LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 1

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 1

 

The highway they traveled on from the port of Hanbrak teemed with increasingly denser traffic as they neared the walled Capital, Channing.  Soon they saw it: the monumental, awesome structure with its intermittent towers piercing the heavens, attesting to the skill and greatness of Wenjenkun. It needed no explanation as to why and how these virtually indestructible defenses had withstood centuries of offensives.  The outer wall, as Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) had been briefed, and could now bear witness to, had nine massive bronze gates while the inner wall had six.

A hundred bells tolled (pealed resonated, boomed, rang), as they neared the famous Kigo Bridge, greeting their ears with musical harmony; bells chimed at their regular intervals to mark the time of day from their location in the central square, where all streets within the city inevitably converged.

Two main arteries to Channing throbbed with fretful vitality when nearing dusk, Nevetsecnuac, Zunrogo and Tizan had merged with the hastening crowd, most anxious to cross one of the two bridges that led into the inner core of the city through the Zier Gate.  A short while later and the massive, bronze gates would be closed (barring) banning any entry until sunrise; three hours later a curfew would be imposed until sunrise.  If they failed in their objective, as violators, they would be subjected to, without exception, the most extreme penalty of slow, torturous death.  Fortunately for their party, the Lieutenant in charge of Zier Gate was on friendly terms with Zunrogo and spared them the grueling scrutiny the others were subjected to.

 

01-lLIEUTENANT IN CHARGE OF ZIER GATE

"Their papers are all in order, let them pass."  His resounding (loud, booming) order rippled through the ranks of guards and gave Captain Zunrogo and co. prompt easy access through the set of barricades which had been put in place since the last time Zunrogo had been to the Capital.  Declining the offer of a state carriage, they remained mounted on their horses as they joined in the swift, steady stream of traffic that flowed through the streets to their destination.

Channing, now the den of jackals, wolves, and tigers, more than sixteen miles in diameter and 62 miles around, this crowning jewel of the nation boasted in its middle city several dozen large, well-maintained streets and several hundred small alleys, which perpetually be thronged with people and rich carriages.

At the central core (of Channing), perpetuating the strength and enlightenment of Wenjenkun, stood the Military Academy, the Civil Universities, a multitude of monasteries and temples with turquoise tiles and crimson roofs.  Most had been constructed during the previous rule of the benevolent Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and now, after a lengthy closure and violent purges, they had modified their ideologies sufficiently enough to be considered fit for reinstatement by the present regime, with of course, limited potency (might and influence), of their former years of glory.

 The glistening green artery of the Yawjun River flowed through the center of the city, measuring five miles from bank to bank at its widest.  Picturesque vessels of all sizes and designs in an ongoing, steady stream contested with all their speed for the much coveted and privileged dock space.

Even at this quick pace, Nevetsecnuac's eyes feasted on the festooned splendors of the magnificent Inner City.  Shops were laden with the rafters with exotic merchandise.  Imposing, many storied buildings of all shapes lined the main thoroughfare and beyond.  Gilded and brightly lit pavilions in elaborate architectural styles, bustling Pleasure Houses adorned with Heavenly Beauties beckoned the distinguished guests to their bosoms and a multitude of well-established tea houses catered to a discerning and demanding clientele.  Cultural institutions throbbed with the discussions of the arrogant elite.

A pervasive picture of opulence and a thriving economy could easily have overwhelmed any newcomer to the city, enticing him into abandoning all reserve; all moral principles save for those the city itself dictated and are forever enslaved in this irresistible, gilded cage.

Everything here was most assuredly divorced from the harsh daily realities the rest of the country endured.  Indeed, as the authorities had planned (intended), this artificial world encapsulating the visitor would leave no doubt in his mind about the opulent strength of the economy and he would continue being duped, convinced that if Channing was at the zenith of its power and wealth then the remainder of Wenjenkun also enjoyed the same conditions.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC IN CAPITAL (4)JP

Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac), having travelled (ridden) the far corners of the Empire, knew the difference and shook his head in disdain and disbelief.  How the rest of the populace suffered intolerable conditions, endured terrible ordeals in-order-to furnish Channing with this excessive abundance!

 Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac’s) face became increasingly grim as another level (layer) of this reality crept in.  On the surface this well-mannered bustling populace, with their rich silk brocade robes, their neatly trimmed and decorated head and facial hair, their fine carriages restricted to one side of the road and their lips frozen in mechanical smiles, presented the very picture of contentment and tranquility.

Yet Fradel’s keen senses penetrated this impressive facade, alerting him to the reality that this unnatural, perfectly regimented order laid atop an unseen, eerie atmosphere of fear and oppression that lurked just barely beneath the surface.

Suddenly a shrill whistling pierced the clamor.  Instantly the crowd mechanically peeled into two streams, drew close to the buildings, and halted abruptly. 

On Zunrogo’s sharp command, Tizan and the Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald dismounted at once and joined the rest at the side of the road.

Within seconds the thundering hooves were upon them.  A wave of fear rippled through the comatose citizens as they lowered their heads, turned away or cast their eyes to the ground.  Only scholar Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) eyes were defiantly lifted to see the charging contingent pass at a gallop, led by a fearsome warrior on a magnificent white stallion.  In the brief instant when their eyes met, the warrior's cold, cruel, predatory gaze pierced through Nevetsecnuac's unflinching stare to the core of his being.

 

03- EGIL VIGGORIES 5 -JP

 A disturbing thought at that point in time had barely formed in his consciousness, “He looks so much like a young… No!  That's not possible!”  Nevetsecnuac shook his head to dismiss this deplorable speculation as his eyes trailed the receding horsemen.

 

"He's on a hunt!" Tizan's icy contempt snapped Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) out of his daze, and he turned his sharp, questioning eyes to the Lieutenant.  Tizan had uttered these indiscriminate words seemingly without fear or, at least, care.

 Boldly, too boldly in fact, he continued, "That Imperial edict he's carrying can only mean…” His words were frozen on his tongue by a stern look from Zunrogo.  Stymied, he grumbled under his breath then bared his teeth in a savage grimace to cast a threatening look around him.  This implicit threat was enough to scatter those few pedestrians that had lingered briefly on the spot to silently admonish Tizan for this apparent foolishness.

 "A flock of sheep, all of you," Tizan snorted contemptuously and swung into the saddle in one swift leap.

Zunrogo turned to Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) and grimaced wryly, anticipating the question.  "Now you've seen His Excellency Egil Viggoaries, remember him.  You would do well to be wary of him; better still, if possible, avoid any contact (interaction) or confrontation with his excellency."  With a sardonic smile, thinking, “he delights most in feasting on virtuous, attractive (, striking, handsome, desirable) insects like you”, he mounted his horse and spurred the beast on ahead.

 

The road they were on eventually converged with the others at the central square.  As they passed the gibbet in the center, Nevetsecnuac's eyes were riveted to the wretched corpse hanging headless from a pole that jutted from the raised platform.  At the side a crimson plaque was erected, stating in white letters the name and crime of the offender.  Around the corpse, in a bizarrely grotesque dance, a small crowd was endlessly circling, spitting, jabbing, and poking at the body in an almost orchestrated manner.  Occasionally one would furtively glance about, as if this performance was undertaken to assert his loyalty for the benefit of hidden, spying eyes.

At first glance the head of the corpse seemed to have been savagely; brutally bitten off but on closer scrutiny, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) noted that it had, in fact, disintegrated at the neck as if some corrosive substance had eaten through the flesh and bone.  The rest of the corpse’s torso had been charred over three quarters of its surface and the part below the waist was slowly being mutilated, beyond human recognition, by the crowd.

Suddenly a shiver rippled through Fradel Rurik Korvald’s (Nevetsecnuac’s) chest as his eyes were riveted to a single lock of bloodied, shriveled red hair on the nape.

“It’s inconceivable.  Had this been his fate?  Had he… No!  He could not have been so easily overcome, not him.”  With an effort of will Nevetsecnuac dispelled the traces of suspicion that lurked in the depths of his heart before they took root, supplanting it with strong, unequivocal denial.

 A moment later, the gnawing feeling re-emerged in the pit of his stomach, “Could it be that this Dwengzur was that competent?”  His eyes were still glued to the corpse, Nevetsecnuac involuntarily tugged at the reins, causing the beast he was riding to rear abruptly.

Zunrogo looked dubiously at Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) but said nothing, but Tizan could not let the opportunity to goad the scholar slip by.

"A friend of yours?" he asked coldly as he pulled up alongside Fradel’s horse.

Ignoring this needling, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) turned to read the notice.

Midway to, it stated that this assassin was an enemy of the state who had come to Wenjenkun as an emissary from Kontu… Kontu, not Korion!  Nevetsecnuac breathed a deep sigh of relief but then quite unbidden; other’s cryptic words came to mind,

"Even if I fail, I shall not fail." 

Nevetsecnuac’s (Fradel’s) heart once more became laden with the same doubts, the same suppositions until, biting his lip, he resolved to, at the first opportunity, make discrete inquiries and resolve this puzzle, one way or another.

 

04- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 21 B

Zunrogo had reined in his horse and, inclining his head as if to check the bridle, observed scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald ‘s (Nevetsecnuac's) quandary from the corner of his eye.  Since Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had made no attempt to hide his concern, Zunrogo disdainfully scoffed and wheeled his horse about.  The scholar's mood had always perplexed him, but other concerns now preyed more heavily on his mind.  He let the matter drop, making no attempt whatsoever to straighten Tizan out. 

 

“Besides,” he told himself, “It won't be long now before I'm relieved of this annoying obligation.”

As it were, from the moment Zunrogo relinquished the care of the scholar to another, Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would cease to exist for him.  With his farsightedness Zunrogo had already surmised that there would be little advantage in ingratiating himself with the illustrious Fradel.  In fact, he speculated that the scholar's immanent downfall would come in the not-too-distant future.  Already the fashionable trend of the day towards the literati was starting to shift in the direction for, it’s inevitable decline.

Tizan, meanwhile, had erroneously attributed Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's) mood to weakness, assuming that the scholar's delicate constitution had obviously been ruffled, shaken to the core by the gruesome realities of life.  Not bothering to conceal his scornful contempt, he had steered his mount alongside Fradel’s (Nevetsecnuac's), mumbling jibes (taunts), as they both caught up to Zunrogo then, proceeded to blend in (merge with) the other stream of traffic that led to an alternate road away from the square.

Tizan grimaced maliciously as he threw sidelong glances, knowing that Fradel Rurik Korvald (Nevetsecnuac) would be witnessing far worse sights in the days to come.  “Either you will grow accustomed to these common sights, or you’ll fall gravely ill and, perhaps, die.”  Tizan contemptuously laughed.

 

05--TZAN JP

“That’s right, Channing will either toughen you up or devour you whole, smarty-pants.”  Even as he thought this, Tizan knew what the outcome would be.  “Ha!  Go back while you can, pathetic fool.  Your fine looks, your honeyed, intellectual jargon will not win you any merit (credence or weight) here.  They will not keep you from harm; sooner or later you will succumb to the dangers and perish as all your kind should.  If you had any lick of sense, you would feign sudden illness and flee, as soon and as fast, all the way back to that safe mountain retreat and bury your head in your manuscripts, for only the strongest, the shrewdest, the most cunning survive here.”

Of course, Nevetsecnuac’s ears had incessantly burned with all that unspoken hostility from Tizan; however, as it would hardly be worth his while to challenge or lecture this illiterate brute; besides which, Tizan’s presumed crude estimation being somewhat palpable (blatant) truth, Nevetsecnuac had kept his quiet.

 

Nevetsecnuac, meanwhile, had comprehended far more than he let on; he’d recognized for instance, how in Channing, competition was fierce, mercy and compassion was an unknown, unpracticed, and altogether dangerous precept.  He knew also, and could rightly attest to now, how alongside most prevalent punishments another, more sinister, harsher reality lurked. One that had been a routine policy in Channing, for well over a decade, to systematically uncover and eradicate all undesirable and imperfect elements and citizens.  Anyone who’d been deemed unpleasant to the eyes or senses of the ruling elite, had been, without mercy, hounded to extinction; scores cruelly tortured as part of night's entertainment and some driven out or eliminated entirely, by the ruthless invisible force that manned the society (populace) of Metropolis.

The rare anomaly (variance), those few less than perfect opulent residents, by dispensing bribes and staying well hidden, had subsisted through this dicey, hazardous existence (way of life) in Channing. 

 

 

                                                                                  ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 1)

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 37

The passenger official, Ceroz Agripe had tried his utmost to keep his beloved wife alive, but her injuries being so grave, she did not live long.  After her (hastily improvised) impromptu funeral where her corpse also ended up in the river, the official Ceroz Agripe had remained in deep mourning and mostly sequestered in his cabin. He was naturally devastated and from then on incessantly mourned her loss. In his bereavement he ceased all communication and activity, as well, frequently refused any intake of sustenance (provisions, nourishment).

 

01- TORMENTED CEROS AGRIPE

He did not appear idle, rather, seemed to be contemplating something dire; meanwhile, he’d remained always in bad temper and often lashed out at the crew members, or whoever called on him. Ceroz’s angst (dread) and mounting heartache, meanwhile, had raised no alarms, as there were ample other more pertinent concerns and great deal still to do on aboard.

The infant’s death was attributed to crib-death, a common occurrence at that time, which often befell (occurred), one in every four babies. 

The official Luvet, despite Zunrogo's assurances, had also chosen most of the time to remain isolated (quarantined) in his cabin.  He had never had any dealings with Ceroz Agripe, yet at his wife Disaidun Agripe’s funeral, his blatant (unconcealed) hostility towards him, his intense (penetrating), fiery (blazing) antagonistic gaze (eyes), had both mystified and greatly alarmed official Luvet.  He’d subtly questioned Captain Zunrogo’s Lieutenant Tzan about this matter, but Lieutenant’s response had been less than satisfactory; moreover, his not so subtle, cryptic words had thence (thereafter) hunted Luvet’s peace. He could not shake the feeling that he’d somewhat been set up (accused, blamed for something he didn’t do) and ominously, a cruel, ignominious fate had awaited him. But how could he escape this impending catastrophe when he was constrained as passenger in a fair size vessel (craft, boat) temporarily stymied (because of necessary repairs) in the center of the vast expansive river, with the shoreline barely visible. He was not a competent swimmer and there was no small dinghy (dory, rowboat) on this cursed ship.  

 

Last few nights, burdened with deep concerns, Luvet had hardly touched his supper but drunk heavily to ease his mounting trepidation (fear, anxiety). Pacing back and forth across the room, he stayed up most of the evenings contemplating a plausible plan to ward off this impending disaster.  He could not shake the terrible foreboding in the crux of his being, that if not now, in matter of days, even if he succeeded in evading (escaping) the grave, lurking peril (danger, hazard, risk), his life would still be forfeited.

 

02- LUVET

                                                                      

Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald, meanwhile, from the very start, had refused to be sequestered in his cabin; not wishing to remain idle, he’d instead, had done his bit in expediting the mending of the ship.

Under Tizan's competent supervision, in no time at all the vessel had been made sail-worthy; hence, the fourth day at dawn, taking full advantage of the sudden rise of a north wind, they’d charted a course over the wide river that would bring them at a swift pace into the port city of Hanbrak, the river port immediately before the Capital city of Channing.

Once they had docked, Zunrogo and company were to precede post haste from then on, on horseback, to the Capital.

                                                                                  ~

 

Midway to reaching the port city of Hanbrak, no one other than Zunrogo, had anticipated the sudden and unexpected tragic turn of events.

In the dead of night, as all the other tired souls, including Fradel Rurik Korvald clutched their pillows in deep slumber; Ceroz Agripe suddenly snapping out of one of his catatonic (inert, withdrawn) states, had sat bolt upright and guardedly looked about him.

With wild gleam in his black pupils, he quietly rose from his bed and went over to pick up his sleeping baby. But the crib was empty, his precious Tait was not there, he’d gone missing!

Suddenly his memory served him a faint recollection, how in his anguished state, before the battle on board had started, trying to quieten the bawling (wailing) infant, he had pressed his precious boy to his chest and, tragically, smothered (suffocated) him.

“But when did they take him away? Where was Tait now?”

His mind once more becoming unhinged, his memory fogged, and he felt suddenly confused. He looked down at the empty crib, “There you are,” this time he clearly saw his precious boy Tait fast asleep.

03- BABY IN CRIB

Smiling, he gingerly picked up the small pillow, which he’d often used to protect the baby from the edge, his arms swaddling (enveloping) it, he held the precious cargo close to his chest.  Suddenly the baby was awakened and began to squeal.

“There, don’t cry Tait… Mommy will be here soon.” He gently rocked the bundle in his arms till the baby was quiet.

Bending his head, he gently kissed Tait’s forehead. His beautiful son seemed to be smiling at him. “Oh, you are such a good boy” He blew him another string of kisses.

Again, confusion set in, but just as quickly it went away; his mind was much clearer now, suddenly he knew what he must do.  Going over, he edged out the door of the cabin and locked it behind him.

 

Once in the dimly lit corridor, hugging the walls, he inaudibly crept two doors down to Luvet's cabin and quietly slipped inside.  Three paces into the room he stopped.  With the mad fire burning in his eyes, he quickly surveyed the immediate surroundings: his eyes momentarily rested on the table which was cluttered with dishes, food left uneaten, but there was the  discarded  wine stained cup, the empty wine jar tipped on its side; then he observed the stack of documents on the night table and the flickering oil lamp teetering dangerously over the edge; finally,  his gaze came to rest on the sleeping official.

Ceroz Agripe’s pulse again raced as the shiver of fuming rage and seething contempt rippled through him.

 

05- CEROS AGRIPE -GONE MAD

Gingerly, as if wary of waking his infant son from sleep, Ceroz put the precious bundle down in the plush, oversize chair in corner and, reaching into his left pocket, retrieved a long, red, silk cord.

 This crimson silk cord had been his former wife's favorite fashion accessory.  He took a shuddering breath as his gaze rested on it, recalling the multitude of purposes she had put it to.  Now it would serve a new purpose.

 He caressed it lovingly, touching it to his cheek, then to his pallid lips.  The lingering perfume it held misted his eyes with the memories it evoked, and he moaned softly in pain and dropped his head.

Abruptly anew the ire erupted in his chest, and he clenched the cord taut with indignation and bile until his knuckles whitened and cracked.

Just then Luvet stirred in his deep slumber, uttered some incomprehensible phrase, and then turned onto his side.  Ceroz was rooted to the spot, holding his breath as he considered his recourse should be the cursed official awake now and catch on to his presence in the room! 

Then, however, a lugubrious, loud snoring resounded in the air.

“Vile cur; how dare you sleep without a care…  Death is too good for the likes of you!”

 A wave of sickness, disgust and anger washed over Ceroz Agripe as he gritted his teeth.

“Your flesh should be ripped (torn) into minute pieces and fed to the wild dogs!  I swear, even if it is the last thing I do, I will gauge-out your eyes and stuff them up to …. where they belong.  Your manhood and your black heart I shall trample underfoot.  I will make certain that you will never be born again in any condition to defile a good, virtuous woman!”  He spat; his anger barely contained as he shivered once more.

His body was rocked with an all-consuming-wrath, and he clenched his fists to steady his steps as he determinedly approached Luvet.

 He stopped at hairsbreadth away from the edge of the bed.  His nostrils dilated as he glowered at the official; before him lay an ordinary official with plain nose, ordinary beard and mustache and typical lips, nothing special at all.  In the dim light, Ceroz noted how his reddish hair was scraggly (disheveled) and few strands hung loose at the sides.  There was nothing remarkable about him, nothing that would betray to an onlooker in the least his vile, contemptible nature.  There was no trace of inhumanity which Ceroz could detect in that oblong, rather impassive (blank) face, yet this mangy dog Luvet was assuredly the lowest of the lowest.

Surging contempt consumed Ceroz as he felt the bile rise in him once more.

06- TZAN JP

In the next instant the cord looped around Luvet's neck and tightened with such unusual force that it bit two inches into his neck.  The convulsions of the struggling body were kept under control only by the application of Ceroz's total weight upon the dying man.

When Luvet finally expired, Ceroz drew from his other pocket the knife his wife had given him as her instrument of revenge.

 In the next few minutes, he set off to work, fulfilling his promises of defacement to the letter.  When he was done, he discarded the knife onto the table and stepped back.

As if now reconciled with the dead official, Ceroz smiled and calmly walked over to the corner to pick up the baby once more.  Going above deck, he moved slowly and serenely, looking as if he was merely taking the infant out for some air.

 Before any of the watch could realize his intention and stop him, he simply stepped over the edge of the boat and disappeared instantly in the foam of the wake.

 

“Man overboard…Man overboard!” In dead of night, the warning sounded.

 

But the vessel, as ordered, kept on (with its speed) going.  They could not have rescued him anyhow, even if they were any such order.  Driven by the strong northern wind, the vessel was moving way too fast to stop or try turning back, without grave risk to all.

The gruesome sight of Luvet's mutilated corpse was discovered soon after.  Without exception, every member of this rugged crew was chilled to the bone.  Enough incrimination evidence was left behind to leave no question as to the murderer's identity.

The motive was framed variously in everyone's mind but most chalked it up to simple insanity induced by the tragic loss of his beloved wife Disaidun Agripe, his infant boy Tait and the recent events, such as the terror and violence of the battle.

 It was generally determined that, being weak in nature already, Official Ceroz Agripe had simply cracked under pressure.  A few, however, speculated that the mutilation stemmed from the settling of an old grudge (score).  Some guessed that it was a crime of passion, and that the wife must have had an illicit affair with the bureaucrat Luvet.

Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) suspected that Zunrogo was somehow at the root of it all and despised him even more for it.  However, he had nothing solid on which to base his suspicions (allegations), therefore he buried his resentment and concentrated on the serious concerns that lay ahead of him once they reached the Capital.

06

 Tzan, by piecing together the snippets of information and what he’d astutely observed, in the end discerned the true probable cause.   Tizan absently nodded as he wrapped up the pieces of the official's corpse; then with a sinister grin, he covertly eyed Zunrogo, telling himself to never ever for an instant let his guard down, to never underestimate (take too lightly) the captain’s capacity for ruthlessness, or misjudge in future Zunrogo’s devious powers of manipulation.

                                                                                        ~

 

               (END OF SECTION 37- END OF BOOK 8 – ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL)

 

 (LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC EPIC STORY CONTINUES IN BOOK 9- THE CAPITAL CHANNING)