LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 16

 "Once Zakhertan Yozdek had ascended the throne, the ensuing years had been the unparalleled goriest eon (era, age) in history." Hugen resumed his narrative (chronicle) after guzzling some more wine.  When he held out the jug for Uyuk to partake some, the latter, however, had declined, saying he had far too much already, that he would abstain for a while till his head cleared a bit, he just needed a breathing space, a respite.  Uyuk had urged Hugen nonetheless, to freely indulge, as the long night after all, stretched out before them.

01- UYUK  (20)JP

Yea, right! Hugen inwardly scorned, despising Uyuk for this unwarranted deceit.  Why feign such weakness?  Hugen knew Uyuk had not reached his limit, not by a long shot…Latter could handle more, quite a bit more.  Hugen knew this for a fact.  Not as much as he can, perhaps.  Still… 

For a spell he considered goading Uyuk until the latter dropped his guard and relented. Then again, why bother, Hugen dismissing the notion, good humouredly shrugged and helped himself to some more wine.

Uyuk, despite his feigned inebriated state, keenly, from the corner of his eye had scrutinized Hugen, for the faint-hearted could not have managed the quantity of strong spirits Hugen had consumed thus far and remained still, maddeningly so, sober. Considering the extreme potency, the wine had cost Uyuk quite a substantial sum; this brand of smooth, fruity blend being particularly high in alcohol content, should have way before this intoxicated/incapacitated the most resilient (robust constitution) of men, but not Hugen! Why was that?

The corner of Hugen’s mouth slightly lifted as if in amusement, anticipating Uyuk’s inner query, and he looked away; fact is, he needed to consume at least four or five times the amount, to be totally inebriated or brought to a happy state; a condition he'd rarely indulged and always had done so in solitude. After a while the amassed consumed quantity, however, had eventually derived some adverse effect; the consequential fleeting moment of light headedness and nostalgic reflections nevertheless, through sheer willpower quickly dispensed (passed), Hugen once more reverted his somber gaze on Uyuk.  His head, his thoughts the product of a cool, calculating mind once more lucid and unequivocally defined, Hugen’s deliberations was again embroiled in the selfsame grave, harsh realities of life. 

What's more, after the subsequent several swigs (mouthfuls) of this fruity concoction (booze), far from being mellowed out, his senses disappointingly instead, had felt tauter (tense, wound up); hence, Hugen disdainfully put the jug aside and, his breathing regulated, he indolently stretched out his limbs. But this did little in dousing the fire coursing in his hot veins, his muscles twitching and flexing in an invisible restless craze, yearning to engage in a mortal combat with an invincible, (challenging)formidable foe.

Affixing his gaze to the far corner, his hankering heart tinged with sadness, Hugen thoughtfully reflected on the multitude, past, memorable combats; there was singular one that stood above the rest, General Zonar Kuntzu, a warrior with indomitable prowess. Hugen had heard much about his fame, his brilliant feats. Unfortunately, Hugen's line of work had kept him always on a different course than the General’s; but once he had been fortunate enough to have been an eyewitness to a friendly combat between the General Kuntzu and another competent fighter. The breathtakingly spectacular fight had ended the same way, with General Zonar Kuntzu being the victor as always.

02-GENERAL ZONAR KUNTZU

Hugen donned an ironic smile on his lips and looked away. How easily General Zonar Kuntzu had bested his opponent!

After that day Hugen had honed his martial skills so that one day, he could try his own luck against the General; however, when finally, his competence was up to par (the equivalence), fate had cruelly intervened to cheat him out of that opportunity.

Inclining his head, Hugen with a blank stare studied Uyuk, thinking inwardly how Uyuk unfortunately presented no such challenge.  True, he had never pitted his martial skill against Uyuk but he had observed Uyuk's ability in combat with others and, though his partner was comparatively good, Hugen had concluded that he could easily defeat (best) him without resorting to draw upon any of his special expertise. There was one thing Uyuk excelled in, however, his ability to... Hugen threw Uyuk a covert look.  Only that, he nodded. Yes, I’ll have to watch out for that.  In a way Hugen was grateful for Uyuk's somewhat amenable company.  At least Uyuk amused him, not like those intolerable, overconfident, superstitious boors whose presence strained his patience and made his blood boil.

Requiring more solitude, Hugen pointedly lent an ear to the howling of the gale force wind and the drumming, pounding of the rain pellets outside.  Oh, the nights are always so intolerably long.  Hugen inwardly moaned thinking, especially for one such as him who was an insomniac. Unfortunately, the pelting hail outside was a good deterrent for a long, brisk stroll, which was what he most desired at that moment.  Resigned to stay put, he shifted his weight to get more comfortable then, once more, somberly resumed his narration where he had left off: "Yes, we weren’t the only ones who’d suffered from his rancorous (malicious, spiteful ) wrath; all who’d tried to undermine or obstruct Zakhertan Yozdek's aim, all suspected loyalists and dissidents in Wenjenkun, were vengefully rooted out, vanquished or incinerated." 

Hugen’s eyes met Uyuk's gravely and he nodded.  "Furthermore, all who griped or raised even the slightest discourse of his harsh measures, among them countless brilliant scholars from various backgrounds, the nobility, courtiers, religious personages, priests, sages, hermits, even the stray beggars; all without exception were persecuted relentlessly and tortured before an ignominious death. The countryside, hence, is dotted with a multitude of man-made pits of death, sepulchres and catacombs where Zakhertan’s countless past and present enemies are all buried.”

Hugen paused for an effect and then resumed: “There are also hidden subterranean chambers of torture, (constructed) in Channing, equipped with abhorrent, specially designed instruments, which prolongs, any convicted felons or dissidents’ excruciating physical and mental agony before their ignominious (humiliating) end.  Some of the holding cells, chiefly used for minor offences, are all the same, ingeniously constructed to perpetuate (beget) permanent insanity; and that’s not all, but it would take me far too long to extrapolate on them all."  Hugen shrugged. "Perhaps another time, eh… Anyway, to put it succinctly, Zakhertan Yozdek's reign has been marked with extreme brutality unrivaled by anyone in history save perhaps, only by Deng Hedenko in present times."  He threw his head back and laughed at Uyuk's baffled look.

 "The Sovereign of Korion, ignoramus (numskull) you," Hugen paused to savor the other's stifled rage at the insult. "To continue; after consolidating his power Zakhertan Yozdek lost no time in raising another mammoth (gargantuan) force, this time to punish us anew, but by that time our Illustrious Sovereign Anguan Binchan had succumbed to a fatal illness, thus robbing Zakhertan of his chief grievance.”

“Korion, meanwhile, had been rocked by a volcanic eruption and three subsequent earthquakes that ravaged two major cities and most of the countryside which depleted the precious remainder of our valuable resources, our strength and vitality.  What real resistance a devastated and leaderless nation could have offered? Of course, that mattered little to such a blood-thirsty fiend Zakhertan; as a matter of fact, he had even taken it into account and used it to gain an even more swift and decisive victory." Hugen bristled.  "An honorable campaign was not something he’d consider in his evil plans.  In no time at all, his superior, predatory forces swept across the adjacent, inconsequential provinces to descend on us voraciously, with but one directive: to annihilate our race from the face of the Earth.”

03- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (22) JP

"Ah, but we (every citizen of Korion) were equally determined (resolute) to deny him his easy conquest.  Even though from the start our defeat was a foregone conclusion, our patriots resisted Zakhertan for a year and a half.  Hah!  I'd venture to guess that it was the costliest and bloodiest campaign Zakhertan had ever waged.  Alas!  Despite our courage and brilliant strategies, our impoverished army was pitted against an invincible rapacious force that, at the crucial point in the struggle, received fresh reinforcements.  I do admit that, towards the end Zakhertan's military manoeuvring and strategic offensives were flawless as only one who is the demon incarnate can devise.  In one ingenious, final stroke he had both rebel cities capitulate simultaneously."

Hugen exhaled deeply, morosely, "And so, on the solstice of the third lunar year of the reign of our Illustrious Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, a terrible nightmare was unleashed on us all."  At this point, Hugen's tongue was stilled by the anger, bitterness, and scorn he felt at the core of his being.

"Is it true what I had heard?  That after the Capital yielded Zakhertan had our late Sovereign Anguan Binchan's corpse exhumed, supreme sacrilege that it was, had it torn into minute pieces and then scattered in various cesspools throughout the country?"

"Yes," Hugen nodded grimly, "and that's not all.  On Zakhertan’s orders his men went on a rampage, digging up all the ancestral graves, some Centuries old.  They desecrated the corpses and had the remains discarded into fast flowing rivers.  The valuable artifacts were all plundered then shamelessly carted off (lugged) to their homeland."  Hugen dropped his head, swallowing hard.  "After the gruesome, ignoble execution of our Sovereign Harkan Konzuran Binchan, anyone with even a trace of royal blood was rounded up and humiliated in a public spectacle designed specifically to break our spirit before they, too, were executed.  However, this had quite the opposite effect, for it only strengthened (fuelled) our people's resolve."

Uyuk hissed; his absent gaze fixed at the far corner.

Hugen looked up sharply, pleased at the outrage in Uyuk, noting his face flushed to beet-red, his chest palpitating with indignation at the same time as his fists clenched so hard that, his nails drew blood from the sheer force and intensity of his feelings.  For a spell Hugen had forgotten Uyuk's true origin, but then, suddenly his thoughts darkened.

“Who are you trying to fool?  It was your kind, your race that inflicted these atrocities on us.”  He shook his head and bit his lip to contain his inner contempt. It was a strange idea, a hard concept for this hard-core patriot to swallow.  “No matter what, I cannot conceive of how anyone can forsake their own kind, their own race and country as absolutely as you have done, Uyuk! And for what reason, a personal grievance?” 

Seeing Uyuk in this light he questioned the other’s professed loyalty to Korion.  “What’s your actual ulterior motive?  What kind of game are you playing at anyhow?” With narrowing eyes, he covertly scrutinized his partner.

“Get a grip on your-self!” he fought the urge to strike, to act immediately.  “There’ll be ample opportunity later.  Go along for now, soon enough he will show his true colors and expose his dark heart.  You can deal with him then.”

But again, defiantly such bursting fury rose from deep within.  “Why on Earth had he bothered at all?  Why had he stuck his neck out for Uyuk in the first place?  Was it the element of danger, the challenge it posed?  Had he wished to exploit Uyuk as a game, a way to gratify his dark, morbid sense, his hatred for Uyuk's kind?  Or was it something entirely different, an alien concept long since abandoned; plain old pity?”  Hugen detested this new ambivalent feeling and looked down (lowered his gaze), trying to think of something else.

In his silent brooding, now with his eyelids closed, he reflected yet again how Wushing, his entire family, his colleagues and anyone who had been even remotely connected with him had all been hunted down and brutally eradicated (eliminated).  It mattered not whether they had been innocent lives, all ages of civilians.  Their fate had all been the same.  This extending to the (agrarian populations) countryside, the manifold atrocities that had been committed back then, to date hunted Hugen’s peace; countless ranchers (farmers, planters) had all been mercilessly cut down, their mutilated and mangled corpses piled high in heaps were then burned to ash. 

“In summation, Zakhertan Yozdek’s fierce persecution had extended way beyond those who had actively opposed him in both campaigns.  There had been so much blood spilled that for months after Korion's capitulation the rivers had ran red.  When pestilence struck during those warm months, it necessitated the burning of all the exposed corpses.  So many bonfires dotted the land, that the acerbic air stifled (burned) the lungs, while anguished wailing (cries) of mourners revibrated the land.”

04- HUGEN (54)jp

These were the haunting sounds and images which, permanently etched into his mind, had robbed Hugen of least peaceful, any tranquil existence.  Whether he was asleep or awake, the ongoing nightmares provided him no respite.  To present, Hugen's love for his country, his Sovereign and his craving for vengeance were all, what sustained him and gave some meaning to his wretched life. But alas, perpetually no absolution (pardon, release) was to be had, with his precarious, oftentimes violent existence.

"And it is for certain that one thing Zakhertan Yozdek had not counted on, was his own underestimation of the resilience of Korion’s ordinary folk." Uyuk , interceding, spoke up loudly, partly to test Hugen's state of (alertness) consciousness.

The slight frown on the other's features confirmed it, he was (alert and) awake. Uyuk was, of course speaking from personal experience.  Surviving the ignominious death of his mother and sister, he was on the brink of expiring himself when he had been given sanctuary and a second chance, by a tribe of nomadic herdsmen in Korion.  His foster father was one Muxor Kenny, a strong, stout warrior who never donned a smile.  Always rigid and stern, he had nevertheless taught Uyuk the survival skills that had served him well up to the present day. 

“Oh yes,” Uyuk inwardly scoffed (rebuked, chided), as he sized up Hugen quaffing some more spirits: “I am well aware of your low opinion of me and my skills. I may just one day shock the britches right off you, arrogant, smug bastard!”

 If the truth were to be known, Uyuk had it in his power to alter that opinion and countless times had been sorely tempted by Hugen's goading to show off and expose his deeply hidden talents. Indeed, Uyuk knew far more than he let on.  Despite his youth he had experienced numerous hair-raising, daring escapades that, if recounted, would boggle Hugen's mind, and earn him the respect and recognition he felt was his due.  Fortunately, his good sense had prevented him from doing that very thing.

Hugen, as if he had surmised other’s thoughts, suddenly looked up and meeting Uyuk's eyes directly, smirked; then in a conciliatory gesture, offered him the jug which the younger man this time obligingly took and raised it to his lips.

Even though Uyuk was parched, he took care to drink only a moderate portion however, just enough to wet his mouth, for it would not do if he were to become totally inebriated, despite the reliable company and relatively safe circumstances.  Feeling suddenly famished, he reached over and drew his bundle to him.  Groping about inside the sack, he found what he was looking for: the remainder of the dry rations.  He handed some to Hugen and, without ceremony the two began to tear and chew, the hard bits of venison to gratify their hunger.  Afterwards Uyuk stretched out his limbs and urged Hugen to continue with his recounting of his history.

Now more favorably disposed, Hugen picked up from where he had left off: "Time after time having encountered the gritty, dogged (resolute) resistance from every citizen of Korion high and low (ordinary folk), it soon became apparent to Zakhertan Yozdek that, Korion could not be governed by anyone other than our own.  The pacification of the rebellious tribes in the remote mountains proved particularly arduous and sanguinary.  The many costly expeditions aimed at annihilating these guerrilla fighters only resulted in a string of ignominious defeats at the hands of these nomadic herders. Many skirmishes, including those led by your foster-father Muxor Kenny, which incidentally, you’d failed to mention in your recruitment (enrolment) application.”

Hugen at this point, had abruptly fell silent, and then simply tossed Uyuk a knowing, fleeting smirk. 

05- MUXOR KENNY - KORION'S NOMADIC HORSEMAN

“To put it succinctly, these frays in time gave rise to other sporadic pockets of rebellion and soon after, there arose widespread, well organized, resistance of all sorts erupting simultaneously in all parts of the country.”

“Yes… we had demonstrated to them, once and for all, how this nation even though subjugated, could not be enslaved and all the oppressive measures, stringent laws and brutal, savage punishments would never, ever, crush our spirit or resolve!" Uyuk, getting a grip and pretending to be caught up in the moment’s hype (excitement), hissed.

Hugen gave (threw) him a pointed look, "As you seem to know the rest, I may as well save my breath." But Uyuk hastily leaned across to touch his shoulder and in an earnest voice protested his ignorance.  He confessed that, in his early pubescent (teenage) years, wanting to prove his worth to his foster-father Muxor Kenny, he had partaken in some acts of sabotage (resistance) but that he had never truly grasped the complete political picture; for his  subsequent adolescent (later teen) years were spent, totally cut off from any civilization, in the sacred Shouyou Mountains.  Appearing unusually co-operative, Uyuk without prodding volunteered that, this period had been lost to him, because he had been paying a penance for his serious breach of a key tribal law.

"What law?"

Uyuk's response was curt and cryptic.

“Have it your way.” Hugen inclined his head and inwardly scoffed: “I’ve offered you a chance to be straight with me, and yet again you’ve failed.  It’s your loss.” Of course, he knew all there was to it, he’d been well informed about Uyuk's unforgivable offense (felony, crime) and the consequential chastisement and more, much, much more.  He covertly kept Uyuk in his side-view as he grimaced coldly.

“Yes, that detailed report had encompassed data that, I suspect, even you are unaware of, my foreign friend.  I've trained my informants well, so well that they can even make the dead speak.  You would be surprised, no, shaken to your core if you knew what I know, that the one who had betrayed you, the key conspirator, was none other than you’re...”  Hugen averted his eyes. “No; why should I rattle your feathers?  Why destroy the only semblance of?”  Hugen turned (reverted) his stone-cold gaze back to Uyuk to look him straight in the eye.  But then suddenly an unexpected strong compassion seized his heart and his piercing pupils momentarily softened and he nodded.

When Uyuk once more entreated (beseeched) Hugen to enlighten him on the political aspects of Korion's and Wenjenkun's shared histories, Hugen quietly acquiesced, if only to pass the time.  Yet he did not begin right away, instead, he lent an ear for a spell longer to the pelting rain, which seemed to be tapering off. 

 

(END OF SECTION 16) 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY- SECTION 3

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 3

That evening, when the monk Fayet’s services were no longer required, as an alternative to withdrawing to his room for prayers then sleep, Fayet sought instead, to pay a visit to his friend and confidant, Muro.

 It was not long before their casual conversation about this or that point of interest veered to usual contending topics.

“How you carry on!!! Give that wagging tongue of yours a rest!”  With a stern, brisk remark, Muro walked over to his night table, and withdrawing a particular parchment, then obtaining the appropriate quill pen (brush), dipped the point into small inkbottle and resumed adding few more lines that had just come to mind, to his long-standing prose, sort of elegy, that he’d been working on.

“Boy, what a strange bunch! I mean, they are so formal with each other.” Fayet suddenly blurted out, looking away from the window. He grimaced, seeing how he’d startled the other in mid-stroke of the enigmatic verse.

Muro’s head raised, he pinned his questioning eyes to Fayet’s, with a stern expression of slight annoyance, since he suspected Fayet of weaving yet another tapestry of lies to gain importance. “He’s so obvious with his not-so-subtle hints; I suppose the report can wait...”  He put the quill pen down.

“Well, let’s hear it, I haven’t got all night!” He, with irritation, snorted.  Outwardly, however he could not resist toying with Fayet; and so, abstaining from making any verbal inquiry, he again picked up the brush and purportedly (ostensibly) turned his attention back to the parchment before him.

“First they came quite unexpectedly and out of season at that, then they expect us to go all out for them!” Fayet pursing his lips ejected a peeved grunt.

“Are you still griping about that?”  Muro smiled wryly.  “I would think that, of all people, you should be the last one to air a complaint, or can it be that the old gentleman is tight-fisted with you, denying you the lion’s share of the gratuities you are so used to wringing out?”

“Why are you so bent on antagonizing me?  Really, from the way you speak one would think I have been hoarding (stashing away) a mountain of riches beneath my bed.  You know very well that I receive no extra perk, minimal that always is, until the last day of their visit when all accounts are settled.”

“Fine, fine…” Muro forgoing Fayet’s sarcasm, cast the report aside, fetched the board that had stones on it strategically placed, and on his beckoning, they resumed playing the ongoing game. When at last, after careful consideration, Muro moved the key stone to another place on board, “Hah, ha, ha….  You’ll be sorry you did that!” Fayet lifted one of his pieces, and skipping two spaces ahead, placed it squarely down with a thud, in apt retaliation.  “Now take that!” The advantage he’d gained had instantaneously cheered Fayet anew.

Muro frowned, “You caught me off guard.  My mind was elsewhere.”  Then, shaking a finger at Fayet, he warned, “But don’t celebrate your gains too soon.

“Confound it, what was it I needed to tell you? Oh yes, now I remember.” Fyeta ignored the latter’s idle threat. “Now listen, I really have a good piece of info to tell you, but it must not leave this room.”

Fayet cast an anxious glance, “Do you mind if I close the door?  What I have to say next must be kept in the strictest confidence.”  Then, without waiting for the other’s assent, he sprung to his feet and went to the door, closing and even locking it. 

Muro’s curiosity right now aroused, he looked inquiringly at Fayet when the latter returned, and once more were seated across. Delighting in prolonging the suspense, Fayet first examined the pieces on the board game most carefully.

“For Heaven’s sake, I haven’t touched a thing.  Now what was it you wanted to tell me about?” Muro impatiently demanded.

But Fayet gallingly kept his cool and pinned his eyes to the board.  Then, with deliberate slowness, he moved his piece to a strategic point.  Now, with a contented air, he swelled his chest, leaned back and smiled.  Pointing his finger to it, “First try to get out of this one,” he gloated. “I told you I would get you, sooner or later!”

Muro became distraught.  Indeed, he was placed in a most precarious position.  One wrong move and he would have to again forfeit the game.  He already owed Fayet a considerable sum, since they had always played for stakes.  He was hoping to recover some of his losses today.  As Muro wracked his brains over his next move, Fayet drew near and whispered in his ear. “The list for prayers, the elderly gentleman had been asked to complete this morning”

“What about it?” Muro stuck out his chin in antagonistic stance; then upon reflection, “Oh, have you seen the list?” he quickly asked.

“Of course not, what a thing to say, why that would be an unpardonable violation? It would land me in serious trouble, to say the least!” Fayet grumbled feigning shock, but all the same dawning smirk and winked. 

Muro, tad flustered with all Fayet’s pretexts, inadvertently placed his piece in the wrong quarter; this could have ended the game immediately in Fayet’s favor.

“Hey, you can’t do that!  Take it back; I’ll pretend I didn’t see it.  But remember, you owe me a turn.”

“Never mind the game,” Muro pushed the board aside, “I’ve lost all interest in it. Fayet, stop beating around the bush; have you, or have you not seen it?”

With a broad smirk on his face, Fayet made a pretense of dallying, and then uttered a few, unconvincing, words of denial.

 “Do tell if you’ve seen it, brother.” Muro, adapting a softer stance, entreated. “I promise not to divulge your infraction to a living soul.  Still, you’re probably pulling my leg.  His eminence would have your hide...You wouldn’t be so brazen?”  Now he cast a doubtful look at Fayet, goading him to prove otherwise.

 Fayet’s persisting, knowing smirk nevertheless reaffirmed Muro’s suspicion.

 “But how did you ever manage it?”

 “Did I say that?” Fayet stalled, pursing his lips and looking away in indignation, exasperating Muro further. 

 “Have it your way, brother.” Muro, afterthought, offered a quick solution.  “Let us say that someone else, an undisclosed third party saw the list.  What so incredible (strange) about a list anyhow, why make such a fuss over it?”

Fayet ‘s sheepish smile deleted, he ejected in a serious tone: “Now, you didn’t hear this from me, understand?” He paused long enough to receive Muro’s affirmative nod. “Ah, and that’s just it.  It is not just an ordinary list, but one that is most intriguing and highly dubious!” He was about to say more, opened his mouth, but did not articulate any.  He appeared to be hesitating.

What now? Muro almost demanded, but checking his quickly rising temper, asked latter in conciliatory tone, to please continue.  “Brother, why keep me in suspense, reeling me in like a fish, then stalling?”

“I assure you that is the farthest thing from my aim, however,” Fayet coughed, as if to clear his throat, “if I were to tell it to you in its entirety, it being a rather lengthy account, my throat would get parched, then what’s there to lessen my discomfort?  Frankly, I’m tired.  Perhaps I should leave it for now, and call on you on another day, to tell it then.”  With that, Fayet gave a pretense of rising to his feet.

‘So that’s your game. This better be good!’

“Oh no, that won’t do,” Muro hurriedly grasped Fayet’s arm to keep him down; if truth be told, he was now beyond peeved, regretting the day he’d disclosed his secret stash, the so called, medicinal brew to him. “Here, you stay put while I’ll go get us some medicinal brew.  That should be sufficient to ease any would be discomfort to you.”

“But, brother, I would not dream of putting you to so much trouble.” Fayet protested, halfheartedly.

“Nonsense, I insist you stay and partake some. It’s the least I can do.” Even as he said this, Muro was cursing him under his breath.

‘You draw a hefty price, this better be good!’ Again, he inwardly huffed as he went to retrieve a small portion of his hoard, the medicinal concoction, one he’d so masterfully adapted, through his extensive knowledge of medicine and chemistry.

The so called remedial, therapeutic ingredients, cured over time in such a way, that when ingested, it intoxicated the senses, akin to inebriated state. The only drawback was that the ingredients to this private stash, had to be carefully, in miniscule doses siphoned off-from the dried ingredients stored in kitchens or jealously guarded herbal storages- so as not to be noticed, then secretively ripened under various guises, mixed and then allowed final maturity in particular containers in such a way as to not incur suspicion or discovery.   With that much trouble, he’d jealously guarded the fruits of his labor, till that day of accidental discovery by Fayet.  Since then, he’d been a pest, every so often calling on him to extort some- supposedly in fair exchange of some vital information as latter was better positioned to obtain it, but specifically, for Fayet’s lasting discretionary silence.

Muro dawning a deceptively appeasing smile to his lips, first cleared the table of the game board, fetched some goblets (glass, cup) then going over dug up the clay flagon from one such hiding place- a seemingly innocuous flowerpot.  Brushing off the unwanted debris, he broke open the seal and poured a generous portion of the contents into Fayet’s cup. So potent was the concoction, that a single mouthful equaled a full cup of alcoholic beverage.

Fayet’s beaming face only served to annoy him further.  “How generous you are brother to treat me to your special remedy!”

That’s right, rub salt on the wound.  “Brother, you do me too much honor,” nevertheless, he grunted. “Clearly, this is but an ordinary cooling beverage, to help alleviate your discomfort.”

“Thanks all the same.” without further due, unceremoniously Fayet raised the cup to his lips, the saliva already glistening at the corners of his mouth, with ready anticipation.

Muro was the senior of the two, but his unassuming straightforward, and unbending, stubborn nature had impeded his advance in the order, and he was oftentimes assigned to mundane, menial tasks. At least that’s what it seemed on the outset; whilst Fayet with his ready wit, with his craftiness and glib tongue, quite the popular person with wide circle of friends, through his amicable deference to his superiors- especially those that allocated duties to the lower orders- had always landed himself the latent lucrative jobs.

 Tall in stature (height), with a fair complexion and gentle eyes, Fayet always donned that most likable smile and his innermost charm to melt away all contempt, jealousy and anger in his adversaries.  One could never stay mad at him or deny him favors for too long.

 “Well, as I was saying, this person in question, who had been entrusted with delivering the letter, well, he noticed that the adhesive of the seal had not dried properly.  So, taking a chance I... I mean, he carefully pried it open and peered at the contents before re-sealing it and delivering it to His Worship’s confidence.  You would never have guessed at the contents of that letter.”  He stopped to swallow some more supposed cooling beverage, and then waited for the other to urge him to continue.  When Muro did not oblige, Fayet bit disappointed, resumed, “One request was what you would expect, being for the ancestors- Nothing unusual in that, but the other three listings, well, they were most curious.  At the top of the list, instead of the usual one, of our reining Sovereign’s name, was the cryptic allusion to late Sovereign, you know, the one who was deposed.”  Again, he paused for a reaction. “Fortunately, I am gifted in such and was able to decipher it without an extensive effort, that’s how I came to know of it, in case you’ve been wondering.” He then volunteered gleefully, the effects of the drink already going to his head.

“That is most curious.” Muro was forced to agree.  “Loyalists, still existing in our midst, I would have thought that they’ve all been annihilated long ago?”

“It goes to show you, one can never be certain about anything.”  Fayet grunted. “Didn’t I promise you this would be good?  Wait till you hear the rest.  The other request was for a name I’d never seen, “Lujeling Osywie”, not even from this country.  I mean it was foreign in origin.”

“So, what,” Muro remained unimpressed.

“Well, don’t you think it’s strange, especially since they made no claim to be foreigners?”

 “Oh, you can be so exasperating!” Muro lashed out at Fayet, having reached the end of his patience. Besides, his sense, his reasoning mind was also being affected somewhat, (not yet dulled though) by his consumption of the potent brew.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe, despite all seeming appearances, they are perhaps some affluent merchant families or something like it after all.  Why stop there, the next thing you’ll be laying claim, I bet, is that they are not a family, that they are not even related! Besides, why don’t you just drop this entire pretense, this mocking charade?  You really are insulting my intelligence with your insistence that it was not you who peered into that envelope.  Why don’t you just come clean with me?  Or is it that, after all this time and after all your claims you still mistrust me?”

  “Well, before I hang myself further, you must first give me your solemn promise to secrecy.” Fayet growled.

“I already have done so, and more than once, I might add.”, Muro protested.

“That’s right, you did.  Well, all right then, I won’t try to deceive you any longer.  Yes, I’ll confess, it was me all along.  Now, returning to the point of the said foreign name, my guess is that they are spies and yes, I suspected all along, that they are not a family, only pretending to be one to be innocuous. I wonder how many more moles (infiltrators, plants) are out there, furtively living in our midst and relaying back vital information to, in the end, undermine our Nation.  Aren’t we strained in our relationships with our border kingdoms?”

“You have a very fertile imagination; I grant you that. Even if that was so, why waste time here, so far from the capital or the other such metropolis, where ample opportunity exists?”

“I don’t know, to tell you the truth.  That part is a conundrum to me also.” Fayet shrugged.  “Unless they are in hiding and need a place to lay low for a time.  I mean, who would look for foreign spies here?”

“Still,” Muro demurred, “why risk compromising their cover with their untimely visit here, instead of a more usual time.  And surely it would be some poor disguise: noted gentlemen with such attractive youths as his kin, spies, bah!?”

“That proves it!” Fayet excitedly interjected, “Normal concealing abnormal, and that in turn, concealing normal?  Don’t you see how perfect their cover is?  Look how much trouble I’m having, laboring to convince you of the idea.  One more thing, when the elderly gentleman bathed, I saw how his right arm was severed, a clean cut right below the elbow, as if it was caused by a sword or ax.  A surgeon would have cut the joint, and an accident would have left messier scar tissue.  I tell you, there is something suspicious about that lot.”

“And wait, till you hear more.  The third name, a non-distinctive name, but parchment held against the light revealed that there had been something else, deliberately expunged underneath; unfortunately I could not quite make out what it was, still, few bits looked like - ‘hu...rrog..Zho’.  Now I ask you, why go through so much trouble to supplant it?”

“You’re sure it hadn’t been an ordinary, innocent mistake, set to, right?”

“Why say so, you don’t believe that any more than I do.”

 Muro could no longer hold his peace, “Brother, do you take me for a fool?  Why insult my intelligence with your suppositions and spun tall tales. Why by your own account your facts are contradictory.  If these people were spies or loyalists, hard enough to be both at the same time, why would they put down actual names for their ancestors, two such at that?  Secondly, in keeping with their clandestine feat, they should have first, at the head of the list, put down our Reigning Liege’s name to deflect least suspicion instead of the deposed one, in cryptic form or not. And why would they be so clumsy as to leave remnants of concealment to be picked up….by you, whilst they made no such attempt with their obviously foreign names.   If they wanted to make a true offering to such, they would have waited until they were in safe domain of their own country; I ask you, why risk everything by doing it here, covertly or otherwise?”

Fayet’s good mood in a puff of smoke had now vanished in thin air as his head was riddled with rebellious, skirmishing facts that (other) latter had invoked; hence, he retaliated.  “Boy, you are dense.  If the truth, like a big, ugly fly, landed on your nose you would not see it and, like you are doing now, you would deny its presence.”

This was uncalled for, how could he stand by and let this brute affront him?  Not only had Fayet consumed his scant reserve, taken him for a ride, but now he would stoop so low to openly insult him in his face, by making fun of his nose!  The latter knew that, because of a recent manifest pimple (zit), this was a contentious issue with him!!!  Muro was so filled with rage that he wished he could pound Fayet into dust. But that would not do; so instead, he took a long slow intake of breath, inwardly recited the prayer of patience and took a sip from his goblet, as he forced restraint on his anger.

Obnoxious (insufferable) Fayet, meanwhile, clueless as to what he had done, with a meek smile plastered on his lips, had held out his cup for another refill.  Muro lied: “I’m sorry, there is no more, we’ve consumed it all.” and, using this as an excuse, declared his fatigue and suggested they retire for the night.

 “I think you’d better go now; I have to get up early tomorrow.” he repeated bluntly when the other refused to take the hint.  He had meant to leave it there, but this time he could not stop himself from adding, “Not all of us are as favored as you.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Fayet growled, having caught Muro’s words.  “So that’s the thanks I get for my troubles.  Brother beware of your shifting color.  Spare no caution, lest some insects mistake you for a green plant and start gnawing away at your most prominent projection…Ha, ha, ha!”  Rising from his seat he belched laughter into Muro’s face.

It was all he could do to stem the urge to strike this upstart Fayet.  And so, the two had parted as adversaries, cursing inwardly, the ground the other walked on.

The estrangement had no lasting effect however, by morrow, when the effects of potion wore off, their fury would similarly wane and Fayet, with his amicable ways, with his sleek, wagging tongue, would once again inveigle himself into Muro’s good graces.

                                                                             ~

 (Be sure to check the next post section 4, that is also the conclusion of “Trip to the Monastery”; where which a pleasant, but not altogether a surprise element, will be disclosed.)