11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 15

The newly decoded message unfortunately, had also confirmed that, Lord Shouzi Yozdek had failed to acquire (obtain) and destroy the letter, referred to as the 'prize', since he was still interested in its whereabouts. This latest bit hampered developments and, made Qarzten’s job of persecuting key culprits even more arduous: for without the incriminating object as evidence Lord Shouzi Yozdek could not be indicted and, since the letter was no longer in Egil Viggoaries's grasp, the Dark Eunuch escaped denunciation (condemnation) and charge of extortion and worse, treason, for his withholding vital information essential to National Security. 

01-SHOUZI YOZDEK - JP  11

   

Of course, Qarzten Caimund had typically guessed months ago the contents of, Shouzi Yozdek’s bane, cursed extortion letter. He was mildly amused pondering on the advantages, which could still be reaped by routing (fueling) these heightened animosities into damaging, outright altercations. All the same, Qarzten knew that it would not be an easy task, as each adversary's offenses were equally grave and, with their fates so intertwined, each would rather shield the ardent foe (rival) than expose him.

Qarzten Caimund’s thoughts reverting to Nijel Pinng, Qarzten inwardly queried:  How on earth could she have attained these facts? Just what kind of organization was she a part of? Qarzten was peeved and same time amazed, at the extent of Nijel's resourcefulness. Best not to underestimate this young filly in future. Still, the gleaned information from her smitten stool pigeon was, surely erroneous. Qarzten had of course in mind, the very Eunuch in Egil Viggoaries's employ, that she had been seen cavorting under questionable circumstances; unfortunately, this lead had also gone cold, as eunuch Kanbi, had since then, mysteriously, without a trace disappeared.   

For months now, no news of him could be had anywhere in the entire Kingdom. By the time the covert search had been called off by Qarzten, it had become evident that infatuated 'Kanbi' had been a stooge (exploited)spy, planted to deceive Nijel quite unwittingly, by yet unidentified, quiet proficient faction, that zealously opposed the Dark Eunuch Egil Viggoaries.

If only they had attained any lead on that courier before he too unfortunately, had disappeared without a trace. This was quite unacceptable; their elite trackers, hence, should be reassigned to manage this job. Having made a mental note, Qarzten Caimund turned his attention back to the decoded version of the second message which read: Plan A executed successfully. Desired results with Hare achieved. Plan B will commence after elimination of unforeseen danger from Crane. This time the use of mammal and bird names, for Prince Herleif and the respected Royal Tutor Worren Youkup, deemed impertinent, put a bad taste to Qarzten’s mouth. His sharp mind had grasped at once that this farcical attempt at a clumsy assassination had all along far deeper connotations for Shouzi Yozdek than anyone else had imagined.

Qarzten still had the means to run interference against Lord Shouzi’s plan, but he could conceive of no urgent reason for a hasty attempt; meanwhile, it had become patently obvious that it was not just Worren Youkup’s reputation but his very existence (life) that was deemed expendable (a sure forfeit, a sacrifice), in this dastardly scheme.

02 QARZTEN CAMUND (9)D jp 2

The implicit threat from Lord Shouzi Yozdek bent on vengeance, with the help of his strong affiliates firmly planted within the Court and throughout Capital however, warranted a more serious concern: The balance of power Qarzten had worked so hard to maintain, the stable nucleus of Government could be permanently offset (disrupted) if the corrective addendums to initial (preliminary) measures were not implemented at once.  It would require certain sacrifices, certain unorthodox measures but it had to be done. Qarzten Caimund took small comfort in knowing that as long as it was within the bounds of lawful activity the unavoidable repercussions could be kept to a minimum.

Dipping his brush to the ink, Qarzten summarily drafted demarcated (fixed) coded orders to be transferred via his assistant to the special branch later. He turned and nodded to his assistant; his adrenaline still pumping, then stood up and quickly went outside.    

Qarzten subsequently, had hastened (rushed his steps) to take care of one or two urgent matters that needed his delicate touch before his usual mid-morning audience with the Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek. Qarzten had hoped to broach the subject yet again this day with his Highness, after he took a detour to his private quarters first, where he could attain few hours of repose, bathe and then don a change of clothing. Since he rarely slept, he found he could get by on only two hours sleep, before waking (refreshed) revitalized and eager to go. And he never, ever, remembered his dreams.

                                                                                                 ~

Egil Viggoaries had at first been irate at the deemed trivial assignment (for he’d already had his hands full with other more pressing concerns); however, as he, in his discerning mind promptly deduced the culprit and her co-conspirators, he had quickly recognized the hidden potential of this case and the multitude of benefits that could be reaped from it.  Moreover, Viggoaries had always detested the sanctimonious Royal Tutor Worren Youkup and he was of course elated to learn the true extent of Tutor’s involvement in this debasing scheme.

A sinister smile enveloped his lips as he imagined the subsequent degradation of the Royal Tutor, when his being so artfully manipulated by nefarious Lady Sejon, would be made public. When Lady Sejon expectedly fell ill with an unknown malady so shortly after the unpleasantness with Worren Youkup and required the ministrations of a Royal Physician, Egil Viggoaries seized (grabbed) this opportunity to discreetly arrange for the special recruit young Enqui Rimeng, who was yet to undergo a surgery that would make him a eunuch, to be the only one available to attend to her needs.  Once this part of the ploy was implemented, he had only to leave the key players alone long enough for the predictable developments to take root.  

   

                                                                                ~   

   

During Lady Sejon's examination, when asked to bring forth Physician Rimeng's bag, Nijel harboring a sly aim of her own, had laid open the bag with the two specific flasks (blue in color) adjacent to others in various colors, visible in plain sight for her Ladyship to notice.   

Oblivious to this subtle coaching, Lady Sejon predictably conceived the gambit (scheme) in her mind, with her customary self-congratulation.

As it were, this medicine (a drug, in the form of a white powder) within the specific, cobalt flask was typically administered to an ailing patient, each time in small doses, as means (remedy) to strengthen a weak constitution. Caution dictated however, that in larger quantity it would cause the heart to adversely, uncontrollably palpitate and most certainly burst a major artery (blood vessel). Taken orally, it was odorless and tasteless especially when mixed with sweets. More importantly, it was undetectable in post-mortem examination, unless suspicion warranted the specific tests to be conducted immediately or, within the first two hours of death. Who would suspect the cause of sudden demise of a seventy-year-old, stout, industrious Royal Tutor, to be anything other than a heart attack? This ripe opportunity, hence, was not to be missed; therefore, after discreetly conveying her wishes to Nijel, Sejon had feigned dizziness and collapsed quite convincingly into the handsome young physician's arms.

Despite the compulsory professional decorum, the hot-blooded young physician’s senses were inescapably (unavoidably) swayed by her innate, intoxicatingly sensual perfume; moreover, absolutely besotted by her coquettish smile, Enqui’s face flushed crimson and his heart pounded so wildly that he thought it would simply burst right out of his chest.

03- YOUNG PHYSICIAN ENQUI RIMENG (1)

While Enqui Rimeng fought hard against the raging hormones stirred up by this effective diversion, Nijel Pinng had quickly pilfered (swiped, stolen) one of the cobalt (caerulean) flasks from the bag and shifted the rest around to disguise the gap it left.

 Enqui with a timorous (bashful, nervous) demeanor, promptly concluded his examination, made a hasty diagnosis, and then reached for the bag to dispense the appropriate prescription. Nijel's efforts at concealment proved unnecessary as young physician Enqui Rimeng was too ruffled to notice that anything was amiss.

Afterwards, he abruptly snapped the bag shut and practically ran out of Lady Sejon's chamber lest (in fear that), he would commit serious breach of propriety.  

Later that evening Nijel had completed (finalized) rest of Sejon’s explicit instructions, returning at night to report her triumph, unaware that patient spies had observed and documented her every move.

                                                                                          ~  

                                                                            

Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries, for usual outlet, had often sported in private tournaments with the deadliest convicted criminals destined for the gallows. This late afternoon’s barbarian outlaw, a giant of a man (foreign lawbreaker) being a noteworthy adversary, before his inevitable demise had succeeded in inflicting a deep gash, a serious wound, in Egil Viggoaries’s left forearm. And so, this evening as Egil Viggoaries was being tended by his personal physician, Surgeon Mosek, who was busy patching up the cut in the most feared Eunuch’s forearm without the aid of sedative as it was Viggoaries’s way, Viggoaries (showing no indication of stress,) in his mind’s eye was actually re-living the most thrilling aspects of the prior combat, the likes of which he had not encountered in quite a long while.

An indistinct shudder of pleasure passed through him, every so often, as he recalled the key highlights, the five or six near-death experiences he had had: latest memorable one, at the precipice of the icy falls, when death’s breath fell on him during the lethal combat. The adversary in this case was a particularly agile one for one his size and, his skill in wielding his deadly weapon had been truly magnificent.

04- BARBARIAN OUTLAW 2- JP

Those hands, like bearpaws, solid muscle and powerful, the way they had gripped his neck at one point and, how impressive it had been, the way that weather worn face had twisted with pure unadulterated, murderous rage. The articulated (expressed) utter contempt…those menacing, flame-darting, ice-blue eyes…! Ahh, it was utterly glorious!

Even now, it sent ripples of (tingling) shivers down the Dark Eunuch’s spine and he got goosebumps, simply thinking of it: a bit more pressure and he could have torn out his esophagus (pharynx, throat). A longing sigh escaped Dark Eunuch’s taut (stretched), trembling lips, as he akin experienced the glorious, intoxicating dread.

At brink of death, such times he truly savored his own otherwise dreary (boring) life, his else tedious (dull) mortality; how thrilling it was to be so near to being extinguished by the talons of the swooping (looming) Death!

He knew it was a perverse sense, but Viggoaries had such an insatiable and intoxicating hunger rising in him then, wanting to devour, to absorb his nemesis’ soul, crunching on his bones then sending him straight to Hell, to be tormented and enslaved for all eternity.

But then, Egil Viggoaries dispassionately shrugged and grimaced menacingly, alas, how quickly it had all ended. He was bit angry with himself, for expecting it to be any different; predictably, even in that other unrelated incident, when the odds had been so stacked against him, hadn’t he still won? Life was getting too monotonous; for he always triumphed.   

Of course, Egil Viggoaries could have attained indefinite pardon for the man, to be used and tortured repeatedly, after all his crime, gruesome as it had been, was nevertheless an act of self defense. However, the Dark Eunuch knew there would be others in this one’s wake, hopefully, more ferocious, and more deadly. That recently subjugated uncharted territory, populated by violent, proud race of Tunker, their whole existence revolving around warring and retribution, was just ripe for the picking; Egil Viggoaries could still have his ample supply to satisfy his innate craving for extreme barbarity and violent cruelty.

It was possible that one day, he might be pleasantly surprised. A searing pain from his arm shooting up to his brain just then, turned his attention back to the matters at hand. Egil Viggoaries looked down at the physician-surgeon who was bent on working furiously to complete the unpleasant task with beads of perspiration forming on his forehead.

 

05- EGIL VIGGORIES - THE DARK EUNUCH

"You are too damn slow!"  Egil snorted in disgust, knowing full well the meticulousness of the surgery being performed was most trying especially in these most unorthodox conditions. Ordinarily Surgeon Mosek would have had assistance and a plethora of equipment to fall back on.  

Mosek held (caught) his breath, as the blood in his veins turned to ice. At least the Dark Eunuch had not called him ‘incompetent.’    

 Mosek steeled himself, careful to maintain his abject, professional decorum, as he worked around the major arteries; he continued on with vigor and a certain diligence, pushing aside the terror that had gripped his heart, mindful of his predecessor's sudden, untimely cruel death under much the same circumstances, because, even after such a long, faithful service, he had been unlucky enough to have incurred Viggoaries's sudden displeasure (wrath).  A grunt, a complaining breath, and, in an instant his life too, would be forfeit just like Nevek; he was such a brilliant surgeon mentor too.

 

(END OF SECTION 15)

                                                                                     ~ 

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE CAPITAL CHANNING – SECTION 10 

In truth, Zaur Stugr had searched long and hard for these many years and had finally given up all hope of ever uncovering the truth and of finding out what had happened to his father. Then, just when he least expected it, because of the strange twist of fate the answer had miraculously reached out to him.

“I must relay the message through a courier (an affiliate Kozur) at dawn to, without further ado, retrieve my father's remains from that hellish pit.” Zaur Stugr nodded with resolve. Unfortunately, Zaur’s full schedule did not allowed him to leave the Capital to supervise the work himself, for nothing short of a miracle, would enable him to facilitate his being absent from his official duties long enough to conduct a proper burial with full rights and ceremony befitting the station of his Father. The burden of his office was most exacting (demanding, rigorous) on his time, same as every other official regardless of their status in Channing, for each official was constantly monitored, their every action and allotted time incessantly regulated and documented (registered), under the entrenched (engrained) layers of bureaucracy with its rigid regulatory standards and lawful domination. Not a single unsanctioned intake of breath could be taken without dire repercussions, under such oppressive and absolute rule of Emperor Zakhertan Yozdek.

01-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (44)JP

 “Perhaps when this whole business with Fradel Rurik Korvald is concluded I may find the means; I promise you, Father, your spirit will find eternal peace in Heaven while your foul murderers will pay for their nefarious deeds in Hell.”  In irritation Zaur drummed his fingers upon the box.

If only he was free, free to do what he wished without the piercing eyes of Lamont Gudaren, Zakhertan’s invincible militia and that cursed Eunuch’s Black Molochs monitoring his every move!  Regardless of all the power he wielded, and yes, he was a covert (surreptitious) rebel leader, nonetheless existing (functioning) and even thriving, under the domineering, tyrannical canopy; unfortunately, at this very moment he’d realized he was nothing but a pawn of capricious fate after all. Indubitably, in the end, his every feat (act, achievement, engagement), encounters had been preordained (predetermined, fated) by the Heavenly Gods ‘dictates.

“And you, oh my most unfortunate Father, your fate had always been far more tragic than mine could ever be!” Zaur Stugr, shamefaced, groaned, recalling Sorgun's confession to him that night long ago when Zaur was a young boy…Young and utterly innocent.

 Only years later had Zaur comprehended the full implications of those words and, from then on, had remained eternally grateful to Lord Wutenzar Thuxur Marrog Zhon. He had henceforth honored His Lordship's memory in secret each year, on the day of Festival for the Dead.  He owed so much to Lord Zhon for all that he had done to extricate his father from the wrongful indictment and later still, for restoring him to his rightful (position) status.  But then because of the capriciousness of fate, more troubles had beset them.

Zaur Stugr’s mind presently recollected those perilous times back then, with the country in the grips of chaos (turmoil) and incessant wars, remembering most vividly, his father's sleepless nights that were spent endlessly pouring over documents, attending clandestine meetings, arranging for the provisions of armaments and his ceaselessly pacing the floor in his study until the (wee) small hours of the morning. 

Then, once more being constrained to flee, they had journeyed to far away alien lands where they had encountered (met) strange people with different (unfamiliar) dialects and customs; only to covertly return, though remain invisible, amid mainstream (ordinary) denizen obscurity (anonymity).

“Oh, father!  Father! “Zaur Stugr’s heart ached as if he had just become an orphan once more.  He leaned back, lowering his eyelids on the tears that welled up unbidden.

Zaur choked, recalling another time and another place that seemed like an eternity ago.

Zaur saw it all again in his mind’s eye, as vividly as if it was just happening before him that last exchange with his father, Sorgun Dufo. (Note: Learn all about Sorgun Dufo, in Book 6- The Assassins- Section 10)

02-- SORGUN DUFO

Sorgun Dufo stroked his son’s hair with a grave face and looked into his young eyes.  "Now, pay attention, Kundrick."

“Kundrick Dufo,” Zaur softly whispered his childhood name; he had not the occasion to think of it for many years now.

 "Listen son, circumstances dictate that I should go away for a while.  Wenjenkun is in the grip of grave peril, and I have it within my (power) means to alter its ill-fated course.  I must undertake a very dangerous task, and time is of the essence.  Hopefully I will achieve my goal and spare this nation of ours from the impending catastrophe.  Though you may be only a child my son, you are strong enough to be entrusted with grave responsibility.  Take this box and guard it with your life, if necessary, until my return.  You must not fail in this, for inside is proof of the allegations I will be bringing before our Illustrious Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir. Without them all is lost."

Zaur Stugr caressed the box once more, holding it as he had gripped it as a child (of about nine years old), feeling the weight of its importance. 

"In the meantime,", Sorgun had continued, "I have arranged for you to remain in the good care of my old friend, Sanzo Tezcat.  I know you are a strong-willed boy despite your polite manners, and I charge you now to behave and do as Sanzo says. Do not give me the least cause to regret this decision.  When I return to reclaim the box, I will explain everything to you, in full detail." 

But his father never returned.

“As discerning as you were, Father,” Zaur Stugr smiled wryly, “even you did not grasp how you were being played (toyed) by fickle fate.  You did not perceive, had no way of knowing of Sanzo's secret life.  How things might have turned out differently, had either of you, more specifically him, breached that wall of secrecy and taken the other, you, into confidence.  You are not entirely to blame though father; after all, you pursued a common cause and trusted him (a confirmed bachelor) well enough to leave me, your only son, in his care. “

“It was clearly not negligence on your part; perhaps it was Sanzo's excellent disguise, crafted so well it had fooled even a childhood friend such as you.” Zaur lowered his head in woeful air.

“How capricious fate is.”

To be sure, (definitely) Sanzo Tezcat had been a master of camouflage; what’s more, he had been bound by his blood oath of allegiance sworn in complete secrecy to the Sacred Brotherhood of the Kozurs.  Since even blood relatives were kept in the dark (unless it was sanctioned by the brotherhood to reveal it, and that happened hardly ever,) Sanzo Tezcat could not have confided in Sorgun Dufo even if he had desperately wanted to, even if it were to save his own life.  So serious were the repercussions of breaking the oath that even the most horrible death was preferable to betraying the Brotherhood.

 

03- SANZO TESCAT (2)

Zaur’s noble father had never suspected that this bookish (studious, thoughtful), benevolent, and foolishly idealistic, equable (composed, placid) erudite (scholarly, historian), who always seemed to be lost in some fantasy world of his own so distant from the crude realities of present life and politics, was anything more than what he seemed.  And so, at the time, Sanzo Tezcat must have seemed the ideal, safe candidate to entrust with the safekeeping of young Kundrick Dufo.  Besides, Sorgun Dufo's own scruples and good conscience would not have permitted him to involve (or recruit) his childhood friend Sanzo, this idealistic, gentle soul into the perilous, clandestine struggle that took up his every waking moment.

Perhaps that was the root, true basis for his father's undoing; he should have looked deeper into the man’s soul, should have questioned the obvious when it came too easily.  Sanzo, a wolf in sheep's clothing, would have proved invaluable in altering the course of Sorgun's doom.

Vividly Zaur recalled the look of panic in Sanzo Tezcat 's eyes when, just three days after leaving with Sorgun Dufo on a mission, Tojo Tugo was spotted (was seen) in the crowd across the market square.

In an instant metamorphosis, Sanzo had dropped all semblance of his benign, placid (docile) disguise and clearly incensed (irked), hastened (rushed) Kundrick home at once.  Within the space of an hour, they were packed and ready for the flight to disappear in hiding.  Cursing furiously, Sanzo Tezcat had slammed things about and committed countless, obviously important documents to the roaring flames of the kitchen fire.

Despite his forced restraint, Zaur gritted his teeth and cursed the name, Tojo, Tojo Tugo, father of Imperial Captain Zunrogo Tugo.

 “May you burn like dry leaves in Hell for your treachery! “Zaur scowling cussed (swore, cursed).

Many nights since the time when he had first pieced the facts together, Zaur Stugr had anguished over the dilemma. 

Zunrogo Tugo had been a mere child back then, could he be held morally accountable for his father's heinous crimes?  In the end Zaur had exonerated Zunrogo from all blame and did not exact lawful revenge on him.

Despite this resolve, Zaur Stugr had held, in the depth of his heart, a strong dislike for Captain of the Palace Guards, Zunrogo Tugo.  If it were up to him, alone, the Undersecretary's Office would have had no dealings whatsoever with this arrogant, martinet (despot, bully).  Unfortunately, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had long ago recognized Zunrogo’s specific talents and, over the course of the ensuing years had engaged his increasingly invaluable services to successfully carry out the most difficult of the Prime Minister's sinister schemes.

As Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s avowed subordinate (in official capacity), Minister Zaur Stugr was constrained to maintain an outward (superficial) civil relation with Zunrogo, son of Tojo the traitor; and when bid to do so, enable (facilitate) the despised Captain to augment (expand) his influence and fortunes. Despite solid evidence, Zaur suspected Zunrogo Tugo of having other affiliates, moreover, a far more powerful patron (benefactor) than PM, not ruling out the possibility of that sponsor being someone from the Royal Yozdek Family.

At this point Zaur's mind, unexpectedly, reverted to his childhood.

"How will Father find us?  I'm not going anywhere." Zaur remembered crying out as he squirmed and wrestled against the servants with all his might, steadfastly refusing to budge an inch. 

That was the first time that Zaur (Kurndrick Dufo) had ever defied his father's dictate.

Zaur smiled, recalling how stubborn and cheeky (rebellious) he’d been back then.

 As it were, when threat, force and reasoning failed to sway Kundrick Dufo, the steward Lios then had resorted to a ruse.  Pretending to have briefly consulted Sanzo Tezcat, wily (crafty) Lios had, by choosing his words very carefully, reassured Kundrick that Sorgun Dufo had already sent word to Sanzo that he would meet with them at their intended destination once his pursuers were thrown off his trail.

04- FEARLES KUNDRICK DUFO

When defiant Kundrick had boldly confronted his guardian in his study later still, demanding Sanzo validate this info, Sanzo Tezcat had simply suppressed an outward venting of his displeasure (at this obstinate upstart) and glared sternly at Kundrick.

 His gruff silence had, oddly enough, reaffirmed in Kundrick’s mind that the words Lios had spoken were the truth.  Thus beguiled, Kundrick Dufo (Zaur Stugr) had then complied willingly with all that was expected of him. 

After they had fled to safety, Kundrick had waited fruitlessly for many a day, looking forward to that time when he would be reunited with his father. Every night before going to sleep he’d envisioned (in his mind’s eye) the joyful event, how he would eagerly, elatedly greet his father and then excitedly blather away, recounting (relaying) the many hair-raising adventures he had already experienced.

When their urgent flight to safety had warranted a third move within one year, Kundrick Dufo bit more wizened (more able to discern a lie from the truth) and skeptical, this time he’d adamantly stood his ground, obstinate and unafraid.  Raising quite a ruckus he’d demanded the full explanation he felt was his right to have. On the verge of being bound, gagged, and forcibly transported, Sanzo Tezcat just then arriving on the disordered scene, in an icy tone (a voice commanding absolute obedience), had barked, “Put the boy down.”

Zaur could still envisage (visualize, picture) the riveting scene, how Sanzo’s brief, forbidding look that fanned the room had instantly frozen all commotion (clamor) and frenzied protestations.

 A tomblike (deadly) lethal tension had gripped the room as all, save for Kundrick, stood perfectly still with their heads lowered in abject contrition.

Sanzo Tezcat with slow, deliberate steps, hands clasped behind him, walked over to the window, and gazed absently outside; he stood there for what seemed an eternity, his hand then (grasping) resting on the hilt of his partially hidden stiletto (an ancient, ceremonial dagger). Sanzo’s dark green, piercing eyes subsequently had reverted back to Kundrick Dufo; noting with some amusement, the boy’s adamant stance and the unflinching stare of defiance returned back to him, Sanzo simply nodded.

In truth, despite the just then wavering, inexplicable fear Kundrick had felt in the pit of his stomach, determined not to show any weakness, he had obdurately (pig-headedly) tunneled his hard gaze into Sanzo's eyes.

The steward Lios, having been rather fond of the indomitable boy and at that moment fearing for his safety, had defied his subservient place to cough gently and to flash Kundrick with a worried look.

Quite unexpectedly however, Sanzo's face had suddenly softened (relaxed) and he threw his head back and gave a loud, boisterous laugh that resounded in the tense stillness of the air.

"Ignorance makes a lion of the lamb (young sheep)." Kundrick thought he heard Sanzo Tezcat grumble under his breath as he walked over (drew near) to the boy and seated himself comfortably into a plush chair.

“Who’s he calling a lamb?” Zaur remembered well, how he’d inwardly seethed in rage at the time. He was a real firebrand (a troublemaker, a real hothead) back then.

Kundrick’s fury unleashed he stood ready to pounce on Sanzo, “I’ll show him...” 

But then, steward Lios, catching the boy's attention just then, his eyes had implored Kundrick to keep still and to concede, warning him of dire chastisement if he persisted with his defiance.

05-SANZO TESCAT (10)

Sanzo Tezcat, well composed, with his hard gaze glued to Kundrick Dufo, had pondered on a concern for quite some time, as though the urgency of their flight had never existed and as if they had all the time in the world to spare.  In contrast, these precarious moments had dragged on, for Kundrick and presumably, for his friend and ally, Lios.

Then unexpectedly Sanzo had slightly leaned forward and indicated that Kundrick was to take the seat across from him as, with a singular look, he dismissed the steward and the rest of the servants from the room.  Kundrick Dufo, unflinchingly never taking his eyes once off his guardian, had complied.

Instead of the admonishment he had expected, however, Sanzo had, in a sympathetic, patient tone, promised that one day, when it was appropriate for him to do so, Kundrick would receive all the pertinent knowledge that he sought and that he, Sanzo himself, would answer unequivocally all Kundrick’s queries without the least reserve.

“Until then,” Sanzo had austerely ejected next, “it would be most dangerous for a boy of your stature (station), to possess too much knowledge.”

Looking away Sanzo had then in a softer tone distractedly added, “And since it seems we would be together for quite a long while, I prefer to have our relationship be, more affable (amiable).”

Sanzo, rebounding from that momentary sentiment quickly however, had again austerely exhorted (urged) Kundrick to behave, as his father would have wanted him to, with the decorum becoming of his station and to show the perseverance and self-discipline that was his innate (inherent) good breeding. 

Most incredible, Sorgun Dufo had been one of those rare, exceptional individuals (persons) who had won Sanzo's eternal gratitude and affection. Fortunately for Kundrick Dufo, he had been the beneficiary of all that respect Sanzo had held (felt) for his father and, though the boy had been nothing but a liability thus far, in fact, by this last defiant spectacle (demonstration) worn rather thin his privilege, Kundrick, as sole exception, had still been tolerated by his guardian.  Zaur had learned years later how dangerously close he’d come to being slayed that day.

It had taken tremendous amount of self-control on Sanzo’s part, not to have lashed out and simply offed (killed) the boy; in the end, during his pondering Sanzo seeing something in the boy, (in fact Kundrick had reminded him of his own unruly childhood-self,) that Sanzo had decided from henceforth, to judge the boy on his own merit (instead of his father's) and to give him one last chance.

Sanzo then had communicated to Kundrick in no uncertain terms that, if he wished to remain under his guardianship and in his good graces, absolute obedience was required and expected of him. The underlying tone of this last part (of Sanzo’s speech) had been most firm and severe, leaving no room for discussion or negotiation.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

 

                                                                                   ~