Last night there were fireworks celebrating the return of the army and the lady. I truly do not know where the fireworks came from. My monarchs say that they are toys, but some inquisitive fauns ripped one apart and accidentally lit the powder that filled it. They are still recovering from the burns. Mr. Tumnus has begun an investigation, but nobody, even my monarchs, seems to know the origin of this strange powder.
And, in view of the danger her…forgive me for saying this, Aslan…her she-wolfness incurred, my kings decided to take it upon themselves to train her in the art of war. My publically expressed view is that it would be a far more economical to hire an extra guard or even a teacher than to invest the royal time in such a manner, but I am forgotten, as always. She said something about me trying to separate her from…then she said something unintelligible and almost owlish, but far too silly for an owl to say. I thought at first that she was referring to both the kings, but I believe she also referred to the strange object as a possession of hers, so I am confused. At any rate, I have no time to try and decipher her meaning. All of the business that their royal majesties have abandoned must be attended to.
Reading reports of the victory we won over the villains who kidnapped the new lady, I am longing to return to the battlefield. It might seem strange for one who has seen his fill of death to say such a thing, but I say so out of concern for my fellow Narnians. It was by the barest of chances that we are not instead mourning one of the greatest tragedies in Narnian history.
I regret to say that my King Peter's military incompetence nearly cost us the battle and the lives of our army. Once again, our archers were deployed too far to the rear to make any difference except in case of defeat. And again as usual, he insisted on a frontal assault on a numerically superior foe rather than taking advantage of an excellent defensive position. As for flanking, it must not be in the vocabulary of Spare Oom. It was certainly by Aslan's grace that the enemy did not think to simply encircle our men. We must have used the same tactics in every single battle I have not been involved in. I cannot believe King Edmund has allowed this to continue. Our victory at Anvard was an excellent model, but it has been cast by the wayside in favor of arrogance and inflexibility. There is folly in courage, but there is no courage in folly.
The world must be going mad. Even as I write, fawns are now running about on two legs and trying to imitate Mr. Tumnus. Insanity is prevailing, and I am afraid that I am being washed away by it.