LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 10

Lenny Sukzor having eventually returned home bit inebriated (for he needed something to dull his senses), disheartened and exhausted, he had at once retired to his sleeping quarters.

Shortly after, under the cover of darkness the same premises (Under secretary’s residence) yielded one then, after a period another covert (disguised) figure, both emerging from the secret passageway to be swallowed up by the murky (shadowy) street.

The first cloaked figure, heading north, was soon admitted through the secret Iron-gate, and escorted by an armed sentinel, into the prohibited, Inner Palace. Brought before the head of Zakhertan Yozdek’s Special Security force, the spy bowed respectfully and submitted her detailed report.

The second figure took a different path, heading southeast. Hugging the shadows, he quickly made his way to an old section of the city dotted with ancient temples, crumbling warehouses and, an area riddled with secret catacombs known to but a few.  The clandestine meeting was to transpire under the fifth watchtower.

01-

"You are late!"  A figure jumped suddenly out of the shadows to block his path. "A few minutes more and I would have left."

The cloaked figure apologized for the (unavoidable) delay and immediately got right down to business at hand; after receiving the small parcel (containing specific documents) he forthwith gave his personal assurances that all had been arranged to his satisfaction. The lucrative posting was to be his for the asking. This part of the business concluded, he then assured Zunrogo that as per payment for the second item, the gold itself had been deposited in warehouse 56, hidden in a stack of rice sacks.  Holding out the key to the warehouse, and thus the possession of the fee, the cloaked figure then demanded the item in question be handed over forthwith.

"Not so fast!" Zunrogo held out his hand. "How do I know, that is, what guarantee do I have …"

"None.", the cloaked figure was annoyed.

 "If you want to back out because of your short-sighted reservations, then so be it. This meeting is terminated!"  He pocketed the key and abruptly turned his back to leave.

“You have guts, Qunen Yummer.” Zunrogo smiled venomously for, despite the disguise, he had identified (recognized) the voice. The other contingencies he had laid in place in case of future betrayal were at once dispensed with. They were now unnecessary. Qunen Yummer's identity was all the insurance he needed. That very first meeting, when he had been covertly assigned to this other, more important case, Zunrogo had discreetly followed the cloaked agent at the end of their clandestine meeting to find the source of his orders. When the agent had disappeared into the mansion of the Prime Minister, Zunrogo had assumed, with some measure of certainty, who had been his employer; same time comprehended the very nature of this delicate assignment and its grave political implications which had, understandably, warranted such extensive measures. On the point of turning and walking away from Lamont Gudaren’s residence he had witnessed the re-emergence of the selfsame agent.

02- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 21

Heeding his intuition, Zunrogo had again pursued the cloaked figure through the shadows only to see him disappear for good this time into the fire ravaged residence of Lenny Sukzor. Even so, until this very moment, he had failed to, proof positive identity, his contact. Now that he had recognized the distinct voice, this nagging mystery had been satisfactorily resolved for Zunrogo Tugo.

Qunen Yummer was the assistant to the famed architect Yazune Koz, who was employed to oversee the reconstruction of the destroyed wings of the residence. Naturally, Qunen would reside at the job site as part of his obliged duty until the project was completed.

“How opportune for the Prime Minister, to have an excellent chance (prospect) to spy on the honest and incorruptible Lenny Sukzor just as he was fast gaining in prominence. Hmm…,” Zunrogo mused, “if the Prime Minister is using Qunen Yummer in this way, I should be mindful of the junior architect's future postings. I will have to keep close tabs on him, just in case.”

As for the letter itself, when Zunrogo had first conceived of its true importance he had immediately considered the other avenues open to him for greater gain. He now regretted that decision. Setting those aside, he should have acted on retrieving it that very night after he had seduced (courier) Disaidun Agripe; alas, because of his short-sightedness, it had slipped through his hands and got replaced by the pseudo letter that would have brought about his sure demise. “At least I had avoided that catastrophe; better to admit failure than walk into a sure trap.”  He shrugged. 

"Don’t be so affronted,” Zunrogo now rushed over and hastily grabbed Qunen’s arm, to stop him. “I meant no disrespect.”  After a short apology he explained his real reasons for not accepting the key at this time.  He reluctantly (grudgingly) confessed to his abject failure in recovering the letter; succinctly stated the varied events, excluded (kept out) from the official report, which had transpired on the vessel (boat) and same time laid claim that, he’d been misinformed about the courier Disaidun Agripe.  That she had been duplicitous and same time the stooge, a false lead, but as he had other more promising leads, he presently forwarded his verbal request to his employer, through (via) Quenen, to be allowed bit more time to recover the actual letter.

“What are you really up to?” Qunen Yummer , inwardly scoffed; clearly angry for having wasted his time, he shook his head and then quickly departed the scene.

Zunrogo leered after him, relieved that he had bought (himself) some valuable time till he could figure out his next recourse (option). In truth he had no such sure leads on the letter’s whereabouts, only hunches. Zunrogo with a grim expression, stared thoughtfully for a time in the direction of the disappeared cloaked figure, then he too, advancing in a different direction, was quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

                                                                          ~

 

That same night another cloaked agent, one carrying the actual letter, had detoured to some small measure, backtracking to ascertain that he was not pursued, dogged as he had been few blocks prior.  Assured that he was in the clear he had then taken a decisively abrupt turn and, hugging the shadows as he veered this way and that, finally arrived at his destination.

Stopped by the stout and intimidating (menacing) armed guard at the gate, he at once uttered (pronounced) a seemingly ordinary salutation word, that was in fact (in actuality) the secret password, which allowed him apt (ready) admittance to the inside.

The cloaked agent swiftly advanced through the long, dark hallway which eventually led to a dim room where a clandestine meeting was already (been held) in progress. He quietly removed his cloak (cape) and uncovered his head; standing on attention now, he waited with due patience for his turn to speak.

When Zaur looked at him and slightly nodded his head, he briskly stepped forward and at this close proximity, he promptly presented the letter to the leader of the Sacred Brotherhood of the Kozurs.

"Was there any variation (inconsistency) I should know about?" Zaur Stugr in a low voice asked sternly.

"None to report, sir; It all went according to plan." Kaelan answered respectfully.

03- KAELAN  ( OR CREWMAN ZACK)

Zaur, detecting the ever so slight quaver in Kaelan’s voice, had sensed that Kaelan was holding something back but chose not to dwell on it at present.

From the start Zaur’d been quietly impressed by Kaelan’s courage, integrity, and tenacity.  Relying on these demonstrated abilities Zaur had, for the first time ever, gone against his firm policy of not involving an unseasoned member in matters of serious magnitude; and thus far, he had not been disappointed. He was confident therefore that, whatever was troubling Kaelan, at an appropriate time he would own up to it (make a clean breast of it).  

Turning his back to the assembly Zaur briskly strode to the desk and deposited the letter temporarily into his locked drawer.  Later it would be transferred to a safer home in the vault of the secret room.

Returning to listen to another’s report, Zaur Stugr continued to study Kaelan from the corner of his eye, as he same time, reflected on how hitherto, exceeded all expectations, invaluable this recent recruit been to their organization.

Unexpectedly just then Zaur was reminded of another outstanding recruit, a double agent no less, who had achieved a remarkable feat in a noticeably short while, won the Prime Minister's confidence sufficiently well enough, to be assigned to reporting on the actions of Lenny Sukzor.  His instructions had been to, by any means procure vital facts concerning this highly respected minister that could be of some use for future extortion or, to be merely employed (in some underhanded scheme) simply to be degraded (sullied, brought down) a notch or two when he got too powerful. And so, over the course of the ensuing weeks and months Qunen Yummer had dutifully fed the Prime Minister with profitable, juicy, and slightly harmful bits of data.  The items of real significance and those that were most damaging however, had been covertly and in regular intervals furnished to Zaur.

04- QUNEN YUMMER (15)JP

The final pay-off had come when Qunen had stumbled onto Lenny Sukzor’s secret identity as a Black Molochs and his involvement in this business of the Lord's extortion. Moreover, by his determining the last whereabouts of the (source) extortion-letter, Qunen had provided the Kozurs with the trump-card they had been waiting for.  Acting on this information at once, Zaur had conceived of the plan to involve Zunrogo Tugo. The summons of the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had been Heaven-sent, for it had also provided Kaelan (the strategically positioned mariner in that vessel) with the plausible cover to effectively conduct his key covert mission.

 Considering the result, Zunrogo's terms of payment had by no means been unreasonable or objectionable.  The Kozurs had been able to settle an old score by discreetly disposing of a corrupt and incompetent official, leaving his coveted post open for the promotion of one such as Zunrogo Tugo. Part of Zaur’s vice-ministerial duties involved selecting top candidates and their placement in apt (suitable) official posts.  As the final decision rested with the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, Zunrogo had been furnished with the needed qualifications, and then presented as the best option (candidate) to fill the vacant post.  The Prime Minister had already been favorably disposed towards Zunrogo and quite impressed by the captain’s abilities, was only too willing to give his approval of the appointment. 

The funds Zunrogo had requested were but a trifling sum, considering the vastness of the reserves contained in the Kozur's vault; meanwhile another covert undertaking was to, decidedly seal, Zunrogo’s fate.

Not long after the anticipated word had reached Zaur that Kaelan, executing the plan flawlessly, had retrieved the coveted prize and then replaced it with the pseudo one. As Zaur Stugr had waited for the delivery of the letter itself, Zaur had weighed his options carefully and in the end had settled on the best recourse:  For the time being he would postpone any direct action and instead, utilize his competent agent Kanbi Dayu who was strategically positioned in the palace.

Posing as one of Egil Viggoaries's underlings, Kanbi as per instructed had discreetly contacted the maid Nijel Ping, Lord Shouzi's spy in the Palace, and then passed on in a seemingly involuntary manner the secret news that the Dark Eunuch was no longer in possession of, the blackmail letter.  For reasons of security, Kanbi had since then been reassigned to a more distant post (a different taskforce, team) in a maritime province, where their (Kozur’s) smuggling operations demanded closer scrutiny.

“Let the tigers turn on each other.” Zaur at the time had gloated, thinking of the future developments that would soon be manifesting between Egil Viggoaries and Lord Shouzi.

“Blackmail...?”  Well, that consideration was last on his extensive list of options. As it were, Zaur’s mind had already been set on the precise, most tactically opportune point in time where which to expose the Lord and his powerful affiliates. 

After Egil Viggoaries’s efforts were curbed or utterly frustrated Zaur, working through a third party would then win Lord Shouzi's confidence and, by colluding and tapping into his Lordship's resources, weaken the central government and consequently erode some of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s iron grip.

05- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (42) JP2

For some time now Zaur Stugr had been the surreptitious, real force (power) behind most of Lamont Gudaren’s ingenious machinations; nevertheless, it’d suited Zaur’s purpose well to have His Excellency claim full credit since it also lulled the P.M. into a false sense of security. 

“This most recent, sordid business with his nephew Yekov…” Zaur's mind had just then strayed, as he’d listened to Xifon Therrang's long, boring report.  “I cannot rely on those clumsy minions of Lamont’s to successfully carry out such an important task.  There is no room here for even the slightest margin of error; therefore, I must see to it at once that this business with Yekov is promptly and efficiently squared off (away).  Egil Viggoaries had already made (attained) great strides in his attempts to ensnare Lamont Gudaren with that business of the fire at Lenny Sukzor’s residence.”  Zaur Stugr waved his hand to stay Xifon’s report.  He had heard enough. Xifon Therrang bowing quietly stepped back.

Zaur now turning to the specific group in the room, he curtly dispensed his orders, "I want the word passed on to Koniko and Satoro that Yekov Gudaren is to meet with an unexpected accident within the fortnight. All evidence incriminating the Prime Minister is either to be destroyed or discredited."

Xifon Therrang’s tedious (tiresome) report had been the last one on the list; this night’s meeting hence, had presently come to a natural conclusion. Zaur was about to dismiss all when Kaelan again pressed forward decisively and bowed deeply.  He was now resolved to unburden himself, even if it meant his death.

"Something else," Zaur asked sharply impatiently turning to face Kaelan.

Unflinchingly, Kaelan looked Zaur straight in the eye and resolutely responded, “Sir, my mission was not entirely successful. There was another covert agent on the vassal whom I fought but could not defeat (best), so I fled with the letter. I also suspect that it was he who had fought and vanquished indomitable Lance Diostin, not Zunrogo Tugo. The cur took the credit for it nevertheless.” Kaelan swallowed hard. “He must have also at one point discovered the letter, which he had retrieved from secret courier Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi)’s body, was false and disposed of it; hence, escaping dire repercussions from P.M. Lamont Gudaren. Zunrogo Tugo’s presence in capital is proof of that. For these irregularities, I therefore, respectfully ask to be punished."  Head bowed; with intrepid resignation he awaited the dire verdict (consequence).

Zaur grimaced (frowned), studying Kaelan for a long while, and then nodded.  "Your failure in this instance can be forgiven."

06- ZAUR STUGR JP (4)

Zaur Stugr, seeing the puzzled expression on Kaelan’s eyes, he elaborated. "It may have actually worked out for our benefit.  Zunrogo will now believe with impunity that he has superior fighting ability, far more than he has.  Besides, he will be too wary of reprisals from the Black Molocks for killing one of their own, Lance Diostin. Faced with disappointing P.M and danger from Black Molocks, he may choose to flee.  If he does, he can much easier be disposed. “

“Either way we are well rid of him. So as far as I’m concerned, the matter has been satisfactorily resolved.  In the unlikely event that matters may go awry and take an adverse turn, then I would expect you to do the right thing.  Until then we are in need of your services."

Kaelan bowed in gratitude and thanked Zaur with unfaltering devotion for the chance to serve the Brotherhood once more.

Meeting dissolved, Zaur Stugr had stayed behind a while longer to ponder on a concern. 

Earlier this night, another, a valuable double agent known as Qunen Yummer, had expressed certain irregularity, a part failure, in his assigned task and, had as well, asked to be punished.  His guilt being that he had failed to obtain the letter which he then, would have presented to P.M. Lamont Gudaren and brought about Zunrogo’s ignoble death. But Zunrogo discovering letter’s falsehood had destroyed it; choosing to instead, admit (disclose) his failure as well, forego the payment. More importantly, during this clandestine meeting, Qunen had been, because of his cadence (voice), identified by Zunrogo.  Since part of his cover had been blown, and he’d been identified as P.M.’s secret agent, he’d asked to be duly (accordingly) punished or sent away. At the time this had seemed critically (disapprovingly) serious, as it had limited the agent’s efficacy (effectiveness); nevertheless, Zaur had provisionally (with reservations) postponed his final judgement on this matter. In view of Kaelan’s bold disclosure (confession, admission), Zaur at present was relieved to know, that he would not have to resort to drastic measures after all.

 

                                                                          ~   

(END OF SECTION 10)

 

THE STATE OF THINGS- SECTION 10

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 10

SVEIN (NEVETSECNUAC)

                                                               

When the long, arduous day's ride finally brought Fradel and Svein (Nevetsecnuac) to a fork in the road, they veered to the left. This path eventually brought them to an old, established Inn.  Fradel at this point graciously prevailed upon Svein to stay the night there as his guest, to allow him a chance, as he put it, to reciprocate in small measure for the kindness he had received.  Most anxious to continue on his way, Nevetsecnuac was of a mind to refuse but Fradel's elegant, charming, polished manner of speech and his sincerity intrigued him and so he acquiesced.

During the course of supper in a private enclave of the dining hall, mollified by warm food and drink, they entered into a most delightful and enlightening discourse.  Moreover Fradel, for the first time in a long while, reveled in the fervent exchange of a superior intellect that shared his viewpoint of life in general.

 As the evening progressed, Nevetsecnuac listened with rapt enthusiasm and enjoyment to the pearls of wisdom which issued forth in an endless string from Fradel's mouth as the scholar entered a more relaxed and inebriated frame of mind.  Once in his elated mood Fradel had even composed, on the spur of the moment, a poem to commemorate their meeting and this budding friendship.  Nevetsecnuac listened with delight, finding something new to praise with every quatrain.

When it was his turn to respond in kind, Svein (Nevetsecnuac) quickly composed a short, brilliant piece that was so greatly appreciated by Fradel that he drew out his writing implements and copied it to a piece of silk so he could carry it with him next to his heart.  By then both were feeling euphoric from the wine.

Feeling the need for some fresh air, Nevetsecnuac was about to go outside for a stroll and enjoy the full moonlight when his keen senses suddenly alerted him to an eavesdropper behind the partition.  Edging nearer he discreetly brought this to Fradel's attention.  The two exchanged knowing glances.

 Svein (Nevetsecnuac) tensed, about to spring into action and teach this snoop (eavesdropper) a lesson he soon would not forget when Fradel gripped Svein's shoulder and decisively shook his head.

 Why should they bother?  After all, spies planted in sporadic locations were the norm.  With unspoken understanding they continued their conversation as before, soon driving the ignoramus behind the wall into a stupor.  With this objective gained, they quietly slipped outside for a bit of fresh air and a more liberal exchange.

Their feet crunched over the stubble of sod as they skirted a small, wooded area to find a pleasant, open spot wherein to converse more freely.  One topic led to another till Fradel’s unexpected sullen disclosure, of the reason for his journey to Court, was revealed.  Secretly elated at this fortuitous opportunity, Nevetsecnuac asked if he may, upon returning to their rooms, be permitted to view the Official Summons.

"But there is no need for you to wait; the moon’s luminosity makes it perfectly apt for reading it here."  At once Fradel Rurik Korvald produced a leather envelope from an inner pocket and, withdrawing a parchment scroll, presented it to Svein.

Svein in swift succession read the contents which went something like this: 

“PUT FORTH BY THE SPECIAL RECOMMENDATION OF HIS EXCELLENCE LAMONT GUDAREN, PRIME MINISTER OF WENJENKUN, AND THE HONORABLE ZAUR SUI, VICE MINISTER OF THE OFFICE OF CEREMONY: THE ILLUSTIOUS SCHOLAR FRADEL RURIK KORVALD IS HEREBY SUMMONED TO APPEAR BEFORE THE ROYAL COURT IN AUDIENCE BEFORE HIS MOST GRACIOUS IMPERIAL MAJESTY, EMPEROR OF WENJENKUN, ZAKHERTAN YOZDEK.  ALL SUBJECTS OF HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS ARE HEREBY ORDERED TO ALLOW FREE PASSAGE AND RENDER ALL REQUIRED ASSISTANCE TO THE BEARER IN HIS SUBMISSION TO THESE ORDERS.”

 Appended to the script was the date of his required appearance, various seals and the insignia of the Office of Ceremony.

Despite his cool outward demeanor, a raging fury welled up in Nevetsecnuac's chest. "Hmm.", was his outward, seemingly impassive response however, when in the end, he handed the scroll back to Fradel. 

Silence reigned as each pondered on the next move. Neither of them wanted to head back, quite content with the tranquil solace darkness provided.  Then with mutual intent their feet began to guide them towards the cluster of trees with only the sound of loud crunching underfoot.  Somewhere an owl hooted. The two halting, cast their gaze to that distant pitched spot, lost in profound thought. 

Multifaceted emotions again suddenly taking hold, Fradel chewed the corner of his lip in bitterness and indignation. "I've been forced out into the world out of my serene existence and lost three good servants on what is probably a momentary whim on Zakhertan Yozdek’s part.  It’s more likely that, by the time I reach the Capital, fickle political winds will render all my crowning literary work superfluous." Fradel had unintentionally grumbled his complaint out loud.  He smiled abashedly.  “Dokurek's right, from everything I’ve seen or heard; Sovereign Zakhertan's moods are as changeable as the wind, a misbegotten, accursed wind!” 

Fradel walked to the edge of the creek, squatted and, dipping his hand into the cool, refreshing water, let it run through his fingers before he touched his lips. Pondering on the recently implemented policies of leniency, touted as a new age of furthering of the Arts, Fradel now discounted it as a passing phase.  His new knowledge gave it a limited life span, a policy he should be wary of.  He took no comfort knowing that he was relatively safe from any danger or reprisals.

 No wonder his work had been so highly praised in the Capital, it was harmless and decidedly non-political.  He hung his head deeply perturbed and a bit ashamed.  Unwittingly he had been a collaborator of the ruthless usurper and murdering cronies. 

Oh, villainous times, villainous Zakhertan Yozdek!

 Suddenly it became clear to him, what, he must do. A yearning, no, an overwhelming urgency beckoned him to act on it now. But instead, he felt frustrated, stymied by the distance to the Capital that could not be traversed on mere will.

Patience!  He nodded, as at that moment an overwhelming loneliness flooded his heart, washing away his anger. 

Could he not at least unburden his indignant soul to this Svein Therran?  He discreetly eyed Svein.

Instinctively, from the very first moment Fradel had laid eyes on this hero rushing gallantly to his rescue, he'd felt overawed, and trusting of this young man.  Svein was quite unlike anyone he had ever come across.  Destiny had brought them together for a purpose, he was sure of that.

This feeling, that they were of one heart and mind, had persisted despite Svein's reserve and guarded words.  Again, he half turned and looked, this time more closely at Svein, who with a lowered head appeared lost in thought.

What ails, you, friend? Fradel inwardly queried, as he rose to his feet and walked back.  He had resolved to confide in Svein come-what-may and learn at the same time of his companion's grave concerns.  He needed desperately to bear his soul to another soul, to purge this oppressive guilt and shame from his heart and perhaps even gain some measure of absolution; yet when he made the attempt, as if in defiance of his will, the words stuck in his throat. 

Have I the right to involve him?  Fradel hesitated. Gallant, the hero that Svein was, he would hasten to help him once more.  But what if he's implicated anyway, on account of this brief association with me?  Should I at least warn him of the probable danger that lies ahead?  Fradel looked away and frowned.

Back then while travelling on the road, Fradel's deep lines on his face, and his detached disposition with sporadic, silent musings had already betrayed his raging inner conflicts, to Svein (Nevetsecnuac).  He could rightly guess at what was at the root but only now, resolved himself to broaching the subject with Fradel. 

This mutual intent resulted in the subsequent moments with Fradel gradually and with increasing ease, unburdening himself of his concerns, his innermost, private thoughts all save that of the revised purpose of his trek to the Capital.  After the release of some pent-up anger, Fradel continued, wallowing in self-reproach, to disclose how his heart was laden with oppressive guilt after being blinded for so long to the ugly, painful truths.  While his privileged, carefree existence had allowed him to compose frivolous poems and essays in adoration of idealized beauty and nature, worthier literati had been persecuted ruthlessly and made to suffer the torments of the damned for their outspoken loyalty and fearless outcries for justice.

Clearly, he was suffering from survivor’s guilt and was seeking condemnation; but Svein appeared non-judgmental through it all, responding only with words of solace.  His reasoning and wise arguments eventually restored to Fradel the peace of mind and the absolution he'd so desperately craved.  What’s more, Svein's timely disclosure that he, too, had just emerged from seclusion and his candid confession that he was just as ignorant of the events of the last two decades, bonded the two in everlasting friendship. 

Fradel was elated to know that he was not caught alone in this web of ignorance, despair, guilt and soul sapping dilemma.  His brain at once crowded with a million urgent queries wanting to know more; however, understanding Svein’s reserve he restrained his curiosity and instead, related Dokurek's tragic story which started it all, to Svein.

Svein (Nevetsecnuac) listened in silence touched by the narrative.  Sharing the same indignation, inwardly and vehemently they cursed Zakhertan Yozdek and his evil regime, each resolving to avenge the suffering masses.  Echoing their thoughts, gusting winds just then arose, stirring dust and debris up into their faces while the moon took refuge behind the congregating billows of clouds.

The mounting chill of the antagonistic night eventually forced them to return to the inn for warmth and shelter.  They quietly entered their room, taking care to then to startle awake and next, aptly deceive the spy with their unending, monotonous(dull), trifling verbal exchange.   Eventually claiming fatigue, Svein and Fradel bedded in their respective places; they then patiently waited for the spy to leave his post and presumably, be on his way to relay his lackluster(dull) report to his superior. 

 Long after the spy’s retreat, in the small hours, as sleep still averted Svein and Fradel, the two got out of bed and once more sat across the table; putting their heads together, in partial darkness, they then began conversing in earnest. It was then that Fradel Rurik Korvald related all the pertinent gossip and anecdotes he’d picked up along the way; as well as some of his atypical experiences after he left Dokurek's burial mound.  These later events in part paralleled those of the scholar's purges.

The roaring wind outside thrashed the branches wildly against the window shutters and created such a noisy pandemonium that they felt freer to delve into more dangerous (issues) topics. In this way, by and by Svein (Nevetsecnuac) came to know how all religious affiliations save the ones embraced by Zakhertan Yozdek, over the course of his reign, had been systematically rooted out (purged), their leaders banished and with the temple structures all raised to dust or ash, the barren lands (real state) were then acquisitioned by the new gentry (nobility).  

Meanwhile, number of cities had been wiped out (erased from the map) on Zakhertan's whim, complete villages burned or plowed into the dust, all, for building of military strategic strongholds, for personal gain or for simply to gratify a trifling private vendetta.  One such example, the Lexox City, once boasting the finest historical sights of the last dynasty, had its walls pulled down, the buildings demolished, and the stones used to fill its moats.  Its common citizens had then been sold into slavery, once prominent members (those that had defied Zakhertan during his ascension to definitive power) mercilessly slaughtered, dismembered or decapitated, in mass executions. 

“Adding insult to injury, countless lives were lost even in the surrounding regions on an ongoing suspicion of supposed intended uprisings, (though never validated,) or on a mere technicality,” Fradel fumed. “In order to build more military throttleholds, monopolies or to establish byways to supply provisions or to foster commerce.”

This grievous matter more than others had fueled Fradel seething rage and when he sought to gain solace by visiting Zaurr City that held such vital historical significance, a place known for its monumental beauty and tranquility, he'd learned to his still greater dismay, that it too had suffered a similar fate some five years earlier.  In this case a river had been diverted from its course, flooding the city to construct a reservoir to feed the fields of a Yozdek clan landholder.  The city inhabitants, long outspoken in their opposition to Zakhertan Yozdek, had not been warned of the coming flood and so had perished at their daily tasks.

Svein next learned that, in the name of supposed progress even the masses loyal to Zakhertan had suffered untold hardships. But not the aristocrats, those unconscionable ruffians Zakhertan favored, were left alone to indulge in their princely, morally corrupt lifestyles.  In the last decade a labor force of more than 900,000, consisting of those sentenced to penal service or awaiting punishment, were rounded up in order to build the mansions of Zakhertan and his ennobled relatives. Thousands more were routinely conscripted, torn away from their families and homes, their lands and businesses sold for a song; most never returned home for they died in the process of building the new defenses, the straighter highways and causeways needed to expedite the transportation of grain, armies and taxes between the Capital and the provinces or, to simply pave the way for lucrative commerce.

On the grandest scale, in Chusek and Phoseknez Provinces, topographies were permanently altered as hills were razed, valleys filled up, rivers diverted while areas deemed expendable were flooded.  Large segments of the population were systematically dislodged, relocated elsewhere as Zakhertan saw it fit.  Fradel had witnessed the results of this unnatural meddling in the landscape with his own eyes and had learned then how it had reportedly been done to foster the right conditions for some privileged noble's summer retreats. Yet the enforced censorship of the bureaucracy in books and schools, theaters and the decorative arts had carefully weeded out the truth and replaced it with outrageous, blatant fabrications masquerading as undisputed fact.  History was being re-written to favor this present regime and to condemn the previous one. 

"Deception raised to an art form," Fradel gnashed his teeth, then closing his eyes, reflected how, in the previous year in Bejno Province, just outside the Capital city of Channing, they’d appropriated (seized, confiscated) hallowed land, and then unconscionably exhumed age old graves, to build yet another strategic fort.  The few who had so much as raised an eyebrow at this sacrilege had been promptly silenced then disposed of in such a way as to serve as a deterrent to any such repetition.

"Oh, cursed Zakhertan, the worst villain!” Fradel had unwittingly cried out at this point, the brutality of it churning his stomach.  His fists clenched in seething hatred, he hissed through his clenched teeth, "At last the time has come for you to pay for your crimes!"  Then, becoming suddenly aware of his surroundings, donned a bashful smile.  "You must think me mad?"

"No.", Svein (Nevetsecnuac) answered thoughtfully.  His tone was quite explicit, and the word carried deeper implications.  Then, meeting Fradel's questioning gaze he answered him. "We carry the same purpose at heart."

“Did I hear you right?”  When he met Svein's steely eyes suddenly new hope sprang up in Fradel’s heart.

 Fradel stared at Svein intently for a long while, utterly silent, a million questions crowding his mind and a thousand lined up on the tip of his tongue.  But, just as suddenly they faded to inconsequentiality as a strong, unexplained feeling supplanted them.  In a burst of elation he declared, then and there, that, since they were truly of one heart and mind, they must become sworn brothers.

"That is also my own heartfelt wish." Svein acquiesced as he reached across the table and gripped Fradel's right hand.  "I feel as though I've known you all my Life.  It's only right that we become brothers."

"Quite so, quite so.", Fradel returned the pressure of the handshake.  Then, a shadow of uncertainty and pain loomed suddenly in Fradel's eyes, plunging him into guilty silence for an awkward interval.

"What is it, Fradel?" Svein (Nevetsecnuac) asked, concerned.  "Pray tell me of your reserve."

"I fear I have not been entirely honest with you." Fradel, his voice quivering slightly, confessed with his head hanging low.  Then he raised his keen eyes to burrow them into Svein's, adding, "Before we could take the oath of brotherhood there can be no secrets between us.  I must bear my heart totally, unreservedly to you."  Fradel shifted in his seat to gain a proper balance.

 

(END OF SECTION 10)

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