Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Edmund rode into Western Wood, the overwhelming barrage of anticipation only heightening his impending anxiety. If his plan worked, he could bring the incandescent peace everyone in his kingdom longed for.
Miguel was riding beside him, and at once he tossed a black and blue laced masquerade mask to Edmund. After an hour of riding, they came to a clearing, but were faced with the castle guards.
Edmund stumbled back in awe as he craned his neck up to the Martis kingdom; and he didn't want to admit it was unconditionally thousands of times more impressive than his own. Cursing under his breath, he looked towards Miguel, who was also as dumbfounded.
"Do you have the fake invitation?" Edmund whispered, interrupting his advisor from his thoughts.
Miguel fumbled with his sachet, and pulled out a scroll with a blue ribbon cascading from top to bottom. Taking a quick inhale, they rode towards the kingdom's guards, and placed the masks over their faces. The guard eyed them both slowly, but allowed them to pass through, nonchalantly.
Even if their plans were foiled, there was no turning back now.
Edmund traced his eyes along the streets of the village, lights in the distance flickering like a million fireflies. Encapsulated in mirth, Edmund and Miguel rode proudly through the streets that led to the palace.
The palace, growing like a crystal, sparkled just the same as any cut diamond, rose out of nothing to tower above them, disappearing into the freezing fog.
Going past another few sets of guards, they mounted their horses and formalised themselves to enter the castle. Edmund's tamer hair hung loosely over his mask and eyes, and he prayed to himself nobody would notice him.
And for the first time ever, a Pevensie entered the dominion of a Martis. His eyes frantically scanned the crowds as he fumbled with the letter hid underneath his tunic.
Edmund looked around at the hallway, carpeted with an indigo material with elaborate golden designs and draped with tapestries and dark cloths, making the whole place look regal. And then they entered the main hall. Every item, every wall, the ceiling, the floor was all plated in rich gold. The streaks of light that entered from the sunset, basked each face in a warm luminance.
Men and women from all ages forgathered around the hall, dancing rhythmically to the soft audibles of the orchestra. It was a sight Edmund was in awe to endeavour. His dark eyes widened and his mouth fell agape as he turned his head to find Martists everywhere. This ball was simply nothing compared to the ones held at Cair Paravel. Laughing and singing filled the air as Edmund ascended up the golden staircase, to get a wider view overhead.
Both Edmund and Miguel tried to find their target, Lord Martis, but there were thousands of people below them. The task was harder than they anticipated. They then each got given a silver goblet, filled with a crimson liquid.
Out of joy, they drank and somewhat got enraptured in the celebration they should be resenting. And Edmund, he hadn't felt so free. In five years of reign, he had not once had a day off, and seeing all the joy around him filled him with an uneasy happiness.
"No wonder Pete is so scared of this place—" Edmund whispered, forcing back a smile.
He turned to Miguel who still had the mask hiding his indistinguishable features. But from his awkward swaying to the music, Edmund concluded his friend was enjoying the party as much as he was.
"Let's split up to find Lord Martis", Miguel suggested. Edmund nodded and they both set off in different directions, and got engulfed in the crowd of people.
Edmund hesitantly looked in and out of rooms, surveying his counterparts before he took a glance. One room he chanced upon was different, it was a room so bright, it clouded over his vision. It was like he had entered Aslan's country itself. He couldn't resist but look inside.
Encircling the room, were white flames, illuminating the atmosphere with a heavenly glow. "What is this place?" Edmund whispered, incoherently.
Shutting the door, he wandered towards the wall, which was coated in a white fabric, which he discovered was infact a tapestry.
Eyebrows furrowed in concentration, he saw that the tapestry reached the ceiling to the floor, and beside it was no-other, than a small white statue of Aslan himself. Perplexed, Edmund read a section of the tapestry, but it was written in a language which was indecipherable to him.
Latin.
"I didn't know the Martists spoke Latin—"
He did the best he could to understand some of the words, he knew some of the language; yet only Peter was fluent in it. Edmund notified many symbols of peace and unity, and then read the bold paragraph above.
Please be peaceful. We believe in law and order. We are not advocating violence, I want you to love your enemies. Those who attempt to conquer hatred by hatred are like warriors who take weapons to overcome others who bear arms. This does not end hatred, but gives it room to grow. Darkness cannot drive our darkness, only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate, only love can do that!
Edmund fell back, dumbfounded.
"Everything we know about these people...is wrong!" He said, "They resent us, because we fight wars, and conquer nations. Th—these people are pacifists..."
There was a moment of silence before the door opened, and a soft voice entered.
"What are you doing in here?"
—sorry for the spam of publishes, these have been in my drafts for weeks !
