11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 21

 

On the day specified for the resolution of the (penknife/assassination) case, the Dark Eunuch Egil Viggoaries armed with solid proof that guaranteed a sure win of his litigation, prostrated himself before Zakhertan Yozdek, in a closed Court preliminary hearing. In meticulous detail the ingeniously compiled evidence, against the identified culprits and conspirators, were then one by one painstakingly presented for His Highness' perusal and for his final judgment.

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Zakhertan Yozdek, of course, had already been well apprised of the developments, including the confirmation of certain tampering with the key evidence. Not letting on, he gave the presentation a thoughtful consideration and carefully examined all Egil Viggoaries’s documentation and testimonies. Zakhertan’ momentary ambivalence at the end of it, however, did not escape the eagle eye of his Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund, who had conducted his own independent inquiries. When His Highness expectedly dismissed all the courtiers including Egil Viggoaries, save for Qarzten Caimund for a private consultation, on cue (nod) the Senior Grand Secretary, armed with his arsenal of facts, advanced his steps boldly to reach the dais.

Qarzten then vociferously enunciated the accrued information with perfect lucidity, without mincing words and left nothing out, spared no one. He starkly (plainly) stated the part Royal Tutor Worren Youkup had played, the complicity of Lady Sejon, the breakdown of just what crimes could accurately be attributed to Royal Physician Enqui Rimeng and prince Herleif, as well, which facts were merely elaborate fabrications. Qarzten listed additionally, the names and means of all those who had perjured themselves and then related how Egil Viggoaries’s manipulative power had a hand in all of this.

Qarzten Caimund could not leave out the matter of the apprehension and eventual death under torture of pseudo-Stuart Chutek who was an affiliate of the Wolfbane Organization; Qarzten was of course, betting on the fact that the Sovereign had already been appraised of all these facts. He was quietly pleased, therefore, noting the lack of Sovereign’s reaction affirming his suspicions.

Qarzten could decipher (accurately read) every bit of the Sovereign’s nuances (hints), the slightest subtleties of his face and body; and so, when Sovereign’s slight shift had told him that Zakhertan was about to question him further about the real Chutak’s whereabouts, presumably another test, Qarzten had cleared his throat and readily volunteered the  succinct results of his thorough investigation, the kidnapping and the supposed presumed demise of the unfortunate Stuart whose only crime had been, which the Stuart was ignorant of, was to be instated as the sole beneficiary of Worren Youkup’ s amassed, comprehensive estate (fortune); Qarzten concluded it by stating the manner of Chutek’s eradication, when the Stuart had proved useless in the end, to the Wolfbane Organization. The matter (of this insignificant Stuart) therefore, as far as the Sovereign Zakhertan was concerned, was promptly dropped (satisfactorily shelved).

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Qarzten Caimund had finally mentioned the (Egil’s issued) untenable arrest warrant for the scholar Tonzeye Yevgun which he had temporarily stymied. At this point he paused, to receive Zakhertan Yozdek’s approval (judgment, appraisal) or further instructions.  

"That's all?" The Sovereign's question unsettled Qarzten Caimund as at the same time an ominous ripple (wave) coursed down his spine.    

"There is more, Your Highness," he coughed to briefly clear his throat, before he resumed with his, not yet fully validated facts, about the complicity of Lord Shouzi Yozdek and the extortion plot involving Nijel Ping. Meeting Zakhertan Yozdek’s hard eyes briefly, Qarzten’s face externally remained placid, an almost inscrutable mask; yet deep in his heart he was terrified, for he had just then realized, how awfully close he had come to, not only losing Zakhertan's confidence, but also risk forfeiting his own life, by withholding, yet to be solidly confirmed (authenticated), information.    

It had been made perfectly clear to Qarzten, by that single glint in Sovereign’s eyes that, Zakhertan Yozdek had already been notified of this and much, much more; and he (Qarzten), yet again, was evaluated. What did it matter that he had, all these years, an impeccable record and steadfast loyalty; every subject of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s lived a precarious existence, with their lives only a hairsbreadth away from the executioner's blade. Fortunately, he had heeded his intuition and once more dodged catastrophe.   

As if surmising his vassal's thoughts, Zakhertan’s lips curled in a disdainful sneer. With a cynical smile on his lips, he leaned back and, with a small gesture of his hand indicated that Qarzten was to proceed.   

Since Qarzten Caimund now felt that the time was ripe, he fearlessly delved in all the way. Asking His Highness' indulgence, he presented the summation (backed by ample documentation to be perused later by the Sovereign) of Minister of Internal Security Egil Viggoaries’s and Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren's sordid, illicit activities. Based on this irrevocable proof, and the amassed evidence against both culprits, he next petitioned the throne for permission to proceed with their simultaneous indictments in the High Court. Finally,(he hoped,) justice could be served swiftly and effectively. Heads removed, the bodies and tentacles of both organizations could then be effectively crushed with the minimal cost and much less bloodshed. At present there was, at Sovereign's disposal, a military force capable of suppressing any uprising in the Capital or elsewhere, as only a small contingent had been dispatched to Korion. If prompt action were to be taken therefore, Wenjenkun's political system could be swiftly purged of these deleterious elements, before the impending confrontation with that troublesome Northern Nation Sazkeroan and its secret ally, Kontu. Qarzten Caimund had assumed that he had done his best to effectively communicate to Zakhertan the urgency of this matter. He had stressed that it was imperative they launched these offensives on both fronts simultaneously and now, or face an inevitable, more arduous course after the impending great wars.    

Zakhertan Yozdek, after having listened to all Qarzten's arguments with due patience and seeming consideration, in the end however, with an unwavering stone face, had once more shook his head, remaining staunchly averse to the urgent recommendations. “The time is not yet ripe.” Had been the only snap explanative given to Qarzten, for His Highnesses adamant refusal.  

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“What am I missing here?” Qarzten inwardly queried, mystified by this negative response (negation).  

   There had to be another, more enigmatic reason for His Highness’s not utilizing this (relatively calm) apt period, which was a prelude to change, the last bastion of lull before the cataclysmic change that loomed on the horizon. On the board game of life, the pieces had taken up their respective positions already. Qarzten Caimund, affixing his gaze on the floor, searched his brain for the allusive reason. It had taken Qarzten only a second or two however, when all at once he had understood Zakhertan’s true reasons. Then with humility he had bowed his head, acceding to his Sovereign’s wishes.   

There was a slight leer on Zakhertan’s lips; after which, Qarzten was directed to, currently say, or do nothing and to guard his records with vigilance until such time they would be required for testimony against the Prime Minister, Egil Viggoaries and Lord Shouzi in court.    

Qarzten was then promptly dismissed.   

   

                                                                            ~   

 

“Could those unconfirmed reports be true?” Qarzten Caimund pondered once more, on the way to his offices.     

“The acuteness of Sovereign’s mind is truly amazing and quite humbling.” Qarzten Caimund shook his head and hissed out a long, exasperated breath. “He’s adroit brain must have conceived…Hah, I don’t know how he does it but he’s always two steps ahead of me, infuriatingly so, in particular with foreign affairs.”       

Eventually, Qarzten’s thoughts had reverted to the most intriguing findings regarding Egil Viggoaries’s parentage, disclosed to him in yesterday evening’s covert report; he had opted to sit on that explosive info however, directing his men instead to dig up further proof till the facts were absolute. Qarzten once more had to remind himself not to get too distracted (sidetracked), conserving his strength instead, for the pending challenges, the tumult (ahead) in not-too-distant future. He had reached his offices with his head laden with such concerns and took no notice of the well armed guards saluting him smartly or, when one on the left promptly reached out and opened the door for him. Once inside the anteroom (subsidiary room), Qarzten Caimund had few words with his assistant, who rushed off at once on an errand.     

Qarzten placed five of the documents on his assistant’s desk then with the remainder secured under left arm, he thoughtfully walked over to the bookcase where which on the second top shelf there were two juxtaposed, unusual small stone statues of no value. The carving however was exceptional. One represented the Moon Deity, a beautiful, demure young woman seated on a rock with a closed book in hand; the other was the representation of the Sun Deity, a fierce warrior with an elaborate spear, standing in readiness to strike.     

Qarzten’s right hand reached out and applied a slight pressure to lower the Moon Deity’s book, ever so slightly, which made the whole bookcase instantly, noiselessly move aside, revealing behind it the secret iron door to an impenetrable vault. Qarzten Caimund opened it with one of the (cluster of) keys he had withdrawn from his hidden belt-pocket and went inside. He walked few paces into the vault and placed the secret documents he was carrying on the third shelf. Once more at the outside, he locked the vault then going over, raised (readjusted) the Moon Deity’s book, which instantaneously (automatically) turned everything back to norm. He then straightened out his attire (making sure there were no creases on it) and then opened the door which led to his primary office. 

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Soon as Qarzten had entered the room, his eyes caught the newly appointed Vice Censor in Chief the noted Lenny Sukzor, who had been impatiently waiting for his return from the royal audience, already on his feet, which he now courteously bowed to Qarzten in greeting. Smiling contritely, Qarzten Caimund solicitously advanced to brightly (happily) greet his new friend Lenny. After offering his profuse apologies for the (unavoidable) delay and relaying his solicitations, the two sat down to the serious business of overseeing series of highly confidential matters.

                                                                             ~    

Following day in closed session of the Imperial Court the charges of the attempted murder of  His Royal Highness Zakhertan Yozdek, as well, the willful murders of the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup , Prince Chucek and Prince Kureing, were formally announced against the now deceased Steward Chutek, the still living though barely alive Royal Physician Enqui Rimeng and, the Crown Prince Herleif Yozdek.      

Their subsequent, three consecutive (sequential) trials again in closed court, very much to the immense satisfaction of Egil Viggoaries had resulted in an expedient, harsh verdicts.     

Enqui Rimeng, upon hearing his sentence had cried out in despair wishing that he had somehow ended his own life (by ingesting poison) or expired during torture, rather than suffer the impending, most ignominious end. Worse still, his actions had doomed entire Rimeng clan to extinction. He was quickly hauled away, sobbing uncontrollably, to suffer his endless days of torment in Hell.  

  

Prince Herleif had not fared any better; for Zakhertan Yozdek had perfunctorily dismissed Prince Herleif's right to appeal, since it was patently pointless and, coldly pronounced Herleif’s sentence: “Proclaimed guilty of all charges levied against him, Prince Herleif from thereon would be stripped of all Royal privileges and rights and demoted to the status of a common criminal (a slave). He wound, furthermore, indefinitely or until further notice, be imprisoned in the worst quarter of the subterranean (palace) dungeons.”

This meant that Herleif would never be allowed to see the daylight ever again, though for the present he was to be kept alive to await a future apt punishment of, Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s choosing.     

Lastly, Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek bereft of any other candidate, promptly passed the Royal decree- the formal appointment of Prince Magnian Yozdek, as the now rightful (Crown Prince) heir apparent.   

  

                                                                            ~

 

(END OF SECTION 21) 

  

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 18

Once he was back in his offices, Egil Viggoaries set about writing down the petition that he had composed the day before in his mind. In an addendum, he also requested to have the burial ceremony temporarily postponed (delayed), for reasons that there were certain discrepancies (inconsistencies) about the manner of the Royal Tutor's death, which warranted an urgent and official autopsy by the Imperial Coroner. This he dispatched at once, directly to Qarzten Caimund.

The next morning when the result, which the Dark Eunuch had anticipated, was revealed and, an all-out hunt was mounted for the culprits, specifically Stewart Chutek, Egil Viggoaries had rubbed his hands together and hissed: “The orchestra has commenced with the opening bars, now let’s call in the steps and watch the minions dance (hop).” 

     

                                                                                  ~ 

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Qarzten Caimund with acuity (perspicacity, discernment)) had awaited Egil Viggoaries’s next maneuver and found that, as expected, he had opted for extorting Lady Sejon while turning the evidence into a weapon against his hated adversary. The Dark Eunuch’s timely petition for an autopsy and the following steps was all appropriately within the bounds of the law.

Furthermore, under his authority, all pertinent documents and testimonies were arranged to disclose facts, exactly the way Egil Viggoaries wanted them to appear. Lady Sejon herself was fed rumors, and they remained only rumors, that the Royal Tutor Worren Youkup had scribbled a condemning confession on his deathbed that had aroused Egil Viggoaries’s suspicions and led to the incriminating autopsy. Moreover, there was the certain verification (proof) that an ensuing investigation had turned up the agent of death which happened to be the medicinal flask belonging to Herleif’s personal physician, Enqui Rimeng.   

In the subsequent days, the Chief of Internal Security’s team had surpassed themselves in their relentless pursuit of resolving (rounding up) this case. A carefully blended presentation of factual and fabricated evidence was expertly amassed in sufficient quantity to have Chutek and Doctor Enqui Rimeng indicted and incarcerated for questioning and torture, as co-conspirators of Royal Tutor’s murder.    

Steward Chutek was quickly apprehended at an Inn near the Nexoko Pass as he was preparing to leave and was brought back in chains and under heavy guard, to Channing, to stand before the Grand Inquisitor and Egil Viggoaries. The sealed box entrusted to him by Worren Youkup was also retrieved intact and handed over to the Chief of Internal Security.

The contents of the letter addressed to Scholar Tonzeye Yevgun confirmed Worren Youkup’s suspected erratic state of mind; moreover, Worren’s unusual requests from his long-time friend unwittingly placed Tonzeye in a very precarious position. Seizing this excellent opportunity Egil had at once issued an arrest warrant for the Scholar Tonzeye Yevgun.

Qarzten Caimund, who had always been favorably disposed to the Illustrious Scholar Tonzeye, was able to intervene in time however, and taking advantage of the distance to Chukset Province, had ordered that the preliminary depositions be taken there, before the Scholar's probable, eventual transport to Capital. This measure ensured it would be at least three months before Tonzeye Yevgun could be, safely and under guard, transported back to Channing to determine, (barring a miracle) unfortunately under torture, the extent of his part in this supposed, diabolical plot. But then, Qarzten Caimund had reckoned, quite a bit could transpire in that period.

 

02-SCHOLAR TONZEYE YEVGUN (1)

Those officials within the Capital, the few who had accepted gratuities (bribes) to expedite the processing of Steward Chutek’s documents meanwhile, had all been taken in for questioning. Their under-duress testimonies, tailored to establish the Royal Tutor's secret infatuation with Chutek and his consequential unsound (irrational) state of mind at the time he had initiated those procedures (actions), were all meticulously chronicled (recorded, registered).    

The Certificates of Manumission, Powers of Attorney and latest will bequeathing all Worren Youkup’s holdings in its entirety to Steward Chutek, now deemed rigged (manipulated, swindled), were promptly and legally nullified.    

Egil Viggoaries's prosecuting team additionally, had attained further incriminating data, the so-called monitory gift payments, for a covert, perverse sexual liaisons between (routinely shadowed) Physician Enqui Rimeng and Chutek that had gone on, decidedly, for more than eleven months. The Judiciary stored all this amassed evidence temporarily in a safe place, pending the time (of the Trial) they will be required to be presented as proof (mark) of, Physician Enqui Rimeng and the chief culprit Chutek's complicity in the pre-meditated murder of Worren Youkup.    

Chutek in the interim was, with all his funds frozen and having no hidden stash of his own to fall back on, effectively blocked from contracting (hiring) competent legal aid (defense team) and proving his innocence. Not that it would have done him any good, as most in Channing had already in their minds, convicted Chutek; believing him to be the mastermind of the sinister ploy- which had the unsuspecting Worren Youkup ingesting the poisoned substance while Chutek was conveniently absent from the Capital. Even Prime Minister was not of a mind to lock horns with his chief rival Egil Viggoaries, over this sensational, highly publicized felonious act (criminal act) of an insignificant Steward Chutek. With no one to champion his rights, things looked bleaker each passing day for Chutek.

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Despite the expended effort to tie this case up swiftly and neatly however, there had been still one unforeseen, major snag in the steady progress of the Dark Eunuch’s persecution team, for no confession could be had (extracted) from Chutek. Quite unexpectedly and stoically Chutek had borne (withstood), to the bitter end, the unconscionable humiliation and the barbaric torment.    

 When viewed, the state of Chutek's remains had made even Qarzten Caimund wince, and he had seen it all. That day as they had descended the spiraling, perilous steps, Qarzten Caimund (from the corner of his eye) observing Egil Viggoaries’ reticent conduct, had confirmed fully then, how the hellish, foul-smelling dungeon with its endless corridors and cells, with steady groaning coming from its labyrinthine depths, its air ripped with terrifying screams of its victims being tortured, was almost a source of comfort for the demented Dark Eunuch.  Ushered solicitously into the cell which Chutek had been endlessly tormented and seeing Chutek or what was left of him, Qarzten Caimund had drawn back violently, shuddering to the marrow of his bones. Yes, despite himself, despite his efforts to conceal it from Egil Viggoaries, he had shuddered with deep inner revulsion. 

At that point, additionally, the Dark Eunuch’s inhumane, eerie peal of mocking laughter grated on Qarzten ‘s ears; meanwhile, the subhuman mirth (hilarity) rising from the depths over the anguished cries had reverberated in that chilling air. His resentment of Egil Viggoaries had apexed then, and it had seriously sickened Qarzten to the core, to be so cognisant (aware) of the degree of vileness of Egil Viggoaries’s perverted mind.   

Meeting Eunuch's eyes, Qarzten Caimund had glared at the Dark Eunuch with fierce disapproval, his heart suffused with outrage, finding no words to express the vulgarity of what he had witnessed just then. In all his years of faithful service as a vassal of Zakhertan Yozdek, Qarzten Caimund had seen countless victims of torment; many were subjected to cruel procedures to prevent their escape, barbaric (inhumane) methods that were clearly marked (patent) sadistic tortures. In cases where all else failed and other means had proven ineffective, the application of torture had been justified. It was an accepted norm in Wenjenkun, an unavoidable evil, during the Reign of Zakhertan Yozdek. Qarzten Caimund bore the burden of guilt himself for having overseen, initiated, or partaken (participating) in many acts of inquisition and torture in the past, but never had it been taken to this extent of barbarism.  And he had never seen this degree of suffering inflicted upon a living being. Nothing comparable could have prepared him for this most abhorrent of gruesome scene. But what was even worse, what was more disturbing still, was Egil Viggoaries’s chilling repulsive reaction to the disembodied corpses strewn about them and his startlingly atrocious conduct next, that had violently churned Qarzten’s stomach. It was as though Egil Viggoaries had an inherent need, had insisted on Qarzten Caimund’s presence to heighten his amusement, to reassert his belief that he and he alone was untouched, unmoved by this sort of monstrous act and the vileness of it all. The ignoble (base, dastardly) goading had infuriated Qarzten and at that point he had looked away, biting back his fierce contempt.

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"Was this really warranted?" Qarzten Caimund, keeping the anger from his voice had asked, as he, for a spell, burrowed his unyielding, menacing, (threatening) gaze on Egil Viggoaries. But before the Dark Eunuch could respond, suddenly, at that very moment an inhuman scream had filled the tense morbid air.

Observing the involuntary shudder that had just then rippled through Qarzten Caimund, Egil Viggoaries had sneered contemptuously and maliciously. "Of course, it was warranted." His cynical, condescending tone had still further incensed Qarzten Caimund, but he’d looked away nevertheless, not wishing a serious confrontation at that precise moment. 

Subsequently Qarzten’s gaze once more had fallen on the pitiful form of chained Chusek; however, at that moment, Qarzten’s keen eye caught a detail that instantly flooded his heart with hope. He quickly got a grip on his senses, and feigning mere technical (scientific), and in part meddlesome (interfering) interest, he drew closer to examine Chusek’s grave injuries in the head, those deep gushes and lacerations that was gradually staining crimson more parts of his hair; however, his eyes discreetly instead, had fleetingly examined Chusek’s earlobes, to ascertain of his earlier detected discrepancy.

No, he had not mistaken it! This was an imposter… He was not Stuart Chutek!

 Qarzten Camund, nevertheless feigning disgust and tediousness, stepped back and quickly lowered his eyes to hide the relief in them, while escaping the intense scrutiny of the detestable, predatory Dark Eunuch. 

Egil Viggoaries, meanwhile, not getting what he sought (wanted) out of Qarzten, gave a huff of derision and half-turning looked at Chutek's maimed and mutilated corpse; when he reverted his riveting gaze back to Qarzten, Egil Viggoaries’s face had been ugly, his body movements suddenly more antagonistic, more menacing.

The Dark Eunuch’s subsequent, spiteful abrasive words of the poor tormented creature, the uttered scornful obscenities, nevertheless, grated on Qarzten Caimund’s innate sense of morality and justice; and so, he, again bristling, clutched his fists, his fingernails deliberately digging into his palm and drawing blood; a sham performance which he had deliberately failed to veil (conceal) from the Dark Eunuch.

This, expectantly, to some extent (partially), satisfied Egil Viggoaries.

Continuing with his bogus performance and purposefully averting the Dark Eunuch's piercing eyes, lest he betray what was truly in his heart and mind, Qarzten then briskly turned about face and left hurriedly, in a quasi (pseudo, virtual) near frenzied state, rushing his steps down the hall.

Subsequently, Qarzten had ascended by twos the stone steps to abscond and to spread some distance between himself and the Dark Eunuch; his soul demanded escape(flight) from this insane vile monster who had been gloating, elated by what he had accomplished, and furthermore, by what he was still intending, proposing to do.    

Indubitably Qarzten’s core had genuinely blanched at the very thought, the proof, that there were in existence two such monsters in Wenjenkun: Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek and Egil Viggoaries.

Then, to his greater dismay, he was quickly reminded of the third monster, Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu. 

 

                                                                             ~ 

 

(END OF SECTION 18)

  

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 8

Royal Tutor Worren Youkup’s sleep of late had often been troubled by violent dreams. This night being no different, he turned and tossed, thrashing this way and that, held fast in the vice grip of a terrible nightmare. Worren saw himself as he was once, a young, adventurous lad; in this dream episode however, he was alone in a tiny skiff, riding the swift currents down the Yawjun River and negotiating the turbulent, aggressive waves that threatened to topple his small craft (boat). Regardless of the danger, in his heart he felt certain of the urgency of reaching his destination; he must get there before it was too late, for time was of the essence!

01- WORREN YOUKUP AS A YOUNG MAN

Oddly enough, he could not remember for the life of him where it was that he needed to go; only that it was of vital importance that he got there. When the wind abruptly died down and all was still, he at once grabbed the oars and rowed as fast as he could towards the mid section, to take advantage of the swift currents and therefore, propel the boat swiftly as before,  gliding across the water as if his life depended on it.

Subsequently, the still air altered (was replaced), as the sun ominously took quick refuge behind the mountain that loomed over the left bank of the river. Shafts of lightning split the sky and peals of thunder crushed through the flotilla of clouds that had been swirled into being by the just then rising winds. Soaked now to the bone, Worren Youkup knew that his only safety lay in reaching the banks of the river as he applied his oars in that direction. He rowed and rowed, huffing and puffing, exerting himself to the point of exhaustion but still not getting any closer. To compound his difficulties, a thick curtain of pelting rain followed by a gray mist just swept off the land to erase (hide) all indications of the shore; his soul gripped in trepidation, he helplessly rode the undulation of angry waves, rising and falling on the great expanse of the water. His fear intensified realizing that he was now cast in the middle of a vast ocean. If the skiff overturned, because he had never learned how to swim, he would most certainly perish. What to do? What to do?

All right, so the talons of ill fate had carried him out to the centre of the ocean but being a pragmatist, he concentrated, not on how or what had instigated his dire predicament but rather, on the possible recourses where which he could extricate himself from this terrible danger. To his great consternation however, the little boat just then started to whirl around and round, with increasing velocity. He strained to fight the dizziness, to keep his eyes open and to maintain focus.

What is going on? He felt his forehead for the possibility of fever. Nope!

Then he saw it!!  Thousands and thousands of fish rising to the top, all floating belly-up on the surface, stunned by the churning waters; however, they suddenly transformed, all resembling (looking like) knives, stilettos, penknife’s, the ordinary kind scholars used!

 What did it all mean? A certain foreboding anew gripped Worren Youkup’s heart.

02- WORREN YOUKUB IN NIGHTMARE

All this while the whirling had continued and he got sucked down to the depths of the ocean by the funnel until the boat touched bottom where which a quaking, sandy bed tossed him mercilessly to and for. His heart’s palpitations intensified when he saw swimming towards him just then, the open red mouth of a huge grotesque black eel that was at least thirty feet in length. Another larger, even more monstrous eel chased away this monster however, which then turned and advanced towards him with an even greater zeal (vehemence). Worren Youkup clenched his jaw, same time his hand gripped the upper part of his nightshirt, as if to contain the fierce hammering in his chest and held on tight.   

Steady, steady on now. He told self, to calm his raw nerves. Except that, Worren saw that the eel now nearer still, had a human head. It swam closer and then flashing its razor-sharp teeth, it greeted Worren: “It will not be long now, Elder Brother. Oh, but how I missed you; I have been all alone and miserable all this while!"      

Worren realizing it was his long dead brother Kosi, he was about to accost him when, from the side another giant fish with mouth wide open suddenly advanced to, in one gulp swallow Worren and the skiff together. The old tutor and the boat, now in the belly of an abdominal cavity filled with toiling, turbulent, stomach acid- smelling putrid and burning everything, it touched, were quickly spirited away into the depths. The wood of the skiff began to smolder, and Worren knew that it was just a matter of time before, his flesh too would burn; meanwhile, his chest constricted from breathing in the steaming stench, rising from this sea of gastric juices. Oh, what a horrible way to die!

But Worren Youkup suddenly woke up with a start, drenched in sweat. Outside his door he heard rushing feet and urgent whispers. "What's going on there?” he mumbled to himself as he rose from his bed. He lethargically reached for his robe, his old bones creaking as he called out to his steward. Aside from minor ailments and the occasional slight headache, such as the one that plagued him now, he was in fairly decent (physical) shape for a man close to sixty-five years in age. Longevity ran in his family, so it was expected that he would live for yet another fifteen to twenty years.

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Steward Chutek was quick to respond with the tepid cup of tea Worren Youkup needed to wash away the parchment that usually wrapped the inside of his throat. After gratefully gulping part of the lukewarm tea, he held the cup just a slight distance away from his lips.

"What in damnation is going on out there at this beastly hour? Has the whole city gone mad?"  He was a bit more than disgruntled by the pandemonium outside and believed the household should have long been asleep, snuggled in their quilts by now. In fact, it was his intention, once his thirst was quenched; to retreat (withdraw) swiftly under the sanctuary of the warm quilts and, hopefully, this time, get a good night's sleep.

However, as the steward answered his unwitting question, he blanched and the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, over the bloodless gooseflesh. His heart wildly palpitated in shock and, cup still poised in mid-air, he fought hard to control a sudden bursting anger.   

"That vixen, this is all her doing."  With a quaking hand he put the cup on the nightstand. "She sure has played me for a fool, and there is no fool like an old fool." He continued with his incensed mutterings. "But this has gone far enough." He steeled himself, “No, do not lose your temper. It will do no good for you to explode. Get a grip on your senses now; this matter must be managed with tact and decorum. Yes, this will require all your faculties, tolerance and the necessary wiles all presented in a rational and reasonable manner.”   

Worren Youkup refused to even consider the alternatives in view of their grim repercussions and quickly pushed all unpleasant speculations away from his mind in favor of the more positive outcomes. Besides, he told himself, it is highly unlikely that anyone, even one as cunning as Egil Viggoaries, would ever fathom the unthinkable. None could ever conceive of, let alone question such a bizarre, far-fetched notion. For the time being at least, he had nothing to fear. Yet his heart in defiance of his will, would not co-operate with the cool calculations of his mind and his rage mounted despite all Worren's efforts to hold his emotions in check as he pieced the events together. All the innocuous incidents, the fragmented questions, actions, and machinations that built up to this denouement fell into place as part of the culprit's expert plan to coerce him into becoming part of this despicable, diabolical plot.

Worren Youkup’s mouth creased into a grimace of pain as indignation burned a pit in the cavity of his chest. He let out a shuddering sigh and shook his head, reflecting on what little consequence the unwillingness of his participation would bring to his eventual judgment. The ridicule that public knowledge of his part in this would bring, he anticipated, would alone be far worse than ten thousand public executions. His integrity was in peril and his head now throbbed with pain as he searched for the best ways to extricate himself from blame and at the same time to preserve the prestige he had held, reveled in for five decades. In seething fury and contempt, he abruptly rose to his feet, overturning the cup he had so carefully just moments before placed at the edge of the night table. Oblivious to the spill, he began to pace the floor, hands clasped firmly behind him, grumbling indecipherable words punctuated by the periodic curse under his breath.

04- WORREN YOUKUP (12)JP

This unexpected, atypical reaction baffled and astonished the steward.  

“I had no idea master cared so much about the Crown Prince.” He bit his lower lip in consternation. “How could I have erred so?”  Like everyone else, he thought that Worren Youkup despised the worthless Prince Herleif, having so often expressed privately his displeasure at Prince’s contemptible conduct.   

Still, the signs of Worren’s mental anguish, the way his face flushed taut with pain and the sweats beaded his brow, were unmistakable and alarmed Steward Chutek. He volunteered immediately to fetch Royal Physician, but Worren would not hear of it.  

"As if I have nothing better to do at this time of the night than be poked and prodded by those overrated ninnies," he griped, glaring at the servant. Worren’s voice however became more even and controlled as he continued, "Their ministrations are quite unnecessary. See to it that I am not disturbed for the remainder of the night, not by anyone."    

"But...But..." Chutek was about to advance an argument that was abruptly cut off short by a gesture of Worren’s hand.  

"I said no one, and that includes you. Now go!"  Having barked out these orders, Worren turned his back to the steward. Chutek stared at the obviously tense shoulders of his master's rigid posture and shook his head in despair, understanding full well that, when Worren Youkup was in this determined state there was no arguing or reasoning with him. He knew his master's obstinate nature extremely well and, therefore, despite strong misgivings he obeyed. Shrugging, he turned and dragged his feet across the room. Just as he cleared the door, he hesitated and, turning informed Worren in a clean, crisp voice that, all the same, he would be stationed outside at arm's length should the old tutor changed his mind or need anything further, anything at all.

05- STEWARD CHUTEK 5- JP

"Sometimes you can be such a pest. Who made you a mother hen?"  His face hidden from the steward, Worren nevertheless donned a smile, touched deeply by Chutek’s deep concern and unwavering loyalty. That was so typical of Chutek, he quietly reflected. To date he had fostered quite a fondness for the steward and felt as protective of the young man as if he had been his own kindred, the son he had always yearned for, yet never could have created (conceived).

Worren Youkup himself, orphaned at an early age, had been raised as the adopted son of the acclaimed scholar Keonz of Curnan Province, who had later held the office of Royal Tutor. As it were, before Zakhertan Yozdek, the position of Royal Tutor’s was esteemed enough to extricate (spare) the acclaimed literate (erudite, academic) from being an obligatory eunuch. Worren Youkup, typically, as soon as he could read and write, had been extensively educated in all the skills necessary for him to one day hold a tutor’s post. When the dynasties changed, it was during this time, as another crucial step to the preparation necessary for Worren Youkup to assume Keonz's post upon his mentor's eventual passing or incapacity that he, at the age of twenty-one, in traditional (age-old) ceremony, had been made a eunuch.   

Worren had always felt that, in a way, Keonz had been more fortunate than himself since the tutor had experienced a normal life up until the time when he had lost his wife and family in a catastrophe and had then chosen to voluntarily become a eunuch to educate Prince Qijerrik.    

“At least he had been given a choice.” Worren groaned, the old bitterness gnawing at him. Sub-human, Worren had inwardly termed all eunuchs, including him, and had carried a deep sense of loss and resentment since that time. He had always kept this resentment secret; however, absolving his adopted father from all blame, for Worren’s code of moral conduct which included absolute filial piety, demanded nothing less.

“After all, my prominent position had enabled me to enjoy the uninterrupted and otherwise enviable life of pace and luxury.” Worren endeavouring to lift his spirits out of the abyss, shrugged. “And I escaped all those years of persecution, which had so often plagued my counterparts (equivalents).”  His worries somehow assuaged, Worren reflected on another piece of luck that had facilitated this satisfactory long life. Sometime in the past, Worren no less brilliant than his peers, had had the good fortune of being in position (being able) to extricate young Zakhertan Yozdek from a tight, dire situation and the Sovereign's memory had been long. Furthermore, since Worren Youkup had never openly repudiated Zakhertan Yozdek’s usurpation of the Throne, this, and his past good deed, had spared him the worst of the indignities and barbarous tortures that had been meted out to the other scholars during those terrible years of the purges. This special treatment had been a two-edged sword however, for it had also alienated him from all the close associates he had cultivated in his previous years.

Had Worren not been a pragmatist, he would have ended his own life in protest over the atrocities; as it were, after the tumultuous times had passed, he had been reinstated to his former position. In this contemptible gilded cage hence, he had executed his duties mechanically, seeing to three consecutive Royal offspring’s proper education, till one day he hoped to be rescued, from this mundane and frivolous existence, by the peaceful sleep of long-awaited death.  

Worren Youkup’s thoughts reverted to Chutek, and he again cogitated (ruminated) on how fortunate he had been thus far to have at this late stage of life, a comforting companion, who was much more than a steward, by his side. Chutek reminded him in so many ways his old young self, but of course Cutek was also different in characteristics, he wished he could have had. Chutek had entered his service in his early adolescence and under most bizarre circumstance and even though Chutek had come from an uncouth peasant family, he had from the first endeared himself to him and as well established a good reputation among his peers by his extraordinary intelligence, keen observations, sensitivity and, above all, his compassionate heart which was almost a rarity in Channing. 

06- OTHER STEWARDS AND STAFF

 

Indeed, Chutek was different, had always been different from the bunch living, sham coexisting or thriving in capital city. Most incredible, he had not been hardened by the harsh experiences (trials) of life, even though he had suffered more than his fair share of it. Unable to meet their tax burden one year, his father had sold the youngest son Chutek into bondage to keep the rest of the family out of prison. It had been a vein effort, for trouble came nevertheless and Chutek had never seen any of them alive again. At the tender age of nine he had been orphaned and left at the mercy of ravenous wolves that prayed on such hapless, unsullied brood. Cursed with striking good looks, he had quite early on unfortunately, drawn the unwarranted attention from a lascivious official, who had jumped at the chance to secure the boy for his own licentious uses. Heaven only knows what that poor lad had (endured) suffered at the hands of that vile beast. Chutek, up to the present day, had refused to make any mention of those six ignominious years that corrupt official had enslaved him.   

With a certain understanding and sympathy for the steward's pain, Worren Youkup had never pressed to learn, although he knew enough to make an accurate guess at it. He had after all, seen the scars permanently imprinted (crisscrossed, etched) at the boy's back and chest, which had borne a mute testament to six years of abuse. Worren cringed as he pictured it in his mind, shaking his head and hissing out a long breath as if to dispel all the fierce indignation and anger that once more welled up anew within him. Chutek’s face however, for economic reasons, had been spared from being marred; and it brought little comfort to the tutor to remember that the official had paid dearly for his crimes.

Charged with extortion, the minor functionary, Worren Youkup could no longer recall his name, had suffered apt torture at the hands of Egil Viggoaries's officers before an ignominious public execution. Since the crime had fallen under Provincial authority the entire holdings of the man and his family, including all the servants, had then been confiscated by the Governor Yenokos of Kentor Province for proper disposal in accordance with existing law. As luck would have it, Worren on his special time off and wanting to get away from Channing, anon had accompanied his good friend Lukes when he was assigned on a state inspection to Kentor Province. They were being entertained at the Governor's mansion when Worren had chanced on Chutek. Worren was infuriated when the Governor Yenokos, seeing the boy was favored, smiled enigmatically, and looked at them both with undisguised calculation in his eyes. However, the pragmatic tutor had masked his disgust and indignation long enough to rescue the boy from the clutches of that despicable opportunist.

07- GOVERNOR YENOKOS

As anticipated subsequent day, wishing to curry favor, Governor Yenokos had only been too eager to make a gift of Chutek to Worren. Politely refusing this bribe, Worren had nonetheless later, as if in afterthought, had legally purchased the boy and sent him on ahead to be added, as a kitchen staff, to those in his employ. Of course, this was included as a small insert in Lukes’s extensive report to Zakhertan Yozdek and, despite the Governor's hopes; Yenokos still suffered the inevitable, downfall two months later.

Soon as he was back in Channing Worren initiated measures to free Chutek from bondage, giving him the option to select his own preferred livelihood (trade, vocation);  at his own behest however, Chutek had joined the ranks of the Eunuchs in the Palace and later still, became the new steward to Worren, whom he had served faithfully ever since. Sadly, Worren's partiality towards Chutek from the beginning had incurred the animosity of envious (green-eyed) Prince Herleif and consequently, the boy had suffered additional hardships and humiliations with his characteristic, stoic silence. Each time (whenever) Worren Youkup had found out about the harassment and put a stop to it, the spiteful (malicious) Prince had only become more adamant in his persecution. Committed to breaking Chutek's resilience, Prince Herleif with a surprising determination and cunning had consistently redoubled his efforts, as well as, drummed up support from among the other boys of his age at the palace, for his wanton (malicious) vindictive assaults (attacks) on Chutek.   

Worren Youkup, with his mind reeling with such concerns, for several minutes had remained rooted to the spot with his back to the door and stared blankly out the window into the darkness.

“This fresh trouble with Prince Herleif, the bane of my past and now present trouble, will certainly involve Chutek; and I fear this time I may not be able to extricate him from dire harm.” Worren thoughtfully nodded and sighed. “All those countless hours I'd wasted on Prince Herleif, trying to instill some goodness and benevolence in him, it was all, to no avail.” Worren Youkup pursed his lips, dismally reflecting on the fact that no amount of effort or discipline had ever gotten through to Prince’s selfish, greedy heart. “He’d always been and would always be an unconscionable, devious brute.”     

 And there was no denying what everyone knew but kept silent on: Prince Herleif, most unlike the revered Prince Qijerrik, had precious few good qualities to speak of. There was one thing, nevertheless, that Prince Herleif excelled in; since early childhood he had shown a rare, uncanny talent in astrological interpretations and, accepting the encouragement of others in this one field, he had gone on to surpass all expectations.  

Recalling the results that Prince Herleif had obtained in the past, Worren realized that the predictions had indeed always been of good account, not that it mattered to him now. The old tutor's opinions on the art were akin to those of Zakhertan Yozdek; lending the art no real credence despite all the prophecies he saw fulfilled, for he was sure there were many more predictions that were off target and therefore not remembered. He did find the exercise useful in much the same way as the Sovereign, as a source of entertainment for the higher classes and a means of manipulating the thoughts of the crowd and it did serve yet another purpose in that, for a few hours every night, it kept Prince Herleif out of trouble. For the latter reason Worren had kept his opinions on astrology to himself in order not to discourage the prince on the only endeavor for which he had shown any real promise.

Now, Lady Sejon's interest in the arcane philosophies was of a more recent vintage, Worren mused. But that was to be expected of the fairer sex. Still, with clear hindsight he wished he had not been so forthcoming about the recent, most dire, predictions concerning the present Regime. Prince Herleif had always run his findings past Worren first, so the old man could function as a sounding board, but Sejon had demanded proof of these findings when told, which once asked for, was difficult for Worren to refuse. He could well understand that her chief concern was for her child (toddler) Magnian. She had implored him, saying she could not rest until she had learned the specifics and as she believed, try making even a doomed effort to alter the future's bleak outcome.    

As it was within his means to help her, she asked that he borrow the Prince Herleif’s latest astrological work and show them to her. Then by applying her own knowledge in the field she could examine the findings herself. The scrolls would be returned afterwards, and no one would be the wiser.    

It seemed such a harmless request, and the alternative, her temper tantrums, and her wrath (fiery fury), would have been far more of a nuisance. Inwardly he had been amused by her naivety and had understood well her natural averting (avoidance), of having any direct dealings with Crown Prince. Besides, who could blame her for not wanting to feel obligated to one such as Herleif? Despite the outward congenial exchanges and though close in age,   

Worren suspected that those two had been in truth, anything but adversaries. In fact, Worren Youkup could not remember there ever been an issue they did not clash over except this prophecy. Feeling that the prince Herleif was quite unreasonable nuisance to begin with, for being so miserly (niggardly) with his findings, wanting always to extricate most recompense from each result, he had seen no reason he should not comply with her wishes. Who would have thought that innocuous act he had been persuaded to do, would land him in such serious predicament.  

All this trouble had germinated from the one harmless, yet evil kernel that had been planted, none the less, with his consent.

08- WORREN YOUKUP (13)JP

  

Worren Youkup looked down, re-examining the akin (copy, duplicate) document, chewing his lower lip as he admonished himself for not standing firm in his long-time resolve of noninterference. He should never ever have consented to the Lady's request. Oh, but she had been so wily (canny) with her persuasion. She had made him feel so special, entreating him so humbly while same time artfully buttressing (building up) and stroking his ego. It had simply melted his heart when she had looked up to him with those beseeching eyes with flickering (fluttering) eyelashes, appearing oh so vulnerable, so very helpless.    

“Those two are, as the saying goes, cut from the same cloth.” Worren Youkup grumbled under his breath and nodded. With hindsight now, he marvelled at the proficiency in the obviously kept up sham which had masked the actual truth. Those two were and always had been serious competitors. Worren Youkup felt foolish for not having realized till now, the full measure of it.  

“She was far from helpless doddering fool! The more is the pity that you had not figured her out beforehand. Anyone looking at the way she behaved would have reckoned she was up to no good.”    

Unexpectedly once more, her angelic face floated before his mind's eye and part of him, even now, looked for ways to absolve her from all blame. “She had not, likely, planned it at all, only when the circumstances presented themselves that she had astutely seized the opportunity (chance). Who could blame her.”  But the damning, irrefutable evidence rushed forward again to trouble his heart and force him to face the dreaded humiliating truth, that he was indubitably, used!   

Worren Youkup shuddered, imagining the far worse repercussions that could have happened with such an unpredictable person as Zakhertan Yozdek as it was things still looked pretty grim. Egil Viggoaries had been put on the case and given only three days starting at dawn to arrest the culprits and report back. Royal Tutor feared for the countless innocents that would suffer under his ruthless investigation.

“What to do? What to do?”  

 

(END OF SECTION 8)