THE DRAGON LONGZE AND THE LOST DAUGHTER BERDIS (PART 2)

 THE DRAGON LONGZE AND THE LOST DAUGHTER BERDIS 

(PART 2)

(Original story By Bost 2025)

 

Temuz’s feet was suddenly bolted to the ground and, with his arms fastened to either side of him like led weights, try as he might he could not move a single muscle, nor could he take a single step forward. That same instant, his mouth had contorted in pain, as the look in his eyes indicated dread, for he had just then grasped the gravity of his predicament (situation); ahh, but bit too late! 

Subsequently, the rising gale winds that had mercilessly thrashed him had also heralded the dark, ominous clouds overhead, instantly turning day into night. Then came the torrential downpours, a deluge, but it all fell only on him; Berdis few feet away remained totally dry. Angry skies repetitively thundered and shook the very ground which he stood; but worse was yet to come, a streak of lightening next finding its mark, Temuz’s body just then was set alight (busted into flames).

 And promptly, he was reduced to a large heap of ash! Berdis, meanwhile, witnessing all this, in fright had collapsed suddenly on the moss-covered ground, unconscious yet breathing.

When she came to, the shocking event suddenly recollected, her face turned ghostly white, but not a single alarming cry escaped her lips; instead, she had simply sat there on the ground, in numbed state, barely listening to Longze’s rationalizations (explanative) and urgent appeals (entreaties) ringing in her head. She had never seen anyone perish (die) in front of her before, let alone someone she knew, though detested.

Later that afternoon Berdis had quietly returned to her home and gone straight to her room. She had said nothing to her parents even though her pallid complexion had greatly alarmed her mother, Elin.  Berdis had obligingly ingested (swallowed, consumed) some chicken bouillon, a nourishing soup, and was allowed to retire early to bed that evening. Her ill health, and melancholy state did not dissipate following morning but rather, lasted for nearly a week.

The whole village, meanwhile, was cast in tumult, when Temuz and his bond servant’s sudden mysterious disappearances without a trace, was discovered. For weeks, dire speculations, unfounded accusations and unsolicited (unwelcome) ominous predictions wildly circulated, fingers pointing at likely culprits, all the while causing emotional soup of fear, grief, anger and foreboding, not only among his immediate family and wide network of friends but also, with countless others that had dealings (favorable or otherwise) with Temuz in the village. Some of Temuz’s closest friends, recalling Berdis’s demeaning (belittling) rejection of Temuz at the dance earlier on, now put their heads together in conspiratorial whispers against Berdis, suspecting that somehow, she must have begotten (caused) this trouble. Some even shunned her or spread nasty rumours about her, even deeming her unlucky and ill-fated.  All expanded efforts searching for Temuz, meanwhile, lasting for weeks and months, had all been in vain:  no resolution, no answer came forth despite the indebt investigation; this eventually forced the authorities to register the disappearances of both in official report, as unresolved, unexplained phenomenon.

Eventually, things in the village had quieted down and ordinary life seemingly returned to norm, especially since summer was nearing its end, and soon there would be the Autumn Harvest Festival. Subsequent days, the activity in the village was electric; the air was permeated with excitement as all neighbours congregated in the community hall, planning the future Autumn Harvest celebrations. 

Reluctantly, Alec and Elin had participated in some of the ongoing rush of events, even though their hearts were not in it. By then, also not wishing to worsen Berdis’s malady, Alec and Elin had temporarily postponed making any final decision about Berdis’s prospects (nuptial), which by the way, had been greatly diminished.  They were quite contented, meanwhile, because Berdis now a subdued, proper young lady, rarely went out lone on excursions, and even then, she never ventured too far. Even so, many of her friends had now kept their distance and furthermore, Berdis’s introverted traits being unusual- consistently sequestered in her room reading horticulture books and taking notes on medicinal herbs, and as oft she seemed, distracted, moody or unhappy- inaudibly concerned, her mother, Elin.

Back at the mountain cave, meanwhile, Dragon Longze had just finished paying for his past violation, when barely released from his chains, he was now informed of a new charge, having already been found guilty in absentia, of his breach (infringement), of yet another forbidden, stringent Heavenly rule. Any intimacy or love relations was strictly prohibited between divine(immortal) and the mortal beings. When he had hopelessly fallen in love with a mortal being, his transgression had condemned him.

Longze hence, was summoned at once to Heaven’s court, to answer this charge and to submit to his dire punishment.  Even though some had pleaded on his behalf, he was still given the only recourse (option) as recompense sentence (verdict):  to either forever forsake his love, Berdis, and incinerate her, or suffer as penance (fine, punishment) the Hundred Heavenly Thunderbolts, an extreme chastisement which none had ever survived; and on the unlikely chance he did, he would  thereafter be deprived (stripped) of his immortality. Kneeling before the Heavenly Court, he had begged for the opportunity to first contact her, before he gave his final decision. Though reluctantly, he was given this singular chance.

LONGZE

That night he had appeared to her in his, almost-human form, in a dream and truthfully explained his reasons for his long abstinence. He had not forsaken her, far from it, he’d done his best to alter the course of their otherwise doomed relationship, the forbidden love and the inevitably consequential tragic fate (certain outcome,) that had awaited them both. He had then asked tentatively, if she still carried the flames of passion (love) for him in her heart. She had looked at him, unafraid and straight in the eye, hurt registering in her pupils temporarily for his doubting her affection, and then nodded in the affirmative.

 “Yes,” she had then declared resolutely and, with deep emotion in her voice, “I have never once, stopped loving you.”

His heart in ruptures, he had manifested (in absolute human form) in her room, and she also awakened, presently on her feet, for a moment they had simply stared at each other.  Then he smiled and drew near to passionately embraced her, afterwards, lowering his head, he tenderly kissed her rosy lips. But then quickly pulled away and shook his head. “First, however, you must be in the know…. “Longze hesitated, looking grim, then forcing calm to his voice he slowly, hence, began recounting (relaying) albeit grave consequences, of what their forbidden love entailed:

After his punishment of Heavenly thunderbolts (he’d purposely omitted the number hundred, insinuating instead that it would only be couple of bolts), he would then be stripped of all his innate (divine) powers of immortality and then be cast on earth, to live a single lifetime, with his beloved Berdis, if fortune favored them. He reiterated, making sure she understood the full implications, that he and she would be cast forlorn and helpless, him a mere mortal being, in some distant, foreign lands where they would have to rely only on their own devices, receiving no support or backing, from Heaven, relations or friends. She may suffer greatly from being segregated (separated) from her parents, the comforts of home, the routine life in the village, all that she had known, loved and cherished in her growing years. Together they would survive and perhaps even thrive, but at a cost to her, and this fact(ached) deeply pained his heart. Then, his voice strong and resolute, he avowed to love and protect her to the best of his abilities, to cherish and provide for her to the end of his mortal existence. Falling silent momentarily, however, he looked up at her to somberly confess, that he had no certain way of knowing or predicting what his future physical shape or abilities would be. He bit the corner of his lover  lip, as he silently considered his inner dread that after his punishment he could be disfigured or worse; then, forcing a smile to his lips, he had quietly asked, “When we meet again, I may appear far different from this current physical form; please consider this carefully, are you still willing to take this great risk, simply on a leap of fate, just to attain this singular chance at happiness with me?”

She had nodded without hesitation and stanchly (steadfastly) said, “Yes.”  Then went on to add that life’s uncertainties (unpredictability) had never frightened her, however, possibility of loosing his love did. She would willingly go through fire, literally, to be with him. 

He was so touched, tears pricked his eyes, and he reached out to gently hold (grip) her hand; turning it over, he raised it to his lips and tenderly kissed the palm of her hand, which was a symbolic gesture, a pledge of his deep, eternal love for her.

And all this was observed in Heaven, not just by his supporters but all, even those ardent opponents (critics) who by having witnessed this rare fervour (zeal), courage, this unequivocal(undeniable) deep affection (love) and unwavering devotion (dedication, fidelity), resultantly hence, had wavered (faltered) in their staunch resolve.

Meanwhile back on earth, from that night on, anticipation of joy, hope and love along with melancholy and worry (chiefly for him), in continuous emotion, though alternately (by turns) had existed in Berdis’s heart. That was partially the reason for her solitude and oft manifest mixed emotions: as her heart habitually palpitated, basking (delighting in,) in Longze’s deep professed love, while her mind considered all that she would be leavening behind, and the myriad (innumerable) possibilities their future entailed. Additionally, her mind also was beset with silent worry about the outcome of his impending (looming) punishment; knowing his nature, she had guessed (supposed) he had not fully disclosed to her, the full gravity (extent) of his sentence (penalty).

                                                                                          ~

In the village, the Autumn Harvest Festival celebrations, which lasted for a week, was now in full swing. During one such event in which all the eligible young people had obligingly participated in symbolic harvesting the terraces, a small measure of the strips of ripened wheat fields that had been purposely left untouched- they had not been long at it when one of the girls, one called Helga, coincidentally one noted for her beauty, joyfully cried aloud having found a specific purple flower.

 Everyone hurried over to at once congratulate her for this, artfully implanted, though purportedly (ostensibly) rare and most fortunate find, which foretold that a brave admirer would soon be on his way to her father’s dwelling to claim her hand in marriage.  The girl blushing crimson, quickly tucking the trophy to her bosom, awkwardly intoned her thanks to all the well wishers and then rushed off to home to relate this good knows to her parents.

That same instant, one of the young men (a distant cousin of Temuz) who happened to be the local blacksmith (the metalworker) and more importantly a malevolent person well-known in the community for his prophetic, ominous predictions, supernatural powers, had noted Berdis’s unease as she had stood aloof off to the side. Langu looking more intently, spied in Berdis’s hand before she could conceal it, impromptu (unplanned, yet genuine), another specific purple wildflower: though this one had two purple blossoms, a much rarer find, more importantly, it had an ominous red stem and leaves.

Excitement bursting in his chest, “Dragon comes!” At once an alarmed cry rang out from Langu.  “The ominous blossoms exist, check out the mark of the red stalk and leaves that is in her grasp!” He insisted in an urgent shout, drawing unwarranted attention to Berdis, and this time his accusatory finger pointed directly at Berdis’s hand, causing everyone gathered to take an intake of deep, fearful breath. All eyes mechanically next, turned to the sky, in search of, predicted, wrathful, baneful Dragon; for the sky had just then suddenly, ominously darkened, as the abruptly rising winds heralded the flotilla of clouds overhead, swiftly concealing the sun behind it.

Berdis subsequently had striven to run away, but Langu persisting with his dire warnings, “Beware all! Watch out for the sure signs...” he, same time, had maneuvered his body to effectively block her way and prevent her escape (flight). “The vengeful dragon, will soon emerge from the cave and seek his revenge on us all!” Langu had continued in his exaggerated tones (unaware of the danger he might beget self), accompanying his ardent words with the mimicked action of many facets of death.  “Run, run for your lives.” 

He turned abruptly and burrowed his hard, suspicious, contemptuous eyes on Berdis. “You! You are in league with that dragon! You are also responsible for my cousin’s disappearance, and perhaps, untimely demise, I know it!” In a venomous whisper, he hissed (murmured). “I will expose you; you wait and see! “

Berdis stockily met Langu’s accusatory glare and simply shrugged.  Her eyes next, with an unreadable expression regarded the purple flower with red stem and red leaves. Inwardly however, she was fighting to steady her heart and to contain her surging inner elation (joy), knowing what her find meant. She had been subtly given the answer, of the Heaven’s merciful verdict.  He’d survived his ordeal, his mated punishment, and soon, very soon, she would be reunited with her beloved Longze.

Langu’s eyes (popped)opened wide, as if he’d just then read her thoughts, as he loudly this time, (reiterated) screeched, “Berdis, she is in league with the Dragon!”

Some among the crowd of onlookers that had gathered, shook their head as if to say, this was bit too much… Suddenly, rounds of laughter erupted spontaneously in waves, as everyone thought that Langu was playing a prank on them, a cruel one at that, just to frighten them and to augment the excitement of the festivities.

Berdis ceasing this opportunity, hastily tugged the precious find into her pocket and darted away, this time successfully.

Of course, no Dragon manifested; furthermore, Langu’s dramatics lost its effect entirely when just then the sudden downpours had everyone running for cover. And, before long all that hype was forgotten, save for Langu who had menacingly and doggedly from then on kept a surreptitious eye on Berdis.

Some things are never put off, even though the numerous events and festivities had many villager’s schedules hectic, and multitudes franticly engaged. Surprisingly at dawn one day, a representative matchmaker of Overseer (supervisor) Kendo Ren, who was from another prominent family, laden with gifts, had formally called at Alec and Elis’s home, to put forward this time a more persuasive proposal for Berdis’s hand in marriage. Supervisor Kendo Ren was way older than Berdis, but he enjoyed such renown (fame) for his aptitude, dexterity and courage especially in the last skirmish (scuffle, fray, fight)  that had secured the highways, including the one leading to their village, from relentless highwaymen, permanently eliminating threat from the notorious White Hawk Gang, that Berdis’s parents accepted him readily at once as an apt suitor for their daughter.  They had long suspected the cause of Berdis’s malady being her secret infatuation of a malevolent spirit; hence, Alec and Elin’s decision had been based on the dire hope that Kendo Ren, with his proficiency as a warrior, would ultimately rescue Berdis from the clutches of that harmful, phantom spirit.

BERDIS

Berdis, when informed of her parent’s decision, did not express any objections to the suitor’s age or give any other plausible reason; she simply shook her head in the negative, clearly rejecting the marriage proposal. Her parents spent the entire night arguing the point between them. By the following day, with their mind set, ascribing the young daughter’s hesitancy to maidenly fear, they went ahead anyway and fixed the date for the upcoming nuptials. Elin, despite her intuitive worry, for Berdis had remained adamant despite pressure, that she would never acquiesce to this match, chose instead, to busy herself for the next couple of weeks with the customary preparations. The wedding date was fast approaching and on the fifth of November, three days after Berdis’s sixteenth birthday hence, the Overseer (supervisor) Kendo Ren would present himself in person, in full regalia, with pomp and ceremony, with a contingent (delegation) of mounted men, at their door, to collect his bride. The wedding celebrations would then take place in his residence, lasting, at least four weeks, owing to his importance.

Alec and Elin had no way of knowing of course that, on the day Berdis had found that two purple blooms on a single red stem, in her heart of hearts she’d understanding its message. Subsequently, she had covertly visited the  forbidden zone one last time, and in front of then sealed cave’s entrance, sitting on a rock, under that broad-topped young pine whose leaves whispered in the gentle murmur of the air in the evening hours when the twilight steals by with night on its heels, she had declared openly , her voice resonating in  the air, her affirmed, avowed fidelity to Longze. 

                                                                                         ~

Two days prior, to the day November 5^th, that was to be her marriage date, she donned her best garments, arranged her hair according to the tradition of her village and wore all her maiden ornaments in beautiful array.  With a smile, she then came forth just before dusk and presented herself to her parents.

“I am sorry to have caused you so much worry,” She said, “It is time for me to now, take my leave of you. My place is with my intended, future husband, Longze, who is patiently waiting for me at this moment, to whisk me away.”

Her face was radiant with joy, and the parents, thinking what she had said was a fanciful way of expressing her acquiescence to their plans, and that Longze was a nickname she’d given to her intended, nodded their ready acquiescence (consent). They had of course expected her to now, to go forth and have that clandestine meeting with her intended suitor Kendo Ren, as this was the accepted norm, before the actual wedding day. 

Her father Alec had stood at the doorway and wished his precious daughter Berdis plentiful good fortune in her anticipated, happy meeting with her soon to be husband, and then briskly turned on his heels and went inside, not wishing for his daughter to witness fresh tears just then brimming in his eyes. Her mother Elin had accompanied Berdis, part of the way.

"I leave you with some trepidation in my heart," Berdis said finally, in a somber tone, when they had halted their steps; from thence, they would part.  "Joyful as this event is, my heart is beset with sadness for I am going from one who has loved and nurtured me since my infancy; one who has guarded my youth; who has given me medicine when I was sick and taught me to cook and sew.” Turning to take one last teary-eyed look at her childhood home, she added. “I am going from a father who diligently kept us safe from all danger, as he oft has ranged the forest to procure the choicest meat and furs, and liberally had his home supplied with food and warmth.  I am going from a place which has been my shelter from the harsh storms of winter, and my shield from the heat of summer. My gratitude is boundless for all that you’ve both done for me. I love you both dearly; but now I must leave you. Farewell, my beloved mother,” Berdis looked at her home one last time and mouthed the words, “farewell also, my respected father, farewell!"

And then, she sped faster than any could follow to the periphery (margin, edge) of the fairy wood, and in a moment, she was lost to sight.

That night Alec and Elin seated by the fire, with mixed emotions had patiently awaited till small hours for her safe return. Subsequent day was the waiting day, which all would rest, reflect and pray, just one day before the big day, the joyful event that would unite their precious Berdis with Kendo Ren formally (legally) before the assembled key witnesses and officials, in an anticipated, blissful matrimonial ceremony.

Time passed.  Hour followed yet another hour, as the clouds of evening rolled up in the west; darkness faded eventually and, the first daylight was about to be manifest in the east, yet Berdis had still not returned. 

They jumped from their seat at a loud knock on the door at down, and with pounding hearts, rushed to open it. But instead of Berdis, they came face to face with the forlorn and decidedly angry face of the bridegroom to be, who demanded an explanation for this insult.

KENDO REN

He had gone through a lot of trouble the night before, with magnificent preparations (arrangements), to woo (court, flatter) Berdis with words of passion, sonnets, gifts of food, wine, music and personal tokens of love, ancestral jewellery to be bestowed on her. He’d patiently waited all night long at the rendezvous point for hours on end, his steps (boots) to and for wearing out the ground and ultimately, his patience, but she had failed to show up. He demanded an explanation for this great breach of etiquette and time-honoured custom (tradition, ritual).

Alec and Elin were mystified and bit horrified at this unimagined outcome; they were of course beset with silent worry thinking some grave mishap must have befallen her. They carefully, meticulously enumerated, the last night’s spoken words and events, in their head, still disbelieving their senses, instead, seeking any plausible explanation for this unexpected outcome.

Kendo Ren had great influence and power not just in the village but in the entire region; and because of his prominence, soon, many armed men were dispatched (rounded up) , utilized, spread about, some on horseback, searching the byways, steep hills, the periphery shoreline of the lake, wilderness and whereabouts, even trespassing into the forbidden zone, in an exhaustive, thorough search of Berdis. The all-encompassing search had lasted all day and night; at night with torches lit, they (examined) still investigated every dark recess of the mountain, probed each and every chasm (crevice), combed every leafy brush, examined every disturbance on the ground (tracks belonging to wildlife or men), still it had been in vain. The huge cave entrance meanwhile had been sealed, it was solidified into a mountain, and the cavern existed no more. Nor did they care. They hoped it had sealed and imprisoned the dreaded Dragon there permanently. At least that was something to be thankful for.

Kendo Ren’s rage could not be so easily assuaged; though he concealed his innate nature well, he was in truth an arrogant, possessive, cruel and spiteful warrior who’d always gotten his way. Moreover, Kendo Ren had, for a long time secretly lusted (hankered) after Berdis, and when Temuz’s proposal of marriage had been accepted, incensed Kendo Ren had then made certain arrangements to bring about Temuz’s accidental, premature demise (death). But before this was to happen, Temuz had gone missing, robbing Kendo of the satisfaction of personally illuminating his rival. Now after the extensive search, having failed to yet again possess Berdis, he’d now sought to utterly destroy her parents Alec and Elin, for his unrequited lust and, as scant satisfaction, of his need for revenge.

It took some doing but eventually Kendo Ren was persuaded by the influential officials from his village, to instead, merry Helga. She was vein true, but also well endowed; moreover, on her seventeenth birthday, just shy of three months, she would be bequeathed with an additional wealth, a sizeable inheritance left to her by her only uncle, an enigmatic adventurer, who had never married or sired any known children. Joining her in matrimony will enhance his wealth and power, and so he had opportunely altered his (nuptial) plans and thought of Berdis no more.

Many suns rose and set, and in time all forgot the existence of Berdis, save for her parents. They had endlessly, in lamentation oft at night called out her name, but she answered not.  Nevermore in their light did the bereaved parent’s eyes behold the lost form of their beloved child. Soon they had to come to grips with a harsh reality: their beloved daughter had been lost to them forever. Wherever she had vanished, it was to a place no mortal eyes could see, and no mortal tongue could tell.

Essentially, when the Dragon Longze was first freed from his chains and  emerged from the cave: before his going to Heaven to answer for the new charges, it had been him that with his magic breath that had permanently sealed the entrance of the cave, forming an impenetrable, solid, charred rockface, so that no other would ever be held captive there ever again.

Afterwards, he had gone to Heaven and had suffered the extreme punishment of 100 Heavenly thunderbolts. He had endured the unimaginable torment and furthermore, survived just so he could be with his beloved Berdis. He could not allow himself to expire, not when he was so close to fulfilling his heart’s desire. His love had sustained him through the searing flames slicing, carving deep lines in his flesh and bones, the agonizing, soul shattering bolts that threatened to unhinge his mind.

He remained most grateful to his friends that had unstintingly cared for him after the fact, tended to his wounds and soon as the danger had passed and he was able, though a deep scar on his right cheek now marred his beautiful face and his left arm was permanently debilitated (hindered, encumbered), he had not with resentment but with humility, knelt before the Heavenly Mighty God and accepted, the just, final verdict.

Heaven being (lenient) merciful, he was manifested back at the mortal realm, in perfect health, as the same handsome young man of twenty with long, cascading blond hair and grey blue eyes, the same image he’d assumed in his last encounter with Berdis. 

He had patiently waited that night, there under the canopy of infinite no of stars and moonlit sky, at the mouth of the old cave, for her to come to him. She did not disappoint his trust; and joyfully reunited with her, the two then embraced and closed their eyes; instantly they were cast (transported) to a distant land, but not an inhospitable one, for Heaven was compassionate and forbearing (tolerant, forgiving).

Longze and Berdis settled down in a modest dwelling, perched on the remote, however picturesque, segment of the majestic mountain, with cascading waterfalls and breathtaking scenery.  These mountain rages and the surrounding area, being at the periphery, was still under the jurisdiction, therefore apt protection of a just kingdom.

They mostly kept to themselves, though the monastery and the two towns nearby, still at some distance, provided Longze and Berdis with the necessary, annual provisions they could not otherwise attain. There, in their humble dwelling they lived happily ever after in perfect, blissful existence, Longze earning a living through hunting with abundant game on this high elevation (not altogether hostile topography, beside the densely forested mountain range); and Berdis, contributing to their livelihood, by being a healer, as she had some knowledge of the healing herbs.  She often gathered wild herbs that was found sometimes only on the mountain slopes (gradient, incline, hill), and categorized these accordingly, using them as treatment for myriad (innumerable) afflictions. And so, they lived peacefully ever after, till their hair turned grey, surrounded by three beautiful children, and two boys and a girl and many grandchildren.

The End.

 

THE WEDDING - SECTION 5

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE WEDDING - SECTION 5

BRANDT DUSTIN

 

The vivid recollection of that first ride’s thrill and joy to date still stirred (fired) Svein’s soul and brought prompt smile to his lips.  At present (currently) on route to town Karene, the added (bonus) excitement and delight stemming from his expected union with Teuquob bursting his heart, Svein urged Fiery Comet to equate that first time’s speed till they felt as if they were riding on air, goaded on by the wind, with the horse’s hooves hardly touching the ground.

 After several days’ ride when Svein reached Karene by mid-afternoon, he and the horse were both parched by the all-consuming heat.  Though the wind had picked up during the last hour or so and white clouds now sailed on by across the sky in speed, it still did not offer the earth any real respite.

Svein led the horse through the wind-swept streets, straight to the familiar inn, located at the far western edge of town.  The middle-aged, stout innkeeper, being notified of Svein’s approach well in advance, hurried down the steps with his hands clasped obsequiously to personally welcome Svein and invite him into the inn. 

After Svein returned his greetings with similar humility he obligingly followed alongside the innkeeper up the stairs.

Meanwhile Fiery Comet was led around to the back stables by the stable hands to be washed and fed, in short, to be well looked after.  They worked diligently, begrudging the horse nothing, knowing their efforts would be well met by a generous tip from Svein in the end.

After Svein was refreshed and had a change of clothing, he came down and was shown to a seat and promptly served a complimentary tea, the innkeeper politely inquired after his health then asked to learn of his requirements.  Once these were imparted and some funds changed hands he then rushed off at once to see to the details.  Not daring to waste any more time, Svein, forgoing lunch, left the premises and went off into the main marketplace to acquire his purchases.

In the past, keeping a low profile, Svein had always concluded his business and had departed town the following day, without any adventures to speak of.  His formidable bearing had discouraged local hooligans from accosting or assaulting him, while his quietly reserved nature had kept him from becoming the object of idle gossip among the locals who droned the gambling halls and whorehouses.  As a result, he had always wandered in and out of town without touching anyone’s lives or making a single friend or foe.  This time, however, his list was longer than usual and contained some (unusual) odd and specialty items and he could not conclude his business all in one go.

The innkeeper, with delight, had prepared for Svein’s lengthier stay upon being so informed.  Himself a respectable and quiet man, the innkeeper had curbed his curiosity all these years and had allowed Svein his right to privacy and secrecy.  Though he knew practically nothing of Svein’s background other than the false name, Audun Colden, which Svein had invented for his outside excursions, still, over the years he had developed a special fondness and respect for the youth, appreciating greatly his virtues of politeness, honesty, and the manner of speech that had marked Audun as learned literati.

After securing the day’s purchases in his room, at dusk Svein came downstairs to consume some supper.  He was led at once to a clean table in the far corner of the room, and tea and food were then punctually served to him.  It was towards the conclusion of this last course when Svein’s attention was suddenly drawn to an ornate sword handle and its sheath worn by a stranger who had just then appeared at the doorway (entrance).  By now the place was crowded by a large boisterous crowd that kept the waiters on their toes rushing to and for with orders.

From where he stood the stranger first surveyed the room, ignoring the waiter who had rushed over to invite him to an available table.  Wrinkling his nose, his narrowed eyes telling of his disdain for this place, he then somewhat reluctantly made his way over to an empty table of his own choosing by the window and sat himself down.  The stranger next impatiently threw down several gold coins onto the table and voiced his requirements. The apologetic waiter nodded, and then snatching the gold at once hurried off to fetch a jug of the best wine of the establishment, that were typically kept in the cellar, under lock and key.

As the stranger again looked contemptuously about him, his eyes full of daring suddenly fell on Svein; latter on his part not wishing to incur any undue curiosity seemingly pensive, kept his focus pinned on the plate in front of him. Subsequently the stranger’s gaze moved on to a more interesting target, the clustered heads with hushed wagging tongues that appeared to be scheming some conspiratorial, unsavory plan.

Towering well over six feet in height, with a bearing so formidable, the stranger’s intimidating presence had discouraged even the rowdy group of law enforcement officials seated next to his table from accosting him; in fact, they’d swiftly moved on further away to a new table that had just then become available.  With a continuing frown on his lips the stranger downed cup after cup of the wine, losing his temper at the slightest delay in the next supply which was kept steady to his table.  But, despite the amount of wine he had consumed, he’d remained quite unaffected and not the slightest bit inebriated.

By now most of the customers had moseyed on to elsewhere to pass the night- for no one took in sleep in this heat, leaving the dining-room half empty.  The wind had long ago subsided and had allowed the heat to increase to still greater, more intolerable levels. 

With many of the regulars (patrons) pouring outdoors for relief they crowded the streets, more so than during the daytime.  The stranger continued with his drink, his expression changing only slightly to register boredom.  He had noted Svein’s brief but interested look at his sword at the time of his entry to the premises.  Recalling that fact, he again stole a sidelong glance at Svein, who was thoughtfully sipping his tea, his void stare affixed to his cup.

“I can simply take my leave; never knowing more…Hmm. Then again, what harm is there in casual conversation…?”  When the waiter just then brought over a fresh pot of tea, Svein discreetly made his inquiries about the specific stranger.

The waiter, concealing his surprise for Svein, had never shown such interest in anyone, drawing close, imparted to Svein what little he knew about the arrogant stranger.  He told of how only twice before the stranger had wandered in to consume a meal and large quantities of their best wine, behaving with consistent haughtiness and condescension.

“Furthermore, he seemed to have an endless supply of funds, an abundant gold in his possession.” The waiter then as if just been reminded, added quickly in a hushed voice: “But both those other times he was in the company of another and from the looks of him, a foreigner also.  They are not from these parts, I’m sure of it.  Do you wish to make his acquaintance?  Perhaps I can be of some service.”

No, no,” Svein rejoined hastily, “Thank you, but that won’t be necessary… A passing curiosity, that’s all.”

A pair of other waiters, who happened to be close by, noting this exchange, craned their necks and picked up their ears to overhear the conversation.  The innkeeper suddenly appeared on the scene, boxed the ears of the one farthest back; then scolding them both, sent them scurrying back to their tasks.

“Anything else I can get for you, sir?  How about some sweet buns, a specialty of the house, to go with your fresh pot of tea?” the waiter tending Svein, clearing the spare dishes, now asked.

“Nothing further thank you; the tea is quite sufficient.”  With that Svein promptly paid the waiter the amount owed, slipping in something extra for his trouble.  Delighted, the waiter thanked Svein and turned to tend to his other customers.

Affixing his gaze outside the window, “now where have I seen that design before?” Svein inwardly queried, his thoughts reverting to the insignia, the crested eagle design on the sheath and the pommel of the sword’s handle. 

“I know I’ve seen it somewhere before, perhaps another likeness, but why is it I cannot recollect just where?” Absentmindedly he again glanced back up at the stranger and their eyes met in a mute clash.

 It was too late to turn away!  Svein smiled and nodded his head in polite greeting, which was reciprocated by the other. It might have ended there, except the stranger, after exchanging a few words with his waiter, next rose from his seat and, with bold steps, advanced towards Svein’s table.

 A momentary silence seized the room, as all present, suspected trouble as the only likely outcome from one such as him.  But, to their great chagrin, the stranger carrying a formal manner and with courteous words, duly introduced himself as Brandt Dustin then stated his wish to make other’s acquaintance, upon which he waited patiently to be asked to take a seat.

Obliged to respond favorably, Svein at once rose to his feet and, after delivering the formal customary greeting, stated his own name as Audun Colden and invited the stranger to be seated. 

Brandt Dustin expressed his thanks and took the seat across from Audun (Svein).  All those who had witnessed Brandt’s lack of deference and almost hostile manner now rubbed their eyes in disbelief, and at safe distance, huddled their heads together to exchange views and nosh rumors.

Svein was about to call for the waiter for some wine for his guest when a second waiter suddenly appeared behind him carrying a sealed jug of the best wine and two cups.

“I hope you don’t think me too presumptuous”, Brandt apologized, “but I took the liberty of ordering it before.  Please join me in a drink to mark our meeting.”  Then, without waiting for Svein’s response, he broke the seal and emptied wine into a cup, after which he, with both hands, offered it to Svein (Audun Colden). 

This being a gesture of respect and friendship, Svein felt constrained to accept it.  Thanking Brandt, he took the cup (with both hands also) and had the customary three sips before returning the courtesy to Brandt.

“Now, with the formalities out of the way, let us drink as brothers and talk without reserve.” Brandt proposed.

Svein’s polite upbringing would not allow him to show rudeness and refuse the next drink or the next after that.  In this way coerced into consuming several cups Svein deeply buried his feeling of guilt which had again arisen from this defiance of his uncle’s rule. 

Brandt, ignoring Svein’s subsequent protests and claims that he was not a drinker- pressed on Svein to consume still more.

 Though Brandt, on Svein’s insistence, drained thrice the number of cups as Svein did he showed no ill effects.  Svein, meanwhile, became aware of his own state of slight intoxication.  Afraid that he would lose control, he took smaller sips and ultimately longer and longer time to empty each cup.

 Brandt, a consummate drinker, after draining several more cups, had in the interim carefully steered the topic of conversation to the martial arsenals, then to the priceless, famed swords that were passed on to posterity through successive generations.

“Take this sword, for example,” fondling it affectionately while pretending to be slightly inebriated, he boasted, “it’s an heirloom, a priceless treasure also, with a story all its own.

 As one of a pair, it once belonged to Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon” 

He paused to gauge Audun Colden’s reaction, when none was forthcoming, bit peeved, he nevertheless continued, “Of course, you would be far too young to know of that traitor’s name.”

He again, took several more sips, a deliberate hiatus (break), and then quickly added, “But I digress, after the fall of the last dynasty, when our illustrious Sovereign gained his rightful place on the throne, the priceless pair of swords was presented to my master Haskell as a gift, amid other favors, for his rendered valuable services to the throne.”

Svein with his ardent discipline had curtailed his shock and surprise with admirable zeal; on the surface his demeanor appearing perfectly placid and well composed.  His expression had remained unchanged as he continued to listen to the strange accounts of Brandt.  Inwardly, however his soul had been set alight, after hearing the name Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon.

 “Was that not the name on his uncle’s list before it had been so completely erased, during their recent stay at the ‘Heaven’s Gate Spiritual temple’?  What did all this mean?  Had his uncle once served under this vilified Lord?” 

Oblivious to Svein’s inner turmoil, Brandt meanwhile had continued, “My master treasured these twin swords above everything else he owned, and he took them out frequently to admire them and to demonstrate lessons with them.  Since, however, master agile as he was, excelled in fighting with only one sword, often during these special demonstrations he entrusted the other sword to his most prized pupil, Kochi.

“My master had no kin and no offspring to speak of; now trusting and being particularly fond of Kochi, he later adopted him as his own son.  That was why he was especially devastated when Kochi, without conscience, betrayed him.  When one of the gemstones on the handle of the sword was loosened, master wishing to have it repaired right after dinner, had left it outside of its locked cabinet.  How was he to know his adopted son, claiming illness, would excuse himself from the dining area early and, stealing into his room like a common criminal during those few hours, would run away with the treasured sword, never to be seen again.”  Brandt, grinding his teeth with contempt, again reached for the cup and downed its contents all at one go.

 “My master had taught him everything he knew, thinking that Kochi would one day succeed him.  That error in judgment, plus his advanced age, stopped him in the end from recovering his prized possession and avenging the wrong that was done to him.”

“None of his other pupils were of any use.  In his disillusioned state he dismissed them all and withdrew into seclusion.  After some years, finally giving in to my persistence, he took me on as his next pupil on the condition; however, that one day, when I had mastered the skill, I would seek out this villain, avenge my master, and recover the sword so that my master could be buried with the pair.  Now taken ill, he is lying in bed on the brink of death.  Since I have never seen Kochi, and the swords were the only link, my master with some reluctance, allowed me to take the second sword from his side.”

“I’ve journeyed far and wide, spared no effort in trying to apprehend Kochi, yet all traces of that villain or the sword have eluded me.  Now and again, I fear that some great misfortune might have befallen him, and that he might have been buried under earthen debris or he’s in some watery grave along with the sword; but I cannot allow myself to think of such an end.  I have taken a vow not to return till I have completed my task, and my master has given me his word to hang on to life until the day of my safe return.”  At this point Brandt fell into silence, his face showing a mixture of frustration and despair, plus something else that Svein could not clearly discern.

Just then, like a lightning bolt, it struck Svein just where, precisely, he had seen this sword’s twin.  Of course! He now recalled. 

He was no more than six years of age at the time.  While his uncle had been away on a hunting trip he had mischievously gone through his uncle’s personal belongings, then his chest.  Groping about, he had hoped to find something of interest to while away the lonely and boring hours.  To his great delight and thrill, he had then discovered this fine sword at the very bottom, carefully enshrined in several layers of silk.  He could still recall vividly the resulting fury in Stark’s face when, upon his early return, he had caught him (little Svein) red handed, playing with this magnificent sword in his room.  Barely able to lift the sword, Svein was dragging it on the floor, pretending to be a mighty warrior, vanquishing all his enemies and dispensing justice to all. 

As Svein reflected such, he’d assumed the mask of indifference, mindful of Brandt’s scrutiny, latter seeking least sign, anything to substantiate his initial suspicion.  Why else would he have bothered to share a drink and as a gesture of trust, unburden himself so elaborately to a perfect stranger?

Meanwhile Svein had played his part so remarkably well that Brandt presently doubted his prior misgivings about Audun (Svein); moreover, Brandt’s inner frustration mirrored his professed outward words.

 “I’ve even offered a great reward for any information, however slight, that would lead me to achieve my purpose, again to no avail.  No one has seen the twin of this sword or its bearer.  It’s as though they have both vanished from this world.” He shook his head, refusing to call it quits, not after he’d invested so much of his time. 

Brandt suddenly growing serious and in the most direct manner, burrowing his pupils in Audun (Svein), asked, “I will not insult you, sir, by offering you the reward money but, out of compassion and due respect for my dying master, won’t you tell me why you had shown a slight, a glint of interest in my sword earlier at the point of my entry to these premises?  Can I hope, perhaps, that you have seen the likeness of it somewhere before?”

“Now comes the truth; a brazen move” Svein’s face donned a nonplussed (puzzled) look, as if he’d not heard Brandt right.

“I would be most obliged upon receiving any information that you may have, however trivial.” Brandt obdurately (pig-headedly) insisted.

“I am deeply sorry to have caused you any false hope.” Seven, feigning regret, shook his head.

“In truth, I was drawn to it for its striking quality of workmanship, nothing more.  The crested eagle design alone is done to perfection.  I profess to know something about these arts, and it was my appreciation of it which, in this case, drew my attention.  The weapon itself, I’m afraid, is of little consequence to me, since I lack any ability in swordsmanship.”

“Surely you are too modest.” Brandt sham rebuked Svein’s claim of limited knowledge of martial arts and arms.  “Why your physical bearing alone tells of your competence and no doubt, formidable skill.”

“You do me too much honor, sir.” Svein blushed with due humility.  “I do daily exercises to keep fit and, besides my other chores, I cut wood and, on occasion, scale the mountains or hunt for game.  That is all.”

“By your words, you profess to know archery at least.” Brandt grinned.

When pressed further by Brandt to give some account of his years and background, Svein had wisely hinted at an age at least four more years older than his own and purported to be the third or fourth son of some local official somewhere, undetermined region.  He had supposedly gained some formal education from private tutors and even this bit of useless info had been relayed as insinuation, hint or suppositions under the guise of plain humility (all without the benefit of real facts or details).

He is far too clever to cave. Brandt huffed.  Though inebriated he is still exercising caution, not giving anything away.  All night long his answers to my questions have been evasive.  I know nothing further, nothing tangible about him, than when I first took this seat at his table. 

“All right, perhaps I was mistaken.”  This time Brandt did not insist.  Surely this Audun Colden has private reasons of his own for his ambiguity and professed ignorance.  Perhaps he is afraid of meeting a challenge from me.  Perhaps he is but a coward after all.

 “Then perhaps you can still be of some assistance to me.  During your journeys to and from this town, have you ever encountered a stranger, an elderly gentleman with only one arm?”

Svein’s suspicions further escalated, on the outset he made a pretense of jogging his memory, then smiling, shook his head in the negative once more.

“That is most unfortunate.” With a despondent look on his face, Brandt sighed. 

After downing another cup, he dejectedly leaned back in his chair then explained further, “I had neglected to mention it earlier, but Kochi, because of an accident he’d suffered shortly before his evil deed, had his right arm severed at the elbow.  This description was given to me as my only other way of identifying him.”  His eyes once more burrowed deep into Svein, persistent on receiving a response from the other.

“I regret that I am still unable to offer you any hope, despite my sincerest wish to do so.”, came Svein’s standard, unruffled, genuine reply.

“I was just hoping.” Brandt pursed his lips, in feigned dismay. “Unfortunately, like so many, in this god-forsaken town not a single clue has surfaced to give me scant hope.  At least in other towns, other cities, we were led to people bearing some resemblance to Kochi, to some renegade cripples with one arm.”

We?...  Svein nevertheless, curbed his inquiry. 

Was Brandt’s other companion, the one the waiter told of earlier, also in pursuit of his uncle?  For, no mistaking it, it was Stark they were after.  These facts, the twin sword, the right arm severed at the elbow all tallied perfectly. Then again, it was inconceivable that Stark would have ever consented to being the pupil of a master who was once an advocate of the usurper Sovereign.  The subsequent accounts were equally implausible and thoroughly contrary to Stark’s nature!

Svein for a brief spell had mulled over the validity of Brandt’s claims and the alleged ignominy; this lapsed judgment and the unpardonable slur, undeserved dishonor to Stark’s integrity, both angered and at the same time shamed Svein.

 Curtailing these negative emotions however, he stole a discreet glance at Brandt. 

Oh, he is shrewdly deceptive.  Even his bearing does not correspond to what he claims.  Despite this disguise of plain clothes, he looks to have grown up amidst affluent surroundings. I would venture a guess: an aristocrat perhaps?  But why concoct such an elaborate story to slander Uncle’s good name and to entrap him? Surely this was more than an expanded attempt to recover a sword or settle an old (score) vendetta.  What was Brandt after? 

Svein could not shake the ominous feeling that there were far graver consequences at stake here.  He quickly estimated the time: “Uncle has lived in seclusion for at least the course of my life, some 20 years and Brandt was, according to him, only four years my senior.  How could one so young bear such contempt for Uncle and be seeking him to exact revenge?”

For there was no mistaking it, there had been that pure, unadulterated hatred and lust for vengeance disclosed in Brandt’s eyes at every mention of Kochi- clearly a fabricated name for Stark?

Though Svein wished to pry further into this matter to learn this stranger’s true aim in seeking out Stark, he abstained in favor of caution.  He was obliged nevertheless, in carrying out this charade to its natural conclusion and though this deceptive game sickened him at heart, he intoned his sympathies and understanding for the other’s plight, adding that no offense was taken to Brandt’s persistence.

From the start, Brandt had this nagging gut feeling that, at long last, he’d been poised at the heels of his allusive prey, a good solid whiff perhaps and he would uncover him- but nothing untoward had happened to substantiate this prior hunch. Subsequently, observing the sincerity of Svein’s tone and manner, Brandt had to concede that once more, he had followed a false instinct. 

 “Why, this man before me is no more knowledgeable or formidable than the local thug (ruffian).  Now, if only Audun here was some years younger, then I may have some slight cause to persist”. Brandt nodded absentmindedly, “but he is clearly a good four years older than the one I seek!”

Suddenly tiredness weighed heavily on Brandt.  Lapsing into brooding, he reflected impatiently and indignantly on how much time he had wasted questioning all manner of denizens of this and other such detestable outposts at the far fringes of the Empire, how he had searched every city, town, district or settlement all to no avail! 

As he downed several more cups in swift succession however, his expression changed momentarily, and his lips drew a most sinister smile.  Brandt’s thoughts had reverted back to Duan, the cold, unfeeling assassin who was his accomplice, his so-called companion. 

Had he been with him at this time, this so-called Audun Colden would not have lived to see another day? 

Looking away, again his lips parted in that venomous wry grin, uncovering perfect teeth as a fleeting picture of the cut up, maimed bodies of those who were merely suspected of knowing something flashed before his mind’s eye.

 “So, what if they had proven to be a false lead?” Duan had argued the point coldly, “In the end had it not been better to have snuffed out their miserable existence than, on the off chance, let the real one escape?”

 Of the two of them, Brandt was the one better natured; Duan, totally at odds with everyone, seemed to thrive on bloodshed and pain.  Unfortunate were those who crossed paths with him.  Indeed, Duan was incapable of feeling remorse or compassion, but Brandt needed him and without him he could not realize his wish.  For that reason, Brandt had put up with a lot and had always given in to the other’s whims and incessant demands.

Svein had persisted with this discourse, hoping in all that time to uncover the truth about Brandt and his accomplice; however, Brandt was quite adept at this game of deception, and had not let on any useful info; furthermore, increasingly seen as a dangerous adversary, Svein decided now to swiftly end this fruitless exchange.

Coincidentally just then, the innkeeper came to his rescue. “Gentlemen, now please,” he said plaintively, gesticulating in part as he approached them somewhat timidly, fearful of an angry response from Brandt, “Begging your pardon sirs, but please finish your drinks.  We are way past our closing time.  See, everyone else is already gone.”

Startled from his dismal contemplation, Brandt did not take this intrusion too kindly and threw a threatening glance at the innkeeper, which sent the annoyed proprietor, nevertheless, with lowered head, scurrying away to a safe distance.

 Cursing under his breath at this wasted time, Brandt, with a wry smile, turned to address Svein and, after some perfunctory words of farewell and other such, rose to his feet and, ignoring the waiters who rushed to get out of his way, exited the Inn.

Svein, following suit, rose from his seat and went outside, for supposedly a solitary walk to clear his head, deliberately choosing the opposite direction than Brandt.

Soon he was swallowed up by the dark, moonless night. A change in weather, and the sweeping, cooling winds had blanketed the sky with ominous clouds.  Using this to his advantage, he moved stealthily, with the agility of a cat, far above the ground.

 

(END OF SECTION 5)

 

 

 

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY- SECTION 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 “But how did you ever manage it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So, what,” Muro remained unimpressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                                                                             ~

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