Author's Note: Again, I apologize for the extremely slow update. College isn't nice to writing. Summer vacations are. :D
Ayden's rallying cry in the last chapter, "Liberty or Death," is, for those who didn't recognize it, taken from one of the flags of the Texas Revolution. Trekkie moment! Bonus points to anyone who recognizes the (slightly modified) line from Star Trek: First Contact that I used in the last chapter. Be on the look out for the Star Trek reference in this chapter (if someone gets it I'll try really extra hard to update faster!). Hint: TNG. Fierce, this one's for you! Happy Graduation!
Chapter the Twelfth: The Matter of Politics
13 Quickening 2075 Anvard, Archenland.
"They sold their lives dearly, and bought our liberty with their blood. Let us never forget these valiant knights. May they find peace in Aslan's Country." King Lorn's voice resounded in the cool evening air.
A soft breeze blew through the trees around the little meadow behind Anvard, rustling the aspen leaves to produce a shimmering cascade of sound around those who stood on the soft grass. The setting sun painted the sky with soft shades of rose, violet, and gold as mourners gathered around twenty-two new graves. As King Lorn finished speaking, the crowd began to disperse.
Galen stood near an oak tree, and before turning back to Anvard, he found himself staring to the northern sky. Mount Pire's sister spires soared towards heaven's darkening curtain, and he felt it strange to see its southern slopes rather than the familiar northern ones. So much had happened in such a little time, and Galen had not had the opportunity to ponder. Home seemed so distant now, hidden behind those two peaks.
"Does aught trouble you, Sir Galen?"
Galen turned to see Lyra standing beside him.
"No, my lady."
"Nay, my good sir, that melancholy sigh did not come of contentment," Lyra countered.
The Narnian looked down a moment, then back towards the mountains. "My heart yearns for the forests of home. I never realized how much I loved those woods till now, now that I no longer have them. Telmar's tyranny notwithstanding, Narnia is my home," Galen replied quietly, and Lyra nodded in acknowledgement.
"Sometimes I would climb my favorite tree, a particularly monstrous oak, and at the very top I felt like I could reach out and touch the sky," he continued wistfully.
"Well, Archenland may not be home for you, but I know a place that you might find to your liking," Lyra answered after a moment, and Galen smiled a little.
"Come on then, follow me," said Lyra, starting towards the forest.
Galen and Lyra entered the woods and began to walk away from the little meadow north of Anvard. The terrain began to slope uphill, and large moss-covered rocks laid beside the tall trees. Lyra led Galen across the side of the hill and to a place where a stream ran down a small rock cleft that stood about seven feet tall. Here Lyra hopped over the water and deftly climbed up the rocks beside the little waterfall where worn footholds evinced years of use. Galen followed, and reaching the top he found himself in a glen where a group of trees encircled a deep pool. A much larger waterfall cascaded down into the pool, which was clear enough to see the smooth-surfaced bottom far below. Above the waterfall he could see the slopes of Mount Argyros rising to meet the stars who had begun to herald Night's arrival.
"This, Sir Galen, is Glen Síocháin, my place of solitude and respite. It is the only place I am truly content."
"Aye, 'tis no mystery as to why. A lovelier place I would be hard pressed to find," Galen replied, joining Lyra on the grassy carpet beneath a willow tree, whose long locks of leaves trailed into the water. A moment passed where the only sound was that of the falling water as each sat occupied with their own thoughts.
"I have never seen Anvard laid siege," Lyra remarked quietly as she stared pensively into the blue water. "Battles have I endured aplenty, but this….this I fear I did not weather well at all."
"Nay, you do yourself a disservice, my lady. I count myself fortunate to have had you and your sword at my back through that battle."
"A sentiment I reciprocate, Sir Galen, although you give me more credit than I am due. Ayden says my zeal oft translates to hasty anger and general pugnacity.
"Ah, but general pugnacity is not the worst weakness to have, and for lack of zeal has a army been routed. My fears are much less rational. For one, I cannot stand open fields," Galen began, and Lyra chuckled.
"In truth! They make me feel that a foe will pop up at any moment. I did not think I would feel thusly in Archenland, but the day that you and Ayden showed me the fields around Anvard I found myself clutching my sword hilt the entire time. Silly, really," he continued, shaking his head.
"Perhaps, perhaps not," Lyra replied with a smile. "Here 'tis the sands that house trouble more than aught else."
"Calormenes," Lyra continued, speaking as though tasting something bitter, "They make our politicians look the apex of courtesy and goodness."
"Since I have met neither politician nor Calormene, I know not the difference," Galen replied, and Lyra laughed.
"Oh, you will meet our politicians when Parliament convenes next week. Such pomp and folly. If only my great-great-great-great grandfather King Lore had the good sense to rule wisely instead of oppressing the whole of Archenland until the court revolted, we would not have to mess with the ever-quarreling chamber of nonsense that is Parliament. You will see what I mean. Just wait till they hear (if they have not already) that you have brought the Stone Knife. I pity you, Sir Galen, for they will not give you a moment's peace."
"They sound dreadful enough. What of Calormenes?"
"Calormenes are a lot to be glad that you have never encountered. They are always overly dressed up and ever eager to display their wealth and status. Never does a moment go by without one of them quoting some sort of platitude, and they have the most repressive, backwards ideas about women. Last time the ambassador visited Archenland he had the audacity to inquire if my sword was a new fashion accouterment in imitation of some famed warrior's blade!" Lyra continued, and Galen could not help laughing.
"What an awful lot they sound indeed," Galen chuckled, "I would have liked to have seen your answer to that foolhardy ambassador."
"Yes, well...I drew my supposed fashion statement and asked him in a not particularly polite manner that I would be happy to demonstrate the real purpose of my quite real Archen broadsword to him. I do not think I helped to remedy the Calormene view of the northern lands: he ran off muttering something about barbarians," Lyra answered wryly, and Galen nearly fell into the pool for laughter.
"I daresay I have not heard a funnier thing in a dozen fortnights! Although, I do remember something that happened years ago that became something of a comical mess. I had three good friends-a mouseling named Peep who had the most mischievous mind and courageous heart, a fawn* named Adeline who was always very curious, and Garbhan, a satyr from whom we routinely had to hide Mother's cookies. One evening we all decided to put on our heavy winter cloaks to try to scare the grumpiest old owl anyone ever met into thinking his tree was haunted. We carried shaded lanterns and made fools of ourselves carrying on with all sorts of noises. Well, the old owl did not care much for the prank-every one of his feathers stood on end until he quite resembled a pincushion-but it ended up with the unintended consequence of frightening the wits out of a Telmarine patrol that just happened to be passing by at the same time. From then on we made sure to haunt the woods ever so often, and even today the Telmarines fear the forest ghosts and will usually not set foot within a bow-shot of the tree line."
"Now that is a tale worth telling!" Lyra exclaimed, laughing. "Oh!" she exclaimed, looking up at the rising moon, "We have probably missed dinner! Come on!"
Lyra stood up and quickly climbed down the rocks and began threading her way through the thick trees. Galen followed, and soon the towers of Anvard were in sight. As they reached the edge of the woods, Lyra paused a moment.
"Sir Galen, if our Parliament members pester you too much (as they are wont to do), know that you are always welcome in my little glen."
"Thank you, my lady. If they are as you have described, I may well have need of it,"
Galen replied, smiling.
20 Quickening 2075
The week had passed quickly for Galen in the flurry of activity of the sort that comes after seiges. The damage Anvard sustained was now nearly repaired, and no one would have suspected the buildings of the village nearby to have been aflame the week before.
This morning Galen watched the dawn from the north east turret. Mt. Argyros towered above him, and the green forest spread out below him, gradually lightening as the sun rose from the sliver of sea Galen could make out on the horizon.
"Is this it, then?" Galen asked himself as the wind rustled the tree tops below. "Is this the safe place to which I have brought the Knife?" He wondered. "What do I do now?"
The Narnian knight slowly drew his sword, the stone-sword, from its scabbard and ran a finger over the letters etched on the flat.
"Aslan, help me. Whatever path thou wouldst have me trod, please plant my feet upon it, for I know not what to do."
Galen continued to watch the sky as its rosy hues danced before the coming dawn, still wondering in the silence that answered him. As he stood there, the wind blew around him, soft and sweet, inexplicably reassuring. Galen lifted his gaze to the horizon and took a deep breath before returning his sword to its scabbard and turning into a turret stairwell. Today would carry its own share of troubles, and tomorrow's could stand to wait.
"Good morn, Sir Galen!" A cheerful salutation echoed in the stone corridor.
"A good morn to you too, Princess Lyra, Prince Ayden," Galen returned.
"Today is the day, good sir. I do hope our Parliamentarians behave themselves for you."
"Come now, dear sister," Ayden interjected. "They are not as bad as all that."
"Oh, no? Pray tell, brother, what has affected your memory so?" Lyra retorted lightheartedly. "Our buffoons shall be arriving later today, and Anvard consequently deteriorate into a first rate circus."
Ayden and Galen could not help but laugh, and the threesome made a beeline for the breakfast laid out on the terrace.
"What does the arrival of Parliament entail, my lady?" Galen inquired as they ate.
"Too much pomp and perfume," Lyra replied, laughter sparkling in her eyes. Ayden rolled his eyes, and Galen grinned. "The arrival and subsequent convening of Parliament involves the Royal Court welcoming the members as they arrive. Tomorrow morning father will formally open Parliament in the traditional ceremony, and tomorrow evening a grand ball will be held to celebrate the dubiously auspicious occasion."
"It sounds very complicated. What does Parliament do exactly?"
"Parliament was introduced as a means to keep royal power in check and bring the concerns of all of Archenland's people into consideration. Overall, Parliament does not really have all that much power. They make proposals, discuss treaties, and approve non-emergency expenditures."
"Not to mention quarreling a good deal," Ayden interjected this time.
"What ought I do in all of this?" Galen inquired.
"Father would like you to meet the Parliament members, and no doubt they will be anxious to meet you. You do not have to come to the ball or the opening ceremony, but you would be welcome," Ayden answered.
"I fear that life in the forests did not prepare me for the refined goings-on of a royal court, but I shall try my best," Galen replied.
"I think you shall do fine, Sir Galen, so long as you remain yourself," Lyra replied.
Clarions pierced the afternoon air, announcing the approach of the Parliamentary convoys. The court of Anvard assembled in the courtyard to receive them. Galen stood on the parapet watching a column of horses coalesce from all different directions. The first horsemen approached the gate, and Galen descended to join the court below.
Two mounted heralds entered the courtyard bearing purple banners with silver quatrefoils. Two carriages and a full baggage cart followed. The first carriage stopped in front of the king and queen, and the purple-attired man, woman, and a girl of approximately sixteen disembarked. The three bowed to the royal family.
"Welcome, Lord and Lady Porphyra, Lady Paulette to Anvard," King Lorn greeted as the accompanying carriages continued toward the postern door where pages awaited the baggage.
"Thank you, your majesty," Lord Porphyra returned.
"My lord and ladies, I would like to introduce you to Archenland's newest friend: Sir Galen of Narnia, of the Order of the Lion's Redemption." Queen Layla introduced, motioning towards Galen. The family Porphyra bowed, and Galen bowed in return.
"A pleasure to meet you, my lord and ladies," Galen addressed.
"Oh, the pleasure is ours, Sir Galen," Lady Paulette replied, "We have heard so much about you."
Much to Galen's relief, another bright clarion call cut the lady off as the next Parliament member arrived. The next entourage entered much the same as the first, and this process continued until the sky began to darken with the dusk. Galen was exceedingly glad to finally finish bowing for the day, and retired to his room for a long-awaited bit of peace and quiet.
Galen did not enjoy that peace and quiet for long before a knock sounded at his door. Galen opened it to find Lyra waiting at the door with a package.
"Good evening, my lady. What brings you here?"
"Good evening, Sir Galen. I have brought you a gift from my mother. She also extends her warmest invitations to the banquet this evening."
"Thank you, my lady, your mother is very kind. I….a banquet?"
"Verily, good sir. I have never seen a parliament yet that did not insist upon a good banquet to begin their session," Lyra replied, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "Here," she handed him the package, "these are for you. I believe you shall indeed have need of them."
Galen opened the package to find a soft velvet tunic of royal blue, embroidered with the silver rampant lion of his knightly order, and a pair of silken breeches.
"The banquet should begin in an hour or so, and I must prepare as well," Lyra began. "I shall see you in a little while."
"Thank you, my lady," Galen answered, closing the door after her. He examined the queen's gift. It was certainly better than any clothes he had ever owned, and the heraldic device was perfect, but the Narnian was ill at ease. The life of an Archen courtier was a life to which he was ill suited, he thought. Leaving the clothes on the dresser, Galen gazed out the window to the forest outside. The snowcapped mountains seemed to beckon to him, and he could not help but long for his old oak tree and the Narnian hills.
"Such is the price of a promise," Galen sighed.
After nearly an hour's worth of musings, Galen donned the fine new clothes along with his boots and silver-pommeled new sword (these politicians were a bunch of which it seemed prudent to be wary), and started walking to the great hall. Along the way he met Lyra and Ayden, who wore matching green velvet attire embroidered with the golden Archen gryphon. The threesome descended the great staircase and joined the crowd of milling about the banquet hall. Galen stood out of the way, observing the hundreds of people making small talk. Inside his mind, he was nervous with a nervousness different than any apprehension than he had yet experienced. The life of a royal court was a new phenomenon to him, and as yet he knew not what to make of it.
"Sir Galen, are you alright?"
"Oh. Yes, my lady," Galen answered Lyra. "I am just not so sure I know what to do, where to go, and how to behave in the midst of this...whatever it is."
"Oh," Lyra chuckled. "I understand. Father will call us to eat soon, and you will not have to worry about it so much."
Galen was somewhat encouraged, until he noticed the pair of brightly clad girls standing together, alternatively whispering and glancing at him. When Galen met their gaze they turned away, chattering. Puzzled, Galen moved away to stay close to Lyra and Ayden.
None too soon for Galen, King Lorn called the guests to take their seats.
Once seated, Galen looked down the long banquet table. One hundred members of parliament, their families, and the many Anvard courtiers sat along its length. Almost as many servants approached the table with great trays and platters of food, and piled it high upon the stout oaken table, which was covered with a fine ivory linen tablecloth. The plates were a fine porcelain, and the goblets of sparkling glass encrusted with jewels. King Lorn officially began the banquet, and then everyone piled his plate with everything he wanted.
Galen sat next to Lyra and across from Ayden, who was sitting beside a younger lady in pale rose attire. The hall filled with the dull roar of conversation and the soft strains of a harp and flute.
"Sir Galen," the lady in rose addressed, "are the rumors true?"
"Of what rumors do you speak, my lady?"
"Everyone speaks of the Stone Knife. Have you not brought it here?"
"That is correct, my lady."
"Oh! How amazing! I could not believe it when I heard. Those from which I heard it did not tell me that the Knife was brought by so young a knight, however."
"I see," Galen replied tersely.
"Well, that is not a bad thing at all. I, in fact, thought it a pleasant surprise."
"Oh. Thank you." Galen replied halfheartedly, a cold knot of dread settling in his stomach and his face turning beet red.
Tonight would prove to be a long night, he feared.
AN: Thanks for reading! Please review! Happy Independence Day! *cue fireworks*
*Adeline is a fawn as in young deer, not faun as in Mr. Tumnus.