The Regents : the Forgotten Chronicle [COMPLETED]

Prologue : The Discovery

King Tirian pushed open the heavy oak doors to the castle library, with the hinges making only minor protests. The library itself was as large as the royal dining hall with the ceiling arching three stories above the king's head. A dozen rectangular tables were placed in rows across the stone floor. Shelves upon shelves of books occupied the walls running the length of the room with tall, narrow windows taking up the shorter ends.

"Peatsely?" the king called for the mole librarian. Tirian heard a crash from behind the door on the other side of the room, the door that lead to the librarian's private study.

"In a moment!" came the muffled reply.

Tirian chuckled and strode across the room to the plain brown door as tall as a faun. Just as he reached out to grab the curved handle, the door popped open, almost hitting the king. Peatsely Trowel was hurrying backwards as he carried a stack of four thick books. The king held the door for the small mole as he scuttled around the corner.

"Ah, Your Majesty," Peatsely puffed. His long claws rapidly clicked on the floor as he tried to reach his destination before his stack of books toppled him. "I will be with you in a moment." The blind mole turned his head to side to sniff the air - or rather the air containing the scent of the shelves he was passing.

King Tirian followed and curiously peered down at the librarian who was just tall enough to reach his thigh. "Is there some way I may be able to assist you?"

"No, Sire. Ah, here we are!" Peatsely announced. He set his books on the floor next to a shallow lidless crate with a rope tied to each corner. The ropes came together at a point at the end of a long rope stretching all the way to the second story balcony and draping back down to the first floor. After Peatsely had loaded his books into the crate, he scurried over to the ladder leading up to the second story.

"Your Majesty," Peatsely asked as he straightened his rust-colored vest, "if you would be so kind as to lift the books to the second story." Without waiting for a reply, the stocky mole climbed the ladder almost as fast as a human would.

Tirian pulled on the hanging rope and watched the crate rise with the books in tow. "I was just coming to tell you the news: rumors have been circling that Aslan has been seen again." The crate arrived at a pulley set up in an empty space in the second story railing. Already waiting, Peatsely stared into space and snatched the first book. He examined the title by feeling the lettering with his sensitive star-shaped nose. After setting the book on the floor, the librarian snatched up the second one for a similar examination.

Tirian continued. "Because you're the Narnian chronicler, I thought you would want to write this down in the history books."

"Yes, history," Peatsely said in his absentminded manner. "That's exactly what I'm looking for." He scooped up the two books and scampered to the bottom shelf, feeling with a clawed hand for an empty space.

"Pardon me," the king called from below, "but would you mind clarifying what you meant by that? How can one be looking for history? And why?"

"Because of something I recently found, dear king." Peatsely snatched up the third book and scurried up a ladder to the fourth shelf. "I was reading the records of our beloved land's history back when the Kings and Queens of Old still ruled our lands. Those always were interesting times. (Then again, all history is fascinating.)" Having returned the book, Peatsely descended the rungs and picked up the last book. As he returned it, he continued to jabber on, growing more and more excited.

"However, when that particular reign ended, so did the records. True, scribes continued to document history in the following centuries but the records eventually died out when the Telmarines captured Narnia. It was only during King Caspian X 's reign when the records were properly documented once again."