INTREPID HAGEN RESCUES THE RAVEN PRINCE ARATHORN

 (BOST ORIGINAL STORY 2025)

There was once a handsome, brave, strapping young man named Hagen, of about nineteen years of age, with long blond hair and brilliant blue eyes like the sky on a clear day. He knew how to read and write, as his retired scholar father had taken pains to educate him at home; meanwhile, his mother the healer, had passed on to him her knowledge about the traditional herbal medicines. Hagen always had a wild imagination and since childhood he’d read copious (abundant, profuse) fantasy books; he was additionally interested in anything pertaining to supernatural and rather enjoyed dabbling in old sorts of magic.

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Hagen unfortunately lost his parents to fever about four years ago and since he had no other relatives, he continued to live alone in the wooden cabin, halfway down the mountain that had its summit permanently shrouded in snow and ice. Hagen was a resourceful young man who made a pretty good living by hunting and foraging in the woods for rare medicinal herbs and roots, then selling these pelts (furs) and the dried herbs at the nearby town.  

It so happened that one ordinary day at dusk a traveller cloaked in black, just happened to be passing through the mountain; fortuitously, his path crossed Hagen’s, who’d spent the day collecting specific herbs and rare medicinal roots, which filled the bucket on his back to the brim.

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The traveller who’d introduced himself as Adelram (meaning, dark and noble), professed that he was actually a spiritualist (choosing not to say a sorcerer) on his way to the Ingolf Temple; unfortunately, he’d temporarily lost his way. Ingolf Temple was a place of great interest to Hagen as he’d once heard his father mention it to his mother, with great reverence. When Hagen later inquired about it, suspecting that his father might have once been a member of that sect or something else, his father had drawn a long face, then in a stern voice he’d vehemently denied knowing anything about it, and furthermore, irritably had admonished (rebuked) his son to never mention that name Ingolf, ever again. Hagen could not let it go however, and after pestering his mother, she’d secretly imparted to him the only fact she knew, that this was a secret sect that was very exclusive, and its location was quite mysterious. Now chancing on this spiritualist who was on his way to that very temple, well, Hagen could not simply let him go; not without extracting further information from him.

What Hagen did not know however, was that the sorcerer had been actively searching for Hagen’s father, for no one had ever belong to that sect and got to leave it, the way Hagen’s father had done. As it had just then begun to rain, and from the look of things, the rising wind herding the flotilla of clouds in the sky, the downpours would be upon them soon, Adelram, before they were drenched, readily accepted the invitation to spend the night in a warm dry place. Along the way Adelram had truthfully confessed to Hagen that his bones were quite weary from his lengthy travels anyway, and that his stomach gnawed as he’d forgotten to eat past two days. He would resume his journey the subsequent day, or when the rain had let up, with renewed vigour after a good night’s rest. What could be better than that?

Once at the wood cabin however, Adelram had learned that both Hagen’s parents had passed away; negating the need to fulfill his secret assignment. Meanwhile, Hagen’s blissful ignorance about his father’s past, had saved his life.  

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After repast, the two comfortably seated by the hearth (fireplace) they had sincerely conversed delving into many topics, and in a very short time, Adelram become quite fond of the youth; furthermore, he was impressed with Hagen’s brilliance of mind and good heart.

Adelram at one point, as a matter-of-factly, feigning mild interest, asked to see Hagen’s right palm, and readily been given access to it, he studied the lines for a long while, secretly reading much more, as he was also a seir (diviner, clairvoyant, psychic). Subsequently, he knitted his brows, and then pinning (burrowing) his eyes into Hagen’s, he studied the boy’s subconscious mind.  In the end, Adelram, knowing what he knew, swiftly decided to impart some of his knowledge of the (sacred scrolls) mystic arts to this trusting, likeable youth, Hagen; therefore, providing him with slant chance to overcome future catastrophe, and perhaps even save his life. The outcome and how he fared (managed) the danger, however, would still depend on Hagen’s future competence (aptitude, skill).

Adelram had stayed with Hagen for several more days during which time he’d imparted on (taught him) Hagen, a good measure of the arts, with the result that the young man became an expert (proficient) in most spells and charms. As Hagen continued to show such promise Adelram, before his intended departure, took Hagen aside and showed him an incantation (spell) that he'd carefully written down during the night on a parchment, while Hagen had blissfully slept. It dealt with the exorcism of specific type, supremely powerful demon-spirit and told Hagen to set it aside for now, till one day, when in dire straits, he might make good use of it. Adelram then holding out the second parchment, said, “My dear boy, here's several more effective spells (hexes) which I’ve written down for your eyes only; these incantations will exorcise (banish, eliminate) most evil spirits; guard it well, and it will always provide you with a good source of income. You’ll never lack for dosh (cash, bread) and in time it may even provide you with a beautiful wife.”

Hagen gratefully accepted the gift.

Time passed and as Hagen practiced the mystic arts, word of his competence spread and as he’d prospered, he took up residence in the nearby small village. He conducted his business of mysticism, divinations, exorcisms and dispensed herbal remedies, from his current modest dwelling at the edge of the village. As he became renown far and wide, Hagen’s gate was thronged with folk bearing many gits to solicit his help.

04- SEDIT

Then one day a haughty (arrogant) merchant (who had prospered from selling arms and quality farm equipment) named Sedit, called on Hagen and in private consultation told Hagen that he was terribly worried about his precious younger daughter Botilda, worst still, he feared his daughter’s life might be in dire peril from an evil spirit or a ghost. He offered Hagen rich rewards if he would go and see her.  Hearing that it was a case of life and death, Hagen consented to help and, forgoing any pre-payment for his trouble, set out immediately with Sedit to reach his residence. They travelled for several days, for the place was quite far. Eventually one late afternoon they arrived at this remote locale and presently came to Sedit’s house perched on a hilltop, which proved to be a magnificent mansion, built like a fortress. Entering it, Hagen was conducted to where Botilda was sleeping behind a gauze curtain; and when her maids hung up the curtain, he saw that though she was barely sixteen, her features were ravaged as if by a very long illness.

As Hagen drew closer to examine her, the girl suddenly opened her eyes and smiled.

“Here comes a good physician!” Botilda said in a hushed voice.

The whole family was delighted, for up till then, she had remained as if in a coma, not uttering a single sound, for several days.

After his brief examination, Hagen left the girl’s chamber and went to the study where Sedit was, to acquire more specifics about her prior symptoms; consequently, Hagen learned from Sedit, that in broad daylight servants had observed, more than once, a young man going into Botilda’s bed. At each attempt to catch him however, the young man had vanished, only to reappear soon after. Sedit therefore had deduced (assumed) that he must be an avenging evil spirit or a ghost.

“If he is a ghost,” remarked Hagen, “I can easily rid you of him. But if he is a powerful demon, I shall be powerless to help.” 

“No, of that I’m certain, he is not!” exclaimed Sedit with a wry smile. Sedit had then grumbled something under his breath, then added in hushed voice, “He wouldn’t dare trespass on my …!” Then staying his tongue, he’d furtively looked to ascertain Hagen had not caught (heard) the careless lingo (speech, utterance, mumble).

Having dispensed written charms to some of the attending servants, those around the patient, Hagen retired for the night, though sleep averted him. At stroke of midnight, a well-dressed young man entered his room, and Hagen, taking him to be some relative of the host, rose from his couch and ask to learn the stranger’s name.

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“I am the Raven Prince Arathorn, my physical form, spellbound by the silver chains, is held captive (imprisoned) in the very dungeon below,” was the disconsolate (melancholy, sad) reply. “Do not underestimate that villain Sedit, he is in truth, a powerful panther demon. His supposed wife Ellisif and her daughters Botilda and Freya, are his human captives. Sedit, five years ago brutally murdered her husband and took her for himself. But he had, same time also, kidnapped her two young girls …. Let’s just say he has sinister plans for them both when they become full adult.  Before my capture, I, with my youthful exuberance, wanting to see the world, had left the safe heaven of my father’s kingdom, in search of adventure. Passing through this region, I happened to see, Botilda, the young lady you’ve been asked to cure (restore to health), carefree and gathering wildflowers at the edge of the forest and felt instantly drawn to her; nevertheless, I flew on by.” Arathorn, dropping his head, fell silent for a moment, recalling in his mind’s eye, the delightfully captivating, serene scene back then, a time which seemed a lifetime ago.

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He cleared his throat and then resumed his say, “But then, since I could not get her out of my mind, I flew back sometime later, to glimpse her one more time.  I came upon the horrific scene. I fought him but he was too powerful and in the and, I too was taken captive by this loathsome (immoral, vicious), malignant demon. Because I have taken fancy to Botilda, I managed to release my spirit from my body, and aptly disguised, through telepathic (telekinetic) projections, akin now, from time to time, I confess that I had visited her, though chiefly to console her and try to give her hope, scant hope that there was, till you happened to come along.”  

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Arathorn allowed Hagen to see him as he truly was, bound by chains in the dungeon; before shifting back to less dramatic (pitiable) form. Arathorn pensively bit the corner of his lip and shook his head; thenceforth, he in serious tone, cautioned Hagen: “Do not let your guard down, not for a second; he has sought you out for some malevolent motive. You are a pray, not his salvation. I approached you with this warning, because I can sense that you are a decent mortal being. And perhaps we can find some apt resolution to this dilemma; possibly we can in some way help each other, as you are true of heart and for this reason, I decided to trust you.  I shall also relay to you that Botilda’s elder sister Freya, who shall be eighteen years old in seven day’s time, is even more beautiful than my beloved. But I assure you, I only have eyes for Botilda; and, till present our relationship has only been platonic, I have not done anything improper, and I am not certainly responsible for her ailment. While I have respected and even guarded their virtue, there is a mysterious force that is perpetuated by Sedit, poised to, in not to distant future, inflict harm on them both.  Temporarily, doing my best to protect them, I deliberately caused mayhem and fright to deter his dastardly aim. But my vitality is waning (diminishing) and the bluff will only work so far; I cannot shapeshift, I cannot use my innate powers, I am rendered utterly helpless and at his mercy. But I care not for my welfare; my chief worries are of the innocent two; what will become of them when I’m gone? Who will save them then?”

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Hagen’s face as he’d listened, had revealed no emotion at all, though inwardly he’d seethed in fury. His heart was beset with dismay by all these shocking revelations and his righteous sense demanded for him to at once lash out at Sedit, to attack and destroy this demon.  He wanted nothing better than to rescue the innocent captives, to release the raven prince, only, he did not know how to go about it.

As if reading (anticipating) what was on his mind, Prince Arathorn suddenly said, “We need a good plan, an apt strategy before we go up against him; and conceivably, a powerful incantation, one that would paralyse (incapacitate) him, if not, rob him of his powers, long enough to enable us to terminate him. But I know no such spell; do you?”

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Suddenly, the very incantation Adelram had gifted to him, came to Hagen’s mind and, after an elated chortle (snigger), he happily exclaimed: “Yes, indeed; I happened to have the very thing!” After that, he briefly told Raven Prince Arathorn about Adelram and his imparted secret incantation, Hagen was certain it would be the key (fundamental armament) solution.

Subsequently, both Hagen and Arathorn wracked their brains till they devised a concrete plan; mindful that they would only get this one chance to best the demon. They needed the help of one other willing participant, however, one the demon would not suspect and preferably the very one the demon would overlook. There was only one person, that it could be…

Next day before noon, Hagen approached Sedit and told him that after the night’s deliberation, he’d arrived at a probable solution; but then he hesitated (stalled), and after exhaling a deep breath, he stated that he would do this on one condition however, as he would face certain peril, in leu of payment for his services, he wished  that Sedit would consent to wed him to his elder daughter Freya.

Sedit looked as though he would explode, but he quickly swallowed his rage, and forcing a smile to his lips, a smile that never reached his cold eyes, he tautly ejected, I’ll need some time to consider this. Then as if in afterthought, he nodded in agreement, “Never mind; I agree.”

Weary of deception and fearing Sedit might recant the nuptial agreement once Botilda was entirely cured (and supposedly safe), Hagen asked for an added assurance from Sedit’s wife Ellisif who happened to just then came out from the inner chambers. Ellisif, having heard of their accord, and hope springing in her heart, she’d advanced towards Hagen to greet him and state also her ready pledge.

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“These suspicions are quite unworthy of you, sir!” Ellisif, nevertheless, criticized Hagen, trying not to appear too eager. My husband’s word is law in this household, however, since you ask for guarantee, would this suffice?” Ellisif then, with pretend indignation, (handed over) gave him Freya’s gold hairpin. As Hagen received the hairpin, he discretely that same moment had slipped into her pocket a written note. She’d sensed this and after her furtive look at her husband, convinced he’d not noticed this breach, Ellisif then sharply looked at Hagen, to silently berate him for his audacity, for such dangerous and improper conduct, but seeing the urgent warning in Hagen’s eyes, an understanding dawning on her, she shut her mouth and said nothing more.

Subsequently, Hagen had spent most of the day making certain preparations. Shortly after dusk, he then summoned the whole household and chanted incantations to exorcise the ghost. Hagen burned some sage and did some smudging, which was a typical purifying ritual. After re-examining the sick girl Botilda, he asked for water to sprinkle on the curtain.

11-FREYA

To his utter delight it was the elder sister who swiftly brought him a bowl, stealing glances at him as she came and went. Hagen felt captivated by her grace and beauty but pretended not to notice her. Meanwhile, Botilda had for some reason, a relapse, and now was moaning in her bed, but when he mumbled his incantations and then sprinkled holy water over her, this after he’d given her an herbal potion (chiefly to sooth her nerves but same time keep her alert and awake), she appeared subdued, and possibly cured. Hagen then left her side. She did not lose any consciousness and thereafter, had no episodes or irregularities during the rest of that night.

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The Raven Prince Arathorn, also as per agreed, did not manifest in Botilda’s chamber at all.

All seemingly was quiet that afternoon; moreover, because of the spell Hagen had secretly invoked, it had deterred the evil spirit, from possible trespass and rehash her ailment. The job seemingly concluded, Hagen now prepared to take his leave, but Sedit pressed him to stay for the night and would not take no for an answer. He was promptly served a sumptuous feast at repast; Ellisif and Sedit entertained Hagen as a most honoured guest, his host remaining with him till he retired to his room for forty winks (sleep). Just as Hagen laid down to slumber (nap, sleep), he heard an impatient knocking at the door and arose to find Freya there. She furtively looked about then darted in.

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“My stepfather will propose that you stay on two additional nights, and he’ll tell you that the day after tomorrow, on the third night, we will be wed in private ceremony; but he has no intention of letting me to ever marry you; he is plotting instead, to murder you tomorrow night!”    She gasped. “You must flee to safety… Please, leave under some pretext at dawn tomorrow, I can’t bear to see you perish, fly for your life!” This said in an urgent voice and turning around, she was gone. But Hagen had no intention of fleeing.

Following morning Sedit looking terribly annoyed and grim, without knocking simply barged into Hagen’s room and in furious tone informed Hagen of the sudden relapse in his daughter’s condition at dawn and hence, demanded he examine her again. Hagen suspected a cover-up for Sedit’s failed, flustered, dubious, evil attempts. Prior, having anticipated this turn, (possibly of Sedit’s), Hagen had covertly put in place, potent, strips with protection incantations. It must have worked; however, this could not be repeated, for it was only a temporary solution.  He needed to return to his home immediately and study the parchment Adelram had gifted him. He would then return, armed with the knowledge, to initiate the rest of the carefully devised plan.

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When Sedit had to leave midmorning that day, to oversee some business matter in town, and stated that he would be back before dusk, this gave Hagen the single chance, and borrowing one of their horses from the stables, on some pretext he left the mansion.

He galloped the steed all the way and returning home in haste, he quickly fetched the parchment. He read the incantation, committed it to memory, fetched the necessary herbal concoction, fortunately for him already in liquid form, in a blue small bottle, this secured in his inner pocket, he then once more mounting the steed, galloped back, mount and rider drenched in perspiration, to arrive in nick of time at Sedit’s mansion. He was back late afternoon, just before Sedit’s posh carriage had pulled to a stop at the (well guarded) iron gates.

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At repast that night, goblet filled with his choice wine, Sedit, commanding attention, made a toast to Hagen specifically, for completely curing Botilda, and then again for his upcoming nuptial to Freya. What he did not know however, was that the wine had been infused with the specific incantation laced concoction. As Sedit drunk to his black heart’s content, smiling with sinister glee, his thoughts engaged with enumerating his secret vile plan that late night, he did not pay too much attention, that just then his true form was revealed to all, though only for a spell; and, if anyone had blinked, they would have missed it.

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Then the transformation began: Sedit’s blazing eyes dimmed, gradually his senses had dulled and his physique on cellular level shifted; bit by bit (increasingly), without him knowing it, he had lost his omnipotent power to then slowly become just a mere mortal being. When the realization had set in, he had only mere seconds to reverse the damage, to alter the lasting effects. This was the most crucial moment, the only window of opportunity, when he was utterly vulnerable as a living, breathing mortal being. There had been a vague reference to this in the parchment; but even Adelram could not be certain of it. Hagen had, nevertheless, factored this variance into the plan, deciding to chance it.  At that critical juncture, Sedit’s timid (brow-beaten) wife Ellisif, who had suffered so terribly at his hand all these years, still bereft (mourning, grieving) of her beloved husband’s murder, and now Sedit was still planning far worse for her beloved children, well, something had snapped in her.

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Ellisif suddenly had stood up, turned, and akin a tigress she plunged the long dagger’s blade (a stiletto) straight into Sedit’s transformed (altered) completely human heart. Even though the warm red blood (not black blood)  rapidly spread, soaking his tunic in crimson, he still overcoming this shock, had enough predatory vigour (strength) in him that, before anyone could intercede (put a stop to it), his hand had precipitously reached out and fiercely grabbing Ellisif by the keck, crushed the bone. In a blink of an eye, both Sedit and Ellisif had expired instantaneously, (toppling) collapsing lifeless, on the floor. The malevolent devil had met his end, but unfortunately, he’d managed to claim one more innocent victim, even at the very end.

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Now the moment the Devil had expired, so had ceased (stopped) the spell that had bound the Raven Prince in chains (manacles, cuffs, fetters).  Arathorn’s power suddenly restored, he ripped the shackles (restraints) as if they were paper; once freed, his fists next smashed open the locked iron doors and he hastened (bolted) up the stairs.

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                                                                             ~

Long after the funeral of Ellisif and the proper mourning period, the two surviving daughters in a simple ceremony had joyfully married to their beloveds. As life goes on, eventually two sisters parted company, and each at different milieu (locale, background, environment) resumed rest of their fulfilling existence.

Raven Prince Arathorn flew, with his human wife Botilda held tight in his arms, and returning home in no time at all, as he was the sole heir (successor), reclaim his rightful place in that kingdom.

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Botilda lived happily with the then crowned king, as his queen in this surreal, most fantastic world; soon after, they were blessed with two healthy boys and lived contentedly to ripe old age.

Hagen also lived blissfully for many years with Freya, overcoming many challenges and then passing on their knowledge to three beautiful children when they grew up, two boys and one girl. Hagen and Freya’s love never diminished throughout their ordeals in the mortal realm, not even when they were old, feeble and their hair turned completely white, as they were always surrounded by caring friends, good neighbours, and the incessant (continuous) joy and laughter of children and many grandchildren (permeating the air).

 

The End

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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