[A] Sounding Board (Glozelle)

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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]

Miraz had long suspected this.

It appeared Glozelle and Sopespian had held a series of private meetings. Well, they could lurk about in dark corridors all they liked; Miraz still had his informants. And the information they gathered was suspect.

He would not, of course, let them know as much. He would meet with each privately.

Having met with Sopespian first, the noble had brought up a valid concern: Glozelle, for all he was a lord and one of Miraz' first supporters, had a notorious hatred for patriarchy. Sopespian brought to light some disturbing past history. Miraz had no great fondness for Sopespian, but had a little for Glozelle. He was, after all, one of the first supporters -- a young general taken under his wing -- and one of the few who did not seem to question him.

Miraz was looking for a reason to disregard Sopespian's account. But Glozelle would need to prove himself, first.

Miraz had barked his orders to one of his pages to have General Glozelle sent for. It was with a sneer that he heard the report that the General had been occupied, talking to a woman washing clothes.

Well, it seemed to fit -- the wayward and sometimes bumbling Glozelle did seem to consort with those beneath him, to his own detriment -- but Miraz was nonetheless none too pleased.

"Have him sent in," he snapped to the page, who had brought the news. "Immediately."

It was said that a sounding board worked by principle of forced vibration. If an object was struck hard enough, it should echo and in fact amplify the tune of the object which struck it -- a tuning fork, a string. . . Miraz was no great lover of music, but he was curious in the principle. It seemed forceful. And resonant.

[General Glozelle]

Glozelle had been doing nothing particularly important, even though he was almost always pretending that he was, when one of Miraz's dratted pages arrived to stammer out (why did every fool man here seem to stammer?) that the King wanted to see him.  Slowly and deliberately, he folded up the maps that he had been scrutinizing, thanking the page with forced politeness that he did not actually possess before dismissing the man. 

If they were ever going to go to battle, it would have to be soon, when the Narnians were still vulnerable.  From their position at the How, Glozelle grudgingly recognized that they had a distinct advantage - they were enclosed in what was essentially a tomb, though a very large, very sturdy tomb, at that.  Their only real problem was the possibility of running out of supplies.  And after the recent storm, it was quite possible that this very thing was about to happen.  But it was unfortunately quite hard to tell.  If the Narnians moved out to re-gather rations, it would be too late.  The time to strike was now.

Still, he had known this for some time now.  He had gone over this same map on multiple occasions.  There was no new information to be found.  This was all a waiting game, now - waiting for his proud and cowardly king to decide whether or not he actually wanted a war.  Perhaps this would be the time to found out.  But, knowing Miraz, Glozelle decided that this conversation would not much focus on his abilities as a general, but rather as an informer.  Surely, there were advantages to being both a general and noble, but at the moment, Glozelle could not see them.  He was tiring of politics, and the man that fancied himself king when he was nothing more than a puppet and thief.  But he would be patient for now.  His father had always been one to make haste.  And he had hated his father.

After putting his plans away for safe-keeping, Glozelle made his way across camp to meet with Miraz.  Though one might think that the lords would be kept close to their king, but quite the opposite was true.  With a smirk, Glozelle wondered who, exactly, this was meant to keep safe.  Before entering the large tent (it was exceedingly luxurious, for one that had been away from the castle for quite a while), he exhaled quickly and squared his shoulders, practicing his most respectful pose.  This submission would only last for so long, but in order for it to end, he had to make it seem sincere for the time being.

Opening the flap of the tent slowly, as to not surprise Miraz (he hated being surprised, as far as Glozelle could recollect), he poked his head in before entering the rest of the way.  "Your majesty," he greeted the king respectfully, ducking his head in the only bow required of a noble of his stature.  He would refuse to do anymore, in any case, so he was glad of this.  "I was told you desired to see me."

For the moment, he said no more, knowing that it was unwise to speak unless he was spoken to.  A loose tongue could cause more harm than a sword here.  Not that he had ever been guilty of speaking out of turn, but he couldn't take his chances.  There was much more at stake than just his dignity.

[King Miraz]

Miraz looked up as the light proceeding from the flap of his tent was obscured.

"Your majesty. I was told you desired to see me."

At this, Miraz looked back down at his maps and shifted them about, rolling one up and putting it away. "I did," he muttered. He looked up once more, seeing the man still in the exact position. Could men not figure these things out for themselves? He motioned with his hand to the camp chair positioned across from his place behind the desk. "Do take a seat, General."

Miraz seated himself after Glozelle had situated himself. Not from any respect; rather, Miraz was a man who liked to be in the higest position at all times. He would not be seated with one of his inferiors lording over him, hovering from a standing position.

"You are doubtless aware that I have sent Lord Drinian to the rebel's camp to discuss terms," he began, looking at Glozelle from beneath lowered brows. He ought to know at least that much. But the man said so little it was always difficult to ascertain just what was known and what was not with the man. He did not like this. It was time that changed. "You are to prepare your men for a battle; I do not anticipate these negotiations going well." There was a bit of a smirk as he said this.

"Should Lord Drinian not return, I want his men controlled. They are loyal to him and are close to home, increasing the risk of desertion." Lord Drinian had managed to gather around him a sizeable group of loyal retainers. How was a mystery to Miraz. The young man was sensitive and idealistic. Naive was a gracious description of the man. He was likewise ignorant.

Miraz's smirk grew as he recalled to himself the enthusiasm with which Drinian had rushed to the Narnians, carrying tainted medicine. If all went well, it would bring death to Caspian and possibly Drinian. If it went poorly, well, Drinian would at the very least have some knowledge of the enemy's status, organisation, and degree of preparation. Even if Drinian tried to ally himself with Caspian, Miraz had his men. He had complete access to Drinian's land. The boy did not stand a chance.

But his men might not see it that way. It was critical that there be no dissention within his camp. He'd have no questioning. He'd have order and obedience and control. "I want you to lead them and your own men; tell them that Lord Drinian has been gone too long. We suspect foul play on the part of the Narnians and will rush to the aide of our ambassadors."

As an afterthought, he said, "What think you of Lord Drinian?" He knew they had been talking.

[General Glozelle]

At Miraz's command, Glozelle seated himself rather abruptly, with less of the practiced grace that he was, by now, expected to possess.  He knew that this would not be overlooked by Miraz, whose eye for detail could be sporadic and excruciatingly sharp when it was present.  So he tried vainly to compensate by hovering on the very edge of his seat, the epitome of an eager schoolboy.  He even tilted his head upward to look at Miraz, as if he were a lower being who needed to treat Miraz as a sort of deity - with which the king would be no doubt pleased.  That was, if Miraz believed it, which may or may not be the casem. Since Glozelle was not dead yet, he would venture to guess that his facade thus far had been successful.  Now was simply a moment of truth, in which everything, even posture, was of the utmost importance.  He had not spent a great deal of time one-on-one with Miraz, but what he had seemed plenty, and at least he had some experience so that he knew how to act.  Telling Miraz exactly what he wanted to hear was normally an excellent choice, but discering what Miraz wanted to hear was sometimes a trickier task.  Thankfully (for all parties) the king had chosen a clever general.

Tryng to forget his blunder - and knowing that Miraz would not - Glozelle watched dispassionately as the other man seated himself.  It was almost as if they were equal; for a moment, Miraz really was just another man.  But this sentiment was swiftly dismissed.  He clenched his jaw imperceptibly, hoping fervently that Miraz was not aware of just how greatly the subjugation he was putting Glozelle through degraded him.  "Yes, your Majesty," he responded dully, wondering why he was being forced to sit here while Miraz pointed out the obvious.  Glozelle was quite certain that he knew the activities of his own soldiers - without having to find out from some informer.  His lips twitched as if they wanted to smile when the next statement was announced.  Finally, battle would be engaged!  The Narnians would be routed, and the real war would be begun.  But none of these thoughts could be read in the stoic general's face, for he managed to keep his countenance solemn and devoid of any real emotion.  Yes, that's right, he thought, with smug satisfaction.  My men.  Not yours; mine.  And soon it will all be mine.  Maintaining his dutiful appearance, he responded, "It will be as you say."  Let him think he has control.  For now.

The faintest glimmer of Glozelle's old admiration for Miraz crossed his mind.
It was not unlike Miraz to do something horrible and attribute it to someone else, such as the Narnians.  It was one thing if he blamed one of his loyal lords, but the Narnians?  Such a scapegoat...  It was brilliant, Glozelle had to grudgingly admit.  Miraz would be rid of one of his more difficult lords, the men's morale would rise with the intention of avenging their taken friend, and no one would know the worse except for the two of them - and Drinian, though Glozelle supposed that Miraz had a plan to dismiss him permanently.  Glozelle would be happy to take on more men; it meant more influence, more power, and a more potential supporters.  He would take them all to the How, with the intent to "aide our ambassadors", and end up wreaking havoc on the Narnians - and then on Miraz.  It was almost too easy.  There had to be a catch.  ...and this was discovered with Miraz's question, which caught Glozelle off guard.  What was he supposed to say?  That was to say, what did Miraz want him to say?

He tried to stall a bit.  It wasn't going to fool Miraz, he knew; Glozelle spoke rarely and was thus quite direct whenever he did.  "It is wise for a king to know the minds of his men," he decided in his characteristic monotone.  Despite his outward appearance of calm, his heart was racing as he said it.  How much did Miraz know?  Did he realize all that he was asking?  Or the irony in Glozelle's words, hidden in plain sight?  This was certainly a ploy, not to find out about Drinian, but about Glozelle.  He knew that speaking about someone else nearly always revealed more about yourself than the other person.  Continuing on blindly, he managed to say with miraculous calm, "I have spoken to him little, but from what I have gathered he is far too faint of heart for a Telmarine soldier.  Being captured by the Narnians, they will easily ply information from him regarding our location.  For your safety, your Majesty, and that of our noble men, I suggest that you promptly dispose of this danger, in whatever way you deem necessary."  Those words were what was truly dangerous - if one of Drinian's men knew that he had spoken them, Glozelle would be facing a rebellion.  But it was hopefully what Miraz wanted to hear.  And for now, that was what he must give.

[King Miraz]

OOC: Sorry. Again, was kind of waiting on this to see if we were rerouting/restarting. Lol. Back to business!

IC:

General Glozelle was, of course, a brilliant man. But he could not always understand him. There was something beneath the surface -- an ambition he could sense but could not ascertain. He did not know how far it extended to. He seemed pleased, however, at the prospect of the potential gain of Drinian's men. Good. Keep the pup satisfied and he might grow up to be a loyal dog. Drinian on the other hand, could not be pacified or satisfied with anything. No, his morality interfered with that. Miraz was not in a mood to pander to lofty feelings acting, often times, contrarily to reason and sense. Drinian did not deserve his men. He did not deserve his duchy. Though Drinian's father had been Miraz's cousin, he was happy to, upon the death of an heirless lord, award the land to a hungry vassal. If Glozelle could prove himself worthy.

King Miraz frowned as he leaned back in his seat, regarding the man. "And that is your mind, General Glozelle?" He shifted, a slight smirk now crossing his face. "I admire your words and encourage you to stick by them." He was silent a moment longer.

Dispose of this danger. Yes. Well, Miraz had thought the Narnians might do it. He was not sure he himself could do such a thing without arousing suspicion. He had managed with Caspian IX. Prince Caspian's tutor had almost revealed him to the world for the attempt on the younger Caspian. He would not try a third time. But yes, he might be disposed of. In the event that he attempted to return, perhaps it might be best . . . his party would need to be as well. He was not certain of them as he was of Glozelle.

"In the event of the party's return," he said, "I should like to know the position and condition of Caspian's little band. This, I believe, I might gain more easily from the companions than Drinian himself. Drinian himself, however," he said, frowning intently at Glozelle, "I leave to you to dispose of. As you say. In whatever way you deem necessary. Remember though, that you are to lead his men."

[General Glozelle]

It was irksome, how impossible was it to read Miraz's expression at times.  Glozelle prided himself on his ability to discern the intentions of his men, but it seemed that Miraz had every intention of showboating his all-too-evident superiority.  Upon being questioned in this rhetoric manner that was not unlike Miraz, Glozelle lifted his chin a notch, as if offering the king the opportunity to say he should have given a better answer.  But he did not - to Glozelle's relief.  In this army, there was no room to make a mistake; an error infallibly lead to death.  It seemed he was safe, for now.  He exhaled inaudibly.  When the grimace on Miraz's ugly countenance melted into a smirk, he murmured, "Yes, your Majesty," still admittedly a bit.  What was wrong with him?  For years he had lived like this, teetering on the edge between prosperity and death, for with Miraz, there was no middle ground.

Kill Drinian?  ...Glozelle's head swam for a moment.  He had no great fondness for the man, but to kill one of his own soldiers - it was treason.  As was killing the king to take his throne.  But that would be for the good of everyone, and so this smaller evil must be committed, he supposed, to compensate for the larger good.  One man's life for thousands'.  It had to be done.  Glozelle had brought it up to save his own skin, and he couldn't be expected to back down now.  If he wanted to preserve his life, he would have to take Drinian's.  It made sense that Miraz wanted the man gone, for the two had always had an obviously strained relationship - and in Telmarine society, which was all but founded on veiled threats, anything obvious was worse than everything else - and it made even more sense that Miraz refused to get his own hands dirty.  Well, Miraz, Glozelle thought bitterly, if you were seeking to please your people you might have tried before now.

Now that it seemed his questioning was over (though of course, with Miraz, you never knew), Miraz mentioned that Glozelle should question Drinian's men instead of Drinian.  To employ the same tactics that Miraz had just used on Glozelle.  Did it rub Glozelle the wrong way that he was being treated the same way as one of his subordinates, as a suspicious, treasonous soldier instead of the loyal and brilliant general that he had proved himself to be?  Well, yes.  But Miraz had right to worry - as he hopefully did not know.  And it gave Glozelle some petty satisfaction to know that he was being given some of Miraz's duties, for if everything went well, he would soon be doing all of them.  Yes, he hated the fact that he was allowing himself to be satisfied with such small, useless things, but soon they would add up.  His suffering would not all be in vain.  Soon, he would suffer no more.  It would be Miraz at the other end of this humiliating treatment, receiving much worse than this.  Or dead, if he was lucky.

"Yes, your Majesty," he parroted, unable to hide the glimmer of smug contentment in his eyes.  Let Miraz think it was because he was offering Drinian's life and land to Glozelle.  Let him think that, for now.  If this was the hardest questioning Glozelle would have to endure, he would survive to carry out his plan, as long as he did not make any slip-ups.  He knew better than to ask whether he was dismissed, so he waited to hear such from Miraz.  He needed to figure out who he could get to kill Drinian without arousing suspicion, himself, since he did not at all wish to do it.

[King Miraz]

Miraz kept the look of satisfaction on his face restrained as the General before him seemed to likewise grow in smugness. No doubt pleased with the appointment, but one could never be too sure.

"Good," he concluded with a clipped pronouncement, rising from his seat and standing -- an indication that Glozelle was now to go.

He paused, however, allowing his face to show some emotion: a bitter sort of amusement.

"I have it that you met with some of our captains and leaders on the river. . . keep up the progress on the bridge, General. Your interests lie there." It was innocuous enough if nothing had been said, but word enough for a guilty conscience to smart. He looked at Glozelle's face pointedly, seeing if, as a sounding board, he might test the man's loyalty through looks.

OOC: Sorry it's short. I think we're about at an end here. Perhaps another in a bit?