PREVIOUSLY IN IMAGES...
CAIR PARAVEL, NARNIA
17 OCTOBER 1015...
"Juma, there are some things a King has to do to protect his country," said Peter. "I don't expect you to understand it now, but when the treaty goes into effect, you will thank us."
The leopard kept giving him a look of disgust. "The man has no clothes."
"What did you say to me?"
"You heard me. I always saw Your Highness as something more. But this alliance with the Tareshans has shown me what you really are: a schoolboy, a silly child, squandering his possessions on wicked boys who have no right to be called his friends. If this is what you insist on, then I will have no part of it. This is no longer my country...and you are no longer my king."
"Juma, look here—"
"You will receive my letter of resignation in the morning." The leopard began to turn away, but without warning he stopped and lifted his head over his shoulder. "Enjoy your high and lonely destiny...Peter."
AND NOW, ON WITH TODAY'S INSTALLMENT OF IMAGES...
Prompt #27: Write a Narnian coffee shop AU.
† White Stag †
BERUNA, NARNIA
18 OCTOBER 1015...
The wooden door swung open and knocked a bell about to announce the arrival of a new customer. The whole café turned to him at once, watching the leopard weave through the tables. All the patrons decided instantly to forgo giving him a good morning; by the look on the leopard's face and the way he hung his head, he was in no mood for pleasantries.
A wolf stood behind the bar, a black apron pinned with a white tag that read "EOIN." He was drying a mug absentmindedly, waiting for the coffee in the red presses to stop brewing, and he offered his obligatory dull "Welcome to White Stag Coffee Company. How may I be—" He lifted his head and got a look at Juma, and he went even duller. "Usual?"
"Strongest blend you have."
"So we're feelin' adventurous?"
"No, we're feeling narky."
The wolf nodded. "Cream?"
"No."
"Sugar?"
"Why start now?"
"Caramel?"
"I didn't come here for a headache."
"Right, then. One Lion's Blend—as black and borin' as you."
Juma loped onto the bar stool and smiled at Eoin. "No tip for you."
The wolf smirked back and started to pour coffee out of the press.
"Exactly what is this Lion's Blend?"
The wolf sighed, and his voice went even duller. " 'Like the King of the Wood: Not safe but good.' "
"Well, I'll be the judge of that."
The wolf cocked his head. "The coffee or the Lion?"
"Yes."
"Heh, heh...fancy hearing yer judgments of 'im." He laid a piping mug on the bar and slid it into Juma's paw. "Meanwhile, judge this."
The leopard took in a breath and stared at the swirling steam. The taste of caramel and berries and earthiness was already making his heart skip, and he swore he could see Aslan's face in the undulating froth. He started to push it away and ask for his usual, but life wasn't anything without risk. (Anyway, he needed all the caffeine he could get.)
He took the mug in paw and lifted it to his lips, and he let a small taste land on his tongue.
It was like a punch to the face. Hints of berries and apples with a wisp of caramel aroma, all overpowered by the earthy essence of soil. The swallow was like gagging on overly strong tea; his mouth and throat burned, and his stomach rumbled in protest.
"Oi," said the leopard with a hiccough. "What is this concoction?"
"You wanted it strong."
"Yes, but I didn't want it deadly."
Eoin sighed. "I'll still expect a tip."
"And I'll have a word with your manager on the back of it."
"How lovely," said the wolf dully.
With a chuckle, the leopard pushed the mug away and glanced about the café. "Where is Whitehorn?"
"I told you before: We're not getting the Sons of Earth Blend in 'til next year."
"Great. So I give up dirt that tastes like coffee, and I get coffee that tastes like dirt."
"Acquired taste. Ya get used to it."
"What about Whitehorn?"
"Off on business."
"What business? All he does is drive everyone batty with deferred wishes...not to mention deadly coffee."
The wolf shrugged. "Business. That's all he said."
Juma rolled his eyes, and under immense protest he lifted the mug to his face. The second sip went down more easily, but it was followed by a shudder. "By God...if there's anything more difficult than tracking down your manager, it's getting a strong blend worth the name." He tried another sip, and a cough immediately followed.
"Juma, I know why you resigned."
The leopard gave him a glare. How does he know anything? We only found out about the treaty two weeks ago.
"Philip told me what's goin' on. I don't like it, either, but the treaty's gettin' signed, and there's nothin' we can do."
Juma sighed. "It's not just the treaty, friend. It's them. They're so used to their power and majesty, they think they're above everyone. Did you hear about the Beavers? Their house burnt down, and all Edmund did was berate them. Then there was that incident with Erizad. These people are still reeling from the outbreak of the Red Death; if anyone should have been there to help, it should have been Narnia. Instead, Lucy goaded her sister and brothers into writing up a worthless treaty, and they all had the audacity to present it to Erizad. (Fortunately, they had the sense to tear it up.) Then Peter and Edmund get engaged to the daughters of a Duke without Aslan's blessing. And now they're going to sign an accord with murderers and liars, despite Aslan telling them to end it. For the last six months, they've been acting as if they're above the Lion. Our Kings and Queens are traitors—not just to Narnia, but to Aslan. If you were in my position, would you have kept your post?"
The wolf gave him a look of imbecility. "In a heartbeat."
"What?"
"Being a courtier to the Kings and Queens? Waking up in a castle, living in luxury? It's either that or standin' behind a bar and waitin' on cantankerous old codgers like yerself."
"I never took the job for the luxury, Eoin. I took the job because they wanted my help."
"And now that you've resigned, what's going to change? Nothin'. Your absence won't stop the Kings and Queens from being buffoons, and it certainly won't stop the treaty from being signed. Aslan will honor their choices, and we will have to wait for him to put them right."
The wolf's words made Juma pause. "Aslan will honor their choices..." That means he's going to let them go through with it, without interference. Well, if they can get away with it, why can't we? If I do something that can turn the regime on its head, what will Aslan do? Nothing. He will have to honor my choice, just as he honored theirs.
"Juma, what are ya thinkin'?"
The leopard didn't answer. He kept pondering the idea, and his smirk turned into a full smile.
"That brew's goin' to yer head," said the wolf. "I'm getting yer usual."
"It's not the coffee. By God, I'm finally starting to see things right. Aslan is just like that wretched blend: tolerance is obtained through repeated exposure. Well, I'm not tolerating it."
"Juma, I don't like this. Ya need to have a talk with Aslan—"
"Sod all that," said Juma as he turned to the coffee. "I'll tolerate it...once."
He took the mug in paw and downed it in three huge gulps, then laid it down with a CLACK. With a toss of three bills, the leopard loped off the bar stool and padded to the exit.
"I'll see you anon," he said over his shoulder. And he went up on hind legs and pushed the door open.
"You'd better," muttered the wolf as the door closed with a jangle. "You're two bills short."