So, according to some clear desires to know Edmund's story, this chapter is purely flashback as well as the next chapter. Hope you guys approve of my answers to your questions.

It was dark - pitch black, to be precise. The company had been walking almost that whole day. They'd passed through some various small towns, but stayed close to the Calormene border. They'd only need to stop to collect some rations for the military caravan.

The conquest was purely a demonstration of power and was to be strictly routine; no detours were allowed and they were, by no means, to attack another group unless they were set upon first. No confrontation was expected. That's why Edmund was startled to hear the first of the shouts.

"We're under attack! Draw your arms!" A voice called; it sounded like Ziddim, but Edmund couldn't be sure. It wasn't until the wolf pushed through the crowds and stood beside him that he knew he heard correctly.

Those who actually had arms drew their weapons, looking about for their seemingly invisible attackers. Edmund could see no sign of any intruders, but remained on his feet, nonetheless; Ziddim was a well trained warrior, and he would not give warning of an intruder unless there really was one.

"Get behind me, Your Majesty." Ziddim ordered. He growled ferociously at the darkness.

"I will not." Edmund defied. He knew that Ziddim was just trying to protect him, but it was Edmund's job to protect his subjects, and he couldn't do that while he was being guarded like a fragile vase in a troll cave, "I will fight with my soldiers."

The wolf have only a slight movement of the head toward Edmund, "As you wish, Sire, but if we are overrun, I must ask that you leave with a group of soldiers. Your life is more valuable than those of all the creatures here, combined."

"My life is only as good as what I make it worth. I won't do much good at all running away, now would I, Captain?" Edmund knew that Ziddim was just being logical, but he couldn't bear the thought of leaving his soldiers to die. No matter, though. It wouldn't come to that. It couldn't.

"Sire, I can't say I agree with your reasoning, but I am not one who can order you around; I can only suggest your best course of action." Edmund admired Ziddim's compliance. He was never afraid to voice his opinion, but was always ready to back down when Edmund challenged it. That sort of obedience is what Narnia needed in her guard.

Ziddim growled even louder this time, indicating that whoever was out there had drawn nearer. Edmund clutched the hilt of his sword more tightly.

Then, he heard it - a slight footfall to his left. Edmund whirled to face the sound, just in time to block a deadly blow aimed at his head. His attacker backed off a moment, giving Edmund a clear view of his large hat and his scimitar, which the man had just used to attack him with.

Calormen

A few shouts to his right caused him to look that way and see one of his soldiers fall to the blade. This was the first time he became aware of the battle raging around him. There must have been fifty Calormen in their section alone. Edmund's company was much larger, but the soldiers at the back wouldn't know there was danger at all, for a few more minutes. Hopefully they could hold out that long.

Edmund was brought back to the battle when the Calormene struck again. He lunged his scimitar at Edmund's middle, but it was easily dodged. The two of them exchanged a few more blows until Edmund found his opening and sunk his sword into the man's abdomen. He cried out and fell to the ground.

The Just King had ended several more lives, before he got a chance to look around him.

"King Edmund!" Ziddim's voice called. It was then that Edmund realized what was happening. The Calormen had separated the company into two groups: the main group and a smaller group of about eight to nine Narnians. Edmund was in the latter group. He'd seen this done many times before, and he knew from experience that he did not want to be in the smaller group.

Edmund fought hard to break through the wall of Calormen, but it seemed almost impenetrable. There were way more Calormen than Narnians in the smaller groups and Edmund's soldiers were getting slaughtered trying to protect him. The number soon dropped from nine to eight, then eight to seven, then seven to six. There was only one option left.

"Ziddim!" He shouted, "Fall back! Regroup and trace back to find us!"

Edmund couldn't see his captain over the sea of men and creatures, but he could tell there was hesitation. Then an answer came, "As you wish, Your Majesty." Ziddim gave a mighty howl, and the Narnian creatures began to fall away from the Calormen, but their attackers did not follow.

Edmund turned to the five Narnians left in his group. They were surrounded by the Calormen and all looked to Edmund for guidance. All he could do was sadly cast his eyes down and raise his hand, dropping his sword to the ground. The clatter of weapons told Edmund that his command had been followed. It wasn't seconds later that his arms were grabbed and pulled behind him. His wrists were forced together and a course rope was secured around them.

No torches were there to light the path they took. No lightness shined on their road, ahead.

PSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSELPSEL

An hour of walking had the group at a small clearing in some dense, dry woods. Surely nothing grew to its full potential in this blistering hot place. Lights in the far off distance told Edmund that they were inside Calormen.

Edmund felt a blade push against his back. Luckily, he had some light armour to somewhat shield him; though Edmund doubted he would be so grateful once they were in the light and his captors recognized his family crest and the markings of the Just King.

It relieved Edmund to see that he was being forced to a darker part of the camp, away from the glowing fire. Edmund was forced into a large cage, along with his soldiers. Once sat down, the Calormene directing him saw fit to cut his bonds. The man left and locked the door, giving Edmund the chance look around him. He was in with a group of people, mostly human, aside from the Narnians (a couple fauns, a minataur, a cheetah and a tiger) captured with him. He could barely look at their sullen, broken faces without matching their expression, so instead, he looked away.

"You... you are Narnians." Whispered a quiet voice. Edmund felt a presence beside him.

The king looked over and was met with another pair of dark eyes, "Yes, we are." He answered, "And you are?"

Edmund studied this new character. His dark hair nearly covered his eyes and he looked to be about Edmund's own age, though he could be a year or so younger. The clothes gave no indication of his heritage, they were but rags, just large enough to cover his skinny form. Edmund had to guess Archlandish or Terebinthian.

"I am from Archland." The boy said. With how pathetic he looked, he sure seemed to hold a lot of spirit. "You're really from Narnia?"

"Yes, I am."

"That's incredible! We never see any Narnians around here, especially not for the reasons you are here, now."

"And why am I here now? Who are these people?" Edmund inquired.

The boy gave him a curious look, "Of course, they are Calormen slave traders."

Oh, no. Slave traders? "And you, what's your name?"

"My name is Zebah. I've been a slave for five years, now. My master decided I was old enough to be sent to a new home, so here I am, searching for a new home." It sickened Edmund that he could say it so matter-of-factly, like it was normal, "What's your name?"

"Edmund." The name slipped without him even thinking. This was not good. The last Edmund wanted was for his identity to be discovered.

"Narnia has a king named Edmund, do they not? King Edmund the Just. We all have heard of him. He is forgiven by Aslan." Edmund had to hand it to Zebah; he certainly knew his history.

"Yes." Edmund began to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt.

"It must be quite an honor to have his name. It must mean a lot."

"It only means what I make it mean - what Aslan makes it mean. I've done nothing important." Edmund supposed that Zebah would know his identity, come the morning. Trying to hide it now would be pointless. He downcast his eyes.

"That can't surely be true. All of us do something important in our lives. I am a slave and even I've done something important."

"What did you do?"

Zebah took a moment to answer. Edmund could picture the smile he surely had on his face, "I lived free, once. That was important. If I never do anything else, I'll at least have that. It is my dream to one day be free again. I believe it will happen. I believe Aslan will help me."

Edmund felt suddenly guilty. This boy was as old as he was, yet he had littler than nothing to call his own. His life had been stolen from him, yet he still remained happy. He looked at all the good he had, even if there was so little to find.

"Your armor," Zebah inspected the intricate design, "It's different from the others. What do these markings mean?"

Edmund hesitated a moment. Should he really tell the boy? He couldn't see the harm. Perhaps it would help give Zebah some joy, real joy, to meet a king of Narnia.; after all, the boy seemed very fixed on Narnia, "It means... that I'm a king."