Thanks very much to reviewers ginevra85, DazedinLife, Window2MySoul, Wildfire2, Mary, Fairies-Are-Real, justplaincrazy8, ProdigiousDiscourse, and Autumnia! I'm always so pleased to read your responses! :D
This was written partly in the waiting area of an airport so I do apologize for any mistakes there might be. If you spot one, please message me and I'll fix it as soon as I can. :)
Oh! And if you would like a certain character to appear in Sempiternal Belligerence, please visit the poll on my profile page and vote! Thanks for your input!
Chapter 10: Banquet Maid
Archenland had never seen a day so fine.
Anvard's keep had been swept and polished from the tip of the turrets down to the very potato cellars. Nobles had primped and brushed their gowns and waistcoats for days in preparation for this dewy, brilliant spring morning.
Today, Archenland would receive the four Kings and Queens of Narnia.
And Anya was among those feeling the immense pressure to impress the monarchs. Her duty was to see to it that the Narnian royalty's cups did not run dry, an honor that had left her entire family glowing with pride.
Who could enjoy the savory meats and bread before them when their lips were parched? Of course, as she'd been strictly lectured over and over again, she was to remain as unobtrusive and invisible as possible in her task.
In the matron of banquet's words, "nourishment was to appear not be served". Anya was also assured in the strictest of terms that to be seen was to be shamed and Anvard would not be shamed under any circumstances.
Since the visit was one of the most important in the history of country, most were on edge. A treaty would be formally created between the two nations, further solidifying agreements previously made
Agreements that had saved the Archenland from starvation.
Without the Narnian's aid in form of seeds, water, and blankets, Anya was not sure if she would still be among the living. Her village, Stokemount, in particular had been hit particularly hard by the spring storms and most of their stock had been swept away.
An appeal had been sent to the Narnians, reputed to be a generous and blessed people, and they had not been disappointed. Carts of supplies had arrived shortly thereafter and a new alliance was forged.
That was six months ago. Now Stokemount would show the Narnians that their generosity had not been given in vain. The bounty of Archenland would be served to them this night.
The first course passed smoothly, the chatter of voices and the strum of the minstrel's harp setting a pleasant hum about the banquet hall. In fact, it was not until the third course that Anya began to notice something most peculiar.
While most dining began to leave larger and larger portions of food on their plate, the four Narnian monarchs continued to clean their plates, draining their goblets at the end of each dish. The cook was informed of the predicament, and a new dish was prepared, served, and consumed.
Anvard's nobility was now eating entirely out of politeness, Anya was sure of it. But the Narnians pressed on.
King Peter drank the last of his wine and moved to set it back when he suddenly paused, as if struck with sudden inspiration, he suddenly paused, spun the golden chalice around, and replaced it rim down.
Anya waited until the King's attention was returned to the conversation and the food. Then she carefully slid her hand onto the chalice's cool surface, flipped the cup over, and poured the wine, taking great care to remain unobtrusive and invisible.
A minute later the oddest look overcame King Peter's face as he caught sight of the ruby red liquid sparkling in the depth of the chalice.
His clear reaction could only be surprise at the sumptuous bounty Archenland had been blessed with. What else could there be? Anya had seen the piled carts with her own eyes. Such a feast could only be normal.
But as Anya watched it became clear that something was not quite right.
The Queens' cheeks were gaining a greenish tinge, and King Peter's eyes were widening. Only King Edmund seemed able to take another bite, and even his spoon listlessly chased a portion of chicken as if unable or unwilling to hold it.
She'd never seen anyone, not even her betrothed, eat so much in one sitting. Queen Lucy alone had eaten enough to feed a sparrow family for an entire winter.
King Peter held the bridge of his nose and blew out a long breath. Queen Tziera caught his gaze, obvious concern suffusing her features, and he quickly replaced the dazed stupor with a bright smile. Another bite traveled to his mouth and Anya's astonishment increased.
Narnia must be a land very blessed, indeed, to support banquets such as this. Archenland was fortunate that they were only staying for five days or their newly stocked cellars might be emptied.
Anya shifted the increasingly light pitcher in her hands and leaned in to fill the younger King's chalice. She would have thought they hadn't cared for the mild ruby juice but they had drained their chalices eleven times together, and that alone proved her instinct incorrect.
He reacted much like his brother.
At that moment the youngest Queen puffed out a long breath, like a child who has been spun around one too many times.
The Anvard nobles cleared their throats uncomfortably, unsure of whether to sigh themselves or to ignore it.
An clumsy round of applause filtered around the table as the court musician finished his song, the last strums of the music elevating the awkward atmosphere at the head table.
Anya's shoulder was tapped lightly and she turned to see another serving maid offer her another pitcher. She accepted and nodded her thanks. It was while moving back to the table that Anya saw something peculiar.
The faun that had accompanied them conversed in the shadows for a moment with the towering centaur before trotting softly, white-faced, to Queen Lucy's side and whispered a few words in her ear.
"Oh." A look of understanding dawned over her face. Nudging her sister's elbow, she brandished her fork and deliberately placed it atop her the mounds of food on her plate.
Swiftly, the unwanted portions were gathered up and whisked away by the waiting servants.
Queen Susan's eyes widened with the same insight and she, too, placed her fork over the venison, watching in what could only be described as relief as the dishes were carried away mere seconds later.
King Edmund was the next to move, dropping his fork onto his plate faster than if he'd been burned by it, and shoved his chair back an inch. High King Peter was one half second behind him, hands falling on his stomach and a low moan escaping his lips.
The Anvard nobles immediately motioned for their own plates to be taken away and the feast drew to a close, as quickly as Anya had ever seen.
One last toast was offered and then the room began to empty, beginning with the royalty.
Anya did not wait for the wash maids to gather the long linen tablecloths. Her back and feet ached from the long hours. She only had to deliver the remaining wine and then she would return to her room in the servant's quarter for a quick supper and her soft bed.
The kitchen's flurry of activity had been notched up as the used dishes came flooding in, towering stacks of filthy porcelain and pewter. Anya dodged them all with the grace of one who had done such things many times before.
Her wine was replaced in the cool depth of the wine cellar and she exited the kitchen before she would be swept up and placed elbow deep in soap suds.
Normally Anya would have taken the long route to the servant's quarters but this evening as she stepped along the glossy marble flooring temptation struck and she caved.
The royal bedchambers were off limits to most of the servants but Anya's fiancé was one of the guards that paced the hallways and as such she knew many of the patrols. She'd only taken the route two or three times, afraid to cost her fiancé or his friends their post.
Tonight she would chance fate.
She was nearly to the back staircase, just one bedroom door left to pass when voices echoed down the hallway.
"I'll be happy if I don't eat for a month." The voice was deep and it took Anya several tense moments to place the voice as King Edmund's.
She shuffled down the steps as fast as her limping gait would take her, but found that the faster she walked the louder the voices became.
What were these Narnians doing using the servant's stairwell?
"I think I ate a whole chicken myself." Queen Lucy seemed to groan the words, and, though Anya was on the verge of panicking as she spun and scampered up the stairs, she thought back to the meal and found she agreed with the daughter of Eve.
The monarchs burst into a frenzy of high pitched laughter and Anya ran faster.
"I'll bet you did, Lu." Queen Susan was still giggling softly.
Anya crossed the last step and froze. The Narnians were never on the staircase. They were just down the hall, moving slowly towards their bedchambers. Her weary mind must have played tricks on her.
"You can't have eaten as much as Pete though! How many plates did you eat?" King Edmund swatted at his brother, one of the blows landing lightly on Peter's abdomen.
The elder son of Adam immediately groaned and seized his stomach. "Oh, Ed, for the love of Aslan…"
And on that note, Anya turned a final time to tramp down the stairs, wondering yet again at the peculiarity of the Narnian monarchs.