LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 12

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL - SECTION 12

Nevetsecnuac cursed his tardiness under his breath.  He had arrived too late to ascertain the purpose of this meeting.  Now he was as much in the dark as ever.

Just then however, at a signal from Zaur Stugr, a side door opened, and a cloaked figure emerged from it.  He walked up to the dais, bowed low, and then quickly removed his hood to expose his face.  When he spoke the unmistakable tone of the voice and the familiar accent gave Nevetsecnuac quite a start, for the man was most definitely Deizvor; one of the two armed sentinels, (under the command of Egil Viggoaries,) guarding the Cyprecox Pass, at the time Nevetsecnuac had fallen into the pit and got the key.

01-DEIZVOR (KOZUR MEMBER)

But why be surprised, Nevetsecnuac musing, shrugged.  In this duplicitous ethos (culture), this sort of milieu (situation) -that any one group of conspirators would be conspiring with the other-was to be expected.   He was nonetheless tad annoyed, as he now passionately believed that the pseudo agreeable Minister of Ceremony Zaur Stugr, a highly respected official of the P.M. Lamont Gudaren’s, was in fact a hypocritical, shrewd (crafty) instigator, who all along had colluded with the Dark Eunuch Egil Viggoaries to undermine the P.M.

Nevetsecnuac was just then struck by the sudden, rapid change in Zaur's demeanor as the latter had listened on to Deizvor’s report; furthermore, the articulated contents must have been grave enough, for it had warranted Zaur's rapt attention. Unfortunately, Deizvor’s lowered tone made the rest of his exclamations inaudible from Nevetsecnuac's perched high point.  He could only just barely make out the ending, "both of them are now in custody, sir.  We shall not be hearing from Lieutenant Yennic again."

Could he be the same Lieutenant Yennic, who had been so familiar with the bearded Commander Zhadol?  Nevetsecnuac, though he already knew the answer, inwardly queried. His brow subsequently furrowed, recalling the time in not-too-distant past, when he’d accidentally chanced on the two at the Cyprecox Pass and listening in, learned that Commander Zhadol was in fact one of the twelve members of Egil Viggoaries’s Inner Circle of the Black Molochs. Nevetsecnuac sideways wondered as he edged closer to catch the rest, if Zaur Stugr had known all along of the lieutenant Yennic’s perfidious liaison with the Commander Zhadol. He did not have to wait long however, as the answer was revealed in Zaur Stugr’s contrite (somewhat penitent) response:

"Too bad; he was a good recruit with real potential.  Still, it is most fortunate that, during this probation period, we had kept him at arm’s length." 

Zaur subsequently fell silent for a spell, musing, and then shook his head.  This time it had been a close call; still the lengthy and rigorously monitored test (probation) period for neophytes had once more proven invaluable. 

As it were, for the last seven years Zaur had implemented a new recruiting policy, which stated that anyone, whose association numbered less than five years, received their instructions, and made their reports to an anonymous third party until they were fully initiated into the Kozur Brotherhood. The law (of brotherhood) stipulated that if before this time, any greenhorns (novices) discovered the identity of their contact, or failed to maintain an impeccable record, their life would immediately be terminated (forfeited).  In this way, when the unthinkable happened, as in this case with Lieutenant Yennic, there would be no direct link up to the Kozurs. In the worst-case scenario where the limited, ersatz (bogus) connection would be discovered, as it had been designed to do- which was to run directly through the Prime Minister's offices, the so-called link being unsubstantiated, would lead to dead end, as well, throw any would-be investigators hopelessly off track.

Suddenly Zaur Stugr impatiently halted Deizvor' report and (acting on a hunch,) signaled for the spy to follow him into an adjacent room. 

Nevetsecnuac deducing the position of their destination sought a different vantage point; finding a small oval window typical of this style of architecture just under another set of eaves, with some effort silently forced it open a crack and then, proceeded to eavesdrop on them.

"Sir, I spotted these two quite by accident, on the outskirts of Yesunban in one of the rarely frequented alleys, after I had just concluded my report to Zihoxy Ner." Deizvor, standing stiffly beside the desk behind which Zaur was now comfortably seated in a plush chair, in a serious tone presently recounted.  He coughed slightly for the dramatic effect and then, added: "Intrigued by their odd behavior, I covertly dogged them for some time till they’d reached their presumed destination, which happened to be an old, abandoned granary on Inklimer Street. They snuck into the back alley and, forced entry into premise after removing some rotten boards.  I pursued them to inside as soon as the coast was clear and quickly spotted them in the corner, partially hidden behind some crates, gabbing in some foreign (alien tongue) language.  As luck would have it, they then switched into an ancient dialect of Korionese and, having a passing familiarity with that, I was able to make some sense of what was being said."

Zaur Stugr did not need to be reminded of Deizvor’ skill in numerous, diverse vernaculars, or his perfect memory, “Of course", he nodded impatiently, "now I want you to relay everything exactly as you heard it, word for word, omitting not even the most insignificant grunt.  Leave nothing unreported, understand?"

02- DEISVOR  (KOZUR) REPORTING

Deizvor nodded briskly and continued, "One of them was called Hugen and his companion was addressed as Uyuk.  The conversation (exchange) started innocuously enough when the one called Hugen touched the other's shoulder and asked, "But hey, a while back there when the night sentry caught us unawares and demanded our identities, you gave a different name than that you were instructed to give.  Why did you call yourself Kundrick Dufo?  Where on earth did that name come from?"

"The one called Uyuk abruptly looked right past Hugen; after spell of brooding over a seeming deep resentment he, then threw his head back and laughed bitterly, "It was a joke? Yes, it was a joke, a cruel joke!"  Brief time later however, he turned to affix his harsh gaze back on Hugen; Uyuk’s face now shone with dark malice as he absently caressed the ugly scar on his left cheek and snarled: "The executioner was just about to swing his ax when…" He abruptly held his tongue and shook his head.  "Fortunately, I was too young ..." Uyuk, after a brief hesitation, grunted; he followed it with some derisive mumble, which unfortunately was audible only to him."

Deizvor caught by the momentum of his recollections, presently took to re-enacting the spontaneous dialogue, complete with gestures. "A joke…" Hugen snapped back, obviously not having caught the rest of Uyuk's meanderings.

"Yes", Uyuk reverted to his defiant stare, "A joke."

"In a pig's eye," Hugen scoffed disdainfully then shook his threatening index finger in the other's face while he growled, "I don't particularly care to know the motive, Uyuk, but you can't go on changing the procedure on the spur per your whim.  Understand!”

“I'm in charge here."  Hugen shrugged and went over to seat himself on a broken crate.  "What if he'd asked to see your papers?  Your carelessness could have jeopardized our mission!"

Hugen’s brow furrowing crossly, he now barked at Uyuk, "I warn you; I'll have no more of your shenanigans (tomfoolery).  You hear?  This is a serious business…It’s bad enough that ugly scar of yours attracts far too much unwarranted attention."  Despite the harsh words his tone towards the end of his say had grown more conciliatory, even affectionate.

"Yeah", Uyuk bitterly retorted, "but it also makes us inconspicuous in the slums where it counts most.  Isn't that the reason why, they paired us off on this mission to begin with?  You do well in posh circles and with other such upstanding citizens whereas I blend in better with the maimed dissidents of the gutters, where most of our contacts are made.  If you ask me, I'm the indispensable one here."

As Deizvor related this interchange word for word, Nevetsecnuac had noted the augmented intensity (increased tension) in the taut muscles of Zaur Stugr's face ever since the name “Kundrick Dufo” had been mentioned. 

Nevetsecnuac's brows knitted as he searched his memory:  Kundrick…. Kundrick Dufo... Hmm…. where had he heard that name before?  Suddenly certain facts rushed to his mind:  Why of course, wasn't he the son of Sorgun Dufo, favorite tutor of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon and furthermore, the very name that Heng Erling had chosen in his fabrication to give to the Commander-in-Chief of the fictitious insurgents?  Could it be a mere coincidence, or much more than that, Heng picked this name to give credence to his lie?  Was Kundrick Dufo really a conspirator, if he still existed, at all?  Even more interesting, how did a foreign spy get a hold of that name, and just where does Zaur Stugr fit in all of this?  Why should he be so clearly perturbed by the very mention of that person?  What immense (vast) significance did that name “Kundrick Dufo” held?

Nevetsecnuac's mind had further become inundated by an influx of queries as he studied more astutely now, Zaur Stugr’s present stone countenance.  He noted Zaur's sustained deliberate attempts to mask a raging inner conflict as he, instructed Deizvor to investigate the purpose (reason) for which Kundrick Dufo had been mentioned by the spy Uyuk.  The mounting complexity of his host's character further intrigued and same time exhilarated Nevetsecnuac.

Zaur Stugr had been utterly successful meanwhile, in concealing his range of emotions from Deizvor; while on the outset he pretended to be listening impassively to the laboriously detailed account, Zaur Stugr privately in fact had been mulling over, Nevetsecnuac’s akin (similar, alike) queries and concerns.  

Uyuk’s use of his (Zaur’s) true name, Kundrick Dufo…Could it be pure coincidence…  Hardly!  Zaur Stugr firmly refused that notion. Then out of the blue when the spy’s sentence: “A cruel joke,” also came to mind, the truth at that juncture became absolutely apparent.

03- UYUK  (1)JP

So, the boy Enkaz had survived the terrible ordeal (punishment) after all!  With such bad blood coursing through his veins, was it any wonder he had turned to espionage?  Now he had become a traitor to Wenjenkun, working for the destruction of the country that, in his distorted perception had forsaken him, which happened to be precisely the time when, at the tender age of three, he’d been forced into exile.  The burn on the left cheek that’d later turned into an ugly scar, where once Enkaz Dufo, son of Minakoz Dufo had been tattooed as part of his punishment, was the very proof (evidence) which validated this viewpoint?

Then again, all this could well have been a bizarre coincidence. Zaur Stugr in desperate attempt to allay his worse fears, musing, looked away.  And first and foremost, more comprehensive, and irrefutable evidence (proof) must be attained (secured).  Having decided thus, Zaur once again directed his full attention back to Deizvor.

"As anticipated, it was not long before their contact appeared on the scene.  He was an exceptionally tall man and sturdily built but the cloak and mask he wore for concealment and the fact that he spoke but sparingly, made identifying him difficult.  From the way he moved however, I don't know just how to put this, but there was something rather familiar about his gestures."  Deizvor mumbled the last part as he gesticulated (physically demonstrated) the movements.

When Zaur Stugr knitted his brows, frowning in displeasure, a flustered Deizvor strove even harder, to identify the masked, tall, robust spy, as if his very life depended on it.  After a painful pause however, he had to confess, "Unfortunately, sir, it still eludes (escapes) me."

"Never mind, it will come to you sooner or later." Zaur cut him off.  "Continue with the events themselves."  In truth, the contact's impersonated (imitated) gestures, did evoke (conjured up) in Zaur’s mind a certain familiarity also, but just like Deizvor, he too, could not rightly place it.

"Anyhow", Deizvor politely coughed (covering his mouth with his hand) to clear his suddenly dry throat, "I eased myself closer to hear their conversation with perfect clarity only to have the contact switch, as if by innate caveat (instinctive caution), into that other, indecipherable dialect the two spies first used."

"Are you sure your presence had not been detected?  Could it be that they were (actually) feeding you misinformation?"  There was a solid note of concern in Zaur's stern voice.

Nevetsecnuac perceived just then a slight ripple of shudder that run through Deizvor as he, very much disconcerted, presently lowered his head to pause in thought.  After a brief spell, he shook his head and swallowing hard, answered: "No, there was no such indication.  Of that I am most definitely certain."

 

(END OF SECTION 12)  

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 13

 

As Zaur Stugr further jogged his memory, he recalled the clandestine meetings Prince Wenzor had conducted with Zakhertan Yozdek and some other important Minister (within those very premises ) at Sorgun's stately mansion.

 

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (21) JP

 

Once, playing hide and seek with an older playmate, he had accidentally stumbled on the conspiring trio in the garden and would have thought nothing of it save for the great stir it had caused.  He had, consequently, received a stern reprimand from his father and had been subsequently sequestered in his room.

 His unluckier playmate supposedly had been sent away with orders never to return but, years later he had learned that the poor boy had met his untimely demise at the hands of one of Zakhertan’s henchmen.

 

“My father was playing host to those traitors.  But how can that be? I know he was a staunch (steadfast) loyalist of the Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir all his life. How could he have been drawn into this conspiracy? When did it happen? Was it by accident or by design? “

 

Zaur Stugr shook his head absolutely refusing to accept those perfidious, unconceivable treasonous notions; then suddenly an idea flashed in his brain, and he conjectured, (hypothesized), “Or was he… perhaps an undercover agent (a spy), working surreptitiously all along for the Emperor Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir and that’s why they so sadistically murdered him?”

 

Zaur bit his lip, surmising now, how these incriminating letters would have solidly backed up, Sorgun's allegations. Here were the plans for an insurrection, the irrefutable proof that would have backed up his father's claim (disclosure) of their treasonous aim to overthrow His Majesty Zuronghan Valamir. Alas, his father had failed because of a despicable betrayer, a trusted friend no less.

 

Zaur Stugr recollected then one of Sanzo Tezcat’s discussions about the sudden, curious disappearance of the Third Prince Wenzor, seemingly at the height of his popularity and influence, soon after that of Sorgun Dufo’s.  In fact, that mystery, too, to present had remained unresolved.

 

Reflecting on what Fradel Rurik Korvald had recounted about Yakkasar’s findings in the pit that night, that there had been another clustered group of skeletons at the far end away from the solitary one that was presumably Sorgun; the accumulated facts all at once suddenly fell into place, forming in Zaur’s mind, most probable hypothesis of sequence of events back then.

02- PRINCE WENZOR  JP

 

“Yes, why not; it certainly stood to reason that one of the ones in that clustered group of skeletons must have been the very Prince Wenzor.”   Zaur Stugr inwardly fumed, grounding his teeth.

Undoubtedly the Prince had outlived his usefulness to Zakhertan Yozdek and, in keeping with the usurper's tenets (credos, stances), had been betrayed.  Another in Zakhertan’s place might have allowed the prince to rule for a time, as a puppet king forced to perform at every pull at the strings, till Zakhertan had firmly consolidated his power.

 This would have spared the country from the ensuing bloodshed and of Civil Wars; but that would have hardly satisfied Zakhertan’s insatiable appetite for carnage and bloodbath now, would it?  Meanwhile, this was more in keeping (more typical) with Zakhertan Yozdek’s perverted, vicious mind, (more akin to his wicked sense) to have two mortal enemies thrown into the same pit to die together.

 

Zaur shook his head (rushed), to block from his mind those horrendous means, instruments of brutal tortures and to purge the ghastly images of the sort, his father Sorgun Dufo must have been subjected to, his ordeal lasting long afterwards, in that pit, at the hands of the Prince Wenzor and his men.

His eyes misted over as he reflected how his father had expired still protecting the secret; meanwhile Zakhertan Yozdek, alive and well, still currently, reigned supreme.

 

That part of the countryside, Zaur Stugr knew, was riddled with such pits, as mass graves, they should frankly be called.  From the evidence gleaned from the few that had come to light, he had learned something of their nature, of the ingenious manner of their construction and the way in which the (trapped individuals) unfortunates therein had met their demise.

 

All these years while his father’s corpse had languished in that akin pit, been gradually reduced to a skeleton, the key long since forgotten, tauntingly, sardonically had remained, locked in Sorgun Dufo’s silent jaw.

A staunchly determined soul preserving a secret forever, eternally locked in the mouth’s cavity!

03- KEY HIDDEN IN MOUTH

 

“But that meant that he couldn’t even cry out in pain!”

 

“The irony!  And now that nothing could be done about it, the key had finally come to light (been discovered).”

 

Suddenly, scathingly, another detail came to his mind (had struck Zaur).

 

“No clothing?”  He whispered.

 

There had been no mention of it in Fradel's account, but he knew the procedure (process, modus operandi) all too well.

Zaur Stugr knew, for instance, that they would have been stripped naked (hence, been exposed to the harsh elements), before being thrown into the pit, to ensure that there would be nothing hidden under cloth, nothing at all that could identify them.  And that way they would be forever lost to posterity, their person (being) would simply vanish into oblivion. History would never recount their heroics, their exploits, or their grievous plight in the end.

 

Zaur Stugr envisioned Zakhertan Yozdek’s cruel face sneering in the end.

He further imagined him saying, "Go ahead, and contemplate your treachery and vengeance all you wish down there.  Curse me with your dying gasps.  See if I care in the least."

Then Zaur heard the usurper's grating, vicious laughter as he signaled his men, soon to die themselves, to pile the planks then the earth back onto the mouths of these entrances to Hell. 

Zaur Stugr shook his head and grimaced sardonically, knowing how useless the information in the box was now.

If only he had trusted Sanzo Tezcat enough back then (at the time) to reveal to his guardian the truth about the box, that it was his father, not mother, who’d given him the box!

 

04- THE BOX

 

 If only Zaur (Kundrick Dufo) had been brave enough to face the consequences!

Bearing in mind Sanzo’s competence (his skill, proficiency, and resourcefulness), knowing what he knew of Sanzo now, especially with the backing of the Brotherhood of Kozurs, Sanzo would have succeeded where his father had failed and so altered the grim course of history.

 

“What use is this information to me now…To anyone else, for that matter?” 

He clenched his fists in rage, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

 

 “The decision he’d made so long ago was irrevocable. Was this the cruel act (hand) of providence (destiny, chance, luck, divine intervention) or simply, his own stupidity; which was it?”  Zaur Stugr’s face burned with suppressed, searing rage. 

 

He imagined all the Gods with caustic, mordant glare, cursing him. He saw his enemies, even the dead ones, all mocking him.

 

Zaur’s fist clenched tight, he pounded on (struck) the hard wall, over and over, creating a big dent in it. Highly incensed (enraged), he remained oblivious to the pain of his hand that had become more and more badly bruised and bloodied with each strike; meanwhile, such intense rage swelled up in his chest that he felt he would just burst.

 

 It took strong willpower for him to finally restrain (contain, subdue) his self-destructive (detrimental, damaging) course.  But then, anon flood (flurry) of angry tears filled his eyes and few escaping over the rim, trickled down his cheek. Vehemently (fervidly) he wiped them quick.

 

He was still so livid (furious) with himself for after all those years of training, his countless daring feats (accomplishments, exploits), his machinations… all that power he presently held with the strong backing of Kozurs, all; in the end it amounted to big, useless nothing! Nothing! Nothing!

05- ZAUR STUGR (SADDENED BY IT ALL)

 

Again, irately, rising from his chair, he paced the room like a caged beast, hands clasped behind him, not trusted to do his bidding.

"What a fool I've been!" he inwardly howled.  "What a great and utter fool!" 

 

At last, resolving to never again be tricked by appearances or his own mistrustful nature, he closed the rooms, left the wing, and stepped out into the cold, frigid morning air.

Fate relenting, lent him to a soft breeze, to caress his face or perhaps, to taunting him further, with yet another cruel trick.

 

 Zaur Stugr left the compound, his urgent footsteps following a snaking path that skirted tall, unkempt hedges that sagged under the burden of dew.

 

 Just then a gust of wind bit at his moistened face, a shiver rippled through him, and his skin turned to gooseflesh all over.

                                                                              ~

 

 

(END OF SECTION 13 – THE FINAL SECTION, OF, THE CAPITAL CHANNING)                                                                           ~

 

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE CAPITAL CHANNING - SECTION 3

Minister Zaur was about to reach for a morsel, when his complexion suddenly became ashen and his pupils for a spell dilated (became wider, larger). He slumped (slouched) back into chair, appearing dazed and as though he was fighting to restrain an overwhelming sense of queasiness (nausea).  That same instance, his mind underwent a subtle but decisive change.

01-ZAUR STUGR 17

Subsequently, as they consumed more spirits the conversation that ensued took on renewed vigor and at the same time became more varied in scope, this lasting well into the night. 

The topic of conversation periodically, amidst insinuations, touched on the existing internal strife in Wenjenkun between the two powerful factions, then purposefully reverted, delving into in depth issues at hand and their resulting spin-offs.  The direct or indirect account recounted in rapid succession next was designed purposefully to confuse the issue or perhaps test Fradel's ability to keep up.

Going along, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) fed the good minister explicit (precise, exact, specific) altercations, challenging issues, and topics, and tiresome or alternately intriguing facts in profusion to dazzle the mind.  Masterfully sparring (jousting, fencing) with ideas and hypothesis, Zaur Stugr had finally met his match.

Though elated at first, soon growing tired of this intellectual banter (repartee, wit), the charade and all that strenuous mind games, Minister Zaur steered the topic once more to seemingly mundane, innocuous affairs.

Nevetsecnuac, with his resilience at first, was reluctant to concede.  He could utilize still more varied stratagems (ploys, gambits), profound views enmeshed with questions to subtly extricate from his host the pertinent information he felt he needed for the successful conclusion to his mission.  Out of consideration for his host, however, he forewent these, seeing how Minister Zaur Stugr 's eyes were now drooping, and his body slouched slightly in utter exhaustion, despite his ceaseless prattling about some present-day political rhetoric that was obviously a hot issue in Court.  In accordance with etiquette, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) akin showing fatigue discreetly yawned; this provided his host, Minister Zaur, the perfect opportunity to propose calling it a night.

 

                                                                                   ~

 

That late evening after Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) had dismissed all his pesky (bothersome) servants and had seemingly retired, his mind until dawn in fact, taking no solace from his plush surroundings, had raced mercilessly with conflicting summations, views, and personages.  Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts, in a profusion of images, veered incessantly from Deng Hedenko, to his beloved Teuquob, to Heng Erling, to Duan, to Lu Moldan, to Yagu Dorka, to Lord Shonne Gulbrand, to Sorgun Dofu, to Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, to Egil Viggoaries, to Zunrogo Tugo, to Tizan Lout, to Lance Diostin, to Zonar, to Dwengzu, to Zakhertan Yozdek, to Hedenko's assassins, and finally to Zaur Stugr. 

Then unpredictably (variably) Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts had lingered for a time on this curious bureaucrat Zaur whom he suspected to be deeply embroiled in this discriminating, astute world of politics, as well, the underlying layer of intrigue and clandestine acts. Contrasting with the seemingly unassuming first impressions, Nevetsecnuac conceived now that Zaur Stugr was rather a more calculating, complex, manipulative, and very profound individual; a most probable explanation therefore, for his (Nevetsecnuac’s) failure to elicit any candid response to any of the pertinent issues he had put forth, all during this evening. Nevetsecnuac felt quite apprehensive at not being able to penetrate that complex cerebral and psychological hedge that Zaur had erected; hence, not being able to appraise Zaur Stugr’s true motives, his genuine personal feelings, vested interests, or political leanings.

Minister Zaur, with his consummate sophistry had oscillated his arguments expertly during the exchange between diverging points of view, therefore appearing totally non-committed about any issues despite his seeming ebullience.  Zaur Stugr had been most careful, even when inebriated, to offer Nevetsecnuac the precise information that appeared invaluable at the outset but, on closer scrutiny, became a dangerous precipice to traverse, all chiefly to measure Nevetsecnuac's response.

In all that time minister Zaur Stugr had tirelessly woven a web of intangible, indecipherable facts to cloud the real, serious issues that were periodically and purposefully interspersed in the seemingly innocuous conversation.

After a time, Nevetsecnuac in resignation shrugged, then divesting his outer garments, reclined on the bed, however, as sleep still averted  him , he simply lay on his back and fixed his gaze on the ornate ceiling; as his eyes gradually adjusted to the scant light from the solitary oil lamp; he distractedly traced the swirls of the intricate filigree.  Despite his outward calm, his heart was torn by conflicting emotions over the inevitable denouement of his intentions.

He’d gone nowhere with his tireless efforts of obtaining any, least bit of info; all his subtle inquiries had amounted to nothing. Either no one knew or everyone was too frightened to even talk about such dangerous topics. 

The dungeon was immense and had many subterranean tunnels all heavily guarded. As for Lord Asger ‘s son, Ivar Marrog Zhon’s whereabouts, (Nevetsecnuac had learned the name by then,) it had been clearly a well-kept secret. Then there had been that presupposition by some individuals that Ivar Marrog Zhon had long been, secretly expired.  This prospect had profoundly (forlornly) frustrated Nevetsecnuac.

 

02- NEVETSECNUAC  JP 34

Nevetsecnuac’s thoughts reverting to Zakhertan Yozdek, the usurper, he shifted uneasily, in his bed.

Having fully assessed the current political situation well in hand, he had come to grips with the grim, undeniable reality that, when he succeeded in his aim, it portended great danger for Wenjenkun.  Logic and duty in his core again stood in terrible conflict. 

The villainous usurper, Zakhertan Yozdek, for all his brutal crimes, was a necessary evil.  After all, he had consolidated his power over everything and had maintained under his iron rule thus far a strong nation that could easily withstand any foreign aggressor, even one as formidable as Emperor Deng Hedenko.

 And what of Korion, who was waiting in the wings for a single chance to strike back despite their seeming conformity (submission)?

Nevetsecnuac comprehended full well, how by killing Zakhertan Yozdek he would be fulfilling his destiny and avenging the countless dead, victimized, wronged, and oppressed citizens of his country and, at the same time, would be robbing the state of the cornerstone of its strength and its best defense. 

By his action he would cast Wenjenkun into utter chaos, during which internal strife would take hold, led chiefly by those three rival contenders, the Yozdek faction, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and Minister of Internal Security, Egil Viggoaries’ group, and render the Empire vulnerable to the invading armies of the foreign aggressor, Deng Hedenko, admittedly a greater villain than Zakhertan Yozdek. 

Yet, despite pertinent (relevant) logic, his heart was propelled to wrack vengeance upon Zakhertan Yozdek, if only for Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon; and besides, he was deeply bound by a strong sense of duty, filial piety, and loyalty to his family, they, taking precedence before Wenjenkun.  How, otherwise, could he face his Ancestors, Lord Asger Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, the real Fradel Rurik Korvald and the countless others who had sacrificed so much to give him this singular chance? 

Nevetsecnuac did not delude himself that he could, by enlisting the support of one of the rival contenders, through the application of ‘the divide-and-conquer strategy’, take over the state as Crown Prince and rightful heir, without the full support of the army and enough of the bureaucrats to administer the state. So entrenched were these three factions, in the fabric of Wenjenkun that any real change would be improbable, not while these cliques retained even the fraction of their power. There would, at best, still be a period of transition during which the contending parties of the Prime Minister, the Eunuch and the Yozdek family, one by one, would have to be put down and, if need be, entirely (rooted out) eradicated.

 Nevetsecnuac knew that, in most perfect scenario, should he survive these ordeals, his reign may well become the briefest Dynasty. He was also mindful (aware), that his precarious scholar disguise (as a Fradel Rurik Korvald) would not last to avail him of another such opportunity.  The pending (imminent) reversal of fortune for literate was fast approaching (near). They would once more become the escape-goat in the blame game for all the ills of society and county. Meanwhile, the burden of vengeance for all those wronged, restless spirits rested solely and squarely on his shoulders, and he alone had been given this one-time rare opportunity to avenge them all and bring the villain Zakhertan Yozdek to justice.

 Could he spare him because the country needed a strong leader to control the precarious state of internal and external (foreign) affairs that was chiefly Zakhertan’s doing in the first place? 

He had sustained this political volatility chiefly to ensure his uninterrupted reign, right down to fostering an incompetent weakling, which was Crown Prince and heir apparent, Herleif.

Things had already been set in motion. The dreaded future of this country being overrun by a foreign aggressor was as inevitable as the dawn of the day. Once Zakhertan Yozdek was dead, whether it was by assassination or just old age, Wenjenkun was fated to be plunged into a struggle for power that would leave it vulnerable for any hostile takeover.  As Nevetsecnuac saw it, he had no other alternative but to fulfill his destiny and abide by ‘Heaven’s Mandate’.  The Yozdek Reign was meant to end at this time. That was surely a ‘Divine Intervention’, at work here; and that is why he’d been lured out prematurely into this vengeful world. Five years would not have made that much of a difference; he knew full well, that is to be the truth now.

It was in this terrible; unresolved state of mind that Nevetsecnuac (Fradel) faced (greeted) the first light of dawn.

 

                                                                        ~

After the morning session of Court and as soon as he had concluded his other obligations and responsibilities of office, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren in an unorthodox, yet politically astute move, visited the private residence of the Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr, to extend his personal welcome to the illustrious scholar and poet Fradel Rurik Korvald- one that had been chosen particularly by the Sovereign's chief consort and most recent favorite, Sejon.

In keeping with propriety, Fradel (Nevetsecnuac) bowed low and said, "I have been remiss in my duty and have failed to pay my respects upon my arrival in Channing, to you, Your Excellency; to my great shame you have honored me instead, with your visit."

03- PM LAMONT GUDAREN 7-JP

“I am only too happy to do it.” Prime Minister responded in an unusually affectionate tone and smiled; after which, though he was more than twice Fradel Rurik Korvald’s age, Lamont Gudaren bowed his head slightly in return, as measure of his deep respect, to the scholar.

The Prime Minister, with his glib tongue, bestowed his further felicitations and other such pleasantries as they both moved towards the reception chamber.

There, host and guests (all three,) comfortably seated sipped fragrant tea, and, under the guise of a seemingly innocuous, sincere conversation, they gauged each other’s strengths and weaknesses. During this seemingly pleasant exchange of ideas which lasted several hours, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, a man of discerning mind, became more and more enthused by the infinite potential he saw in this scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald.

 

“I could reap untold benefits from furthering this scholar.”  He told himself. 

 

Never one to take chances, however, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren extended his visit of Minister of Ceremony, Zaur Stugr and Illustrious Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald and stayed for lunch.  During the sumptuous private feast, despite the heavy consumption of wine, tirelessly, yet discreetly, Prime Minister prodded scholar’s mind further, to ascertain that his first impressions about him had been correct.  By the end of his subsequent, though, subtle (shrewd, ingenious) examination, Lamont was unequivocally impressed with the scholar's superior attributes; his eloquence, his outstanding quickness and brilliance of mind, his noble bearing, and exceptional good looks; all these findings had far exceeded the Prime Minister's expectations.

“If Fradel Rurik Korvald had been born to a noble family he would have, most certainly, gone much farther than he had.” Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren mused, looking down and stroking the long, stringy beard that reached his mid-chest.

 

 “But all is not lost; even at this late stage, something can easily be arranged.”  

At that very moment Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren had conceived a plan to utilize the scholar’s full potential by adopting him into his ranks where, as his protégé, he could mold Fradel into the position of greatness he deserved.

“Ah, that is if the political winds do not shift yet again.” But then on second thought Lamont conceded that it would be best to exercise caution and bide his time until Fradel Rurik Korvald had passed His Highness' scrutiny.

“Yes, we will first assess the impression you make on the Emperor, Fradel Rurik Korvald, before we risk all in any venture on your behalf.”

 

Prime Minister was just then given a confidential message; after a quick perusal, despite his reluctance to end the stimulating exchange (conversation) with Fradel, he quickly rose to his feet.  Stating that, “he must return to his office to attend to an urgent matter of the State,” he quickly left.

Seated comfortably within the posh carriage that was hastening away, Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren knitted his brows in ire and mumbled.  “How could things have gotten so out of hand? No doubt about it, Egil Viggoaries has engineered this!  He has played his hand just so, to discredit me.”

 

 

                                                                                ~

 

(END OF SECTION 3)