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Peridan clarifies, “I consider myself a Narnian, not an Archenlander. Yes, I am from Archenland, my family is from Archenland, and I will ride to Archenland if she is ever in danger but my heart is with Narnia.”

Lanisen says, “I see.”

Oren enters the library, and glances between the two men. “I beg your pardon. I was told that I could find Lord Peridan here.”

Peridan turns his head and gets to his feet, giving a bow, “Hello Duke Oren.”

Lanisen glances past Peridan and gets quickly to his feet as well, bowing to both men. “I’ll–” he says, and gestures toward the door.

Lanisen bows again and makes his way to the door, his pace picking up slightly as he gets further away.

Lanisen crosses the room, heading through the door at the distant west end of the library.

Peridan nods to Lanisen, “Of course, good day Lanisen.”

Oren looks uncertain. “Of course,” he says as Lanisen leaves.

As the man leaves, Peridan turns to Oren, “How are you, Duke?”

Oren bows. “Well, thank you.”

Peridan gestures to the seat, “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

Oren sits. “I hope I didn’t frighten Lanisen off.”

Peridan shakes his head, “Not at all. I think he has some things he wants to think about.”

He does look a bit concerned towards the door.

Oren says, “I hope all is well. He seems a decent sort.”

Peridan nods, “Indeed.”

Oren says, “In any case, I had a question. There is a matter I wish to pursue, and I felt I ought to speak to someone on the council before doing so.”

Peridan tips his head, “Oh?”

Oren says, “I met a centaur by the name of Wintermoor. I don’t know if you know of him.”

Peridan nods, “Yes, I have made his acquaintance several times.”

Oren says, “Ah. In any event, I saw him in town. He…recognized me.”

Peridan looks a bit confused, “Well, you are a popular man right now.”

Oren waves a hand in dismissal of that notion. “He said he saw the likeness of the last kings of Narnia in my face.”

Peridan’s eyebrows raise, “Oh, I see.”

Oren looks unsettled. “You may imagine the effect that had upon me. There is a portrait of my great grandfather in our manor, and I have observed the resemblance before, but I never imagined it to be striking enough to provoke recognition in a passing stranger. He said he had worked for the royal family before the Winter.”

Peridan clasps his fingers together, “Centaurs are known to have excellent memories.”

He observes the man, “Why do you feel unsettled?”

Oren says, “I grew up with stories of Narnia, hearing them from my grandfather, who had them from his father. I have always felt connected to the lost line of kings, but it is different than hearing it confirmed by someone else.”

Peridan dips his head, “Ah, yes. I can see how that does make one feel a bit different.”

Oren says, “Yes, well, I wanted to ask your leave to speak to him further on the subject. I was suitably vague when he brought the subject up, as I have been trying to keep my identity and the current process quiet. I don’t see any profit in provoking conjecture.”

Peridan taps his chin in thought. “I agree that we should avoid conjecture at all costs however Centaurs are not know to speculate. I believe that Wintermoor will be discreet if you do wish to speak more about the subject.”

He looks just a tad sad, “I would not want to rob anyone from learning more about their family.”

Oren inclines his head. “I thank you.”

Peridan asks, “Everything else going well?”

Oren rises. “Yes, thank you. It’s a true pleasure to be…well, home.”

Peridan smiles, “I am glad to hear that.”

Oren returns the smile. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a letter to write.”

Peridan dips his head, “Of course.” He also gets up, “I have some things to attend too as well.”

Oren leaves the room.


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