Narnians know of the Just King’s sharp mind, ever thinking and ever churning, they know he moves in and out of the shadows as easily as breathing, that he sees through lies as quickly as his swords cut through flesh and his words pierce through souls.

His siblings know his wisdom comes as much from the beaks of Crows and the whispers of Trees as it does from his own senses, they know that his network stretches wider and wider still, that he has not one pair of eyes and ears but ten, a hundred, many and more, ever growing and ever stretching.

And yet it is only those who kneel trembling before him, uncovered, unmasked and unmade, who know this: the Lion prowls behind his eyes.