rorin had felt about her?

Rorin. She hadn't thought about him for months–or at least weeks. But if he'd felt like he was relieved to get away from her… if that was really why he'd cut off their friendship…

Well, she wouldn't do her friend so poorly.

Even if he did behave like a pouting child at times.

A glance at the clock in the main hall informed her she'd better get back to Willa's skillful hands if she wanted to get ready in time for the start of the party.

She decided to put aside her introspections and just concentrate on making sure Avarro had a nice celebration. And perhaps enjoy this unique opportunity, too. She was anonymous and unknown and without her siblings around; when ever would she get this chance again?

Several hours later, she adjusted the fit of her mallard mask and took advantage of its depth to all but stare at the pandemonium around her.

Even Joncas had only made what was clearly a token appearance, then had left to his own quarters on the far side of the keep. Lucy wondered if this was how all the gatherings here usually were. It couldn't be more different from a gathering at the Cair if it had been planned this way.

Instead of lanterns brightening the corners, flickering torches and low lamps cast meagre pools of light here and there. Many of the partygoers were lost in the darkness.

The musicians were playing some sort of moody, soporific tunes that were very strange to Lucy's ear; the moaning, sliding notes almost made her uneasy. And she usually loved all sorts of music.

Where half the hall of the Cair would be taken over by joyous, even wild dancing, here the space was broken up by low divans and grouped chairs and couches, and there wasn't much in the way of walking about.

Visitors to Narnia were often startled by the variety of people, from Humans to Talking Animals, to Dryads and Naiads and Centaurs and Fauns. Here, while everyone was human, Lucy wasn't sure they were all even close to Avarro's age, and if he knew all of these people personally, he was a good deal more popular here than she'd thought.

She had seen only a few of them even greet Avarro, who'd been swept away by a knot of young women some time ago. (He'd tried to pull her along, but she'd pretended not to notice.)

Possibly, the copious amounts of strong drinks and (she suspected) other intoxicants had something to do with the number of people here.

No one seemed much interested in talking to one another, and indeed Lucy had been sitting alone here above half an hour.

Several people seemed to have already drunk themselves into unconsciousness. A group halfway across the hall had got into some semi-shouted sniping match, and were now trying to outdo one another in terms of volume while arguing over what seemed to be a sporting event.

Lucy chided herself for snobbery; these were Avarro's friends–surely some of them were, at least–and she had no right to judge them of their circumstances. She didn't have to approve their behavior, but there were plenty of Narnian folk who acted with as little self-control.

A blurt of muffled giggles erupted from the dark corner to which Avarro had been dragged, but Lucy had no wish to go investigate. She drank some more of the strong wine, wishing she could get plain water some how; a headache had crept up on her over the past hour.

How early is too early to leave a party when you don't know anyone, but also cannot go home because you're staying at the host's home? She smiled a little to herself: Barnabas had certainly never asked them to figure that out in Etiquette.

"All alone, little duckling?" A man in what she supposed was a snake costume sat down next to her uninvited, and dumped something into her cup. "Where are you from? Not around here."

"How do you know?"

"Clothes," he said shortly, and grinned under his half mask, revealing pitted teeth. "Our weavers don't do cloth that smooth. Name's Gavril. I'm a good friend of Avarro's. You must be his Narnian friend."

His dark eyes peered at her speculatively, and she suppressed a sudden shiver. "I'm a Narnian friend," she returned cautiously. "I'm Lily. But Avarro has any number of friends. After all, he was staying at Cair Paravel, where there are hundreds of people!"

"He's got a special lady in Narnia, though," Gavril said, leaning close to examine her more closely. "Is it you?"

His strange intensity made her uneasy. "Me? No, I'm nothing special." She said. "My father is a very minor nobleman, and I'd go with him to Cair Paravel sometimes, that's all. I suppose being sort of close in age, Avarro and I tended to end up at the same tourneys and such." She trailed off, reminding herself that Lily was shy and meek and mild, and hadn't been trained in how to converse easily with strangers.

"Tell me about yourself," Gavril demanded, after a moment. His eyes were shrewd and seeking, and Lucy thought that a snake costume might suit him well.

"Me?" She widened her eyes behind her mask. "What's there to say about me?"

She went to take a drink and nearly choked at the bitter brackish liquid. What had he dumped into her cup? She set it aside.

"Oh, who your family is, what you do," he said carelessly, but his eyes were still watching her intently.

"My father is noble, as I said, but he works as a merchant," she recited the false history Edmund had drilled into her.

She offered him a bashful little smile. "I guess that's why my clothes look nice. Um. What do I do? I try and help out in the village with mending and cleaning for the old folks. I take lessons. I like going to the village dances. I…"

She watched his eyes grow impatient, then downright bored as she kept going, and when his mouth twisted a little in irritation she stopped. "…and that's it I guess. What do you do?"

"Me?" He seemed surprised to be asked. "I'm a man who has connections." He said finally. "So if there's anything you want," he leaned closer to her. "I'm the man to ask."

Lucy found herself leaning away from him as he bent toward her, and she was just considering if Lily was more likely to stay where she was or start scooting down the bench, when Avarro returned.

"Lily!" Avarro all but bawled into her ear, stumbling up to the table. He'd been dressed as a peacock, but his elaborate mask had vanished somewhere, and his clothes were disheveled. "Lily. Hey. Hey. That was a really nice pen you gave me. The pen. Pen." He patted at his pockets, frowned, turned around, saw her again. "Lily! I shee you've met my old pal Gabin. Gavin."

"Avarro, my lad, you've been getting ahead of us," Gavin said, a sardonic look on his face.

"It's my birthday," Avarro informed him. He turned to Lucy and let out a laugh. "My birthday, you know. Soo I can have a little drink."

"More than a little one," she said lightly.

"Sure! Of course!" he swayed on his feet a little and frowned at them both. "Gavril, don't try your tricks on Lily, she's a nice girl."

"We know what nice girls are like, Avarro." Gavin said, and his tone made Lucy edgy, though she couldn't fathom his meaning.

"You know, Petunia was a nice girl too," and this time it was clearly a jibe at Avarro, because Avarro made a rude gesture.

"Is Petunia your young lady?" she asked, trying to diffuse the tension, but it didn't work. Gavril brayed like a donkey and Avarro looked vaguely offended.

"No, she's not the same at all." Avarro said, and frowned at Lucy's tinted hair and Lily makeup. "Neither 're you," he sneered.

His tone was nasty, and stung. Lucy reminded herself that drunk people did things they didn't really mean later; and anyway, "Lily" certainly wouldn't confront her friend here in the middle of the hall during his party.

Fortunately, Gavril collected himself after his fit of laughter, stood, and steered Avarro back toward the darkened corner, calling back, "Pleasant to meet you, sweet Lily. Perhaps we'll get to know one another later."

She still felt eyes watching her, even after the pair had left, and her skin crawled.

Well, Avarro was so far gone in his cups, surely he wouldn't notice if she slipped out?

It was what she really wanted to do, anyway, so as soon as she could, she made as though to stretch her legs, and took the first corridor away from the hall that she could find.

While it wasn't the way she'd come down, the keep wasn't so large she couldn't figure it out. Before long, she was climbing some stairs to the correct floor and making her way to her guest room.

Willa was working on her mending when she came in. Her face registered mild surprise at Lucy's relatively early return, but she didn't offer comment. Instead she helped her get out of the costume, clean up and get ready for bed.

She asked how the party had gone. "Well enough, I suppose. But I knew practically no one," Lucy said.

"Ah, Avarro must have been very busy with all of his guests," Willa surmised. "Too busy to introduce you?"

Lucy smiled thinly. "Something like that."

"Well, we've a long ride tomorrow, so a little extra sleep won't harm anything. It did sound like the gathering was a little… raucous."

"They do seem to enjoy their libations a bit more here," Lucy agreed vaguely.

"It takes all sorts," Willa said. "There, your hair is brushed out."

"Thank you, Willa. You'll be all right getting to your room?"

"Certainly. Sleep well, ma'am."

"You as well."

Several hours later, Lucy was startled awake by sounds at the stout door, which Willa had suggested she bar. It sounded like it had been good advice, from the thumping at the door.

Lucy heard muffled voices, and then more clearly, "No, milord. That's the guest room. Yours is over here…" And then the voices faded, and she heard the door across the hallway thump closed.

It wasn't an especially restful night.

Sandon, ever the good servant, sat up and waited for Avarro to make his way upstairs after his party. The hours ticked by; eventually Sandon went looking for him.

He found Avarro fetched up leaning against a pillar, groaning.

Inwardly, Sandon sighed, but he said, "This way, milord. You're nearly at your rooms," and took Avarro's arm to support him. He managed to get nearly there when Avarro lurched away from Sandon, and headed toward the guest room door.

He tried the latch, but the door wouldn't budge. Furiously, he shook it, but the stout door didn't even rattle.

Sandon was glad the young lady had clearly had the sense to bar the door before going to sleep. He didn't like the way Avarro's expression was swiftly turning to one of his rages.

"No, milord. That's the guest room." He said as soothingly as possible, and hauled on Avarro's arm. "Your rooms are over here." He tugged again. "Come, now."

"Avarro," a new voice broke in. Sandon looked at the new speaker. Ah. Avarro's friend Gavril, whom Sandon didn't overly care for, but if would help Sandon get Avarro settled in his own bed, he'd like the man a little better.

"Avarro, stop bothering your guests, come and sit in your room," Gavril coaxed, and wrenched Avarro around.

"Buh?" Avarro blinked blearily.
"Forward," Gavril said, and marched Avarro across the hall.

Sandon scrambled ahead to be sure the bed was turned down, and a basin set out, as Avarro was sure to be sick later.

Gavril shoved the young man unceremoniously onto the bed, where he flopped like a fish, groaning.

Fearing this would set off Avarro's temper, Sandon darted in to un-lace his boots and loosen the ties on his costume, but had only got so far as removing the second boot when Gavril shooed him out.

"I'll take it from here," he said, smiling. Sandon didn't trust that smile, but Avarro had made it clear he trusted his friend, so reluctantly, the servant left.

He went across the hall to listen at the door, in case Avarro's little red-haired friend from Narnia had been frightened by all the commotion, but he didn't hear anything. With another dubious look at Avarro's door, he retreated to the servants' quarters.
He was surprised to see the maid from Narnia at the foot of the stairway, obviously listening, with a concerned expression on her face.

"Is all well?" She asked him. "I thought I heard some noise."

"Just Avarro dragging himself to bed," Sandon said. "Your mistress doesn't seem to have been disturbed."

The tall woman relaxed at that.

"But…" Sandon said, thinking of Avarro's mercurial temper, "It may be no bad thing to leave here early tomorrow. You didn't hear that from me," he added quickly, and hurried on to his own little room.

"Thank you," Willa said, but he was already gone.

"Are you stupid, to try to climb into a guest's bed while your uncle is up the hall?" Gavril said, rifling through Avarro's drawers and ruthlessly pocketing the money carelessly flung about.

Avarro, still facedown on the bed, didn't see. "What'd'y' mean?" He slurred, picking his face up from the duvet.

"Your uncle can ignore your indulgences so long as they happen away from here, or can be explained as mutual," Gavril explained. Not for the first time. "But if you break guesting-laws by entering a locked room… He's King Henrick's wife's brother. He'd have to take action."

And if Avarro got himself disowned, his old pal Gavril would never get his hooks into any of the royal courts.

"I know who my uncle is, you don't have to tell me," and now Avarro sounded sulky.

"I told you to get your friend to slip away with you," Gavril said. "If you'd got her alone, it'd be her word against yours. And who believes a girl?"

"But she wouldn't come with me," Avarro complained. "Anyway it wouldn't be the same. Having her in some dark corner."

"That really isn't the girl you've been pining over?" Gavril was surprised. "Nevermind," Gavril answered his own question, thinking of the mousy girl he'd spoken with. "That boring little girl wouldn't inspire passion from much of anyone." He looked over at Avarro, who'd managed to flop himself onto his back. "Why did you want to get in her room, anyway? She doesn't look like much."

Avarro gave him a look.

Gavril suppressed a snort. As though Avarro were up to doing anything with a girl, as inebriated as he was.

That timid girl wouldn't be worth the trouble. Avarro had no taste in women, Gavril thought, and again wished he knew who the object of Avarro's obsession was. He was sure that if he delivered someone close enough, Avarro would be his willing slave forevermore.

And having the nephew-by-marriage of the Queen indebted to him would open a great many lucrative doors for Gavril.

"I could have kept one of my girls here for you," Gavril said. "Sala just tinted her hair lighter. She would do."

"But I still want her. Not someone who looks like her, her." Avarro complained. "But she won't come with me. I want her to… I want… "

"Then we find a reason she can't refuse," Gavril said impatiently, but Avarro had already passed out.

Gavril left him where he lay, angry at how badly Avarro had botched the whole thing.

All he'd needed to do was get his mystery girl to come to Telmar, and then fashion a way to get her alone for an hour or two.

Preferably somewhere Gavril could offer some… assistance. What was so hard about that?

His coin-filled pockets clinked softly as he headed toward the doors of the keep. At least Avarro was somewhat profitable to Gavril. He'd rather have an 'in' the upper levels of both Telmarine and Narnian society, but Avarro's coin would buy some drink for now. It would have to do.

I know, this wasn't a super thrilling chapter. I have far more interesting things planned. Tourneys, a sea voyage, and some other things :) Leave me a review! Let me know what you think over all, or your take on this chapter specifically.