[A] There is Still Time [Telmarine Lords/Councilors]

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[Character of the Month]

Character of the Month
Prince Caspian

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Played by Cara

"Cara has managed to...create a character that is both mythical and life-like. Impulsive, moody, and yet kind and good-hearted, Caspian is just beginning to show the makings of a true leader."
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[King Miraz]

They had only been gathered together in the tent for ten minutes now. What comfort the tent initially offered in shading from the summer's sun was lost now as the sun had set; it rather trapped the heat from the day within the close space, not aided by the mass of bodies -- Miraz's five councilors and guard -- filling the space. And the hot air, Miraz decided, watching Sopespian in anticipation, was only just beginning.

"With Captain Drinian still at the Narnian camp, we must suspect the worse. Either Drinian's loyalties are elsewhere, or --"

"Your gracious majesty will permit," Sopespian input, looking to all the councilors for allies, "that we can hardly denounce a noble of his Majesty on the authority of one day's absence."

Miraz seethed, fingers gripping the edge of the table. The defense of Drinian had been unexpected and unwelcome; the lord had not been popular with anyone wishing to ingratiate himself to the king. In fact, those who wished to ingratiate themselves were eager to denounce the man. His conversation with Glozelle proved at least that much. Drinian was a fatted calf for slaughter in everyone's eyes. And it was for the best.

What was more, the interjection was preemptory. Miraz had not wished to paint Drinian as a tyrant. Rather a martyr. It was much more patriotic that way. And men liked to see a patriotic monarch. The matter of interrupting -- cutting off the monarch's words -- was no less grating. If they all took turns speaking, it would become a discussion. Hardly necessary. Next, he suspected, the lords would be demanding a vote. This was the new Telmar. He was not just a lord any longer. He was not the brother of the dead king. He was the king. Years of lying in wait, plotting, planning, feeling the bitter sting of watching a country ill-governed by an incompetent and soft king had not been easy. He had waited for the proper time, the opportune moment. He had done what was necessary. For himself and for Telmar. He was king. And he would let no one forget that.

He had just been in the act of baring his teeth, a prelude to a response, when the tent flap was thrown aside, extinguishing two lamps in the process. The suddenness was startling and Miraz pushed his chair back so he might reach the hilt of his sword. He had to squint to see who it was who had entered; with half of the light in the place extinguished,

"Raban the Scout, majesty," Lord Gergorie, leaning in his seat, murmured unbidden into the King's ear.

Miraz bristled. He did not need help remembering the scout's name. Primarily because the man was expendable. A mere soldier. He was not the sort whose name mattered. However, Gergorie's input had caused eyes to fall upon the exchange expectantly. Waiting to see Miraz's response to one of their own. Miraz gave a tight-lipped smile.

"Raban," he acknowledged. The scout bowed deeply, nose nearly touching his knees. At least he was willing to dance the dance unlike some of his councilors, who would not. They would not, Miraz decided, be there much longer. He gave Gergorie a look which the man did not notice, being too busy looking at his cousins Sopespian and Glozelle.

"Sire, yes," the scout said with an air of breathlessness, though Miraz doubted he had come in great haste. "At great cost, too, for they would have killed me with the others."

There was a universal murmur at this. Miraz leaned forward, eyes blazing -- but they were eager, not angry. "Killed, you say? Our emissaries betrayed and murdered under the banner of truce?" he looked at his lords in outrage, slamming his fist on the table.

"Well, they may do. Majesty. That is. . ." the scout hesitated here, for Miraz gave a grating sort of a growl at this report.

"Speak boldly and plainly. What has befallen Lord Drinian and his men? What has the rebel Caspian done with them?"

The scout wet his lips, mustering courage and information in an orderly fashion. "At first, Lord Drinian was received cordially by the Pr--the rebel leader Caspian. They met privately to speak. However, both returned looking quite troubled. I do not think it went well."

"Dispense, Raban with your thoughts and opinions at present," Miraz input testily.

"Of course, majesty. It was not long -- five hours, perhaps, until a sort of a fox-ish thing died of poison. I left as soon as I could. They were gathering everyone together, Drini-- Lord Drinian and his men included. They wished to, I think, enact justice upon them."

It was a beautiful story, one that Miraz had orchestrated himself; it sounded even better coming from another. Save the "I think." Save the "may do." They had not, actually, killed Drinian. Yet. His jaw tightened as he considered.

"Your report is distressing, but there may still be time. We must act immediately to see what might be done for our men and to enact justice upon them for this outrage." He looked to the lords at his table speculatively. He would not ask for opinions and Sopespian and Gergorie were fools if they dared voice their opinions again.

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle's countenance remained expressionless upon hearing the news but inwardly he was swirling with emotions which he had learned how to mask long ago.  Drinian was still alive.  Of course it was possible that this fact had changed in the time it had taken the soldier Raban to return with his message, and it was also possible that Raban was trying to paint things better than they actually were.  But if his opinion and Miraz's opinion of "better" differed, and the soldier came out wrong, it was the last thing he would do without being another victim of Miraz's plots.  Miraz had masterminded this entire thing, of course - but Glozelle doubted that Miraz had taken into account while formulating said plan that not all Telmarines were as vengeful as he was.  Just because Miraz killed Caspian's father for the throne did not mean that Caspian would kill Drinian for having brought death to his camp.  There was something peculiar going on at Caspian's little camp of rebels and misfits which none of them, not even Miraz, knew about.  And Glozelle intended to find out just what that was.  When he did, he would share the information with no one.  It was time for the tables to be turned.

As he listened with a blank face to the exchange between the king and the soldier, his mind was racing.  This little conversation, filled with Miraz's characteristic demand of a peasant something that could not be given, illustrated perfectly the reason why Miraz should not be king.  A king listened to his people instead of expecting them to follow him unquestioned.  When the fist was tightened in such a way, squeezing out liberty, money, and self-respect, it was only a matter of time before the people within exploded - into open rebellion.  And this was precisely the moment Glozelle was waiting for.  Most of the lords in the room were aware of Miraz's wish to get rid of Drinian.  In fact, they all were aware.  But most importantly, they all disagreed with Miraz.  The lords had for a long time had a "every man for himself" policy, but now that Drinian was in danger of being killed, it couldn't be said what dissenter would be next.  Probably Sopespian from the looks of things... no, Miraz knew he was too powerful to dispose of without making waves, unfortunately for him.  So none of them were safe.  Not even Glozelle.

Glozelle had groveled for years to ensure his position as the top.  He had worked for this; he deserved this.  Some of the other lords had done the same.  But Miraz simply lived in the lap of luxury, having only to pay another man to kill his brother to get power.  Miraz didn't understand what it meant to work.  Sure, he had some excellent plans, ones for which Glozelle had once had great respect.  But now, he knew that he needed to destroy them.  He had to find a way to get to Drinian and find out what had transpired in Caspian's camp... without arousing Miraz's suspicion.  That would require a great deal of planning and precision.  Or so it would seem.  However, an opportunity seemed to have opened itself to him - provided, ironically, by Miraz himself.  If he could get his men to Caspian's camp in time, he could speak to Drinian, and before battle was engaged, wage his own revolution.  It was a great risk but he knew he had to try.  "My men are ready, your Majesty," he announced quietly, having to struggle to maintain his usual monotone.  Hastily, to avoid offending the king (he would get his chance to avenge himself for this humiliating subservience later), he added, "If you have need of them."

That was an outright lie, of course.  His men had flirted with Michala more than they had actually worked.  They'd hardly ever fought.  But if Glozelle's plan worked, on the minuscule chance it would, then they wouldn't ever have to fight.  Glozelle was staging a coup.  But to do that he had to get to Drinian, and to do that he had to have a reason.  Right now that reason was a potential battle, to "rescue" Drinian and use his capture as an excuse to start a rebellion.  Drinian was probably expecting to be discreetly killed by one of Miraz's men if given the chance in the process.  But what Miraz wasn't expecting was that he would come out the loser of the battle, even if the Telmarines won.  There didn't even have to be a battle in order to get Glozelle's real prize.  The rebellion could be quashed later under a better ruler, it mattered little.  Nor did what happened to Drinian.  Glozelle's only interest was in getting rid of the current ruler and finding a better one - who in this case, was him.

[King Miraz]

"Excellent," Miraz said immediately with a heavy glance to rebuke those who had not spoken as soon. "You will lead Lord Drinian's men as well. Take a knowlegable scout from his ranks. He will know the land. They will wish to see him back safely." He paused, a slight smile of irony creeping over his face as he spoke, "as we all do."

It was a thinly veiled cover -- one that Miraz did not much try to hide. His councilors were all as eager to go to war as he. To get this over and done with in one fell swoop and now was just the time.

He rose from his seat -- his lords a'leaping to show due deference. Miraz puffed his chest. It did a monarch good to see such things. He motioned to Raban. "Come with me to my tent as I prepare," he waved. He would need to get into his armour. "I have some more questions for you. My lords," he said to those of the war council, "all haste. We shall crush these underlings for their disrespect and treachery by noonday sun."

[General Glozelle]

It was a rather troubling task, trying to discern what Miraz wanted.  It was something which Glozelle had worked for years now to master, and it appeared that his work had finally rewarded him, at least in some small way – well, actually, the rather large way of not being killed.  Yet.  While most of the time Miraz preferred that his men be quiet and submissive, it appeared that in this one instance, Glozelle had been right in guessing he was meant to speak up.  There was also some reward in being allowed to lead Drinian’s men, for even though he was the only logical choice, it still meant something that he had been chosen.  Such a position would give him more power – at least if Drinian’s men trusted him as much as Miraz seemed to.  But, their trust, if given, would be certainly more well-founded than Miraz’s (if Miraz’s existed; though if it did not, why would the king give Glozelle more power?  …other than to perhaps kill him along with Drinian and his men!  But no – he would not look a gift horse in the mouth).

This fear appeared to be well enough founded by Miraz’s obvious lie.  No one believed him, but he had said it anyway, for whatever reason.  It was not as if some scribe was taking down his words to send them back to the common people of Telmar, so they would cheer for their deceitful usurping king.  No, as far as Glozelle knew, Miraz gave little thought to his subjects.  He had never shown any inclination to, because all he did was tax them to the point of starvation, and conscript their men to build a bridge and die in forests far from home.  Of course he was eager for war, but when it was stated that this war would be to restore to Narnia its rightful ruler, he most certainly did not intend for such a ruler to be referring to Miraz.  Miraz stood and so did he.  It appeared that he was dismissed.  But this was not over. “Yes, sire,” he murmured, bowing to the king as he left.  He hurried to do as told.  He had preparations to make – a war was on the horizon.  Against who, however, he could no longer say; just what underlings was Miraz referring to?