Narnia (movieverse) fic: "The White City"
Aug. 8th, 2008 03:37 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bedlamsbardTitle: The White City
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
bedlamsbard
Fandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG
Summary: The most welcoming city in the world, it’s said. It’s also said to be one of the oddest. Facets of life in Golden Age Cair Paravel.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Cut-tag from Christopher Morley.
Author's Notes: Gratuitous worldbuilding.
1.
As a ship rounds Heresceaft Point from the south, it’s just possible, on a clear day, to see the gleam of reflected sunlight off the white walls of Cair Paravel. From Heresceaft to the city itself, it’s a short passage over Glasswater Bay, and as a ship nears, light separates into white marble, grey stone, and green grass. Cair Paravel is said to have grown from the earth itself in a single night, and the castle looks it. The town below is less remote and far more friendly – the most welcoming city in the world, it’s said. It’s also said to be one of the oddest.
2.
Eight years ago, Narnia – a small, untried nation in the north with precious little sea-power, recently conquered (or liberated, depending on what stories you hear) – defeated the great fleet of Masongnong at open sea. The Masongnongese fleet was commanded by Admiral Kundajiq, who was said never to have lost a battle. The Narnian forces – only a fool would name the Narnian navy a “fleet” – were commanded by the High King Peter, a youth who’d sat his throne for less than a year and who was said at the time to have been only a boy. The Masongnongese sailed with over a hundred ships, ostensibly to capture the pirate Osumare Seaworth, who had taken refuge with the Narnians, but in reality to force Narnia to its knees and add a new territory to their growing empire. To take Narnia in the north would threaten Calormen, Masongnong’s great rival. Narnia had only three ships, and perhaps two hundred men.
Masongnong was utterly routed.
It is said that the waters themselves rose up and swallowed whole ships, that the High King called fire down from the sky upon sails and sailors alike, and at last, when the remaining ships were foundering in the Bight of Calormen, the three ships of Narnia – not even true battleships, but the sleek, fast pirate ships gifted to Peter by Osumare Seaworth – grappled with the Masongnongese ships, and hundreds of angry Narnian soldiers and seamen came pouring over their sides, killing as they went. These were no ordinary soldiers: until the High King conquered the land, there were no men in Narnia. These were talking beasts, and creatures half animal and half human, and stranger things that have never been seen outside Narnia itself. Leading them from the Narnian flagship Rising Sun was the High King Peter, sword flashing in the sunlight until it was drenched in Masongnongese blood. Even as battles raged over the decks of the remaining Masongnongese ships, creatures from the sky stooped to catch sailors in their talons and bring them up, higher and higher, finally letting them fall screaming to their deaths in a sea that churned. It is said that Masongnong lost three dozen ships before Admiral Kundajiq and High King Peter finally crossed swords, and after Kundajiq (an accomplished duelist after the Masongnongese fashion) was bleeding from a dozen wounds, he fell to his knees and begged the High King to spare the remaining Masongnongese. Kill him, if the boy king liked, but to spare the remainder of his ships and sailors. The High King agreed and put up his sword.
This victory alone would have been enough to make Narnia’s reputation for a thousand years – the great Admiral Kundajiq surrendering to a boy? – but what Kundajiq knew was that a second force of Masongnongese ships was coming, and he had seen that Narnia did not have the strength to hold off a second such invasion. He may have failed, but his peer Admiral Balghichi would not, and Masongnong would force Narnia to its knees after all.
Immediately after the second Masongnongese fleet passed Lionshead Point, leaving Archenlander waters and entering Narnian ones, the worst storm in centuries blew up and scattered the remnants of the fleet – what few ships weren’t sunk outright – across the Bight of Calormen. The flagship had the luck to limp into the harbor at Cair Paravel, where they were met by the High King Peter and a significant portion of the Narnian army. Admiral Balghichi, being no fool, surrendered immediately.
It was the worst defeat Masongnong had seen in centuries, and word of it had already been spread by Narnian traders into Archenland, where it traveled quickly to Calormen and then on to the rest of the continent. In exchange for the ships Narnia had captured, and which represented a significant portion of the Masongnongese navy, Masongnong agreed to an unheard of arrangement – exclusive trade agreements with Narnia. Masongnongese traders left the northern countries within a matter of days. Shortly afterwards, they converged on Cair Paravel, along with traders from a dozen other countries that no longer had access to Masongnongese goods except through Narnia.
Anskettell had come to Narnia not because they needed Masongnongese silks or spices – they bordered Masongnong to the cold, rocky south, far beyond the tenets of the Masongnong-Narnia agreement – but because the Konungr had wanted to see the mettle of the man who could break the might of mighty Masongnong. Whatever he saw in the High King Peter, it was enough for him: the following year, and every year after, Anskettell’s traders sailed for Cair Paravel along with half the world.
3.
Eirikur’s first confused impression of Cair Paravel is white stone streaked with all the colors of the rainbow. As the longship draws closer, these streaks coalesce into the thousand flags of the ships riding at anchor in the harbor. Eirikur picks out the ones he knows: the golden dragon of Masongnong, the black and gold of Calormen, the dancing unicorn of Edan, the three-headed eagle of Vandalin, the gray stag of Archenland. Everywhere is the lion of Narnia, gold on red, flying over pennants from Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, and other flags he doesn’t know.
“The Strangers’ Marina,” Thorold says from beside Eirikur. “No Narnian ships here, only foreigners and tributaries. Anything you don’t recognize?”
“The dancing maiden on green?” Eirikur asks, pointing as the longship slips past.
His brother squints at it. “Marinel,” he says at last. “On the far side of the continent. By the gods, they’ve come a long way. And Lycoris beside them, see the crossed swords? Seven years ago Narnia was lucky to have Masongnong and Anskettell in port, and now it has most of the eastern world. And there’s Anskettell’s docking,” he adds. There are three longships already in port and space for two more.
“BOYS!” their father bellows. “We’re putting in! Get your lazy arses over here.”
Eirikur and Thorold scramble, and within minutes the Weeping Widow is tied up next to the Sea Witch out of Aluearad territory, their father Aethgar and the Sea Witch’s captain bellowing greetings at each other as the crew unloads onto the dock.
Once that’s done, Aethgar calls Eirikur and Thorold over. He hands over a pair of small leather pouches that clink when Eirikur takes his. “Narnian coin,” he says. “Twenty stars, with one moon each. Spend it all if you want, but don’t come asking for more until we’ve sold our stock. And if you get into trouble, don’t expect me to bail you out.”
“Come on!” Thorold says, and Eirikur goes with him, eager to see the wonders of Cair Paravel. This is the first time he’s been to Narnia, unlike his brother, who’s come twice before.
For a little while they simply walk among the docks of the Strangers’ Marina, looking up at the foreign ships and occasionally talking to seamen who recognize them as Ansketts. Soon enough they’re on the northern edge of the docks and have to move from wooden piers to dry land.
“What are those ships?” Eirikur asks, because a new set of docks starts on the other side of a stony sea-wall, and these ships are easily as varied as the ones in the Strangers’ Marina, though they all fly the same flags.
Thorold grins and starts toward the new docks. “The Shield Marina,” he says. “Home of the Narnian navy. Come and see.”
“Will they let us on the docks?” Eirikur asks, because in most ports he’s been to where the merchants and the navy are side by side, the navy is strict about not letting civilians – especially foreigners – anywhere near.
“If we’re lucky,” Thorold says mysteriously.
They go up to the wooden gate that marks the start of the Shield Marina. “Sorry, boys,” says one of the big wolfhounds lying on the docks, panting. “These docks’re closed to the public.”
Eirikur stares at it with wide eyes. “That dog just talked,” he says, and the wolfhound closes its eyes briefly before climbing to its feet as Thorold laughs.
“Why, yes, Ansketsman,” it says. “I can talk. Just as well as you, even. First time in Narnia?”
“Yes?” Eirikur ventures weakly.
The wolfhound snorts. “Well, a word of advice, then: don’t make the mistake of not thinking anything here can’t talk. I’ve seen the High King carry on a conversation with the walls of Cair Paravel. Not that I hear them talking back, but he can.”
Eirikur blinks.
Thorold recovers himself and says, “Is Konane around? Last I heard he was on the Golden Summer.”
“He still is, and he’s off-duty. I think he’s around somewhere, though,” the wolfhound says. “Locke, you want to go find him for these boys?”
Another wolfhound heaves itself up and says, “Yes, ma’am,” before loping off lazily along the docks, dodging a few sailors as it does so.
“So what ship are you off of, Ansketsmen?” the wolfhound asks conversationally.
“The Weeping Widow, out of the Eormengild territories,” Thorold replies. “I’m Thorold Aethgarson, and this is my brother Eirikur Aethgarson.”
“Lasca,” the wolfhound said, “of the Narnian navy. What ports did you pass through on your way north?”
“Canaho, Tashbaan, and Peveril,” Thorold says, and they chat about the state of the sea-going countries of the east, as well as whether Masongnong and Calormen are going to go to war this year or not. The clash between the two has been brewing for decades now; their empires are nearly equal in size and only the poor, terrified tributary of Edan, Feaduden, separates the two.
A few moments later Locke comes loping back up the docks, accompanied by a fair-haired Narnian who calls greetings as he sees them. “Thorold Aethgarson! What brings you to Cair Paravel?”
“What else but the Shifting Market, Konane?” Thorold says, grinning. “We just came in. Any chance I can show my kid brother the famed Narnian navy?”
“I don’t see why not,” Konane says, rolling his shoulders.
“The High King will have your head for this, selkie,” Lasca says.
“High King’s not here, is he?” Konane retorts, fiddling with the lock at the top of the gate. “And what he knows won’t hurt him. Besides, they’re just a couple kids, and there’s nothing on these docks that they won’t see if Anskettell sails against Narnia.”
“We’re too smart to sail against Narnia,” Thorold says. “After what your High King did to Masongnong? Anskettell doesn’t have enough ships for that.”
“And we’re at peace with Narnia,” Eirikur adds.
Lasca snorts. “Like that means anything to certain parties,” she mutters under her breath.
“You must be the kid brother,” Konanae says, grinning at him. “Captain Geirson’s youngest?”
“One more sister,” Eirikur says. “I’m Eirikur.”
“Konane of the Delmore family, currently onboard the Golden Summer, of His Majesty the High King’s Royal Narnian Navy,” Konane says cheerfully, ushering them in, then closes and locks the gate behind them, ignoring Lasca’s disapproving scowl. “First trip out, or just your first trip to Narnia?”
“He’s Clann Hacun, Konane,” Thorold says. “He was sailing the seas when your navy was still a gleam in the High King’s eye.”
“Most people have,” Konane points out. “About half the fleet’s at sea right now, especially with the Shifting Market – good hunting for pirates, if they can make it into Narnian waters without the High King knowing. The rest of us are riding at anchor here.” He points. “Two of the first ships, Admiral Seaworth’s Rising Sun and Captain Malubay’s Copper Rain, both of them out of –”
“Lycoris,” Eirikur says. “Only the Lycori style their bows like that.”
Konane grins. “Just so. On the other side of the Rain is the Spring Beginning, Captain Tristorm’s galleon. He brought the Shadowsinger and the Poison Rose out of Alvarado to swear at Cair Paravel; the High King gave him the Spring after he kicked the hell out of the Terebinthian fleet. That’s the Shadowsinger coming in now; the Poison Rose is still out with Admiral Yricsdottir and her Quickkill. That’s out of –”
“Anskettell,” Thorold says, and winces. “Everyone knows the Narnian navy’s made out of bits and pieces of the rest of the world’s.”
“Means we got the best of all you, doesn’t it?” Konane says. “There’s my Golden Summer, under Captain Qaya. And on her other side –”
“That’s a gods-damned carrier,” Thorold interrupts. “That’s the Aerial Corps flag, that’s a gods-damned carrier –”
Staring up at the ship, Eirikur is speechless. Narnia’s inhabitants make her capable of using tactics no one else in the world can, and the High King Peter has taken full advantage of those. This is an aerial carrier, easily the biggest ship in the harbor, and oddly structured – the masts’ placement seems to make no sense to his experienced Ansketts eye, though he can see how they could work – they just won’t be as efficient as most ships. He knows that Narnian carriers can be rowed, and frequently are, though it takes the crew of two smaller ships to fill a carrier and every one of them rowing. The ship’s decks are empty of the usual sea-time accoutrements, only a few guards – men, as far as he can tell – standing duty. In theory, Eirikur knows what a griffin looks like, but he’s never seen one. The first one he sees is the stylized one above the crossed sword and trident on the flag that flies just below the golden lion – the flag of the Narnian Aerial Corps.
“That,” Konane says, sounding deeply satisfied, “is the Dawnstrike. She’s just been declared fit for sea duty.”
“Where are the griffins?” Eirikur asks, and the longing in his voice surprises him.
Konane glances up at the ship. “On leave, mostly. They’re in port, and there’s not much call for aviators unless the bells call them to shipside duty. The other carrier, the Sword of Morning, is at sea. The rest of the Corps is off with the High King and King Edmund at the Belgarine border, or with Queen Lucy at Arn Abedin.”
“An aerial carrier,” Thorold says dreamily. “I’ve never seen one before; I thought they were never in port.”
“Well, we’ve only ever had one,” Konane begins. “Do you know how much wood –” He stops at the horn calls that echo over the harbor, turning sharply towards the land. Above them, on Cair Paravel’s highest tower, new flags begin to climb, flickering crimson in the sunlight.
The horn calls go on and on, singing melodies that Eirikur doesn’t recognize or understand the meaning of, and then they mingle with the sound of cheering.
Konane grins widely. “The High King’s returned!” he exclaims. “And King Edmund and Queen Lucy. Not the rest of the army, but the royals themselves. I’d best get you off the docks before the High King finds out somehow and has my head on a silver plate.”
4.
The story is that Cair Paravel was never built, but instead grew out of the earth of Narnia in a single day and night. Certainly the castle looks it. White stone rises from rich earth and green grass and forms the walls and body of the castle, but it is said that the majority of the castle isn’t above the ground, but in it, though few have ever been inside the castle’s depths to see for certain. Beyond this, however, there is supposed to be not one, but two castles, the second hidden inside the first in a network of twisting secret passages that no one but the High King Peter himself knows. Assassins have tried to find these passages; some of them have become trapped in the walls of the castle and had the choice of staying quiet and starving to death or calling out and being executed for treason.
Beneath the castle walls lies the city that has no name, but has, over the years, come to be associated with Cair Paravel as well. For almost four years all industry revolved around the docks and the Shifting Market begun by the Masongnongese and Ansketts traders, and then the westron countries and eastern seagoing states began sending traders as well. The city grew around two things: the Shifting Market, so-called because of the traders that come and go with the shifting of the seasons, and the armed forces of Narnia, the army, the navy, and the Aerial Corps. Nine years after the four thrones of prophecy were filled, the city has grown into a thriving metropolis populated by native Narnians and immigrants of all species, but what dominates the city – called by some the pearl of the east – is the castle of Cair Paravel, where Peter the King of Summer reigns as High King.
5.
The Aerial Corps headquarters are built into the White Cliffs of Morgencolla, half a mile from Cair Paravel. They are a series of caves carved by the dwarves of the Red Dwarves of the Scebbi clan; the lowest serve as meeting rooms, the highest for training, the middle as barracks. When a carrier is docked at the Shield Marina, its Aerial Corps crew barracks at the White Cliffs, as do the Aerial Corps troops that serve with the army.
Nicasia is stationed onboard the Dawnstrike, transferred over from the 1st Wing Army. Since the Dawnstrike’s docked in the Shield Marina now, she’s on leave, circling in the air above Cair Paravel. From above, the city looks almost like a white rose, and she likes looking down at it, narrowing her wings to drop down suddenly, leveling off over the Strangers’ Marina with a whoop. Foreign sailors look up, some shouting in fear, some in excitement, and Nicasia dips her wings in salute to the guards on duty. They raise their spears in acknowledgment, grinning, and she beats her way upwards again, swooping over the city proper towards the lionsroad.
Crimson flags flutter against the verdant green of the fields, the sunlight striking sparks off spearheads. Nicasia whoops again as the flags spread in the light breeze – the sword and crown, the broken wand and all-seeing eye, the cordial and crossed daggers – and dives down to land in the road before the High King’s horse.
“What is wrong with you?” the mare demands, half-rearing in surprise.
“Easy, Sebi,” the High King says, patting her neck as she puts all four hooves firmly on the ground and glares. “What’s your unit and assignment, aviator?”
“5th Wing Navy, the Dawnstrike, your majesty,” Nicasia says respectfully, dipping her head in a bow.
“Is all well in Cair Paravel?” he asks, looking at her with concern in his eyes. He’s in plain worn leather, only the shield slung across his back and the lion-headed sword at his hip betraying his rank, and he looks – as far as she’s learned to determine humans – tired, with faint, healing nicks etched across the skin of his face. Beside him, his brother and sister are dressed similarly. Their escort would be almost pitifully small if it wasn’t for the fact that all three of them have had to leave behind sizable forces on the Telmarine and Belgarine borders; their coming to Cair Paravel is a respite from their respective wars, not an end to the conflict.
“Aye, majesty,” Nicasia says. “Even the foreigners haven’t made too much trouble.”
Peter nods and looks up at the white bulk of Cair Paravel behind Nicasia. “We’re not more than an hour out of the city,” he observes. “Do you mind flying in to tell my sister we’ll be there before sunset?”
“Of course, your majesty. It would be my pleasure.”
“Any Belgarines in the Market?” King Edmund asks suddenly. “The border’s closed, but I heard some of the merchants were going to try and make it through Natare.”
“There are Belgarine flags flying down in the city, though I haven’t been to the Market yet,” Nicasia says.
King Edmund turns triumphantly to the High King. “I told you!” he declares. “I told you the Belgarine merchants wouldn’t stay out of Cair Paravel; the Shifting Market gets twice as many traders as Tashbaan, and that’s more than anyone else in the north. Anyone who’d pass up an opportunity like that is a god-damned fool.”
“I don’t recall actually arguing that point with you,” the High King says mildly. “You’re dismissed, aviator.”
“Aye, majesty,” Nicasia says, bowing again, then braces her legs and leaps into the air, spreading her wings to catch the wind. She puts a little more speed into her strokes to get her to Cair Paravel faster and touches down on the soft grass of the High Garden, which covers the top of a squat, wide tower on the castle’s landward side.
She’s not kitted out, so the palace guards that approach do so warily, spears raised. “Nicasia of the 5th Wing Navy, off the Dawnstrike,” she says politely. “Message from the High King to Queen Susan.”
6.
Once upon a time, the Shifting Market was the white city. Now the city has grown to include those who make their homes and their livings alike beneath Cair Paravel; it sees a steady stream of foreigners from both the sea and the land, and these guests need food and lodging and entertainment.
Because the Shifting Market began with sea traders from Masongnong, it still lies close to the docks, though land traders have expanded it inland. On any given day during the height of trade season, the Shifting Market is filled with traders and goods and vendors, Narnian and foreign, selling their wares. Wines from Edan, koboldwork from Anskettell, gems from the eastern isles, silks from Masongnong, spices from Alvarado, oils from Calormen – if it can be named, it can be found in the Shifting Market, where longshipmen from Anskettell rub shoulders with Narnian High Reaches centaurs and Calormene Tarkaans exchange civilities red-robed priests from Edan. Even the royal family can sometimes be found here, the royal guard looping around their feet and clearing their paths. The High King will ask of news from the foreign traders, and Queen Susan will compliment the scents imported from Lycoris, and King Edmund will try Edanese wine, and Queen Lucy will start chatting away with anyone who holds still long enough as if they’ve been the best of friends for years.
The Shifting Market lines both sides of the lionsroad, which leads straight to the gates of Cair Paravel. By custom and royal mandate, the road itself is kept clear, but anyone walking or riding on it will have to endure the calls of vendors for the better part of a mile. Once off the lionsroad proper, true buildings begin to take shape, built over the years by those who’ve found that traders and seamen have more than enough money to throw away. There are taverns and shops, inns and smithies – anything any other city might have, save, of course, for the unusual inhabitants.
7.
Everyone in Narnia knows what those horn calls mean, and even the vendors along the lionsroad go silent as the High King and his escort enter the city. Varen, who’s been living in Narnia and spying for Edan for every damn day of it (and he’s never regretted it; as far as he can tell Silvertongue, King Edmund, has never identified him as one of the many foreign whisperers in the city), reads the High King automatically, already penning his report in his head.
Plain leather, no mail, shield across his back and sword on his hip, riding with mostly-empty saddlebags. New scars on his face. Silvertongue beside him, leaning heavily on his saddlehorn with one wrist bandaged. Stoneheart – or Strongheart, depending if you happened to be Narnian or foreign – on the High King’s other side. She’s sitting up straight, looking around the market with bright interest.
“War must be going well,” says Labache from the booth beside him. He does the same thing as Varen, only for Lycoris instead of Edan. “If the High King and Silvertongue’re back.”
One of his customers shakes his head. “Nah, Bittersteel’d hope as much, but there’s some big to-do at the Cair tonight. Bittersteel doesn’t have a choice between coming home and staying on the border. Even Heartsbane’s not high-ranked enough to handle this. It’s the High King or no one.”
The customer’s a stranger, but the names he uses for the royals mark him as westron. Lascar or Natarene, maybe, with the Belgarine and Telmarine borders closed. Or Shoushani, though Varen’s done enough business with Shoushan before he came to Narnia to doubt it. Bittersteel isn’t the worst thing the High King’s been called, not by a long shot, but it’s currently one of the favored sobriquets after the mess he made of the Natarenes last year.
“What kind of to-do?” Varen asks, but the stranger just shakes his head.
“High King or no one, that’s all I know,” he says, and hands over a handful of copper stars to pay for the basket of fruit he’s buying.
Varen leans on the table holding his goods – spices, wines, fruit – and glances up at Cair Paravel, where three flags are being raised on the highest tower to flutter next to Queen Susan’s, showing that all four royals are in Cair Paravel. The highest, of course, is the High King’s sword and crown.
8.
It is said that Cair Paravel can never be taken by either land or sea, but the White Witch is the only one who tried, and the gates were barred against her. After Masongnong’s defeat, no one dared sail against Cair Paravel and the High King Peter, and certainly no one would dare approach Cair Paravel by land, not when an approach by land would mean fighting through two hundred leagues of hostile territory and then, at the last, facing the ire of the High King. Because of this, Cair Paravel is the safest city in the east. It will never fall while the High King Peter rules Narnia.
Timeline
Author:
bedlamsbardFandom: Chronicles of Narnia movieverse
Rating: PG
Summary: The most welcoming city in the world, it’s said. It’s also said to be one of the oddest. Facets of life in Golden Age Cair Paravel.
Disclaimer: The Chronicles of Narnia and its characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to C.S. Lewis. Some characters, settings, situations, etc., belong to Walden Media. Cut-tag from Christopher Morley.
Author's Notes: Gratuitous worldbuilding.
1.
As a ship rounds Heresceaft Point from the south, it’s just possible, on a clear day, to see the gleam of reflected sunlight off the white walls of Cair Paravel. From Heresceaft to the city itself, it’s a short passage over Glasswater Bay, and as a ship nears, light separates into white marble, grey stone, and green grass. Cair Paravel is said to have grown from the earth itself in a single night, and the castle looks it. The town below is less remote and far more friendly – the most welcoming city in the world, it’s said. It’s also said to be one of the oddest.
2.
Eight years ago, Narnia – a small, untried nation in the north with precious little sea-power, recently conquered (or liberated, depending on what stories you hear) – defeated the great fleet of Masongnong at open sea. The Masongnongese fleet was commanded by Admiral Kundajiq, who was said never to have lost a battle. The Narnian forces – only a fool would name the Narnian navy a “fleet” – were commanded by the High King Peter, a youth who’d sat his throne for less than a year and who was said at the time to have been only a boy. The Masongnongese sailed with over a hundred ships, ostensibly to capture the pirate Osumare Seaworth, who had taken refuge with the Narnians, but in reality to force Narnia to its knees and add a new territory to their growing empire. To take Narnia in the north would threaten Calormen, Masongnong’s great rival. Narnia had only three ships, and perhaps two hundred men.
Masongnong was utterly routed.
It is said that the waters themselves rose up and swallowed whole ships, that the High King called fire down from the sky upon sails and sailors alike, and at last, when the remaining ships were foundering in the Bight of Calormen, the three ships of Narnia – not even true battleships, but the sleek, fast pirate ships gifted to Peter by Osumare Seaworth – grappled with the Masongnongese ships, and hundreds of angry Narnian soldiers and seamen came pouring over their sides, killing as they went. These were no ordinary soldiers: until the High King conquered the land, there were no men in Narnia. These were talking beasts, and creatures half animal and half human, and stranger things that have never been seen outside Narnia itself. Leading them from the Narnian flagship Rising Sun was the High King Peter, sword flashing in the sunlight until it was drenched in Masongnongese blood. Even as battles raged over the decks of the remaining Masongnongese ships, creatures from the sky stooped to catch sailors in their talons and bring them up, higher and higher, finally letting them fall screaming to their deaths in a sea that churned. It is said that Masongnong lost three dozen ships before Admiral Kundajiq and High King Peter finally crossed swords, and after Kundajiq (an accomplished duelist after the Masongnongese fashion) was bleeding from a dozen wounds, he fell to his knees and begged the High King to spare the remaining Masongnongese. Kill him, if the boy king liked, but to spare the remainder of his ships and sailors. The High King agreed and put up his sword.
This victory alone would have been enough to make Narnia’s reputation for a thousand years – the great Admiral Kundajiq surrendering to a boy? – but what Kundajiq knew was that a second force of Masongnongese ships was coming, and he had seen that Narnia did not have the strength to hold off a second such invasion. He may have failed, but his peer Admiral Balghichi would not, and Masongnong would force Narnia to its knees after all.
Immediately after the second Masongnongese fleet passed Lionshead Point, leaving Archenlander waters and entering Narnian ones, the worst storm in centuries blew up and scattered the remnants of the fleet – what few ships weren’t sunk outright – across the Bight of Calormen. The flagship had the luck to limp into the harbor at Cair Paravel, where they were met by the High King Peter and a significant portion of the Narnian army. Admiral Balghichi, being no fool, surrendered immediately.
It was the worst defeat Masongnong had seen in centuries, and word of it had already been spread by Narnian traders into Archenland, where it traveled quickly to Calormen and then on to the rest of the continent. In exchange for the ships Narnia had captured, and which represented a significant portion of the Masongnongese navy, Masongnong agreed to an unheard of arrangement – exclusive trade agreements with Narnia. Masongnongese traders left the northern countries within a matter of days. Shortly afterwards, they converged on Cair Paravel, along with traders from a dozen other countries that no longer had access to Masongnongese goods except through Narnia.
Anskettell had come to Narnia not because they needed Masongnongese silks or spices – they bordered Masongnong to the cold, rocky south, far beyond the tenets of the Masongnong-Narnia agreement – but because the Konungr had wanted to see the mettle of the man who could break the might of mighty Masongnong. Whatever he saw in the High King Peter, it was enough for him: the following year, and every year after, Anskettell’s traders sailed for Cair Paravel along with half the world.
3.
Eirikur’s first confused impression of Cair Paravel is white stone streaked with all the colors of the rainbow. As the longship draws closer, these streaks coalesce into the thousand flags of the ships riding at anchor in the harbor. Eirikur picks out the ones he knows: the golden dragon of Masongnong, the black and gold of Calormen, the dancing unicorn of Edan, the three-headed eagle of Vandalin, the gray stag of Archenland. Everywhere is the lion of Narnia, gold on red, flying over pennants from Galma, Terebinthia, the Seven Isles, the Lone Islands, and other flags he doesn’t know.
“The Strangers’ Marina,” Thorold says from beside Eirikur. “No Narnian ships here, only foreigners and tributaries. Anything you don’t recognize?”
“The dancing maiden on green?” Eirikur asks, pointing as the longship slips past.
His brother squints at it. “Marinel,” he says at last. “On the far side of the continent. By the gods, they’ve come a long way. And Lycoris beside them, see the crossed swords? Seven years ago Narnia was lucky to have Masongnong and Anskettell in port, and now it has most of the eastern world. And there’s Anskettell’s docking,” he adds. There are three longships already in port and space for two more.
“BOYS!” their father bellows. “We’re putting in! Get your lazy arses over here.”
Eirikur and Thorold scramble, and within minutes the Weeping Widow is tied up next to the Sea Witch out of Aluearad territory, their father Aethgar and the Sea Witch’s captain bellowing greetings at each other as the crew unloads onto the dock.
Once that’s done, Aethgar calls Eirikur and Thorold over. He hands over a pair of small leather pouches that clink when Eirikur takes his. “Narnian coin,” he says. “Twenty stars, with one moon each. Spend it all if you want, but don’t come asking for more until we’ve sold our stock. And if you get into trouble, don’t expect me to bail you out.”
“Come on!” Thorold says, and Eirikur goes with him, eager to see the wonders of Cair Paravel. This is the first time he’s been to Narnia, unlike his brother, who’s come twice before.
For a little while they simply walk among the docks of the Strangers’ Marina, looking up at the foreign ships and occasionally talking to seamen who recognize them as Ansketts. Soon enough they’re on the northern edge of the docks and have to move from wooden piers to dry land.
“What are those ships?” Eirikur asks, because a new set of docks starts on the other side of a stony sea-wall, and these ships are easily as varied as the ones in the Strangers’ Marina, though they all fly the same flags.
Thorold grins and starts toward the new docks. “The Shield Marina,” he says. “Home of the Narnian navy. Come and see.”
“Will they let us on the docks?” Eirikur asks, because in most ports he’s been to where the merchants and the navy are side by side, the navy is strict about not letting civilians – especially foreigners – anywhere near.
“If we’re lucky,” Thorold says mysteriously.
They go up to the wooden gate that marks the start of the Shield Marina. “Sorry, boys,” says one of the big wolfhounds lying on the docks, panting. “These docks’re closed to the public.”
Eirikur stares at it with wide eyes. “That dog just talked,” he says, and the wolfhound closes its eyes briefly before climbing to its feet as Thorold laughs.
“Why, yes, Ansketsman,” it says. “I can talk. Just as well as you, even. First time in Narnia?”
“Yes?” Eirikur ventures weakly.
The wolfhound snorts. “Well, a word of advice, then: don’t make the mistake of not thinking anything here can’t talk. I’ve seen the High King carry on a conversation with the walls of Cair Paravel. Not that I hear them talking back, but he can.”
Eirikur blinks.
Thorold recovers himself and says, “Is Konane around? Last I heard he was on the Golden Summer.”
“He still is, and he’s off-duty. I think he’s around somewhere, though,” the wolfhound says. “Locke, you want to go find him for these boys?”
Another wolfhound heaves itself up and says, “Yes, ma’am,” before loping off lazily along the docks, dodging a few sailors as it does so.
“So what ship are you off of, Ansketsmen?” the wolfhound asks conversationally.
“The Weeping Widow, out of the Eormengild territories,” Thorold replies. “I’m Thorold Aethgarson, and this is my brother Eirikur Aethgarson.”
“Lasca,” the wolfhound said, “of the Narnian navy. What ports did you pass through on your way north?”
“Canaho, Tashbaan, and Peveril,” Thorold says, and they chat about the state of the sea-going countries of the east, as well as whether Masongnong and Calormen are going to go to war this year or not. The clash between the two has been brewing for decades now; their empires are nearly equal in size and only the poor, terrified tributary of Edan, Feaduden, separates the two.
A few moments later Locke comes loping back up the docks, accompanied by a fair-haired Narnian who calls greetings as he sees them. “Thorold Aethgarson! What brings you to Cair Paravel?”
“What else but the Shifting Market, Konane?” Thorold says, grinning. “We just came in. Any chance I can show my kid brother the famed Narnian navy?”
“I don’t see why not,” Konane says, rolling his shoulders.
“The High King will have your head for this, selkie,” Lasca says.
“High King’s not here, is he?” Konane retorts, fiddling with the lock at the top of the gate. “And what he knows won’t hurt him. Besides, they’re just a couple kids, and there’s nothing on these docks that they won’t see if Anskettell sails against Narnia.”
“We’re too smart to sail against Narnia,” Thorold says. “After what your High King did to Masongnong? Anskettell doesn’t have enough ships for that.”
“And we’re at peace with Narnia,” Eirikur adds.
Lasca snorts. “Like that means anything to certain parties,” she mutters under her breath.
“You must be the kid brother,” Konanae says, grinning at him. “Captain Geirson’s youngest?”
“One more sister,” Eirikur says. “I’m Eirikur.”
“Konane of the Delmore family, currently onboard the Golden Summer, of His Majesty the High King’s Royal Narnian Navy,” Konane says cheerfully, ushering them in, then closes and locks the gate behind them, ignoring Lasca’s disapproving scowl. “First trip out, or just your first trip to Narnia?”
“He’s Clann Hacun, Konane,” Thorold says. “He was sailing the seas when your navy was still a gleam in the High King’s eye.”
“Most people have,” Konane points out. “About half the fleet’s at sea right now, especially with the Shifting Market – good hunting for pirates, if they can make it into Narnian waters without the High King knowing. The rest of us are riding at anchor here.” He points. “Two of the first ships, Admiral Seaworth’s Rising Sun and Captain Malubay’s Copper Rain, both of them out of –”
“Lycoris,” Eirikur says. “Only the Lycori style their bows like that.”
Konane grins. “Just so. On the other side of the Rain is the Spring Beginning, Captain Tristorm’s galleon. He brought the Shadowsinger and the Poison Rose out of Alvarado to swear at Cair Paravel; the High King gave him the Spring after he kicked the hell out of the Terebinthian fleet. That’s the Shadowsinger coming in now; the Poison Rose is still out with Admiral Yricsdottir and her Quickkill. That’s out of –”
“Anskettell,” Thorold says, and winces. “Everyone knows the Narnian navy’s made out of bits and pieces of the rest of the world’s.”
“Means we got the best of all you, doesn’t it?” Konane says. “There’s my Golden Summer, under Captain Qaya. And on her other side –”
“That’s a gods-damned carrier,” Thorold interrupts. “That’s the Aerial Corps flag, that’s a gods-damned carrier –”
Staring up at the ship, Eirikur is speechless. Narnia’s inhabitants make her capable of using tactics no one else in the world can, and the High King Peter has taken full advantage of those. This is an aerial carrier, easily the biggest ship in the harbor, and oddly structured – the masts’ placement seems to make no sense to his experienced Ansketts eye, though he can see how they could work – they just won’t be as efficient as most ships. He knows that Narnian carriers can be rowed, and frequently are, though it takes the crew of two smaller ships to fill a carrier and every one of them rowing. The ship’s decks are empty of the usual sea-time accoutrements, only a few guards – men, as far as he can tell – standing duty. In theory, Eirikur knows what a griffin looks like, but he’s never seen one. The first one he sees is the stylized one above the crossed sword and trident on the flag that flies just below the golden lion – the flag of the Narnian Aerial Corps.
“That,” Konane says, sounding deeply satisfied, “is the Dawnstrike. She’s just been declared fit for sea duty.”
“Where are the griffins?” Eirikur asks, and the longing in his voice surprises him.
Konane glances up at the ship. “On leave, mostly. They’re in port, and there’s not much call for aviators unless the bells call them to shipside duty. The other carrier, the Sword of Morning, is at sea. The rest of the Corps is off with the High King and King Edmund at the Belgarine border, or with Queen Lucy at Arn Abedin.”
“An aerial carrier,” Thorold says dreamily. “I’ve never seen one before; I thought they were never in port.”
“Well, we’ve only ever had one,” Konane begins. “Do you know how much wood –” He stops at the horn calls that echo over the harbor, turning sharply towards the land. Above them, on Cair Paravel’s highest tower, new flags begin to climb, flickering crimson in the sunlight.
The horn calls go on and on, singing melodies that Eirikur doesn’t recognize or understand the meaning of, and then they mingle with the sound of cheering.
Konane grins widely. “The High King’s returned!” he exclaims. “And King Edmund and Queen Lucy. Not the rest of the army, but the royals themselves. I’d best get you off the docks before the High King finds out somehow and has my head on a silver plate.”
4.
The story is that Cair Paravel was never built, but instead grew out of the earth of Narnia in a single day and night. Certainly the castle looks it. White stone rises from rich earth and green grass and forms the walls and body of the castle, but it is said that the majority of the castle isn’t above the ground, but in it, though few have ever been inside the castle’s depths to see for certain. Beyond this, however, there is supposed to be not one, but two castles, the second hidden inside the first in a network of twisting secret passages that no one but the High King Peter himself knows. Assassins have tried to find these passages; some of them have become trapped in the walls of the castle and had the choice of staying quiet and starving to death or calling out and being executed for treason.
Beneath the castle walls lies the city that has no name, but has, over the years, come to be associated with Cair Paravel as well. For almost four years all industry revolved around the docks and the Shifting Market begun by the Masongnongese and Ansketts traders, and then the westron countries and eastern seagoing states began sending traders as well. The city grew around two things: the Shifting Market, so-called because of the traders that come and go with the shifting of the seasons, and the armed forces of Narnia, the army, the navy, and the Aerial Corps. Nine years after the four thrones of prophecy were filled, the city has grown into a thriving metropolis populated by native Narnians and immigrants of all species, but what dominates the city – called by some the pearl of the east – is the castle of Cair Paravel, where Peter the King of Summer reigns as High King.
5.
The Aerial Corps headquarters are built into the White Cliffs of Morgencolla, half a mile from Cair Paravel. They are a series of caves carved by the dwarves of the Red Dwarves of the Scebbi clan; the lowest serve as meeting rooms, the highest for training, the middle as barracks. When a carrier is docked at the Shield Marina, its Aerial Corps crew barracks at the White Cliffs, as do the Aerial Corps troops that serve with the army.
Nicasia is stationed onboard the Dawnstrike, transferred over from the 1st Wing Army. Since the Dawnstrike’s docked in the Shield Marina now, she’s on leave, circling in the air above Cair Paravel. From above, the city looks almost like a white rose, and she likes looking down at it, narrowing her wings to drop down suddenly, leveling off over the Strangers’ Marina with a whoop. Foreign sailors look up, some shouting in fear, some in excitement, and Nicasia dips her wings in salute to the guards on duty. They raise their spears in acknowledgment, grinning, and she beats her way upwards again, swooping over the city proper towards the lionsroad.
Crimson flags flutter against the verdant green of the fields, the sunlight striking sparks off spearheads. Nicasia whoops again as the flags spread in the light breeze – the sword and crown, the broken wand and all-seeing eye, the cordial and crossed daggers – and dives down to land in the road before the High King’s horse.
“What is wrong with you?” the mare demands, half-rearing in surprise.
“Easy, Sebi,” the High King says, patting her neck as she puts all four hooves firmly on the ground and glares. “What’s your unit and assignment, aviator?”
“5th Wing Navy, the Dawnstrike, your majesty,” Nicasia says respectfully, dipping her head in a bow.
“Is all well in Cair Paravel?” he asks, looking at her with concern in his eyes. He’s in plain worn leather, only the shield slung across his back and the lion-headed sword at his hip betraying his rank, and he looks – as far as she’s learned to determine humans – tired, with faint, healing nicks etched across the skin of his face. Beside him, his brother and sister are dressed similarly. Their escort would be almost pitifully small if it wasn’t for the fact that all three of them have had to leave behind sizable forces on the Telmarine and Belgarine borders; their coming to Cair Paravel is a respite from their respective wars, not an end to the conflict.
“Aye, majesty,” Nicasia says. “Even the foreigners haven’t made too much trouble.”
Peter nods and looks up at the white bulk of Cair Paravel behind Nicasia. “We’re not more than an hour out of the city,” he observes. “Do you mind flying in to tell my sister we’ll be there before sunset?”
“Of course, your majesty. It would be my pleasure.”
“Any Belgarines in the Market?” King Edmund asks suddenly. “The border’s closed, but I heard some of the merchants were going to try and make it through Natare.”
“There are Belgarine flags flying down in the city, though I haven’t been to the Market yet,” Nicasia says.
King Edmund turns triumphantly to the High King. “I told you!” he declares. “I told you the Belgarine merchants wouldn’t stay out of Cair Paravel; the Shifting Market gets twice as many traders as Tashbaan, and that’s more than anyone else in the north. Anyone who’d pass up an opportunity like that is a god-damned fool.”
“I don’t recall actually arguing that point with you,” the High King says mildly. “You’re dismissed, aviator.”
“Aye, majesty,” Nicasia says, bowing again, then braces her legs and leaps into the air, spreading her wings to catch the wind. She puts a little more speed into her strokes to get her to Cair Paravel faster and touches down on the soft grass of the High Garden, which covers the top of a squat, wide tower on the castle’s landward side.
She’s not kitted out, so the palace guards that approach do so warily, spears raised. “Nicasia of the 5th Wing Navy, off the Dawnstrike,” she says politely. “Message from the High King to Queen Susan.”
6.
Once upon a time, the Shifting Market was the white city. Now the city has grown to include those who make their homes and their livings alike beneath Cair Paravel; it sees a steady stream of foreigners from both the sea and the land, and these guests need food and lodging and entertainment.
Because the Shifting Market began with sea traders from Masongnong, it still lies close to the docks, though land traders have expanded it inland. On any given day during the height of trade season, the Shifting Market is filled with traders and goods and vendors, Narnian and foreign, selling their wares. Wines from Edan, koboldwork from Anskettell, gems from the eastern isles, silks from Masongnong, spices from Alvarado, oils from Calormen – if it can be named, it can be found in the Shifting Market, where longshipmen from Anskettell rub shoulders with Narnian High Reaches centaurs and Calormene Tarkaans exchange civilities red-robed priests from Edan. Even the royal family can sometimes be found here, the royal guard looping around their feet and clearing their paths. The High King will ask of news from the foreign traders, and Queen Susan will compliment the scents imported from Lycoris, and King Edmund will try Edanese wine, and Queen Lucy will start chatting away with anyone who holds still long enough as if they’ve been the best of friends for years.
The Shifting Market lines both sides of the lionsroad, which leads straight to the gates of Cair Paravel. By custom and royal mandate, the road itself is kept clear, but anyone walking or riding on it will have to endure the calls of vendors for the better part of a mile. Once off the lionsroad proper, true buildings begin to take shape, built over the years by those who’ve found that traders and seamen have more than enough money to throw away. There are taverns and shops, inns and smithies – anything any other city might have, save, of course, for the unusual inhabitants.
7.
Everyone in Narnia knows what those horn calls mean, and even the vendors along the lionsroad go silent as the High King and his escort enter the city. Varen, who’s been living in Narnia and spying for Edan for every damn day of it (and he’s never regretted it; as far as he can tell Silvertongue, King Edmund, has never identified him as one of the many foreign whisperers in the city), reads the High King automatically, already penning his report in his head.
Plain leather, no mail, shield across his back and sword on his hip, riding with mostly-empty saddlebags. New scars on his face. Silvertongue beside him, leaning heavily on his saddlehorn with one wrist bandaged. Stoneheart – or Strongheart, depending if you happened to be Narnian or foreign – on the High King’s other side. She’s sitting up straight, looking around the market with bright interest.
“War must be going well,” says Labache from the booth beside him. He does the same thing as Varen, only for Lycoris instead of Edan. “If the High King and Silvertongue’re back.”
One of his customers shakes his head. “Nah, Bittersteel’d hope as much, but there’s some big to-do at the Cair tonight. Bittersteel doesn’t have a choice between coming home and staying on the border. Even Heartsbane’s not high-ranked enough to handle this. It’s the High King or no one.”
The customer’s a stranger, but the names he uses for the royals mark him as westron. Lascar or Natarene, maybe, with the Belgarine and Telmarine borders closed. Or Shoushani, though Varen’s done enough business with Shoushan before he came to Narnia to doubt it. Bittersteel isn’t the worst thing the High King’s been called, not by a long shot, but it’s currently one of the favored sobriquets after the mess he made of the Natarenes last year.
“What kind of to-do?” Varen asks, but the stranger just shakes his head.
“High King or no one, that’s all I know,” he says, and hands over a handful of copper stars to pay for the basket of fruit he’s buying.
Varen leans on the table holding his goods – spices, wines, fruit – and glances up at Cair Paravel, where three flags are being raised on the highest tower to flutter next to Queen Susan’s, showing that all four royals are in Cair Paravel. The highest, of course, is the High King’s sword and crown.
8.
It is said that Cair Paravel can never be taken by either land or sea, but the White Witch is the only one who tried, and the gates were barred against her. After Masongnong’s defeat, no one dared sail against Cair Paravel and the High King Peter, and certainly no one would dare approach Cair Paravel by land, not when an approach by land would mean fighting through two hundred leagues of hostile territory and then, at the last, facing the ire of the High King. Because of this, Cair Paravel is the safest city in the east. It will never fall while the High King Peter rules Narnia.
Timeline
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 01:35 am (UTC)I love your Narnia verse and how you tackle the Golden Age!
Cair Paravel is beautiful and I love how it's peace and prosperity as a market port is interspersed with Peter coming back from war, the presence of the airial carriers and the Edan spy. (I love the two spies!) I love these slices of Golden-Age life.
I'm a bit confused about Lucy's nicknames. Narnian's call her Strongheart, the foreigners Stoneheart? Is there backstory for those? (I love backstory!)
Also I love your original characters and I hope there will be more with the boys and a sequal explaining why Peter has come home! Attempted assassination of Susan?
I really can't think of a political event that would require Peter- I see the siblings spending alot of effort making sure the other nations see Narnian royalty as four Kings and Queens with considerable power.
Peter and Edmund are awesome- I look forward to more Royality interaction!
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 06:57 pm (UTC)There is not, at the moment, specific backstory about Lucy's nicknames. "Strongheart" comes from her faith and her loyalty; "Stoneheart" from her pragmatism; I like the contrast between the two because it shows how very differently she's perceived inside and outside Narnia.
Not an attempted assassination of Susan...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 10:53 pm (UTC)Not Susan. Hmmmm...
You are planning on elaborating, right?!
I really love the nicknames in your 'verse. Heartsbane is brillant and now I understand Stoneheart- it is a very nice play with Strongheart. I love that there's such a national identity attached with Narnia.
Of course the only way for Narnia to get other humans like Seaworth would be to get them from other nations. "Not only did they take our best ships, but then Narnia up and decides they want our peasants and merchants too!"
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 02:24 am (UTC)I like to think that Narnia got a lot of immigrants for various reasons. Some because they'd been forced out by the White Witch, some because Peter conquered their countries, some because they just like Narnia, some as refugees...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 02:30 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 06:57 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 06:02 am (UTC)When I read this, I thought, oh don't be so sure that Silvertongue *doesn't* know you're a spy-he might be letting you report what he wants their enemies to know, and is ready to step on you if you get out of line...*scowls*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 06:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 09:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 02:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 03:05 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 10:00 am (UTC)And the last bit, that very last sentences, is sooooo good.
It will never fall while the High King Peter rules Narnia.
What a way to set up the fall of Cair Paravel after the Pevensies leave.
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 06:59 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 01:11 pm (UTC)But basically, I felt like I could see Cair Paravel, this was so vivid. Which is exactly what I want from Narnia fanfiction, so, thanks. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 07:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-09 09:01 pm (UTC)*purrs*
(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 02:24 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 01:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 02:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-08-10 04:05 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-12 05:55 am (UTC)Cair Paravel is said to have grown from the earth itself in a single night
i don't know if i've mentioned before how much i like this idea. it's very fairy-tale, it has that fairy-tale rightness/logic about it. imbued with a sense of destiny. why is it here? because it is meant to be here. we are moved forward not just because of our choices, but because of the story's choices.
I’ve seen the High King carry on a conversation with the walls of Cair Paravel. Not that I hear them talking back, but he can.
CLASSIC YOU
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-12 01:14 pm (UTC)OOOH. I am very fond of that idea myself. Narnia is a magical country, after all.
It's a good thing the Narnians have flexible ideas about the word "insane", because talking to the walls...
(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-12 04:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2008-09-12 08:00 pm (UTC)Oh, man, don't tempt me any more than I already am tempted. And where Cornelius asks Peter very seriously who's right, and Peter stares at him blankly.
(Agh, I want you to read "Written by the Victors" so badly, because that's exactly what it is, but I understand if SGA isn't your cuppa tea. But oh my god historians bitching at each other in fic.)
Illustration: The castle of Cair Paravel as it is was during the Golden Age of Narnia. Although the precise location of the castle has never been discovered, pre- and post- Conquest records describe Cair Paravel as "lying where the Great River and the River Rush join and enter the sea, at the top of a green hill overlooking a natural harbor that, during the reign of the High King, was nearly always filled with ships from a hundred different countries, which formed the so-called Shifting Market." In CY 759, or Narnian Year 172 (also 16, in the reckoning of those Narnians who count time as beginning again when the High King ascended the throne of Narnia), Cair Paravel was destroyed by Natarene invaders and the Shifting Market burned, giving Graveyard Bay its name. The ruins of Cair Paravel and Graveyard Bay have been placed up and down the coast of Narnia, from as far north as the Marshes and as far south as Glasswater Bay. While the latter claim is most commonly accepted, some historians dispute it because no wreckage can be seen at the bottom of the bay, which takes its name from the water's extraordinary clarity. Other historians point out that the "hundreds of ships" burned during the Sack of Cair Paravel would have rotted away in the intervening millennium between the Telmarine Conquest and the Dying Times.
*has a moment*
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-17 12:38 pm (UTC)Also, CARRIER! AERIAL CORPS!!!! :D :D
(no subject)
Date: 2009-04-17 03:59 pm (UTC)