11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION - 4

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION - 4

Month after month, each night’s routine was the same for Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek; this evening as well, he was burdened with so many imperative official (bureaucratic) documents needing his special perusal.

“I detest squandering my time in this way, even with the most able of help, monitoring and controlling the wolves that are my vassals.” Zakhertan Yozdek scoffed inwardly, shifting in his seat. “What an utter waste of my talents. This cursed dreary existence … This never ending; cloying, suffocating, bureaucratic red tape could drive a lesser man to madness. Darn it all!” Zakhertan ground his teeth. “Even the slowest of torturous death would be preferable to this present inertia (inaction).”

 

01- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK   JP

 Wearily, Zakhertan closed his eyes as if to escape it all. Never had he felt so empty in heart, so utterly alone; his true aspirations had always been to- as a brilliant tactician, a great general with invincible prowess- burgeon (thrive) at the battlefield… That was the only life for him. Zakhertan heaved a deep, dejected sigh, pining to be once more in the combat zone (at the front line); at least there, Zakhertan had no qualms, no artificial worries to be addressed, nothing taxing his patience. There he would be in his element, thriving on solving precise, (clear) arduous yet all too familiar tactical problems while accepting the perils that each new campaign entailed. Dicey warrior’s life was unquestionably preferable to this cackling of barren hens that called itself a political arena. What a waste it was, for someone who has had war pulsing in his veins, ever since he had been a suckling…

Zakhertan’s mind just then was diverted (sidetracked) by the recollection of a once propagated hearsay (rumour), that had described how he, Zakhertan, had come into this world:

 Purportedly (supposedly), at the time of his birth, he had kicked so violently that he had ruptured the very womb that had prior nourished and sustained his life; hence, he had claimed his first victim, his very gentle and loving mother, Lady Rosaline, before he had even drawn his first breath.

This tale (false account) imparted to Zakhertan during his early childhood by none other than his hateful stepmother Lady Serafina, had left an indelible (permanent) mark (blot) on his conscience till adolescence and had irrevocably fashioned his innate character.

 It was not till much later that he had learned of the truth; that his birth had been a breach-birthing and, his Lord father valuing a son more than his wife, had ordered the tending physician to slice open her womb and extract the male offspring, regardless of the (blood-loss  and) consequence.

02-  ZAKHERTAN'S FATHER

Zakhertan’s father Lord Kade Yozdek, back then had been an influential personage in the Northern border province. He controlled massive resources and vast lands which had been owned (inherited) by the Yozdek clan for five generations; furthermore, he regulated most trade and maintained a small private army in addition to the border imperial troops, allocated to him supposedly for stability and maintenance of peace. His generals perpetually guarded (patrolled) the northern region, for the purposes of preventing and subduing the sporadic violent incursions from ethnic tribes that trespassed into his lands, as well, invaded or pillage the remote border towns and regions. The governor of the district, toadied to the lord, recognizing the fact that he held the real power in this northern territory (state).

Lord Kade, a cold, calculating, impious (licentious) man, had remarried quickly after the death of his principal wife Lady Rosaline, well before the period of mourning had been officially over. This advantageous union however, had been a strategic, loveless union, and though his new wife, Zakhertan’s stepmother Serafina, had borne his Lord father first a girl offspring and then a boy, the boy had not lived long enough to see his second year.

The young Zakhertan had no regrets about eliminating his rival sibling, despite the untold grief it had caused to his, by then odious Lord father. The licentious brute had often when drunk derided and brutally beaten willful and defiant Zakhertan senseless.

03- YOUNG ZAKHERTAN

Despite his oppressive and violent childhood, or perhaps because of it, Zakhertan had always, for as long as he could remember, taken solace in battle and in living life on the edge (of death). Even now he could smell the carnage and envisioned with a certain longing the terrible havoc, the glorious devastation he would wreak on his next campaign. Alas, he knew that for the time being at least he had to forbear (be patient) and resolve few more snags (glitches) in his governance (control) before he could venture anew at the head of a massive army and, finally met his most worthy adversary (nemesis), Emperor Deng Hedenko of Kontu.

Zakhertan’s gaging and astute (keen) mind had already factored in the inevitability of the prolonged and costly campaign (battle) and the resulting gory before that anticipated eventual victory (triumph). It would be a conflict the like of which had no precedence in Wenjenkun’s history; nevertheless, one his heart frenziedly craved (yearned for).

Patience, however, had never been Zakhertan’s innate virtue; it had to be doggedly (resolutely) forced and perpetually (constantly) learned.

“Curse Dwengzur for cheating me out of that fight!”  Denied that fundamental (essential) reprieve, Zakhertan’s thoughts had just then reverted to the Immortal; thus, his fists involuntarily clenched, as he crossly (irately) cogitated (deliberated) on that nagging concern.

“Where was that bothersome wizard anyway…How could he still be at large, a man of Dwengzur's caliber… Escaping his (Zakhertan’s) vast network of spies which was entrenched right across the known world?”

But even as he had asked this, Zakhertan already knew the answer. And it was for that reason that despite Zakhertan's protests and denials, the Immortal’s disappearance had deeply troubled him; especially since the extensive, persistent search, which had even encompassed the regions of Korion all the way up to the island of Kontu, still furiously, had failed to deliver least trace of Dwengzur or his sort’s abode.     

Zakhertan Yozdek had of course inwardly laughed at the circulating blathers, refused to give least credence to the preposterous, imbecilic notions, belief of couple of his supposed, brainy officials, that Dwengzur was a demigod. (Minor god- one regarded as such in a hierarchy of other gods.) 

04- DWENGZUR THE DEMIGOD (49)JP

These key bureaucrat sucker fools, had hypothesized that “Dwengzur had in fact been sent by Divine authority, to assist and protect their illustrious and righteous Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek from serious harm and, once the earthly task had been completed, Dwengzur had returned from whence he came.”     

Meanwhile it had served his (Zakhertan’s) purpose well, to let the plebians be gulled by all that superstitious nonsense. Ordinary folk (plebs) had always been prone to (deducing then) attributing strange manifestations to the work of Supreme Gods. Zakhertan grimaced wryly and shrugged. The Hexocian religion, one of the surviving orders, to date had been secretly manipulated and utilized to bend the inferior minds, enabling that contemptuous lot to be herded like sheep into doing his (Zakhertan’s) bidding whenever the need rose? Did they think that he would ever tolerate, let alone perpetuate that farce, that contemptible pretext of those religious orders, without reason?

“Divine intervention indeed, “Zakhertan Yozdek (the atheist) again scoffed venomously reflecting at this point on the incredulous notion that, Gods would take any notice of the bothersome, writhing, myriad creatures. “Earthly task ha!” Zakhertan Yozdek hissed out a long breath and smiled tautly, as memories of his hundreds and thousands of acts of (heathen) brutality came to mind.

“Surely none of those abhorred acts were condoned by these righteous Gods. And besides, where was the expected retribution; his reign to date had remained unchallenged and consolidated. That proved it: Gods did not exist. But Immortals did exist.”

Zakhertan’s gaze then pensively turned to the painting of the white tiger, mounted on the far wall. He stared at it for a time, then with awry smile he looked down.

05 - WHITE TIGER 10- JP

Few years back to expel his boredom Zakhertan had gone on a dangerous venture, a hunt for a fearsome white tiger that had terrorized three remote villages at high elevation at the northern end, and the  furthest reaches of Wenjenkun’s Toreaken Province.

The white tiger of incredible size and ferocity after his rampaging through these villages, had left behind countless mangled and mutilated corpses (both humans and animals). Hundreds of half-eaten parts littered the blood-soaked pathways (grounds), before the callous beast had finally retreated to his lair at that towering peak; with only a precarious goat’s path leading up to it, way passed the densely forested mountain ridge.

 Always up for a challenge Zakhertan Yozdek, perfectly disguised as ordinary hunter had gone alone on a venture to add this monstrous beast’s head to his other mounted trophies.

06- WHITE TIGER 5- JP

Zakhertan had pursued the carnivorous beast hotly, but then at the crucial juncture, when he spotted it, he’d taken aim at the edge of sheer cliff and was poised to shoot his poisoned arrow when, the earth underneath his footing had suddenly given way and he’d plummeted down into a deep, bottomless abyss (chasm) along with the fallen debris. Halfway down, he had gripped (gotten hold of) one or two of the (exposed,) resilient dangling roots, which protruded from the precipitous edge (vertical drop) and so escaped certain death.

Proceeding (climbing, advancing) once more towards the peak (summit), mid-way up he had discovered the hidden opening to a huge cavern (grotto) and fearlessly went inside. Advancing in pitch darkness, he had followed one of the subterranean tunnels and after escaping six or seven perilous pitfalls, had emerged unscathed, when it was nearing dusk, at the outside.

The topography (landscape) and the fauna that had greeted his eyes, when abruptly the miasmic (vaporous, gaseous, misty) fog cleared, had appeared to him most strange; moreover, he noted the sudden, stark (abysmal), all encompassing absence of all sound. He was considering which direction to advance, when just then a bot of lightening streak from a cloudless sky and then a tremendous ruckus at a distance drew his attention to a small clearing, beyond the dense (forest) grove of trees.

Zakhertan had approached the area cautiously and then, concealing his presence, had avidly and elatedly, watched the ongoing deadly and intense combat between two, sure to be Immortal warriors. Fortune smiling on him, he had also eye-witnessed and heard the subsequent invocation (incantation) of the “Nokuzikos Spell,” by the clearly senior rank Immortal warrior; after which, in a flash, his opponent had then been (utterly subdued) bested.

07- IMMORTALS FIGHTING (4)

The defeated and partially incapacitated younger Immortal had subsequently, been swiftly carted (lugged) away by the victor, both riding the clouds, to oblivion.  

Zakhertan Yozdek had always been gifted with retentive memory and the ability to recall information however complex, verbal, or visual, with great accuracy and clarity; forgetting all about the white tiger, for he had attained a far greater prize, he had joyously returned home. Possessing   this “Nokuzikos Spell,” his already indomitable powers subsequently further enhanced, he had since then been invincible in every battle or single combat. Notwithstanding how formidable the enemy been, his adversaries (foe, opposition) had always (been defeated without fail) suffered the same fate.  

This advantage, the sure gift, had a terrible drawback (derivative) however, for Zakhertan being a mere mortal, after each invocation of the Nokuzikos Spell, he had consequently, always suffered (succumbed to) the subsequent day, an intense and unimaginable smarting (painful) headache. No amount of medicine or care would alleviate (assuage, lessen) the extreme pressure and the excruciating, throbbing in his head. His personal physicians lived in dread at such times, fearing that Zakhertan might inevitably one day, undergo a fatalistic aneurism (aneurysm) in the brain and so expire.

Never forgetting the fierce combat between those two superior beings, Zakhertan had of course instigated for a long time, thorough searches for their kind. But all subsequent pursuits (quests, hunt) had been unfortunately proved in vain, till quite recently that is, when Zakhertan had learned of Dwengzur’s presence in Channing.

Dwengzur, an alleged wizard, employed for entertainment purposes during one of Egil Viggoaries’s infamous social gatherings, had left quite an impression on all that had been present. The culminated reports intriguing Zakhertan, he had at once summoned Dwengzur to his presence.  Zakhertan had at length questioned the so-called Wizard; though infuriated by his deceit, Zakhertan had nevertheless played along and kept his ire in check, to secretly monitor this Immortal’s activities, as well, uncover the whereabouts of his Race. Anticipating that, where there was one, there would be others and utilizing such beings would make him more omnipotent (all-powerful and unstoppable) Ruler.

(END OF SECTION 4)

 

                                                                           ~  

  

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 3

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 3

 

“Was that it? Was that the end of it?”  Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek placed the last of the reports onto the stack and leaned back to stretch out his limbs. A slight nod brought his ever vigilant and trusted aide Neru forward at once to pick up the key and the stack that Zakhertan had set aside on his desk. Neru then took the documents to a large metal vault where they were locked up for future reference. The key was returned to His Highness to join the others dangling from the Sovereign's belt. 

The second stack by far the larger contained the reports that were deemed to be trivial, uninteresting, or expendable and it was on these that Neru next set to work, tearing them into fine bits and then feeding them to the flames within a large brazier, specifically designed to reduce any remnant to cinders.  

01-NERU

Each night’s routine was the same; at an unspecified hour Zakhertan Yozdek, pending no unforeseen crisis or upset, would set aside some time to peruse all the crucial documents submitted by The Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, other officials, as well as the reports from Internal Security. Through his special branch of moles, Zakhertan had continually kept apace of the activities of his Ministers, Provincial Governors, Generals as well as his own personal retinue and family, within his realm. No one eluded, evaded, shunned, averted, or circumvented his scrutiny, not even hermits, or the recluse of scholars, such as Fradel Rurik Korvald. 

Zakhertan Yozdek had always lived by two unassailable adages: one was to be vigilant in concealing least sign of weakness from all; the second was to never rely on or place absolute confidence in anything or anyone. A measure of confidence could be shown outwardly but never acted on or believed inwardly. 

History was riddled with examples of Sovereigns ruined through treachery by the, oftentimes a most trusted vassals; Zakhertan Yozdek therefore had always endorsed the principle (criterion) that to persevere, no minister, priest, general or Prince of the realm should ever exceed, in the open or in secret, in any one of the areas of power, influence, acumen, awe and reverence, held in the person of the Sovereign.   

The two stacks swiftly dealt with, Zakhertan presently turned his attention to the third bundle and picked up the top envelope, broke open the seal, removed the document within, and read it carefully.  These detailed accounts were submitted by an indomitable, invisible Shadow Brigade (division of Black Band Guard Regiment), whose sole purpose was to monitor the Censors, informants and spies themselves. This dual system of surveillance had served Zakhertan Yozdek well thus far; hence, he had kept close tabs on all within his kingdom, and yet at the same time was afforded a measure of truth sufficient to appease his suspicious nature. As it were, the only cliques Zakhertan had allowed to exist in his dominion were those that he easily manipulated; and periodically, he did enjoy at being their puppeteer and making them do his bidding. 

Moreover, far from employing only the most servile of vassals, the civil and military courts had been staffed with men, all as ruthless as wolves or tigers and more cunning than vipers and foxes. These specially picked individuals acted like vultures, doing very much more than their duty prescribed, yet nevertheless they were very much cowed and succumbed to Zakhertan 's every whim. This effect had been achieved through incessant pressure, unrelenting fear, and artful manipulation; actually, he respected those most that had been the hardest to break. Individuals that posed the greatest menace were the ones he kept at closest proximity; constantly monitored, for any nuance (hint) of seditious activity; they were in the truest sense of the word, only a hairsbreadth away from the executioner's blade. Their already perilous existence was moreover tested by periodic rumors that accused one or the other of subversion against Sovereign or The Wenjenkun Nation. This was not done merely to keep them toeing the line or to incessantly feed Zakhertan’s rapacious sadistic nature but to accurately gauge the rest’s true disposition towards that individual or perceived incidence (occurrence). 

Unfortunately, too seldom for Zakhertan’s liking, one would advance an idea or theory he knew it to be unsound; akin to a beast toying with its prey before the killing stroke, Zakhertan would then pretend to be taken in, merely to see how far the dupe would go; he would subsequently, delight in making veritable mincemeat of the fool.   

Conversely, every so often he would refute a valid suggestion by, one of his generals, courtiers or other and, advance plausible yet purposefully flawed viewpoints. As these events occurred between long bouts of predictable stability, Sovereign Zakhertan was able to appear even to his liegemen, as elusive and cryptic. 

02-ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (40) JP

Two decades now, he had maintained his unbounded, omnipotent rule; his subjects (firmly) believing that all under Heaven was his personal domain (including nations that were under his suzerainty) and that, all his decrees and proclamations were the mandates of Gods.  

After all this time, could he finally relax his vigilance? Could he dare be complacent? He absolutely could not; must not, not for a single moment. Zakhertan through clenched teeth quickly answered his inner query; his tight fist eased as anger slowly, gradually ebbed. Yes, he had maintained his iron hold on the realm (kingdom) thus far but in the deep recesses of his heart Zakhertan had of course known, the futility of it all.  

A Sovereign may subjugate most of his subjects with impunity, govern his vassal's bodies and outward acts, and even sway or manipulate their minds to some degree but there would always be one who would prove to be an exception to the rule who could slip through the controlling net, or escape it entirely.  There would emerge some renegade, a folk hero or martyr who would stoke the smoldering ashes of dissent into a spark that would ignite the searing flames that would scorch the whole Kingdom bare. If that is, he was not snuffed out, right at the start.  

Zakhertan inclined his head to stare absently out the window at the artificially illuminated garden, layer upon exquisite layer of floral beauty; his mind perfectly composed, his face wearing an emotionless mask of serenity. Misleadingly, he inwardly was in fact, taking meticulous stock of his most recent and severest measures, which as a rule incorporated further stringent laws and their equally brutal punishments, to determine if they would suffice to rout-out or curb the latest, anticipated, impending trouble.  

Moreover, the ’Divide and conquer’ strategy had consistently proven to be a most effective policy. His thoughts veered (turned) to past recourse that warranted akin to action. He may employ it again: First, his subjects were led to believe that he, Zakhertan Yozdek, was (ostensibly) by far the most generous Sovereign, rewarding meretricious acts as handsomely as he was severe in his punishments. But then, Zakhertan mischievously grimaced, reflecting quietly on how, every now and then, he unexpectedly rewarded an individual or an official or two for no apparent reason, to sow discord, disconcert or perturb others.  

Eventually the targeted individuals became estranged from their friends, colleagues, and family. Thoroughly demoralized and seeking only to safeguard their own hide, the seeds of treachery would easily then be planted in them, to be harvested in future. Zakhertan by manipulating the most basic emotions of insecurity and mistrust, of any individual or a group, albeit powerful and influential, those pegged troublemakers were then, easily and without fail got purged (eradicated). 

In his youth Zakhertan Yozdek had avidly studied history and learned from its mistakes; subsequently, as a monarch, he had never failed to utilize timely measures and inject acute fear into the hearts and minds of all likely (budding) dissenters, way before trouble manifested. Through artful manipulation he had also fostered the belief in his subjects that he, their omnipotent Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek, was all seeing, all hearing. That nothing, however trivial or inconsequential, escaped his attention. One of the means with which Zakhertan had achieved this end was, by engaging Censors, which conducted semiannual tours of the countryside. The sole purpose of these mobile forces was to check on the performance of the Provincial and Military Governors and Magistrates, and Tribunes. Demotions, promotions, rewards, and reprisals were all dependent on the outcome of 

Censors’ report. Of course, the concept of Censorate had been created during the reign of 

Sovereign Zuronghan Therran Valamir. This Censorate predecessor was vastly different from Zakhertan’s incarnation however, for one thing the Censors of old Dynasty were appointed from the ranks of the Nobility, Military, Bureaucracy, or Intelligentsia equally. The sole purpose of the Censorate had been to keep all officials, high and low, under strict surveillance and report any wrongdoing or illicit activity to their Liege and in this capacity, Censors were empowered to criticize, if needs be, even the Sovereign. Although they had little direct political power, they were not constrained to divulge their sources of information even to the highest authority and, for their fifteen-year term, they were immune to criticism or punishment for their actions. The granting of these liberties, as well as their proximity to the ear of the ruler, had left ample room for corruption, and these posts invariably had left their holders wealthy and influential beyond measure. The deficiencies of this system were never given the chance to correct themselves before the overthrow of Sovereign Zuronghan Therran Valamir, and it was Zakhertan who took this branch of the bureaucracy and reshaped it into its present form. In the revised version, Censorate officials were now appointed solely by Zakhertan  Yozdek for seven year terms and, unlike their forerunners, they could be indicted, subjected to interrogation, including torture and, if found guilty, they and their families would be punished twice as harshly as anyone in a normal position.  

More importantly, they were prohibited from ever criticizing present Sovereign  

Zakhertan’s policies; memorials of this kind having been prohibited ever since Zakhertan Yozdek had assumed (usurped) the throne. On demand Censors were expected to produce their evidence, sources and all pertinent information to the Sovereign's special staff who would, in turn, present it for Zakhertan Yozdek’s final analysis and judgment. Meanwhile, the identities of these officials were kept a closely guarded secret, known only to the Emperor, the Shadow Brigade and one other, Senior Grand Secretary Qarzten Caimund. Each Censor was identified on the special documents only by a serial number which was assigned upon their appointment to the position. If they were ever exposed, they could expect no leniency; they would be summarily dismissed, and therefore subject to the reprisals of their victims, banished to a remote province, or summarily executed for violating the first duty of their office. Within the Censorate itself the officials would be moved about at randomly set intervals so that they could never grow complacent, relax their vigilance, acquire a sphere of influence, or establish cliques as had been the norm in the past. 

Of course, Zakhertan could not take full credit for these measures. “Let’s give some credit where credit is due,” Zakhertan throwing a furtive glance at Qarzten Caimund, who was seated at the far desk his head down overseeing some matters Zakhertan had allocated to him, donned a sinister smile. Indeed, some of it had been adapted from Qarzten's excellent proposals. 

Returning his gaze back to the garden, Zakhertan mused on another concern:   

Back then, when he had revised the legal statutes, he had assumed that he had left no room for those skillful manipulators of the letter of the law to contravene in it.   

He had the statutes so clearly worded and exactly defined that there had been nothing left in doubt; furthermore, he had been explicit, that all would be offenders, without fail, would be most rigorously prosecuted. Obviously even the best effort had its failing.  

Zakhertan shrugged, relieving the frustrations of those bygone days. Sure enough, it had looked good (sound) as written principles on the statute books, yet it had not been as effective, especially in the outlying areas, when constrained by the incredible number of legal restrictions, deception and corruption, turning it into new criterion (hallmark) and instigating dangerous discord (strife) between the different levels of Government.  Having learned to act swiftly and embrace change, Zakhertan had amended the laws in good enough time, eliminating these dangerous practices before they became the norm.  

“Pigs and fishes; one and all” Zakhertan inwardly jeered with utter disdain. In fact, a large part of his time had been taken up with constant monitoring of the usage of his laws within the Empire. 

“Virtue… Bah,” Zakhertan again inwardly scoffed. “Talk about an overrated, foolish concept.”   

 Back in the early days, the situation had been such that anyone uttering that word “virtue,” would have been scorned, accused of shirking his duty and then duly punished. Zakhertan Yozdek had always clung to the truth inherent in the ancient saying, "The man of inferior virtue clings to virtue and so has no virtue."   

It could be said that Qarzten Caimund had never practiced virtue. Zakhertan thoughtfully reflected as his eye caught a bird in the garden, wrestling an insect out of a tree trunk. Yet, Zakhertan had long suspected that Qarzten was the most virtuous of men. Or was that only another facade of his?  

03-QARZTEN CAMUND (5)

Zakhertan turned his stealth, suspicious gaze back onto Qarzten Caimund, studying him with penetrating eyes until a cold smile brushed his lips and he dismissed these speculations peremptorily. 

Zakhertan reached for a blank sheet of parchment, picked up his brush, and loaded it with the ink that Neru had prepared earlier and began to write. Once the first set of orders had been quickly dispensed, Zakhertan applied his crimson seal to the bottom, folded it into three, and wrote its destination on the back then sealed it with, wax from a purple taper and the impression of his signet ring. Before the molten wax around the ring could set, his mind had returned to the past. Once the amendments to the laws had been put in place and rigorously enforced, he had gotten the situation under control, except for, in the furthest regions of the Kingdom.   

Wellnigh unchecked, the situation there (in such a short span) had grown extremely volatile and at the most inopportune of times as well. The bulk of Zakhertan’s militia had been engaged in a difficult and demanding campaign in Korion and the remainder of his forces had been reserved for the police actions against the northern nomads, to end their persistent incursions into Wenjenkun's territory.  

Zakhertan Yozdek had been strapped, caught short handed hence, in effectively bringing a swift resolution to this far region. What he had needed at that time, short of another army appearing from thin air, an able vassal, one most ruthless and cunning, who could conduct this challenging task with the minimum of arms and workforce. That man appeared in the person of Qarzten Caimund, who had been an unknown minor official until then.  

“Oh, but you were a sly one right from the start, Qarzten Caimund,” Zakhertan mused. 

 “Imagine getting none other than Egil Viggoaries to recommend you for service when in fact you were the proponent of Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren the whole time.”  This very fact had intrigued Zakhertan Yozdek right from the start and had won Qarzten Caimund the certain singular distinction he rightly deserved.  

During the entire interview Qarzten Caimund had admirably withstood the grueling mental tightrope and impressed by Qarzten's astute rationalism, his vast knowledge of the legal statutes, his courage, wit, and martial ability among a multitude of other talents, Zakhertan Yozdek had allowed himself to overlook those minor flaws, the prejudices, and biases barely discernible in Qarzten’s character, and had appointed (assigned) him to the unenviable post.  

Rising the challenge to complete the subjugation of the north in a set time upon peril of his life, Qarzten had requisitioned and received Zakhertan Yozdek’s approval for a free hand in rectifying the situation. Qarzten Caimund’s subsequent, steady progress had read like a textbook case, but what had really interested Zakhertan Yozdek, was the ingenious, though unorthodox measures the new commander had taken. While appearing lenient, Qarzten had been, from the very beginning, selectively ruthless. As good as his word, he had laid stress on severe implementation of the full rigors of the law, even to the Royal relations who had grown too overbearing and daring away from the prying eyes of Zakhertan. Given free reign

Qarzten had killed men summarily, tortured suspects until they confessed or died and practiced other most effective measures to spell out his message to one and all.  He had personally cut off quite a few of the heads of convicted officials and had made mincemeat of several (not a few) formerly lofty citizens.  

In a noticeably short spell, Qarzten Caimund had brought all within his authority(jurisdiction) under his absolute control. Once law and order were restored, he moved on to the next region and then the next; his reputation preceded him until all areas were pacified. Qarzten Caimund’s savage reputation for adapting bold, ruthless tactics, had naturally won him Zakhertan's favor, especially since every step, every victory, was secured well within the established time. 

04-QARZTEN CAMUND (16)

Of course, there had been copious amount of (flood of) litigations and hundreds of indictments from these regions, which had to be passed over to the Chief Justice due to their importance and, despite the increased amount of nightmarish paperwork that had to wind its way through the sluggish bureaucracy.  Zakhertan had taken no action against Qarzten; in fact, been secretly pleased deeming these as proof, of his appointed vassal’s competency. Fortunately for Zakhertan, Qarzten’s beloved wife Bren had died just then from a bizarre accident leaving Qarzten free to marry. As it was Zakhertan’s way, after the appropriate time for the mourning had passed, Zakhertan’d proposed, more like dictating a propitious marriage between Zakhertan’s distant relative’s (cousin’s) beautiful second daughter Kelda and Qarzten Caimund.

 Qarzten Caimund, competent as he had been in everything that mattered; he had never been, fortunate in matters of love, family, or marriage. To date, a well-kept secret, especially from Zakhertan, this arrangement unfortunately had been a loveless marriage from the start, as Kelda had already been secretly betrothed to a young warrior Adrian Kenzor, whom she had been infatuated with since childhood.   

In fact, Kelda’d been secretly impregnated by Adrian at the time her family forced this marriage with Qarzten Caimund on her. Qarzten was of course no fool and had quickly found out about this; nevertheless, taking pity on her had kept his silence and when a healthy, infant son (named Stokner Tchort Caimund) was born, he had pretended that he (Qarzten) was the natural father. This happenstance had suited Qarzten Caimund well; for in childhood Qarzten had had a terrible accident that had destroyed any chance of him to ever propagate (reproduce, breed) later in adult life. This had been a closely guarded secret that no one, not even Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek, knew at that time. 

When a son, Stokner Tchort Caimund, was born to him, Qarzten playing the part of a dutiful father had provided the boy, with every available means of education; however, from earlier on, he had been disappointed about the boy’s aptitude and innate character. Not liking what he saw, he gradually distanced himself from his son Stokner and quickly packed off his estranged wife Keida and son Stokner to a distant province where Qarzten Caimund had a vast estate.

05 - QARZTEN'S UNFILIAL WIFE KELDA AND HER LOVER ADRIAN KENZOR -JP (78)

 

Alas, when Qarzten Caimund’s learned that his wife had secretly renewed her old liaison (relationship) with Adrian Kenzor, enraged Qarzten had Kelda, Adrian Kenzor and anyone who knew of this, at various times of course, murdered. Five perished because of a terrible accident; three swiftly passed away from ingesting poison while few others expired from a fatal illness. Only his son Stokner’s life was spared. Meanwhile Qarzten Caimund playing the role of a mournful (grieving) twice widowed, unlucky in love official, vowed never to remarry and from then on gave his undivided attention instead, to state matters and, to his official duties in Capital that had markedly increased by then.  

Sovereing Zakhertan Yozdek’s focus (concentration) at the time had been totally taken (preoccupied) by the difficult governance of Wenjenkun and the renewed foreign aggression; as a result, he relied heavily on Qarzten’s brilliance and ruthless efficiency and to date, he had not been disappointed. Unfortunately, at the right time Qarzten Caimund had created so much enmity, especially among the prominent nobility that thirty-five grievous slanders grew around him, though to no avail. Naturally, having foreseen this outgrowth of his work, Qarzten Caimund had kept meticulous records and had not shared any of the vices that had caused the downfall of so many of his predecessors. Though Qarzten was a person of diverse interests, he had neither any real attachment nor damaging aversions; he had no sexual perversions, took no bribes, did not drink to excess, and curbed any ambition or greed, through cerebral forte (strong suit) and a healthy caution. To date Qarzten Caimund had upheld a modest lifestyle and kept a Spartan house in Capital. While he could be the most unassuming of pacifists, one could also meet with dire woe should one incur his anger or cross his wishes. Zakhertan understood Qarzten held long grudges and was intolerant of stupidity that misrepresented itself.  

It often amused Zakhertan to observe the way Qarzten struck back with such pernicious (spiteful) precision, at the foe that dared to cross or encumber him.  Caught off guard, the adversary invariably succumbed to whatever weapon was chosen: the deadly strike of the sword, or a severe tongue-lashing from Qarzten Caimund. Yet, overall Qarzten advocated peace and perseverance; it could even be said he was deeply religious. He detested liars, yet when and where warranted he was not above acting the hypocrite to get the more vital job done.  Yes, by employing his many unconventional methods Qarzten had, within that specific time, checked all crime and restored the complete rule of law and order to the far (rebellious) regions. In other words, Qarzten Caimund succeeded where others had failed miserably. Impressed by these results, his unrelenting zeal, boundless energy, no-nonsense attitude, and impartiality where it counted most, Zakhertan had steadily promoted Qarzten Caimund in a brief three years' time to the position of Chief Justice to Military Tribune of the Capital Region then to the exalted posting as Senior Grand Secretary.  No other Civil Minister could boast of such a feat. What was more, his unmarred efficiency and impeccable record to date had given Zakhertan absolutely no cause for complaint.  Still, even though Zakhertan Yozdek relied on Qarzten a great deal more than the others, the truth was that Qarzten Caimund’s position was neither more nor less precarious than any of the others.  

                                                                              …..  

 

 

(END OF SECTION 3)

11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 2

   

For some time now, Egil Viggoaries had employed a heartless, homicidal surgeon Lubin, one of only two in the whole Wenjenkun who excelled in the sadistic skill of prolonging the duration of the meted punishment to the maximum the body would stand. The other one Egil could not touch, for he was actively in the employ of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek.   

01- SURGEON LUBIN

 

There had been few precursors to Lubin, but all four had been abruptly terminated and then discarded by Egil Viggoaries when an unsatisfactory application of the blade had brought about a hasty end to the unfortunate victim. Egil Viggoaries was intolerant of least incompetence; furthermore, he often indulged in tormenting people as it provided him with the highest form of entertainment, and Lubin was his ringmaster.   

Lubin provided Egil Viggoaries with just the right dose of exhilaration to satisfy his perverse appetite for at least one briefer spell, before yet again the insatiable hunger (craving) resurfaced in the Dark Eunuch’s bottomless vile soul. Then the evil savagery and malice would recap (repeat) all over again.  

Zhadol Borym had never once in those abhorred compulsory (obligatory) episodes, where he had born witness to Lubin’s savagery, expected to be the next prey (target). Each time he hardened his heart, being so coerced and therefore believed (was sure), that those faceless phantom brutes, the barely human forms, were well deserving of such penalty. Nevertheless, and this he would never admit to anyone, his misled warrior’s conscience (scruples) and tempered soul still had to be forcefully willed to a distant, way faraway place,  before he could stomach (tolerate) the unfolding scene before his very eyes: Lubin in each case, had wielded the blade skillfully as if skinning a fish, ensuing days and weeks he would then painstakingly (meticulously) cut away, each strip, leaving only a jumbled mass of nerves to collect and transmit black ropes of pain that pulsed through, with fading life; all the while ensuring that the victim did not prematurely expire until the very end of this tortuous ordeal.  

Zhadol at present shuddered involuntarily, as he could not shut out the parade of gruesome images from his mind's eye; mindful of the fact, that Lubin's expert application of the razor-sharp scalpel (surgical knife) would soon be poised on his (Zadol’s) very flesh. He furtively glanced once more at Egil Viggoaries. The Eunuch's face was dark, and his jaw firmly set.  But what had seemed like an eternity to Zhadol Borym had in truth, been only a few minutes.    

“Was this the fate Egil Viggoaries had planned for him all along? No! He could not meekly accept such an ignominious punishment... He must contest this vile verdict! “  

 

Commander Zhadol rising to his feet, menacingly stepped forward but was instantly jerked back, as the chain about his neck was viciously yanked by one of his guards. His steadfast resistance only resulted in the metal biting deeper into his existing wounds. Blood oozed freely out from the corrugated scabs layered atop his blistered flesh. Undeterred Zhadol Borym stayed his ground, looking defiantly up at Egil Viggoaries, his eyes burrowing ferociously into Dark Eunuch’s, he then in resounding voice, loudly challenged him to one-on one personal combat; this was his right, Egil owed him this more befitting a warrior’s end, and that he refused to accept nothing (short) less.    

“Still, no reaction; all right then, he will defy Egil by other means. Pending something better, he   would goad (provoke) the Dark Eunuch using insolent words.”  

 

"You stupid fool!" Egil Viggoaries beat him to the punch however, as he abruptly just then, exploded in a bark. Then rising slowly, he menacingly approached Zhadol Borym until he was only but a hairline away. His right fist clenched, poised to strike. He glowered at his former Commander and then spat contemptuously into his face. "Even now you remain ignorant of your true crime."  He turned and gave a swift, brutal kick to Yennic's head. Stunned, Yennic fell backwards, blood spurting from the deep gash on his scalp. 

Egil Viggoaries’s head snapped back and pressed his face right up against Zhadol Borym's. Gritting his teeth and pointing the accusing finger down at the huddled mass on the floor, Egil Viggoaries spat out the incredible words Zhadol Borym wished he would never live to hear.    

02- EGIL VIGGORIES 11- JP

“You disgust me; for you were played all along; your strings were jerked, like a despicable puppet, by this wretched, insignificant maggot!"  Egil Biggoaries gave a derisive snort and once more violently kicked Yennic Zhiborym hard with the back of his heel just for the sport of it. 

The Dark Eunuch then swung back to Zhadol and rasped, "Your abject weakness sickens (nauseate) me!" Egil with a disdain spat on the ground and haughtily turned his back to his long-time friend Zhadol. His steps thereafter with deliberate slowness mounted the platform, and he returned to his seat.  

Aghast, Zhadol Borym turned his questioning gaze sideways and looked down at Yennic Zhiborym slouched (curled, doubled over) on the ground, then, tilting his head upwards to face Egil Viggoaries, he indignantly demanded, "This is nothing more than a dastardly plot to discredit me. I know it is!  State clearly the crime which I am truly accused of!  Furthermore, I challenge you to muster any proof which would substantiate your implicit (roundabout) claim? False confessions extracted under duress and torture does not count!”   

"Proof," Egil Viggoaries’s thundering bark shook the room.    

"He wants proof." Dark Eunuch addressed the assembly after a derisive laugh.   

 "Proof." Repeating the word third time, at first thoughtfully, then stone faced, Egil Viggoaries reverted his venomous eyes to rest for a time on Yennic Zhiborym, before turning it back again on Zhadol.  

Egil’s face then surprisingly placid (calm); lips formed an eerie, menacing smile. "I had wanted to spare you ignominy (this terrible disgrace, shame), but proof you asked for and proof you shall have."  He shrugged then leaned back and motioned to a guard waiting by the door.   

Zhadol Borym's heart filled with apprehension at that instant with what he might hear. He swallowed dryly; his stomach suddenly tightened into a hard knot; but now it was too late to stop it. The guard had already re-entered leading two members belonging to the “Wraiths” division of Black Molochs. These incorruptible eunuchs, clad in black and wearing face masks to hide their identity, were most proficient at gathering evidence.  They came forward quickly and abruptly halting before Egil

Viggoaries, reverently bowed to him. Such was their status that they were answerable only to the Leader of the Order. From their preamble it turned out that, for some time now, Yennic Zhiborym had been kept under close surveillance.  His every word, action, and habitual need, however insignificant, had been routinely and meticulously documented in the minutest detail. In the interest of brevity, however, Egil Viggoaries ordered them to summarize their findings.   

The spokesperson for the two then recounted the high points, most of which proved extremely embarrassing for Zhadol Borym.  In a very brief time they presented overwhelming evidence, far beyond any possibility of doubt, that Yennic Zhiborym was an informant for the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s Office. However distasteful, Yennic's heinous designs, and Zhadol’s unwitting part in them, were all exposed.   

What is more ignominious to Zhadol Borym was that Yennic's inextricable link to the sabotage of one specific case. This assignment had gone terribly awry and had cost the lives of nine Black Molochs 's most competent men, among whom had been Zhadol 's only living relative, a distant cousin.   

At this point Egil Viggoaries lifted his hand and stopped the report. "You want more culpable (chargeable) proof?"   

Zhadol Borym ruefully (repentantly) looked down, "No, I've heard enough."     

He heaved a dejected sigh, now resigned to his fate. He so absolutely (thoroughly) regretted his past foolhardy ways with Yennic Zhiborym.  Zadol’s shame being far too great, he could no longer lift his head to look at his fellow members. More infuriating still, was the way he had been duped by Yennic and utilized to, in betraying the Order.  The love he had once felt for Yennic Zhiborym had suddenly got supplanted with pure, unadulterated odium (abhorrence, loathing).  Fire raged through his limbs now, as he stared belligerently down at this despicable spy.  If his hands were free, he would have violently torn Yennic limb from limb, and then plugging his heart from his cursed chest, just eaten it raw; however, curbing his fury Zhadol with certain resignation uttered, “Then my allotted punishment is too lenient; I deserve far worse for being so inept.”   

The members of the Inner Circle (of Black Molochs) were appalled at first but now disappointment was starkly written on all their faces, as their piercing, harsh gazes silently remonstrated with Zhadol   Borym.  

“You had so utterly failed us, failed the Order.  You deserve this cruelest end!”  

  

03- IRATE BLACK MOLOCK  AFFILIATES

 

Egil Viggoaries nodded and grinned; quite satisfied with the effects of his theatrics.  He’d anticipated that there might have been some of the Inner Circle who, if they had dared at all, would have debated against his decision to terminate Zhadol Borym in that way; one who, with that sleek tongue of his, would have argued that Zhadol was in his prime, just shy of twenty-eight years of age and was as yet a formidable fighter, still an asset to the Order.   

“Now they’re precisely where, I’d wished them to be.”    

Egil Viggoaries had bridled his temper just long enough to reaffirm his otherwise indubitable, absolute judgment. Now no one in the assembly would dare express the least objection (discontentment) with his next, more arduous agenda (plan, course of action).  Zhadol Borym, well, he was only a lateral casualty. It mattered little to Egil that he had used his long-time friend Zhadol heartlessly as sure bait, knowing full well his weakness and habitual response.    

Egil Viggoaries now laughed sourly and gave a slight gesture to the guards with his chin. 

Dispassionately he watched the bloodied backs of Zhadol and Yennic as they were dragged outside, never to be seen again.   

                                                                                        ~   

   

Egil Viggoaries could have arranged for Zhadol Borym to have a less painful way out; certain drugs which numbed the senses instead of Lubin's usual medicines which enhanced the suffering.  

“Why should I? No,”    

Despite what Zhadol had once meant to him, how much he had done for him. Despite all the daunting images from the past, Egil Viggoaries remained firm in his resolve. He could not allow his hardened heart to dispense least charity; he could not weaken his doggedness (determination) nor feel least compassion for his once intimate companion.  Zhadol Borym meant less than nothing to him now, especially since he had been growing too arrogant of late. At least now he was rid of Zhadol's irksome and sanctimonious presence once and for all, before the so-called friend became more of a problem.   

Egil closed his eyes, quite angry with himself for this sudden, unexpected twinge of conscience. Why was he now second guessing his earlier resolve; had it been Zhadol’s last look that brought this unexpected rush of feelings he had thought long erased (dismissed)? Zhadol Borym was pegged (marked) to be terminated, and that was that!   

Vindictiveness, in Black Molochs ... he was above such ignoble emotions. Egil Viggoaries lied to himself, only to have another thought gnaw at him unexpectedly.   

True enough, if Zhadol had wanted to, he could have made good for his escape, reinforcements, or no reinforcements. Of course, he would have inevitably been hunted down and apprehended, but not before he cost the Order (organization) a dire toll in both manpower (loss of men) and resources. With his competence, it was inconceivable to think that Zhadol, one day, be so gulled, so completely taken in by the likes of Yennic Zhiborym. And why had he surrendered so easily?    

He had deep affections for Yennic…Was that it? Had that fool allowed his capture solely to appeal to the other’s case or die with him?  If that was his reason, then he certainly deserved his ignominious end. He deserved to perish, if for no other (reason) bases than that most contemptable, of weakness. Egil Viggoaries inwardly scoffed, overlooking the fact that he’d so many years been the recipient of that very akin sentiment; those tender, affectionate means and deeds that had filled in the void and warmed the otherwise cold, unfeeling crux of his being. Again, he lied to himself, entertaining the thought that, fortunately, he was above all that.  He had no use presently, for such a base, useless emotion, at all.     

Egil Viggoaries again hard-heartedly shrugged and turned his thoughts to another.  In the next week or two he will be initiating his recent recruit, Yuchemos Mantus, into the ranks of the Inner Circle.

04- YUCHEMOS MANTUS

  

 Yuchemos Mantus, showed real promise, and what is more, he had already subtly ingratiated himself into the good graces of both Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek and Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren.  Egil Viggoaries smirked, reflecting on the fact Yuchemos was the sole male offspring of, Demarco Mantus, head of the most influential family in Channing; hence, strategically placed, he would be most beneficial in fulfilling his (Egil Viggoaries’s) ultimate ambition.   

                                                                                           ~   

In the dark subterranean dungeons below, where the air was permanently rancid, and lichen (moss, fungus and mold) grew on the moist stone walls, Zhadol Borym that night had endured without a whimper the first measure of his punishment, and he had braced himself for the worst torment yet to ensue during the small hours of the same night. The surgeon had left his sight temporarily for repast, with his ghastly, lurid grin and a vicious promise to return and resume later with his special application, one specifically designed for Zhadol, whom he would administer, with definite zeal.    

No one, certainly not Zhadol Borym, had ever hoped or anticipated, the stray element (conduit), the mercifully unexpected reprieve from his ignominious end; this, by another powerful faction, the covert brotherhood of Kozurs, that dared to execute the impossible feat (brazen exploit, stunt).  

Nevertheless, this daring rescue had compounded ramifications; consequently, Egil Viggoaries would never cease (stop) his relentless hunt. Therefore, Zhadol’s Borym’s demise had to be staged so expertly that it would not warrant the Dark Eunuch’s least suspicion.    

In the aftermath of devastating explosions and the resulting seismic tremors, that had rocked the subterranean dungeons in the core capital Channing – that of which had completely obliterated (decimated) the cell which Zhadol Borym had been shackled to on the table, as well,  destroyed the perimeter (vicinity) cells around and above, all of it buried in ashen rubble- it its wake it had created a deep cavernous (yawning, gaping) sinkhole.

Unavoidably, many prisoners and captives’ lives (those in surrounding dungeons) had also (been lost) expired due to the devastating impact of the explosion. Though this could be deemed more an act of clemency to those already lost souls, awaiting interminable (unending) mortifying tortures.   

This breach, naturally instigated (provoked) serious inquiry (examination) by all major factions, including Sovereign Zakhertan’s Black Band Guard (and the shadow Brigade); however, the results (conclusions) all pinpointed to a catastrophic yet bizarre accident, indubitably a fortuity/a fluke happenstance, by a carelessly positioned volatile element which had beget that catastrophic blasts. 

Even subsequent month’s ardent investigations, by the persistent few, still failed to prove otherwise, failed to expose this expertly conceived strike... The details of which had been covertly finalized during the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren’s party given in honor of Scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald. During the time, which Nevetsecnuac had sought refuge and by capricious fate, had chanced on Zaur Stugr and Lenny Sukzor, that memorable night, in the secluded part of the garden.    

Zhadol Borym’s close friends and affiliates were of course stealthily (privately) elated at this outcome, the quick and more humane (lenient) demise of a well esteemed, brave Commander Zhadol, deeming it a mercy of Heaven; for in truth Zhadol was well liked and, he had a quality about him that fostered (beget) intrinsic and lasting loyalty (comradery and devotion) among his men.   

 The Dark Eunuch’s fury, meanwhile, had still demanded blood and so, during ensuing days besides the copious wretched prisoners, many hapless prison-guards that had been on duty that night, and had the misfortune to survive the blasts, had paid for their incompetence (ineptness) and the resulting breach, of the deemed impenetrable prison.    

Eventually things had died down, especially after the ongoing excavations, had produced (unearthed

(dug up, retrieved) several small pieces (fragments) of Zhadol Boerym’s supposed charred remains (corpse) with irrefutable, identifiable markers. These (presented in a box) brought before the still incensed Egil Viggoaries, had finally alleviated (eased) his suspicious and demanding nature.    

                                                                             ~   

(END OF SECTION 2)