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four. a dead castle
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THERE WERE A LOT OF THINGS PETER could complain about if he wished to (and he wished to do that regularly). In first instant, he would say of how terrible and deeply he missed Narnia during his entire time in Finchley and at school. Oh, how much he missed Cair Paravel and his friends in there, all the tournaments and the big yard where he would walk every afternoon and even all the responsibilities of being a king (that including all the reports Susan would make him sign, and the longest meetings, and dealing with troubles so frequently). Following that, it was the awful feeling of having lived an entire life that he was now obliged to pretend it was something more than a common dream. He had been a man of more than twenty and eight (a true man that leaded armies to victories in battles and who wore the weight of a nation in a crown), but suddenly he was a boy again, and in the name of Aslan, he really hated that. He was the High King of Narnia, and yet he was nagged in school when he was found awaken passed the sleep hour, and most of his professors insisted in finding what was wrong with him that year, as he would normally be a great student but he now spent mostly all the lessons watching through the classroom's window, trying to see Narnia's own sky in there, but it was always impossible.
