I await the dread sentence from my monarchs. They are whispering for my head; the Magnificent, the Just, the Gentle, the Valiant, where have they gone? What has possessed them? Or perhaps these words were always titles and nothing more.

But now the inevitable unexpected occurs. "Oh, yous guys'll forget all he ever did, right, deary?" our guest asks as she burrows into the High King's side. Aslan, not in public again…

For death I was prepared; for death I was ready to be either the instrument or the victim, if that was what it took to save Narnia. But live I will, and the one whom I shall owe for this is her! For I swear that the High King lost stature as he melted.

And already they are ignoring me, though that was not surprising. "Oh, my deary, we'll live happily ever after here and in our real world together, right?" the girl says. "This all was just, you know, like a bad dream or something."

I cannot take this anymore. Like Brutus in the old Archen legend of Julius Castor, I tried to preserve my country and failed. Forgive me, Aslan; there is but one recourse for me. Narnia is lost.

88888

Lord Peridan- now if there's one human with any sense in Narnia, it's him. Going out while the going's bad, as we marshwiggles say.

We're all moving to the northern marshes, that's what we're doing. Not that it will make any difference for Lord Peridan. The monarchs might decide to chop off his head anyway, or he could arrive there and drown the next day, or an enemy might decide to land there and he'd want to be a hero. And most of the heroes I've heard of are dead, and usually forgotten anyway. At any rate, I doubt he'll last long. I hear the ground is cold and hard, and the weather dreadful, and that the eels stay away, though with his troubles he likely won't even notice.

Come to think of it, I suppose he is strong for a city dweller. The swamps can't be much worse that having to put up with folk like they have in Cair Paravel. Maybe he'll make it through a year, though I doubt it. He's putting a bold face on it; keeps saying "It's the only unspoiled place left in Narnia." Even says we marshwiggles are good folk; "Only people they haven't corrupted," says he. The recklessness of youth, I suppose. He was far livelier before that girl arrived from Spare Oom. You know, I now think an experience like that sobers a chap down. He learns life isn't all fricasseed frogs and eel pie; he learns what an awful place Narnia really is.

88888

Requiescat in pace, Lord Peridan. Rest in peace, Narnia. Till your out-of-character monarchs and Mary Sue depart and a tormented land and people shall live again.

Thank Aslan their reign will be over within a year…