Peter was in the garden when the letter arrived. The days of summer had long since fled, and the leaves were just beginning to catch fire, turning to brilliant gold and fiery orange. It was Peter’s favorite time of year, and he spent as little time as possible indoors, no matter how beautiful the stone hallways of Cair Paravel might be. He had spent the morning searching with Lucy for enough already-fallen leaves to make strings of, but autumn was still new and they had been disappointed; the throne room would have to wait for such naturally passionate decorations.

The grey envelope bore the seal of King Lir of the kingdom of Alsatcha far to the north. King Lir himself had paid a visit only a year before with the eldest of his sons, both men in their own right. Shortly after Peter was crowned High King of Narnia so many years ago, the correspondence had begun, proving King Lir eager to form an early alliance with the free land of Narnia; he was, in fact, the first diplomatic relationship Peter had begun in the infancy of his reign. For years they had traded cordial letters to inform each other of kingdom affairs, of any battles or rumors, even of Christmas wishes. Peter had recognized King Lir as a good king long before the regent had finally decided to take time out of his schedule and visit the royal family of Narnia for a three-week period.

Yes, it had felt a little strange, Peter later admitted to Ed. Though in terms of power he was King Lir’s peer, it felt an odd claim to make, to look into the face of this fifty-year-old king who had been a royal from birth, and call him equal. But King Lir was a good man and a good king, the sort of king Peter hoped to be considered like. His eldest sons, Gower and Kearney, who had visited with him were both rather serious – a bit too serious, Lucy had insisted once the royals from Alsatcha had left. Kearney had smiled perhaps once, but Ed insisted that he didn’t think Gower capable of it at all. His best jokes had only gotten politely forced grins. In that, the sons were nothing like their father, who had sat up late with Peter many nights, recounting tales of his youth for Peter’s amusement. He seemed to have been quite the rash young man in his day. Susan had begun calling him Peter’s mentor, and though Peter didn’t think he really needed a mentor, he wouldn’t mind in the least following King Lir’s footsteps. The kingdom of Alsatcha was happy and successful and had known only times of peace for some nineteen years.

Then the first attack had happened. Peter had heard of it from Archenland, actually, for King Lir had been too busy dealing with the repercussions to send Peter a note. It seemed to have been an isolated assaulted, but a month later King Lir’s wife died –unrelated to the attack, but still a blow to the kigndom. Then, even more recently, the two youngest of King Lir’s six children went missing, freed a month later from a rover’s camp where they had been sold into slavery. Finally the letter had come from King Lir giving Peter the full picture but insisting that he thought the whole affair was behind them.

When this newest letter arrived, though, Peter was understandably nervous. He and King Lir had never put any sort of alliance in writing, but he realized his correspondence with the foreign king would probably make King Lir expect some sort of support in war times. If there had been another attack, the letter might be a plea to Peter for troops and weapons – and Peter was hesitant to embroil his people in the warfare of another kingdom, to say the least.

The faun who found Peter and alerted him that a messenger had brought a correspondence from King Lir failed to mention that it was also King Lir’s third eldest son who brought the sealed letter. This seemed only more foreboding to Peter as he entered the throne room to greet the traveler, who clearly resembled King Lir to the point of recognition, though Peter had never seen him before.

“Your majesty, King Peter, I am Drystan, the son of King Lir of Alsatcha. I bring a letter from my father,” he explained, bowing low before handing over the parchment. Peter bowed as well, welcoming him to the kingdom and going through all the questions manners required: hope the trip wasn’t too bad, we’ll get a room ready for you, would you rather rest of eat first?

As though understanding Peter’s somber frown in receiving the letter, Drystan laughed lightly, “Oh, you needn’t worry. Father’s not asking you to join him in arms. There has been another attack, but it’s not too serious. I’m worried the letter might be even more imposing, though.” With that cheerful bit of warning shared, Drystan followed the faun off to the guest wing, asking intrusive questions of the faun the entire way. Clearly he had inherited a far different personality than his elder two brothers.

“Eh, Pete, that was one of King Lir’s sons, was it? He looks just like him, doesn’t he?” Edmund observed, entering from the doorway Drystan had just departed through. “Are they back for another visit so soon? Glorus told me a messenger brought a letter from King Lir.”

Peter had been staring at the seal anxiously but looked up at his brother’s entrance to shake his head, “No, only that son, Drystan.”

He held the letter up, and suddenly Susan joined them as well, inquiring, “A letter came from King Lir? What does he have to say?”

“ Well I haven’t quite opened it yet, as you can see,” Peter retorted, waving the letter at her.

“Ah, still cranky, are we,” Edmund snorted, patting Susan on the shoulder. “Is he going on three months now? Ever since Lir left. I daresay, I think Peter’s in love with the old king.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Oh, shut up. I’m not cranky.”

“Well when you put it like that, of course you must be right.”

“Just open the letter, Peter,” Susan encouraged. She, too, was slightly anxious about what King Lir might be asking of them, for though word traveled fast between kings, it traveled faster between women, and she had heard about the most recent attack on Alsatcha long before King Lir’s last correspondence.

Peter did so, silently reading the letter to himself. Edmund and Susan watched him anxiously, studying his face for any sort of reaction. He knew this and obnoxiously kept his face devoid of any and all emotion until he had read the King’s flourished nomenclature at the very bottom of the page.

“Well?”

He handed the letter to Susan with a noncommittal shrug, who then read outloud to Ed:

“My good friend, High King Peter of Narnia,

As I am sure you have heard at this point, there has been another assault against my kingdom, and this time eleven were left dead, which is more than any king wishes to hear about his subjects. At the time of writing this letter, the meaning behind the attack is unbeknownst to me, though you may be sure I will have it all solved soon.

But that is only partly why I write. I have a rather significant favor to ask of you, my friend, and I hope that you might not disappoint me in our friendship. As you may know, my two youngest children recently spent some forced time away from me and were mistreated most awfully. I’m afraid the event has left a mark on both of them, though more specifically my youngest song Caedmon, though I beg you not to let him know I have said so, for he’s somewhat of a sensitive boy and I don’t wish him to think me critical. I feel as though some time spent away from my lands might do him some good. I fear he is rather overshadowed in this kingdom with three older brothers; I’m sure the King Edmund can explain such a concept to you, and I too was the second son in my family, may my elder brother’s soul rest in peace.

Similarly, with this most recent attack, it would do my heart much good to know that my two cherished daughters, the gemstones of my life, were safely out of harm’s way for whatever trials may or may not be to come within the next few months. They are good sweet girls and more valuable to me, I assure you, than my kingdom in its entirety, and I have not been able to sleep these two years for fear that some harm might befall either one of them. I could hardly survive their fair mother’s death and most certainly could not survive either of theirs.

All this is to say, my hope is that you might receive my children into your kingdom and harbor them there until I have sent word that peaceful times have returned to mine. With them will be my son Drystan, who is capable with a sword and will hopefully not have left his siblings behind to bring you this letter ahead of them, though that would certainly be in line with his character.

I hope that this proposition is well received, as are my children, and I beg of you to keep them safe and happy. Having experienced the hospitality of your great kingdom, I have no doubt that my children may find peace and happiness there until I have made sure that things at their home are as safe for them as I can make them, for there is nothing so dear to me as my children.

Your good friend,

The King Regent of Alsatcha, King Lir.

“For Aslan’s sake, are his letters always this long?” Susan laughed, much relieved that King Lir had not at all asked them to supply troops for some distant war. After all, Alsatcha did not even border Narnia, and really shared no common interests except the admiration Lir and Peter seemed to hold for each other.

Peter laughed and nodded, “Yes. But what a relief, isn’t it? I’m ashamed to say how unwilling I am to offer up Narnian blood for another kingdom . . .”

“Well, but it wasn’t asked and hopefully won’t be necessary. King Lir seems to think he’ll be able to square things away rather quickly.”

“Let’s hope, or else we’ll be stuck with his children for an awful long time, and I bet they’re bloody spoiled,” Ed snorted, shaking his head. “Even Dad never calls Su and Lucy the ‘gemstones of his life.’” Peter made a face and laughed. Of course, the assumption that they would be spoiled was based on nothing at all, though really, he did not want to be housing anyone like Gower or Kearney in Cair Paravel for an extended period of time. But then, King Lir was not sending them. Only Drystan and Caedmon and his two daughters.

“Drystan doesn’t seem too bad, though—well, and Lir was right. It seems his son did go off and leave his brother and sisters somewhere. Glorus,” Peter called out to the faun that, having deposited Drystan in a guest room, had returned to the throne room to stand just inside the door. “No one arrived with Prince Drystan, did they?”

“No, my king.”

Susan sighed and rolled her eyes, “Really, I suppose brothers are the same wherever you go. Well do you think they’re on their way, or should we go tell him to fetch them?”

Peter shrugged and suggested, “Why don’t you go talk with him, Ed, and see what he thinks? You two can bond over the horrors of having older brothers.”

“How true. I have you, and he’s got Gower and Kearney? I’m not sure who’s got it worse,” Edmund laughed before ducking away from Peter’s playful punch and departing.

Susan watched him go before smiling, “I’ve got to go tell Lucy. You remember how disappointed she was that King Lir hadn’t brought his daughters before.”

“They’re grown, aren’t they?”

“Well, yes, but what does that matter? It will be good to have—oh, I’ll go get their rooms ready, too!” Without another word, she scurried from the throne room to see to the preparations for their guests; that sort of thing always had excited Susan more than anyone else. She seemed to delight in playing hostess, whereas Peter enjoyed meeting new guests but rarely felt they left as soon as they should.

But so Drystan had left his sensitive brother and two sisters alone out in the wilderness. Peter felt bad for laughing, but Susan was right: it was a very brother thing to do, and already Peter liked Drystan more than Gower or Kearney.