The Faded Portrait of a Bygone Era

The Red Lady

"The Calormen troops are moving swiftly from the South. King Lune sent word this morning. Their scouts say that the Calormen are moving through the Great Desert."

Edmund stood at the head of the table, looking over a map as he spoke. He rested his hands on the table as he studied the potential troop movements. In the tent with him were only two of his siblings, Lucy and Margaret, along with Oreius, their ever faithful general. Peter and Susan had remained behind at Cair Paravel to handle other matters whilst the three of them took care of their business in Archenland.

Margaret, now the strong age of twenty-seven, sighed, shaking her head.

"How cowardly to attack in such a time... What man would dare?"

Oreius lightly stamped a hoof, shifting his weight.

"And yet it is clear that the Calormen have no shame. Your foresight has told us as much."

"There is nothing to be done about that," Edmund said. "Let us focus on protecting the Archen people."

"I have no doubt Prince Rabadash is behind this," Lucy said.

"Of course," Margaret said disdainfully. The Kings and Queens remembered well how he had attempted to force Susan into a marriage. "He must have manipulated his father," Margaret continued. "It used to be that the Tisroc feared Narnian magic, so much so that he would not even dare attack our allies."

Lucy shook her head. "It seems that scorn and rejection are powerful tools for this selfish prince..."

"Enough speculation," Edmund said. "The time has come. Oreius, please help King Lune prepare for this attack."

The centaur nodded, then trotted away to prepare.

Edmund stood straight, leaning away from the table.

"Lucy, if you would send word to prepare messengers? We must make those at Cair Paravel aware of this battle to come." She nodded and went off to fulfill the request.

When the others had all gone, Edmund fixed his gaze on Margaret, his expression unreadable.

"Have your dreams revealed anything more? Perhaps the stars have news?"

Margaret shook her head.

"No... I'm afraid there's been nothing."

But that wasn't quite true. The previous night, she'd dreamed again, the same one as the night she'd turned eighteen. She certainly wasn't about to worry Edmund with that, though.

"Tell it to me again," Edmund said. "Let me think over what we know one last time."

Margaret nodded.

"In my dream, I saw the aftermath of a battle: A field littered with banners and armor and weapons, of Narnia, Archenland, and Calormen. There were no bodies in sight, but the sky was red... The stars foretold a great battle, but a Narnian-Archen victory."

Edmund nodded at her words, then sighed, shaking his head.

"I dread to think of the lives this will cost us..." he said tiredly. "In this Golden Age of peace, too."

"We fight to preserve that peace, Edmund," Margaret said, resting a hand on his arm. "And our soldiers go willingly. They want to fight for their land. We are not the Calormen or the Telmarines, drafting the young into unending war. It is Rabadash and his father who court war in this Age."