THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 11

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC- THE STATE OF THINGS- SECTION 11

Fradel, resolved to tell all, nodded and then solemnly confessed: "The venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald, in truth was my adopted father, who’d rescued me from the clutches of death and raised me as his own all these years. This fact was revealed to me on his death bed."

Svein empathetically listened to it, as Fradel gradually unfolded the threads of his confidential, distressing past:

Zukan Rurik Korvald, a celebrated scholar of his time, one faithful day on a return trip after visiting a close relative, propitiously (impulsively) requiring some respite, had had his boat moored on the banks of the river Tua, just a short distance from a bridge.  He had interrupted his journey craving also, to partake (imbibe) a particular fine wine (a special brew he’d procured from a winery), while absorbing proper appreciation of the marvelous scenery that enhanced that region. 

Subsequently inspired, he’d composed some brilliant stanzas that were later to be highly prized by the gentry; just before dusk, he’d laid down his brush and returned to his cabin to recline for a short repose (rest) when, the blowing of horns and the approaching thunder of hooves drove him back up on deck.

From afar, he had then witnessed the gruesome tragedy of two people, unfortunate enough to be caught on the bridge and, failing to clear the way, being trampled by Zakhertan Yozdek's unruly steed as he led his mounted contingent in a fearsome race over the hills, leaving a trail of dust behind. Overriding the protests of his boatmen, Zukan Rurik Korvald still sent his two trusted servants to the bridge to assess the damage and, perhaps, lend some curative help to the unfortunate victims.  As expected, their report of the couple's fate came as no surprise to anyone.  The couple had been trampled to death; however, the mother's quick action, as she'd used her body to shield her infant son from the deadly onslaught had spared the baby from a certain death.  The chief steward, not knowing what else to do, had returned with the scrawny, bawling infant in his arms.

The captain and crew put up a strong resistance to having the baby on board, arguing that this was no small matter.  Refusing to become involved, the captain had strongly advised Zukan to dispose of the infant along with his parents’ corpses into the river.

 "Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek,” he'd vehemently warned, "is not one to be trifled with.  You're a stranger to these parts; you don't know the half of it.  If you value your life, you'd best forget all you've seen today.  The law can't touch mighty Field-Marshall, so save yourself from sure future calamity.  This infant is not worth the serious trouble which it could beget, not only for you but for us all."

"Nonsense; no one is above the law!" Zukan had exploded.  Ordinarily a mild-mannered nobleman, he had regretted this outburst immediately and thus added calmly, "I'll deal with this in my own way, you will not be involved."

As a man of integrity and chivalrous character, the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald had delayed his departure from this region thence, in order to appear before the local Magistrate, named Luoki, to demand justice for two unidentified, dead peasants.

 Magistrate Luoki and the other prominent local authorities, disgruntled atop quaking with fear, had shown reluctance, furthermore, banding together had done their best to discourage Zukan from this dangerous pursuit.  Discreetly, and unofficially, the scholar was counseled to leave well enough alone and was again told that Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek was too powerful a man to offend.

“This misdemeanor,” as they called the murder of two peasants, who were obviously also strangers to the region, “was too light a charge to even think of summoning Field Marshal Zakhertan before a rural court to give account.”

 The Magistrate had, meanwhile, wrapped up the case quickly and efficiently, after his subordinates had obtained (secured) false evidence from the boatmen and his crew, all of it substantiating the final verdict, the pronouncing of the couple's death, a deliberate act of a double suicide.   

Outnumbered, Zukan Rurik Korvald’s protests had, via other measures, been totally curtailed; he was rendered powerless to beget any justice for the innocent victims. In this way, though, local authorities and the deemed ungrateful Zukan Rurik Korvald, were shielded from the certain future wrath of Field Marshal Zakhertan Yozdek.

The matter thus summarily settled; the Magistrate Luoki demanded next, that the child be turned over to the authorities for his proper disposal.  Rather than surrendering, however, Zukan and his servants fled the area under cover of night.

Later Zukan had sent a trusted aide back to the region under disguise in order to make discrete investigations into the identity of the victims and about any prior (erstwhile) links (relations, possible family, contacts).  When this effort proved to be in vain, Zukan had embraced the child as his own and, since he was himself childless, named the infant Fradel Rurik Korvald.

Quite discontented with the rampant corruption under Zakhertan Yozdek's growing power, observing how the Field-Marshall’s hands gripped the nation's neck, choking tightly until the pulse ceased its flow; the indignant (aristocrat) scholar Zukon, had eventually been constrained (forced) to become a recluse.

Zukan's peaceful domain was so completely insulated that it allowed no outside infiltration at all.  Fradel had grown up perfectly schooled in literary skills and religion, cocooned in this tranquil atmosphere, oblivious to the harsh realities in the so-called civilized world outside.  The truth about his parentage was revealed to him only at Zukan's death bed.  Unfortunately, before the three years of mourning for the venerable Zukan Rurik Korvald was over and Fradel had fully explored his avenues of vengeance against Zakhertan, Fradel had been summoned to court.

Fradel at this point, falling silent, had pensively looked away beyond the curtainless window, to observe the night sky dotted with blinking stars.

"It is as I had expected,” Svein (Nevetsecnuac) just then rejoined with fire in his eyes, startling Fradel from his ephemeral brooding (ruminating).  "We share the same purpose, you and I.” Svein smiled and then nodded. “It may have started as a personal vendetta, but it has now gone far beyond that, hasn't it?"  Svein, next, answered Fradel's silent query. "Yes, my parents and all my family, too, were cruelly murdered by Zakhertan Yozdek."

Fradel gazed at Svein nonplused, realizing only then that, despite the intense and extensive interchange that led them to the brink of becoming sworn brothers, he still knew virtually nothing of Svein's background.  How far can I hinge on this blind faith?

But before Fradel could give voice to his thoughts, Svein inquired directly and with sincere concern, "Your courage and aim are both most commendable, Fradel; and I don’t wish to give offense, however, it is obvious that you lack both knowledge and skill in pertinent strategy, medicine, toxins or Martial Arts.  How do you propose to best (assassinate) this most formidable foe Zakhertan Yozdek? Lest I miss something vital, may I be permitted to learn of your plan?  Besides, I doubt that you have ever killed an animal, let alone a human being."

"You are quite correct in your supposition.” Fradel replied coolly.  "I've always been opposed to the taking of life.  I've espoused the philosophy of Zuox which holds that 'All life, its form and expression, is sacred.  They must be cherished and preserved.'  But that hardly applies to a villain like Zakhertan, a monster arrayed (clothed) in human form.  I'm well aware of the past, unsuccessful, numerous attempts on usurper Monarch's life.  Though I have comparatively little fighting ability, this inadequacy does not deter me from my noble aim.  I have the will, and I am prepared to die to attain justice for my parents and for my countrymen.  The monster must be made to atone for his crimes."  As he vehemently expressed his hatred of Zakhertan once more, he grew quite flushed, his ears burned, and his voice grew hoarse.

"You have echoed the sentiments of my own heart.” Svein responded thoughtfully when the other fell silent.  "But, Fradel, this is no small task, and it should not be taken lightly.  I, at least, was trained and conditioned since childhood for such a purpose while you were not.  Every fabric of my being stands in readiness for this fight.  Far be it that I should deter you from your just cause, but I fear that your noble attributes, exceptional courage may not be enough; why, then, should you throw your life away?”

"No.", Svein waved a dissenting hand to still the retort forming on Fradel's tongue.  "Please hear me out first.  A man can only die once.  All that I ask is that you postpone your vengeance until I have had a go at it first.  In the event that I should fail then it will be your turn.  By then, perhaps, you would have attained the necessary skill and be able to succeed where others before you have failed."

"I know that you mean well, Svein, and I will certainly take your words under advisement.” Fradel stubbornly replied.  "Still, being the least likely person to attack the Monarch, I would have the element of surprise on my side and may be more likely to inflict a mortal wound on him.  He is on his guard with formidable men (civil or military) with fine physiques, wary of fighters of all sorts (male or female), dissident scholars or any citizen with adverse views.  But he would never suspect a nature loving recluse such as I.  I’m aware of the fact that his elite security has checked me out thoroughly."  Fradel stopped and went over to his luggage and began rummaging around inside.  Finding what he sought for, he withdrew an antique-looking writing brush and presented it with a flourish.  "Besides, this provides me with the perfect means of killing him."

Suppressing a chuckle, Svein queried, "And how, may I ask, do you propose to use that?  However, genius a contraption, a concealed weapon in the form of a brush would be detected at once.”

Ignoring Svein's obvious misgivings, Fradel smiled wryly and pointed the bristles of the brush towards the headboard.  Instantly a small metal dart buried itself with a twang half-way into the wood.

 As Svein went to retrieve the dart, Fradel removed a small, wooden box from his pocket and opening it, announced, "This is no ordinary ink box.  It contains the highly noxious ink that can paralyze the heart within seconds of coming in contact with the skin.  Loading the brush for writing laces the tip of the dart and a concealed trigger launches it.  This trick should bring about Zakhertan's destruction instantly. “

“I most certainly will be searched for concealed weapons before I'm brought into his presence, but they would not take away the tools of my trade; I need these to fulfill my purpose in being summoned there.  I ask you; would anyone suspect the simple writing implement of a non-political, scholarly recluse?"

"It seems you’ve given this a lot of thought.  And admittedly it’s the most ingenious device. The barbed dart is most cleverly camouflaged as one of the bristles.  Now suppose you are fortunate enough that it does escape the meticulous scrutiny (search) of the elite security. But the target may not be such an easy one to hit.  Zakhertan Yozdek is renowned for his military prowess; he's reportedly unsurpassed in agility, strength, and cunning.  Moreover, he might be wearing under his court vestments, light metal armor (cuirass, shield); you, taking that into account, no doubt plan to aim for his neck, hand or face. Nevertheless, with his incredible reflexes he may still successfully elude the dart and what then?    Have you an alternate plan to follow in this one's wake?"

"No!” Fradel stamped his foot in vexation.  In truth, he had not configured every possibility, and, Svein’s points had certain validity.  Going against such a formidable foe he should have devised a more plausible secondary, even a tertiary plan to fall back on in order to ensure his success.  He sat down to ponder with a sinking heart.

"Do not lose heart, brother, for I shall not fail.  The monster's days are numbered."  Svein lightly tapped Fradel's shoulder in consolation.

Svein's addressing him as "brother" recalled to Fradel’s mind, his earlier resolve.  Rising to his feet, he proposed that, since there were now no obstacles, they should take the oath of brotherhood without further delay; after which they could plan at length how best he and Svein, as individuals or jointly, could best serve their cause.  But it was now Svein's turn to (hesitate) show reserve; nevertheless, in the brief silence that ensued, Svein had swiftly resolved his inner quandary.  Svein sincerely addressing Fradel, first asked forgiveness for his prior deception, and then drawing near, in a low voice revealed the name of his mentor, Lord Asger Thuxur Marrow Zhon, and subsequently, confessed to his true identity.

Overcoming his shock, Fradel was about to drop to his knees to show his proper respect, when he was swiftly, courteously, stopped by Nevetsecnuac.  “Since they were practically brothers already,” Nevetsecnuac, same time had reasoned, “such formalities were quite unwarranted.”

"But I, the orphan son of lowly peasants, am unworthy of such great honor.  I cannot hope to ever become the sworn brother of a Prince (Nevtsecnuac Alric Therrain Valamir).” Fradel protested.

"You have now offended me deeply, brother.” Nevetsecnuac frowned.  “I never figured you to be so pompous.  After all that we have shared, nothing has changed between us."

 The emotion filled speech that followed, imbued with such humility and honesty so overwhelmed Fradel that, his eyes brimming with tears, he finally acquiesced.

In the private ceremony that followed, the Prince and the Scholar both fell to their knees facing south.  Voicing their petition to the Heavenly Gods, they swore an oath before them to be brothers for life.  After a small cut was inflicted on each one’s index finger, the dripping blood was then collected in a ceramic goblet half filled with wine.  Taking the cup in both hands, Nevetsecnuac ceremoniously presented it to Fradel, calling him elder brother as Fradel was five years his senior.  Receiving the cup, Fradel drank the first sip from it then, with just as much ceremony, offered it to Nevetsecnuac, addressing him as his younger brother.  After Nevetsecnuac had obliged, the cup was hurled against the fireplace and broke into a thousand fragments, sealing the oath forever.  The (sudden) just then rising winds outside vigorously rattled the shutters as if in shared joy and approval.

Nevetsecnuac and Fradel, now as brothers sat across from each other and toasted to their future success. As they partook the wine, they reminisced about family members and dear friends that could not be there; later still, slightly inebriated, they drowned their sorrows in yet more capfuls of wine. 

During this time Fradel was told of the great deeds and sacrifices of Lord Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon, Lord Shonne Gulbrand, Lu Moldan and the rest, marveling at their greatness, loyalty and scope of heroic attributes, comparing each to the legendary historical figures.

As the topic gradually veered towards the exacting of vengeance, Fradel asked Nevetsecnuac if he had on him the special ID Permit, a vital official (two-part) document essential in allowing one access to Capital Province Holger and then to Imperial city Channing.

Nevetsecnuac shook his head in the negative, then asked, "An ID Permit? This is the first time I’ve heard of such a requisite."

"Just as I suspected,” Fradel nodded thoughtfully.  "But that's to be expected."  He went on to explain that few officials, never mind influential citizens, were aware of the necessity for such a certificate, even though its use had been strictly enforced by the authorities in the Capital province, Holger, for half a year now.  He recounted how he, himself, would have been caught unawares, had it not been for the Palace Guard's explicit reminder when he'd delivered the summons from the Court.

"I'm afraid that, without it, entry to the Capital is impossible.” Fradel intoned grimly. 

"This strict measure had been put into effect after a latest, nearly successful attempt on Zakhertan's life by a small group of very competent assassins.  I have heard undisputed claims that since then, Imperial City Channing has been sealed like a fortress, allowing no entry or egress without proper authorization.”

It was most fortunate, indeed, that we talked long enough for me to recall this important detail otherwise, being caught at the gate without this official permit; you would have instantly been apprehended for questioning.  Your aim would have been frustrated very early on."

"Then I must act to secure for myself such documents,” came Nevetsecnuac's decisive response.  "Can I rely on your guidance and assistance, brother?"

"You don't understand the degree of difficulty involved.” Fradel shook his head. 

"It's not a question of my assistance, brother; I wish it was that easy.  I'm afraid that these two-part documents can only be obtained at your birthplace and are issued only by the resident Governor for a considerable fee.  You must also produce at least three other notable residents as witnesses.  Even under the best of circumstances, such a process could not be completed within a month."

Fradel drew out the documents from their protective covering of waxed parchment and pointed an explicit finger to the top left corner of one of them where, sealed under gum Arabic, a provincial court artist had drawn the poet's likeness.  Nevetsecnuac's eyes followed, with increasing misgivings and a heavier heart, the list of Fradel's identifying particulars, his physical description, parent's name, age and birthplace and finally, at the bottom, the long trail of official seals.

"Due to the urgency of summons necessitating my prompt departure, the obliging Lord and the new governor, Mojen, spared me the time and difficulty of procuring necessary documentation.  Taking me at my word, they acted as my guarantors and expediently processed the ID Permit with all due haste." Fradel, pensively(thoughtfully), meanwhile, had continued. "Of course, even if I did have the ID Documents of my deceased servants still in my possession,” Fradel interjected, "their particulars are so vastly different from yours that, I'm afraid, they still would have been of no use to you."

Having recently buried the men, Nevetsecnuac concurred with a nod of his head; meanwhile, it had become clear to Nevetsecnuac that without proper verification, he could never obtain, not at any length of time, this kind of vital documentation. 

"What is to be done, then?” he gave voice to his fret (hassle).  "How can I beat this unexpected hindrance (hurdle)?  I must seek another ingenious means to override this serious obstacle." Nevetsecnuac distractedly followed Fradel's bold strides to and for, as the scholar presently paced the room in contemplation.

"But, of course!” Nevetsecnuac jumped up in elation.  "Why didn’t I think of this before?"

Startled, Fradel grabbed Nevetsecnuac's arm.  "What is it, brother?"

"The answer to our dilemma is right before us. The problem has already been resolved by none other than you, brother." Nevetsecnuac responded with a bemused smile.

"Me? How?"

"Elder Brother, it just struck me how similar in appearance we are.  For instance, are we both relatively of the same height and bearing and share similar facial features?  Fortunately, due to haste, the hair and eye coloring were not precise. With a beard, could I not pass for twenty-five?"

"What an idea!" Fradel chortled.

 "I knew there was something about you I liked."  His eyes dwelt on Nevetsecnuac with a new intensity as he surveyed the prince’s features.  "Yes, it is possible." he had to concur.  "I must be getting muddle headed, strange how this simple solution eluded me."

"That's because, elder brother, despite all my previous reasoning you still harbor the desire to press on by yourself.  How stubborn you are."  Nevetsecnuac teased, shaking a finger at him.

Donning a long face, Fradel turned an aimless gaze to the crackling flames of the fire.  An inexplicable sadness just then, gripping his heart.

 

(END OF SECTION 11)

 

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)

                                                                                 ~

 

STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 9

03- KUER AND HIS WIFE LUOKIL

Dokurak most thankful of the fact he had a sympathetic ear, with a secret purpose in mind had ceaselessly unburdened his heart: “Beginning a new life with only a measly pittance I had concealed from the authorities, I first purchased some worthless piece of land and after initializing irrigation, proper crop rotation and a great deal of work, managed to turn my luck around.  Soon the land began to yield a good return, enough at least for me to properly care for my children. “Dokurak, falling silent for a spell, looked down.

“Unfortunately, the former owner who’d sold the land to me for a song now regretted his hasty decision; additionally, most envious of me for the beget bounty (profits), have harbored a personal grudge against me.  That was the precursor of my fresh troubles.” Dokurek pensively shook his head.

"When my eventual pardon arrived, and I was allowed to settle permanently in this region I ignored my neighbor’s envy and animosity and falsely thought that the past had finally been put safely behind me. For a short while things looked promising. My sons, meanwhile, going against my will and ignoring my good counsel, chose not the agrarian (farming, rural) livelihood (occupation), but that of erudite (literate).  Then again, there was a measure of leniency in the law and a few good posts and desirable government positions were once again being made available to promising learnt (scholarly) candidates.    Gradually I relaxed my vigilance and even allowed my heart the joyful pride when one of my sons, Kuer, was promoted to a good position in the Magistrate's office.”

"How was I to know?  How could I phantom that some unscrupulous, grasping officials would, within a decade, instigate yet another onslaught against the Literate?  You see, in their greed, they had come to realize the immense profits that could be reaped from the land and property holdings of the successful intellectuals (scholars).”

"Zakhertan Yozdek, a military man and an autocratic landholder, had, despite his outward policies of leniency, still harbored in the crux of his being a deep contempt for the scholars because of their analytical (logical, critical) way of thinking and their accrued (amassed, retained in mind) vast reservoirs of knowledge of past rulers.  Meanwhile the extensive military campaigns he had waged to secure his throne and Wenjenkun’s borders had nearly depleted the treasury.  The Office of Revenue was already hard pressed to come up with additional sums via (by means of) burdening taxes and forced labor, and besides, extra funds were now needed for the new campaign against Korion.

“It took only a little persuasion and a staged incident by the new Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, to make the literati into scapegoats once more.  Thus, the holdings of these affluent families were laid open for pillage and were sold at auction once the unfortunates had been blamed for the discontent, turmoil and hardships that plagued the country.”

Dokurak suddenly stopped talking and after his long, dubious look at Fradel, his voice tinged with jealousy, he said:

“You have really been most fortunate, Serek Vern (Fradel Rurik Korvald), to have escaped these disasters… these genocides.  I wish that I had been empowered to do the same for my sons.  You see, I had the foresight; right at the beginning of it all, I had read the signs and predicted the outcome. The ill-fate hovering at cusp (verge, edge), over the horizon, had left all too prevalent signs for anyone intelligent or discerning, to be wary.  Foolishly, though, I imagined that my pardon and the quiet, model (exemplary) life I had led, would exempt me and my two sons from all of this impending (looming) catastrophe” Dokurek shook his head then sullenly bit the corner of his lip.

"My second mistake was to place too great a store in my influential friends and the Magistrate that had mentored Kuer.  I could not envision that they, too, would collude with my enemies and turn on me for a share of the gain.  Of that, I am sure.  That oversight, unfortunately, was my gravest mistake and for years I've been eaten alive inside, bit by slow bit, by the burden of regret I've carried in my heart.” Dokuek desisting tears, wrung his hands.

"My heart aches so sorely (agonizingly) whenever I think of my two boys…my poor, innocent boys!  When the disaster fell Kuer had been married two years and, what's more, his beautiful, virtuous wife, Luokil, was carrying my grandson. “

"But alas, my world once more collapsed when Kuer and Ruek were arrested and taken away in chains.  I knew that the charges brought against them were pure fabrication, that there was no solid evidence at all to convict them on, so I immediately dispensed generous sums in bribing the right officials trying to buy justice and extricate my sons from (false) blame. “

 “All my efforts were in vain, however, for they wanted it all.  My property was confiscated in the blink of an eye and sold for the state's gain to the very same people who had laid the false charges against us.  I was again, shortly after,  reduced to a beggar's state.”

“Kuer was well liked and had countless influential friends but none; none dared to speak up on his behalf when...” Dokurek, abruptly stopping,  bit hard the corner of his lip; anger and despair registering in his pupils, he looked yet again  in the direction of the large mount, quite oblivious of the trickling blood that slowly made its way down his chin.

"You can't imagine the anguish I felt at seeing my boys, as they were dragged mercilessly down the street in chains, then …. Then… buried alive under that accursed big mound." Dokurek swallowed and pointed.

"But not a whimper escaped their lips.  My heroic sons!  I would have ended my own miserable existence right then and there, but I summoned all my courage to live on, enduring misery and humiliation in order to care for my unborn grandson.” Dokurek swallowed hard, and eyes brimming with tears, he dismally (gloomily) shook his head.

“Alas, as cruel fate is, he and his mother both died in childbirth. She went into labor soon after she had witnessed her husband's murder, you see."  Pointing to the two smaller mounds under the weeping willow tree, adjacent to the big mound, Dokurek lamented in a choked voice, "They lie there, close to my son Kuer and Ruek.  I cared for their graves all this time and offered continuous prayers for their comfortable existence in the afterlife.  Now I'm old, too old and too feeble to be of much use to anyone.  I would have joined them long ago, but I have not a soul to count on to bury these old bones and I have nothing left to barter with."  He buried his head in his hands.

"Oh, all those years, how could I have been so foolish? How could I have been so utterly beguiled?” He lamented. “It’s taken me a lifetime to see the error of my ways.  My eyes are finally opened. But what good is all that now? If only I’d listened to my younger brother’s words for, he was right all along, right about a lot of things.  I’m filled with endless remorse that eats at my soul?”

“Still Heaven, it seems, has at long last taken pity on me."  Dokurek abruptly looked up, smiling wryly and, with the back of his hand, wiped away the deluge of tears that soaked his pallid cheeks and neck.

 "For here you are … Good sir, can I impose on you, can I rely on your compassion and good graces to perhaps trouble you, to do me this one last great favor?"

Fradel was nonplused by Dokurek's imploring gaze and, understanding his meaning, frowned.  "I shall not be party to your murder sir.  Surely you have many long years still ahead.  Do not despair.  You have persevered this long, undergone so much; perhaps an emancipated future..."

Before Fradel could finish the old man had flashed a blade he had concealed deep within the folds of his rags.  With a swiftness that belied his age, giving Fradel no chance to move, Dokurek buried the knife hilt-deep into his chest. But missing his heart just barely, he lived long enough to still implore Serek (Fradel).

"I do not deserve your kindness, sir. Ugg…. Still, I know you will not disappoint me.  Far too long have I endured this loneliness, burdensome guilt and unbearable heartache?  I make no excuses now and accept full blame for my past miserable life choices. Having paid some penance; let me embrace fate and join them now.  Please, pray that we all find peace in the… afterlife." He gasped his last breath and, (blood oozing from his mouth,) was no more.

Fradel had done the right thing by Dokurek and, although he had buried the old man's body in a mound next to his grandson and daughter-in-law under the same willow, all rites duly carried out, he still carried away with him the pain of Dokurek’s misspent life.

 

                                                                                    ~

Fradel was from then on burdened with a series of fresh concerns.  The guilt ate at him to the crux of his heart: guilt for being spared, for having led a privileged life of ignorance while so many had perished.  Fradel now pondered: Had he (Fradel) the right to do what he planned?  Wouldn't his intended actions unleash yet another bout of purges resulting in blood baths and fresh persecution of the Literati? 

This was at the root of Fradel's dilemma as he rode away from the graves beside the ruined hut.

Fradel, tersely now, as if with a special understanding, nodded.  Yes, things being the way they are, whatever I do will have little bearing.  The outcome would invariably be the same.  So long as evil reigns (rule) supreme and corruption festers like locusts on this land, salvation will be a distant dream for everyone.

                                                                                          

(END OF SECTION 9)

                                                                                              ~

 

THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 8

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE STATE OF THINGS - SECTION 8

 DOKUREK'S WIFE KELI

Once again, seated across from Serek Vern (Fradel), Dokurek explained, "I did not take that precaution for my own sake, you understand.  I know that you trust them, but one can never fathom the depths of another man's heart."  The old man shrugged.

The possibility of his men being informants was unthinkable.  They'd been with Fradel as long as he could remember but, so as not to antagonize Dokurek, he stilled the protests on his tongue and let the old man collect his thoughts.

"All right, I suppose I should start with the scholar Taok Therkan.", Dokurek commenced.

Taok Therkan, Fradel learned, was a brilliant, prolific writer and a just minister.  While still in his teens Taok had summarized his political thoughts in several brilliant works that were then circulated among the literati and politicians alike, winning him both instant fame and a reputation for controversy.

“But then with the political shift, the freedom of speech, once widely enjoyed under the old regime, was the first casualty, first tenet to disappear under the rule of Zakhertan Yozdek.” Dokurek dismally shook his head. “But hey, I’m getting ahead of myself…. Let me see, yes, from the first day Taok Therkan had assumed office; he had fought uncompromisingly against corruption in the court, continued to do so, right up to his untimely end.”

“Earlier on, becoming acutely aware of the deep roots of the corruption and the manifest danger to the reigning monarch Taok had, against all friendly advice, sent in his memorial, to His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.  In it he strongly advocated positive reforms to be carried out in the government that would have curtailed the influence and power of certain military and civil officials and their cohorts among the dominant gentry.  Though he had carefully avoided using any names, a specific reference to a matter overseen by the office of the Minister of War had earned the good minister Taok the undying animosity of Ovan Kustan.”

“Minister of War Ovan Kustan was not a man to be crossed.  With the cooperation of the Prime Minister, Morvald, and the blessings of Field Marshall Zakhertan Yozdek, he used his powerful clique at court to accuse Taok Therkan of such heinous crimes that his instant execution was a certainty.  However, the benevolent and wise Majesty (Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir) favored Taok's integrity and suspected foul play.  His Highness ordered another independent, in-depth inquiry into the incident.  Unfortunately, the efforts of the investigators were obstructed from the start.  His Royal Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir, in his wisdom, still suspected a conspiracy, even though no proof could be obtained that would substantiate his intuition and extricate Taok from blame.” 

“Taking into consideration Taok's invaluable service to His Highness and the State, the extreme penalty was hence averted; Taok Therkan was instead, demoted to the rank of Census Official and banished to the remote frontier province of Birgerchi.”

Dokurek’s father had played host to the good minister on his way into exile; during which time, Taok had left such an indelible impression on Dokurek’s younger brother Yutzu that he decided to follow a literati pursuit instead of a military calling.

In exile Taok had continued to serve his Monarch with unwavering loyally for seven more years. Birgerchi prospered and citizens enjoyed lasting peace following Taok’s precedent guidelines of not accepting any bribes and benefiting from Taok’s expanded administrative obligations to run a judicious office. 

Zakhertan Yozdek, meanwhile, was amassing greater power through land acquisitions and secret military buildup, furthering his influence in Court through a strategic marriage to then Prime Minister Morvald’s younger sister Bera. 

“When news of the conspiracy by the Yozdek family to depose His Highness Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir reached Taok’s ear, he made several attempts to contact the Monarch and warn him of the impending danger.  All his attempts failed, however, due to the Therkan family's interference.  The dominant matriarch of the Therkan family opposing Taok’s ideals successfully intercepted or killed every courier and destroyed every warning letter Taok sent to the Royal household.  Taok was then forcibly incarcerated in his own home like a criminal and forbidden by the Therkan family to interact with any outsiders until Zakhertan Yozdek had completed his plans to depose HRH Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir.”

“After an episode of illness from which he nearly died, Taok suddenly made a remarkable recovery and, under the very noses of his powerful family, began a subversive movement.  His followers began distributing his unsigned works, exposing the treachery and brutality of Zakhertan Yozdek, the widespread corruption at Court, the hypocritical rule and the evil oppression of the present regime.” 

“These works helped rally scholars throughout the country to the cause of the restoration of the old Dynasty.  The timing was exactly right to favor their cause.  Zakhertan Yozdek's main concern at this time was with the consolidation of power within the workings of the bureaucracy and with crushing the pockets of resistance that had sprung up under a few rebel Lords, such as Lord Shonne Gulbrand.  On top of this there emerged a growing threat from the Alvacon Tribe in the Northeast Territories.”

“The intellectual leaders of this insurgent group were in the midst of plotting a major armed rebellion when a disgruntled new officer, passed over for elevation from the lower ranks, turned informant and alerted Zakhertan Yozdek to the growing danger.  The Palace guards were immediately dispatched under the strictest secrecy to bring Taok Therkan back to the Capital where he would be charged with treason, tried and convicted.  Zakhertan Yozdek wanted the list of all the leaders in his hands and, the precise details of the planned uprising, information his informant could not provide, even when subjected to extreme torture.

Unfortunately, Taok had received word of his impending arrest too late, to realize an effective escape.  What little time he had left he used it, to commit all the incriminating documents to the fire and to send words to others to stay clear.  He then torched his study with himself still at his desk.  The leaping flames quickly spread to reduce the whole house to ashes (cinders) within a matter of minutes.”

“The infuriated Zakhertan Yozdek responded with a brutal purge.  Selecting the ruthless Black Band Guard Regiment, he set them on one of our history's most vengeful, ruthless campaigns of suppression ever.  Pockets of resistance were quickly quashed.  All too unsuspecting scholars were rounded up and, regardless of innocence or proof of rebellion, were buried, layer upon layer, quite systematically in mass graves.”

“More than twenty thousand people suspected of collaborating with the scholars were killed in public spectacles of torture, slow strangulation, flailing, beheading, or were simply burned tied to a pole in the marketplace.  This vicious purge continued for a year after Taok's death with unabated, unequivocal force.  The subsequent three years of this witch-hunt were so severe that they threw the country into chaos and threatened national security.”

"In that dark, oppressive time there was no end to the atrocities, indiscriminate killings and mass poisonings.  Under such pressure many implicated their colleagues, neighbors and even blood relatives in order to lighten their own sentence or extricate themselves from blame.  Some, taking the law into their own hands, murdered the suspected dissidents so as to avoid incrimination by association.  The purges were so severe, none escaped Zakhertan Yozdek’s wrath."  Dokurek dropped his head, "That was truly a dark, dark time in our history.  History is what gives men a sense of belonging.  History is what distinguishes man from the wild beasts who have no awareness, no conscious past.  My father preached that all the time, yet I would gladly expunge (erase) that period of history from my memory."

It had become clear to Fradel that Dokurek carried in the recesses of his heart some burden of guilt.

"But, even after a supposed return to normalcy, a Royal decree muted everyone from expressing the least discord or criticism of the policies and harsh laws imposed by the new regime.  The consequences of the minutest disobedience were met by public execution of the offender and the extermination of their families down to the fourth generation, followed by the confiscation of all properties to be sold by the state.  You know where I’m going with this?” He suddenly looked up but resumed his tirade.  “Meanwhile, anyone, regardless of age or gender harboring fugitives or possessing any inflammatory forbidden books or pamphlets were deemed guilty and, without benefit of trial, promptly executed on the spot. All the reminder of their family members was then rounded-up, tattooed on the face and sent in chains to serve a cruel sentence of hard labor for life.” He shook his head dismally.

“And many, many more restrictions were also put into place, but it would take me too long to list them all.  Suffice to say, this was the most dangerous time to have any enemies; for the least discord would lead to a false accusation with incriminating evidence planted to ensure imminent destruction.  A few select schools were allowed to function in government facilities, under the strictest supervision and constant monitoring to ensure adherence to state propaganda.” He fell silent for a while, pondering on a concern.  But then dismissed it all with a wave of a hand and continued on, relieved to be releasing some of this pent-up anger and concern to a sympathetic ear.

"Officials failing in their duty to immediately root out the suspected dissidents and subversives from their area faced spontaneous demotion or banishment to the remotest regions.  Did I say this already?”  But again, not waiting for an answer resumed his narrative. “So, we all did what was required of us without thinking, without questioning.  In our fear we misinterpreted signs, heard careless words and..."

With a strange, mad gleam in his eyes, Dokurek dropped his head to stare at his palms then agitatedly rubbed them over his pant legs.  He raised his head but fell abruptly silent again and looked down.  Fradel with sympathetic concern observed Dokurek’s sudden new distraction, a frayed cut in his trousers, which he absentmindedly dug his index finger in it.

 Checking himself a moment later, Dokurek looked up and explained bashfully, "You know, at one time I would not have considered wearing a pair of pants more than once.  But now..."  He shook his head then, after a momentary silence, continued, "I've done a lot of things of which I'm ashamed, but I hope you understand.  I did them so as to survive.  That, and as well, I was misguided.  Alas, I came to know the error of my way a bit too late to do anything about it." 

Fradel gave a sympathetic nod, refraining from making any rash judgments.

Dokurek appreciatively continued on, how his own younger brother, Yutzu, had been recruited to the doomed cause of Taok Therkan from the start.  Remarkably, Yutzu had survived the purges to continue the underground struggle and become one of the leaders of the “Red Bandanna Resistance”.

"Of course I had no way of knowing this,” Dokurek protested. 

"How could I when, for nearly a decade, we had lost touch?"  He threw his hands into the air in animated exasperation. 

"Since childhood we have always been at odds on every issue.  We'd never seen eye to eye, never agreed on anything, however trivial.  I was always the pragmatist; he was the idealist.”

 “After the death of our parents, one day we’d had a dreadful row on a concern, I cannot recall what.  Meanwhile, we had both uttered words that wounded deeply and one, we could not take back and so, I divided up the inheritance and we each went our separate ways.  As far as I was concerned, he was a dead man. I forbade my wife, the household staff and others to never ever mention his name.  How was I to know he'd still drag me into the cesspool of his own misfortune?”

“As it was the most sensible thing to do, I enlisted in Zakhertan Yozdek’s service.  I saw His Highness as our savior, a charismatic, strong leader, one our nation needed badly for strength and stability.  I erroneously blamed the Sovereign Zuronghan Alric Therran Valamir for all the ills of society and the rampant corruption at court.  I swallowed the whole propaganda that deemed Zuronghan a weak, ineffective ruler who deserved to be toppled.  What can I say?  I was beguiled.”

"Ah, but that’s not all. Soon after my recruitment, Zakhertan Yozdek recognized my talents and put me to good use.  I was a brilliant and promising engineer, you see.  You are the only one who knows this, but I was the builder of these Pitfalls.  One in particular, I believe, was used to trap a prominent, influential traitor, or perhaps a member of the Royal Family.  Of course I was not allowed to see who, nor did I wish to know, for all who were directly involved were put to death immediately afterwards.  Too much information can be detrimental to one's health, so I kept my nose out of it.”

"After it was all over and the struggle for power ended Zakhertan Yozdek, settled securely on his stolen throne, rewarded me generously for my contributions. Even as the country was being swept by the putrid tide of the purges, I'd kept my head above water and had remained secure in my privileged position, untouched by it all."

Dokurek shook his head, "But Yutzu, again surfaced as the bane of my Life.  I should have expected it, really, should have known that he'd be at the crux of it all.  Too late I'd learned he was a rebel.”

"Yes, it all came crushing down on my head that autumn day when my once secure and comfortable existence came to an abrupt end.  You see, I'd been away from home on official business for several weeks.  On my way back I suddenly realized that I'd neglected to get my wife the usual gift.  She'd be expecting one.  I loved her dearly and had no wish to disappoint her.”

“Way before this, during the time of spring festival, as we’d strolled the streets around Hekoler Temple she had taken a fancy to an antique jade pin in one of the pawn shops there, so I steered off course, to see if I could purchase it for her. “

“Oh, you can imagine my surprise when I discovered on sale there another piece of jewelry, a jewel encrusted necklace I had given my wife for her twentieth birthday.  But the pawnbroker's records were in order, after some serious negotiations he named a satisfactory sum for it.  Containing my fury, I purchased it back and rushed home to confront my wife with it.

"Would you believe it, there was another surprise waiting for me there, my cursed brother!  I needed no explanation; I knew then the cause of my wife's indiscretion.  I lashed out at him Like a mad dog, letting lose all those years of pent-up anger and disappointment.  During this heated exchange he shouted his defiant, treasonous tenets right to my face. Was I supposed to believe his embroidered yarn?  Supposedly, after his meeting with the other surviving leaders of the underground, he'd succumbed to an attack by bandits on his return journey.  Being stranded in this province without any means of getting back, he'd swallowed his pride and came to ask for my aid, though I suspect it was my wife's sympathies and help he was really after.  Surely, he would have gotten away with it too had I not returned home earlier than expected.”

"Overcoming my shock, livid, I was about to revile him further and threaten him with disclosure, just to scare him, mind you, when a noise outside distracted us both.  At once I rushed out to investigate but found no one there.  Nevertheless, I was terror-struck!  I knew the calamity or ruin this portended.  So, in frenzied fear of my life, I had him bound and gagged.”

"Seeing him again after such a long time, I confess, had rekindled within me the deep brotherly love I'd later supplanted with hate.  However different our views, he was still my little brother.  I paced the floor, to and for, in sheer panic while I pondered on the appropriate course of action.  I debated whether to turn him in to the authorities or to arrange for his escape.  I did not know just how much the spy had overheard and just how much this would implicate (incriminate) my family and my wife.  She had run off to her boudoir in tears before I could question her.”

“I was robbed of any decisive act however when the sudden presence of armed guards at my door was announced.  I was mortified when I learned that they already had the house surrounded and carried a warrant for the arrest of my brother and my wife.  And yes, I too was carried off to be charged (of this crime) as well, before the magistrate.  After a lengthy questioning and with some finagling I managed to establish my total innocence and loyal intentions, after all, Yutzu was already bound and gagged ready to be turned over to the authorities.”

“In the end it was my impeccable service record and the fact that I had been away and only just returned from a business trip that absolved me from blame.  Unfortunately, despite my best efforts and numerous bribes, I failed to extricate my wife from serious culpability.  In the end she was judged guilty of being an accomplice.”

"The informant who had turned us into the authorities had trailed my brother for some time and compiled serious, incriminating data.  Furthermore, his damning testimony against my wife could not be refuted.  She'd been quoted as saying that her sympathies lay with the insurgents.  She'd loudly reviled the Yozdek regime and promised my brother her full support.  All this was news to me.  I had no idea that she understood politics much less that she had so passionately harbored such treasonous views.  I felt utterly betrayed and, what's more, despaired for my children's fate.  I only hoped that they were too young to have been contaminated by their mother's misled loyalties.  It's a funny thing with women; they seem on the outset so mindless, so frivolous..."  Dokurek dropped his head and, after a moment's pause, swallowed hard, holding back the welling tears.

He continued in a choked voice, "I was the ignoramus of true facts and real politics.  I was the one who had been misinformed, a misled, utter fool.  My brother was tortured to death.  He suffered an agonizing end, and I was made to watch it all, watch to his final hour, when he was no longer in any recognizable human form, watch until his last, labored breath expired.  He died once but I’ve died a hundredfold.  For days thereafter the pain seared my soul. I could not forget his eyes; those accusing eyes have left such an indelible gash in my heart to this day.”

“To my further shame, I was even too frightened to claim his body for burial and left it there for them to dispose of in the usual way.  His mutilated corpse was fed to the wild dogs at the nearest crossroads.  Because of my cowardly act I had been spared, but I could only guess at the terrible fate that awaited Yutzu's wife, my niece and nephew.  I prayed that their end was swifter than his had been, as swift as that of my wife's corpse that was left impaled on a soldier's spear at the same crossroads.

"Despite my acquittal, I was not let off that easily.  In the end my entire property was confiscated, and I was banished to the remote frontier with my two sons to live out the remainder of our days.” 

 

(END OF SECTION 8)

                                                                                      ~