A/N: Hey everyone! I am SO grateful to those of you who have reviewed this fic so far! (and those who have actually read up to here...;D) I know these chapters with Edmund and Corin are fun-but-getting-kinda-old, but I have just this one more and then we introduce a new character and more things start happening. :D Don't you love when that happens? Again, thanks to those who have reviewed, and please, PLEASE keep it up! Reviews are like air and water to a starving writer (fanfiction or otherwise!!!).

--Chapter 5: The Armory Incident--

Prince Eric, Princess Iliea, Corin, and I reached the armory without incident. At the sight of the shining armor and weaponry, Corin began asking a list of endless questions. Needless to say, I wasn't surprised. Lucy had been exactly the same way when she was seven. It was still annoying.

"What's that?" he asked excitedly, pointing at an object that stood with its back to the wall.

I sighed for what must've been the thirtieth time that morning as I glanced over at the object.

"A suit of armor," I replied, a bit shortly. "Come on."

Corin stared at the suit in wonder, and then reluctantly turned to follow me again.

"What was it used for?" he asked as he struggled to keep up with me.

I growled under his breath, but shot only the slightest glance of frustration Corin's way.

When I finish with this, Susan and Peter are going to pay.

"Knights wear it in battles to ward off arrows and swords."

"How did they put it on?" Corin asked, glancing at another suit of armor against the wall. "It looks like it's all stuck together!"

"It's not," I replied, just managing to keeping my anger in check thanks to the presence of the Galmians. "It comes apart quite easily."

"But—"

"Stop asking so many questions!" I fairly shouted at him, loosing it completely, and then turning away in irritation at the boy and disgust with myself.

The next question died on the prince's lips as I strode toward a man who sat in a curiously carved wooden chair, polishing an axe.

"Quintus!" I greeted, bowing when I reached the man. "How fares the Master of Arms on this fine day?"

The man, tall and lean with short grey hair, stood and bowed in return. Quintus, the Head Armeror in Cair Paravel, was a quiet man with a sharp nose and quick blue eyes that didn't miss much. He had been one of the first men to come to live in the castle after our coronation. So far, I had no complaints against the man. He was a master with the sword, and had a quick wit, and a dry sense of humor to match it.

"The day is fine in my eyes, King Edmund," Quintus replied, smiling dryly, "for there is no serious work to be done."

I groaned and shook my head.

"Really, Quintus. I know you well enough by now to know that you do not shirk from work."

"This may be true, Sire," the old man replied, "but days of rest are just as nice as those spent busily."

I grinned again and nodded, turning back to Prince Eric, and Princess Iliea, ever blushing.

Is it really a blush, or just a bad sunburn?

"Quintus, this is Princess Iliea and Prince Eric, the daughter and son of the King of Galma."

Quintus bowed low, bringing Iliea's hand to his lips with a smooth gesture and a smile.

"It is a pleasure to have such a beauty as you, milady, in such an ugly place as this."

Lion's mane, she's blushing again.

"You are too kind, Master of Arms."

Then Quintus turned to Eric. He looked him over with a critical eye, taking in every detail.

"But thou, lad…thou lacks something…"

As Eric's eyes lost some of their enthusiasm, I hastily came to the rescue.

"He lacks a sword, Quintus."

Quintus nodded eagerly.

"Aye. That he does."

"I'm to have a Narnian sword?" Eric asked in surprise, his emotionless expression relaxing to show that he was excited.

"Why not?" Quintus said with a shrug. "If thou art training to be a knight, than thou will need a good Narnian sword."

He turned to the wall behind him, which was practically covered with all sorts of weapons.

"Take your pick," the old man said with a smile.

"What about this one?" I asked, holding up a long, slender sword with a ruby in the hilt.

Eric shook his head.

"I'm sorry, King Edmund," he said with a sigh, "but it's not quite right."

I nodded wearily and put the sword back on the shelf. When Eric had said that he was looking for the perfect sword, I hadn't guessed that he would be so picky. Seventeen swords had made it through his hands and not one had he given even a second glance. Suddenly, the monotonous task was brought to a quick end.

CRASH!

The sound shook the hall. Princess Iliea screamed, and Eric and Quintus jumped at the loud noise. I, however, with sinking heart, knew exactly what the sound was.

"Corin!" I shouted angrily, glancing quickly around the hall to locate the source of the noise.

Within seconds, my eyes found the suit of armor, which had previously stood proudly in the hall, and was now facedown on the hard, stone floor. Quickly, I ran over to the fallen armor. Grabbing the connected metal pieces, I hoisted them back up with a grunt. Corin rolled out from under them, and I dropped the heavy suit again.

"What were you doing?" I asked angrily, breathing hard. "Don't you know it's dangerous to play with things you don't know about?"

I glanced at the suit of armor, and my heart skipped a beat at the sight of the large, heavy mace axe that the suit held in its gauntlets.

"You could've been killed!" I thundered.

Corin glared at me. He was holding his left arm tightly against his body, I noticed with growing concern.

"I didn't mean to pull it down on me," Corin shouted angrily. "You told me they came apart!"

With great effort, I forced my anger to subside and knelt beside Corin.

"What's wrong with your arm?"

Corin grimaced and held it out.

"It hit the ground funny when I fell. I…I think it's broken."

I felt and poked along the arm as gently as I could. When I reached the middle of the lower arm, Corin let out a hiss of pain.

"Is this where it hurts?" I asked, touching the place again.

"Yes!" Corin yelped. "Stop!"

I glanced behind me, and noticed Quintus, Eric, and Iliea, all standing over us and watching quietly.

"Do you have any bandages?" I asked quickly.

"Of course, Sire," the Master of Arms replied, turning immediately to retrieve the said object.

With a sigh, I got to my feet, gazing down at Corin with a scowl as my concern drifted back toward anger.

"Bother it all, Corin! Why can't you keep out of trouble for just a few minutes?"

Quintus hurried back with the bandages, and I knelt by Corin again. Eric and Iliea watched in silence.

"I'm not sure I understand what happened," Quintus said, watching me as I unrolled bandages and put them under Corin's arm.

"This, Master Quintus," I said with a quick glare at the boy, "is Prince Corin of Archenland."

I stood up and walked to the wall, ranting and raving all the way.

"If there's any scrape to be got into, in he will get, and come out of it hurt the worst he possibly can. Little…" I searched for the appropriate word to describe Corin. "Little miscreant! It's just the way he is…terrible nuisance isn't it?"

I found what I was looking for, and came back, carrying a thin piece as wood, about as long as Corin's forearm.

"Maybe if we threw him in the dungeon that would keep him out of trouble. But then," I continued angrily, letting out a sigh, "he would just happen to throw a rock at the one weak point in dungeon wall and accidentally bring the entire castle crashing to the ground."

I put the stick on top of the bandages and grabbed Corin's arm, above the broken part with one hand, and below with the other.

"Hold still…this is going to hurt," I muttered, wondering briefly how King Lune would react to the news that his son had broken his arm.

Iliea let out a little wail and turned away.

"I can't bear to watch!"

Corin rolled his eyes at her, but then set his teeth and stared straight ahead.

"Go on, then. I'm ready."

That's what you think, I thought, for the first time feeling the slightest twinge of pity for Corin.

With a quick jerk, I twisted Corin's bone back into place.

Instead of screaming at the pain, like I had thought he would, Corin clenched his teeth and took the pain like a man, a low moan the only sound escaping his lips; I knew from personal experiences that his head was swimming with the pain, and his arm was in agony. The boy's eyes filled with tears.

My stomach turned, as it always did when I had to set a broken bone. Years of healing people on the battlefield should've prepared me better, but it never got any easier. That was the usual way of things on the field of battle: I would set the broken bones, and then Lucy would heal them with her cordial. We had learned early on that if you administered the cordial before setting the bone, it wouldn't heal properly. Sometimes, the cordial didn't heal the broken bones at all; it all depended upon how badly the bone was broken.

"I'm sorry, Corin," I said, quickly putting the stick up against the boy's arm and wrapping it tightly with the bandages, forming a splint. "I know it hurts. You handled it well. I've seen grown men cry when their broken bones are set."

Of course, most men in battle have more than one bone broken, and other wounds besides.

Corin flashed a quick grin, but his merry eyes were thick with pain. His lip was bleeding, probably from where he had bitten it to keep from screaming aloud. I glanced up at Quintus.

"Will you assist Prince Eric further? Prince Corin needs to be taken back to his father's apartments."

"Of course, Sire," Quintus said with a bow.

I rose to my feet, and then prepared to pick Corin up. The boy held up his other hand, the one that wasn't broken.

"Don't…I can walk."

I raised an eyebrow, and watched as Corin stood carefully. The prince tossed his fair hair out of his eyes, and began walking slowly, if a bit shakily, toward the door. With a grin, I followed the prince, shaking my head appreciatively.

Corin may be a miscreant, but he's definitely a stubborn, brave little miscreant.

TBC….