UNCOMPLETED VERSION: The Mirror Cracked

EveningStar said:
CHAPTER THE NINTH

.... Then came the great thawing of relations, and all because of a disease. Corragic Fever to be precise. A wet spring and cool summer one year turned the old resentments out as a new threat worse than Calormen swept through the towns like an angry blaze. It was into this catastrophe that Narnian doctors and nurses skilled in sanitation treated the dying and ordered changes in the disposal of garbage, preparation of food and protection of water supplies. Suddenly Narnians...even talking beasts...were seen as guardian angels. Differences remained, but old enmities were forgotten and the border incursions ceased entirely.

These were the reformed Telmarines that showed up at Camp Beruna. And yet they had a powerful ally ready to join them. Would they still be so humble, so grateful, when they had the world's largest professional army?
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I never thought of the Narnian world as even having pandemics. But if they did, the NON-human sapient residents of Narnia should be IMMUNE to any human disease, thus able to care for stricken humans at no risk to themselves.
 
CHAPTER THE TENTH

At Camp Beruna no expense was spared to ensure the delegates would not only be safe but comfortable. After all, it was hard enough to be patient with political wrangling without a stiff back, thin soup and a cold shower.

The pavilions were good enough for royalty (and some would need to be!) and every staffer was fully trained in the customs of all the countries represented.

High on the list of comforts was the galley staff who all had to be trustworthy as a badger, swift as a cheetah and courteous as an owl. The lives of the delegates were literally in their hands. Despite the thorough screening every creature that touched food had to endure, there were still food tasters supplied by each of the delegates to ensure their loyalty. It was their fate to eat cuisine good enough to die for or bad enough to die by.

Food was purchased anonymously and shipped to various locations where it was in turn picked up by others and brought to the camp. Still every provision was checked carefully upon arrival.

Even with this caution, there was a frightening incident where a wagonload of wine casks was stopped at the main gate. The teamster looked unfamiliar and as he was being questioned by the Captain of the Guard a red spot on the back of the wagon looked a bit too brownish red to be spilled wine. A wolf came and sniffed it. "It's blood alright."

The unfortunate driver was "put to the question" with methods that paled in comparison to the tortures of the Calormenes. He was tied to a hard wooden chair with itchy sisal rope and left in the sun for several hours. Late that evening one of the talking badgers brought him a cup of wine under the pretext of feeling sorry for him. The prisoner drank it quickly, only to be told that it was taken from one of his barrels. It wasn't, but the teamster did not know that and he reacted with such terror that the whole lot ended up in a landfill. What happened to the driver was never revealed...indeed the delegates themselves were never told and the whole matter was handled with the height of discretion.

A second wagonload of large wine barrels was about to be subject to careful examination when the Hadrusian ambassador raised the lid and stepped out stiff and blinking into the sun. There were too many credible threats of assassination for him to arrive in a carriage.

He forced his back into a fully upright position with a groan. "My lads, has King Karrin arrived yet?"

"Yes, Your Excellency. The Telmarines are in area five."

"Very good, Captain. He and I have much to discuss."
 
It was their fate to eat cuisine good enough to die for or bad enough to die by.

Food was purchased anonymously and shipped to various locations where it was in turn picked up by others and brought to the camp. Still every provision was checked carefully upon arrival.


When you wrote this part, were you perhaps recalling times of overseeing food supplies for large Boy Scout events?
 
For people used to my carefully worded stories that are written first, then published, the style is a little slapdash.

Major Scouting events are usually provisioned by large wholesalers like Robert Orr and Sysco. But yes, when you are trying to supply an army with local folk, you never let them know where precise boxes are heading. Reminds me of a woman helping the British during the American Revolutionary War. She poisoned gooseberry pies she said she baked for the officers.
 
CHAPTER THE ELEVENTH

King Roderick of Narnia did not report directly to Camp Beruna nor did he ride in a procession down the main street (if you could call it that). Instead he went directly to Orieus' Cairn and, dressed humbly in a pilgrim's cloak, laid a wreath of golden saphrodels at the foot of the monument to the slain.

He read the inscription in a halting voice:

"Their spring was brief ere winter's hand
Untimely snatched them from the field
The blood of this courageous band
The bleeding of their country healed

"The years do not enfeeble them,
Decaying not as we grow old,
Forever young these martyrs sleep
To wait the roll call of the bold!

"Here lie six hundred thirty and four
Sons of Narnia known only unto Aslan.
Do not forget the price they paid."

Roderick humbled himself with more than customary ardor. This was clearly no ceremonial display. After an uncomfortably long silence, he murmured, "You knew your duty and you did it. I'm not afraid of death...no more than most, anyhow...but failure frightens me far more than death. I wish...I wish..."

An aged faun who stood beside him knelt down and put an arm around the King's shoulder. "Your Majesty, they too were more frightened of failure than death. That's why they threw themselves into battle."

Roderick looked around, his eyes bright with tears but a half smile on his face. "Lord Mellius, you're a good advisor. I think I'll keep you."

"Well won't I sleep better tonight," the faun said, flashing a grin. "Come, Sire, your public awaits."
 
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One thing I like to show is more of the world. Narnia was not a world, it was a country, and strongly affected by what was happening elsewhere in the world.
 
Yes, it creates much confusion when people infer that the name "Narnia" means the entire flat-topped pseudo-planet. The movies were guilty of encouraging that very same error.

I appreciated the scene at the war memorial; it served as a reminder of which side was the good guys.
 
Nice, I love this so far. Keep it up! :)
It's so weird to think of a Pevensie dynasty in Narnia though ...
 
Copperfox said:
Yes, it creates much confusion when people infer that the name "Narnia" means the entire flat-topped pseudo-planet. The movies were guilty of encouraging that very same error.
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Yes, I quite agree. Narnia was only a very small country on the main land mass of the world in which it was situated. To the east, as we discovered in VDT there was a huge ocean, and who knows how far the western wilds, northern wastes and lands south of Calormen stretched, or what lay beyond Telmar?
 
What's more, it was a world but not a planet, just as the Earth was not considered a planet until it was understood to circle the sun rather than vice versa.
 
CHAPTER THE TWELFTH

King Roderick was relieved to see that the Calormenes had not yet arrived, yet at the same time he knew there would be snide implications that the Narnians, the Hadrusians and the Telmarines were preparing a case against the Peacock Throne. Nothing could be further from the truth. Within moments of his arrival, the Hadrusian Foreign Minister Harlass brusquely approached Roderick with the merest pretense of a bow and thrust a large tricolor flag in his face. "The colors of my country, Your Majesty. Red for the blood of our martyrs, gold for incorruptibility and green for prosperity. For two centuries it has been death to own such cloth, much less hoist it to the heavens. It is time to fly it once more, but my distinguished Telmarine liege is having issues with the..."

King Karrin came alongside Harlass. "Roderick, surely you can appreciate how sensitive this situation is without throwing pitch on the fire. If we fly their revolutionary flag..."

"Our NATIONAL flag," Harlass interrupted.

"...Their FLAG," Karrin continued, "it will send a clear message to the Calormenes that this talk is a mere formality and we've already made up our minds."

"Gentlemen, please!" Roderick said with a half smile. "One war at a time."

"Don't you understand?" Harlass asked indignantly. "We are on the verge of uniting with the Telmarines. The flag must fly during the negotiations. We are a sovereign nation, at least for now, and we will be treated as such."

There was a long moment of silence while Roderick was deep in thought. "If I were King Peter, I would say fly it. We Narnians knew the sting of occupation. You are surrounded by the monuments to the brave lads that overthrew it. He was there...he never forgot."

"But you're not Peter," Harlass said with a bit of a scowl.

"No, I'm not. But I'd be a fool not to listen to his advice. I think we care too much what the Calormenes think and they care too little what the rest of the world thinks. I think they are in for an attitude adjustment." Roderick idly rested his right hand on the pommel of his sword. "Fly your flag, Harlass."

"But Sire..." Karrin interjected.

Roderick held up a finger sternly. "Two centuries is a long time. They've waited long enough."
 
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CHAPTER THE THIRTEENTH

The entry of the Calormenes into Camp Beruna was true to form. While there were only six guards accompanying the Crown Prince and Advisor, four of them had long trumpets with silk banners and the other two had drums. They blew the Royal Anthem with ruffles and flourishes.

Harlass was rankled. He looked over at King Karrin and none too quietly whispered to the Telmarine that it was typically bad taste for them to play "that garbage" at a peace talk.

The garbage referred to by the Hadrusian was appropriate in one way to the entry of a man thought a living god, but it had a poor choice of lyrics, expressed none too subtly:

Granite crag, thou never-changing
'Gainst the waves of stormy seas
Though a thousand years of breakers
Dash in vain against thy knees

Son of Heaven smite the foolish
Infidels before thy sword
Fall and tremble soon before thee
Favorite son of Tash the Lord

No sooner had the awkwardness of the fanfare ceased to echo than the Advisor glanced up at the poles and saw the Hadrusian flag fluttering in the breeze.

"What is yonder striped cloth?" Raum spat.

"It's called a 'flag', Your Excellency" Harlass answered with a half bow.

Crown Prince Yannik stifled a laugh. Raum shot him an icy glance but at the look he got back, he made a most insincere smile and said quietly, "Perhaps we can amuse him with our Calormene humor before the day is done."

Before things could get worse, King Roderick came forward with open arms. "Your Royal Highness, the hospitality of Narnia is laid before you." In the embrace that followed, Yannik found a moment of peace to savor before the struggles that lay ahead.
 
A real powder keg! It will only take one spark..........! In many ways like Europe prior to the outbreak of the Great War. The spark for the latter was the assassination of the Austrian Prince Franz Ferdinand.
 
Now that everyone is coming together it's about to get a lot more...interesting. Trust me.
 
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