THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC

THE ASSASSINS - SECTION 2

Brandt, returning   to his quarters in exalted spirits a brief time later, was surprised to find Duan seated on the bed fully clothed, carefully wiping his blade clean.  When Brandt   advanced towards him to tell of his findings, something in Duan's demeanor told him that, the other (Duan) already knew. Yet, how could he?

Refusing to believe what his brain was telling him; Brandt   parted his lips to speak. Instantly the words froze on his tongue however, when Duan briefly stayed his hand and ejected coldly, "You were careless to have spared them."

DUAN

"What? Have you, but how?” Brandt   asked in bewilderment, now noting the blood-soaked rag in Duan's hand.

Duan snorted in disgust and went on with his cleaning.

Brandt   meanwhile curtailing the feeling of derision and dread that had suddenly overtaken him, walked over to the dressing table that divided the two beds. From a jar he poured out some water into a cup and took a swig to quench his sudden thirst.

 Then with a disdainful air, going over, he sat at the edge of his bed, inwardly seething with rage and, cogitating, questioning the air on how long Duan had been at the scene. Concealed by the night’s shadows, he had witnessed it all, passing judgment on him with those condescending eyes or being entertained by his no doubt deemed soft-hearted approach and incompetence. Then the moment his (Brandt’s) back was turned, the cold-blooded assassin had, without thought to repercussions, struck again, leaving a bloody trail in his wake.

He threw a cursory glance at Duan; the latter was lost in a world of his own. It was as if Brandt   did not exist at all. He only shared his space; Brandt   was a mere trifle, an insignificant bug, a pest to be tolerated.

For how long, that remained to be seen.

Still, Brandt knew by instinct, that Duan would not strike, not till the task was completed. Pending that time, Brandt was resolved to endure all the scorn and mockery and allow Duan to bask in his superiority.

 

After a while when the task (of cleaning) was complete Duan, putting his sword away, reclined with his head on the pillow and closed his eyes in respite, leaving Brandt   still seated at the edge of the bed with countless unanswered questions.

Duan’s mind, currently, briefly took stock of the evening’s activities, before succumbing to sleep:

 “As far back as he could recall he had always possessed a most remarkably retentive memory. On this night, his initial (preliminary) probe within the restricted area of Sacristy, beyond Scroll- rooms and so-called libraries, had been a wasted effort. But then his subsequent, successful breach of the impenetrable vault at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s private residence had been, rather, fruitful.”

Duan shifted his body slightly as he tallied up the abundant pertinent information, far more than anticipated, at present cramming his brain. “It was all laid bare in those secreted scrolls- meticulously chronicled lists and countless subversive activities, courtesy of the Abbot, undoubtedly registered for posterity, in that laughable cryptic form.”

“A most definite noose around their necks; but why log such deleterious proof?”

With a wry grin he shook his head. “Men’s arrogance has always been their undoing. Admittedly, some of the past conspiracies had been extraordinary, bordering on genius, superb feats that had furthered their cause.  The accounts of scheduled drops, the elaborate network of men, each knowing only so much, going only so far, all carefully designed to ensure anonymity. That is why this brilliant organization, the perfect scheme to sustain the Traitor and the other, had thus far eluded for over twenty years or so, all the expanded efforts of the emperor, the local governments, secret agents and countless assassins and more.”

A contemptible, sinister smile briefly brushed his lips. “This den of loyalists will duly be extinguished when first the other more important matter is settled.” He snorted.

“He was close, he could sense it.”

In truth he had been looking forward to the impending mortal combat with the infamous Lord. 

That at least had a certain promise of thrill, a feat that had been so hard to attain lately as no other quite measured up to his competence (martial aptitude). He, nevertheless, quickly stifled his perverse ardor.

 “At present he had left things at the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s residence and private compound just as they were, (seemingly) untouched. Nothing will warn them of the violation.”

Duan’s thoughts reverting to Brandt, for a brief spell he inwardly wondered “how much longer he would have to nursemaid this utter fool, who almost foiled his plans. Still, it was a minor inconvenience, nothing serious to be reckoned with; in fact, it served his purpose well.”

Duan inwardly scowled, as he ruminated (cogitated) on how he had disposed of the dismembered bodies in the most ingenious places; these parts would not be discovered till long after their departure of this abominable den of traitors.

 A fleeting baleful leer registered (materialized) on his hard face, as he envisioned the certain future bedlam and the ruffling of those preen feathers of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn’s.

“But that too would fall well within his plans. When a certain message of warning is dispatched by means of falcon or such, he would be at the ready then to intercept and to take full account of the direction. It would lead him directly to his prey, far quicker still. “

Already bored by the unvaried nature of things and their predictable outcome, Duan was about to drift into blissful sleep, when "Brother, should we not be taking our leave now?” Brandt’s cantankerous query violated the quiet of the room.

Receiving no response, Brandt   swallowed his rage and frustration, went over, and snuffed out the lamp, then still fully dressed noisily threw his body onto the bed. Though he too closed his eyes, sleep averted him and even after several hours of turning, tossing, and trying to make sense to himself his aggravation refused to diminish.

 In pitch darkness where imagined silhouettes danced (bopped) in the air, Brandt   again asked a question, "Brother, where did you dump the bodies?"  But gallingly, the eerie silence persisted.

Matching his inner mood, the room’s stifling air grew to be unbearably more confining, yet despite his discomfort, Brandt   refused to divest himself of his clothes and lay on the bed as is for the rest of the night, nursing a grievance, fuming and trying to anticipate Duan's next move.

 He did not know how, but he must have fallen asleep for, just before dawn he was violently shaken awake by Duan, who then rudely informed him that they were about to take their leave.

Brandt   sprang to his feet at once and hastily began gathering his baggage. Duan had already headed out the door. "Wait up, brother,” Brandt   had scant time to shout, before he too following suit, darted out the door after Duan.

Along the way curious thoughts plagued Brandt’s mind and, soon after, suspicious ones supplanted it (took root). “Why did Duan even bother to wake me up? Why had he not taken his leave, abandoning me to answer for the consequences of his vile deed, unless he has further use for me? But once the task is completed and I have become expandable, what then? Ha, that is what he thinks!”

Brandt   scoffed angrily, grinding his teeth. “We will see who'll snuff out whom in the end!”

Brandt   had hastened so much to catch up with Duan that pearls of perspiration now gathered on his brow despite the frigid morning air.  The stable hands were disgruntled at being aroused so early from their sleep, since the first rays of light had not yet reached the earth, but they dared not voice their discontent to Duan and wiping the sleep from their eyes, complied with Duan’s wishes, grumbling under their breath as they did.

Brief time later, Brandt   and Duan were seen bidding the monks a curt farewell, then holding the bridles of their horses, inaudibly (noiselessly) exiting the guest compounds and the main area. 

They passed through the just opened gates, under watchful eyes of sentry that curiously enough did not venture to question or hinder their clearly impetuous departure. Because the winding path leading from the gate was too steep to negotiate on horseback, they descended the slopes on foot, silent and self-absorbed, engulfed by that tense, eerie (somber) atmosphere, gradually diminishing in size till they were nothing more than specks in that hostile region.

Once the Temple was completely out of sight Brandt, unable to contain his curiosity (prying), yet again inquired after the fate of the two unfortunate monks.  Even then he had to ask Duan thrice before the latter finally consented to give his response.

Brandt’s blood curdled as he listened to the gory details which Duan now callously embellished. Brandt   could not conceal his involuntary shudder, ascertained now more than ever that he was riding alongside (beside) a monster, a creature devoid of (least moral conscience or conduct,) any mercy or remorse who had dared do such vile things to men of the cloth.

The resulting end was the drawn-out boisterous laughter from Duan which pierced Brandt’s ears and further grated his nerves. Brandt   sullenly looked away and bit hard on his upper lip to constrain his bursting fury so as not to compound latter’s perverse satisfaction.

                                                                                    ~

 

Meanwhile back at the Monastery, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had been given the full report pertaining to Brandt Dustin and Duan’s last night’s activities and their hasty, early departure.

MONK KEIR

Monk Keir was irked at having to give his report of failure. Especially since he could not rightly say how he had lost the surveillance on Duan. One moment he was there, the next instant he had disappeared from plain sight. Keir had been assigned to this task because of his proficiency (special expertise), yet he’d failed and failed miserably.  Reading scant clues, he had searched high and low, but Duan’s trace could not be had anywhere; then suddenly after an appreciable amount of time just as mysteriously, Duan had appeared back in his quarters. There was no accounting for his activities, save for that bloody sword that did not bode well at all.

Shingue had done better with his assignment and reported Brandt’s exchange with the monks Fayet and Muro in detail.

After their dismissal, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn with his hands clasped behind his back, paced the length of the room to and from in complete silence, before sitting himself down with an apparent grave heart.

His trusted assistant Prior Skceno waited with due patience for Boqast Tizanzenn to speak. His own reports were just as grim, and he hated adding to his Eminence’s troubles.

“True, Muro’s cover had been blown right from the start, but his life was spared, and so did not fall prey to some accident of sorts, as it served them well to use Muro as counterintelligence without his knowing. They had allowed Muro to make certain observations and send on his reports, on regular basis (intervals) to Capital; only midway these were interrupted and scrutinized, revised then altered to appear significant yet altogether harmless intelligence to their cause.”

“They had perfected the forging of his handwriting so well that Muro himself would not be the wiser if he were ever to be confronted by (or asked to give account for) these. He was also secretly permitted to pursue his passion for inebriation as it kept him out of trouble. Lately, however, he had been more persistent with his espionage, undercover work, call it a hunch, and decidedly more determined to expose suspected proscribed activities within the monastery.  Yet after this length of time, he could not be dismissed or openly discarded without raising undue suspicion from the Department of Internal Security. Now this problem was resolved for them.” He winced when the newly (brief time ago) uncovered gruesome images intruded into his brain and he quickly pushed it aside.

“The vile assassin Duan had to have been dispatched from the Capital also, but he would be dealt with, long before he gained the chance to boast of his wicked (debauched) accomplishments.” Again, it took serious mental constraint to dissipate those disturbing images and focus his attention instead, on the matter at hand.

“The concealment must be precise and absolute.”  Skceno nodded resolutely, pursing his lips.  “Then in a few months’ time, long after the funeral and scattering of ashes, when in an annual report to the Census bureau, the deaths of Fayet and Muro are disclosed to the authorities, in preparation for the sure to be subtle inquiry, the carefully fabricated versions of their sudden demise would have to be already inserted into their personnel records, something believable and mundane, such as a fatal accident (result of a rock/mud slide) or an illness.”

PRIOR SKCENO

Skceno would not rule out the possibility of an insect bite or tainted medicinal concoction. He thoughtfully looked away. “The latter would be a more apt cause, as Muro always dabbled in these arts.”

“Subsequently, an ideal replacement would be sent from the Capital; an excellent candidate amidst the pious few that aspired to join this monastery. He must be on the lookout for that also. For the time being, he absently nodded. I shall omit rather, postpone the horrid, grisly aspects of their slaughter (murder) and instead broach the subject in a more equable light to his Holiness (Grace).”

Skceno’s intent was temporarily stymied however, by Boqast Tizanzenn’s sudden, concerned exclamation. “I cannot rightly put it,” he begun, “for there is no specific proof, no clear indication, least sign (mark) of tampering of the vault, yet I am of the opinion, my personal records have been somewhat violated, examined (or skimmed) by an unsanctioned, unscrupulous being!”

“But how can that be, Your Eminence, even I, your most trusted advisor and assistant, don’t know of the whereabouts or combination of such?”  With certain tact, he had abstained from outwardly mentioning the word vault.

“Yet there had been an intrusion, I’m certain of it!” Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn looked grave, almost angry.

“And it’s not hard to guess who?” He fell silent, pondering on his next course of action.

“Judging by the intelligence they had gathered; he could anticipate the target of the assassins’ dogged pursuit. As failsafe, he could covertly send men after them, but even before this, he must send word, to warn Stark of this imminent peril. Hmmmmm?”

 

                                                                 ~

 

(END OF SECTION 2)

 

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 2

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC 

THE TRIP TO THE MONASTERY - SECTION 2

 

Anticipating tad spare time before their so-called admittance to the grounds, Stark, dawning a patient, placating smile, succinctly and in measured tone next imparted to Teuquob of the fierce struggle that had lasted for more than two hundred years of Wenjenkun’s history between some eighteen religious sects- with the resultant, subsequent fortifications. “Regrettably,” he then reiterated, “at the conclusion of this bloody, turbulent era, thirteen sects with their ritualistic practices, had ceased to exist and their places of worship, along with untold, ancient books bearing incalculable wisdom, rare works of art, had all been incinerated or razed to dust. “

The subsisting five, adopting cautionary measures, had consequently sought to gain the patronage of the reigning monarchs and their overlords. Having succeeded in this aim, these religious orders had for a time enjoyed exemptions from all levies, conscript labor, and further boon, became the recipient beneficiaries of abounding lush tariffs and precious offerings. Naturally, they had flourished in both power and opulence, with their resounding vast religious spheres of influence lasting for decades. When the last sovereign faced the danger of usurpation from Field Marshall Zuronghan and once more the entire country was cast into turmoil by the warfare (skirmishing) between loyalists and supporters of the Field Marshall, these five sects had remained in aloof obscurity, claiming vacillating, irresolute allegiances, pending of course on the outcome of latent battle- to the portended victor.  As a result, they had been spared but only just, from the wrath and the subsequent bloodletting that had ravaged the country from then eventual, victorious Zuronghan, in the wake of his irrevocable ascent to the throne.

Kept under a watchful eye, the small number of temples belonging to these five sects, scattered throughout, in remote, high altitude, inaccessible settings, were allowed to persevere with their precarious existence. Heaven’s Gate Spiritual Temple being one such, only the most devout, well-endowed pilgrims undertook such a daunting task of the trek to here, during the short summer months, as this also happened to be the safest time. Gone were the days when mass amounts of pilgrims, despite the distance and grueling aspects of travel to such heights, still made the journey required for their soul’s eternal salvation. Then also in those bygone days, the steady streams of rich carriages, mounted gentry and ordinary folk on foot, beasts of burden laden with bribes, gifts, and offerings - all contended for space on these narrow stairways leading up to the Temple.

According to each pilgrim’s means- typically sometimes these important guests staying the entire two months - certain provisions would be made within the temple grounds for their suitable accommodation. Private apartments, set in enclosures within the high walls, affording them both privacy and comfort, each with countless rooms complete with kitchen and courtyard, during high season these would be thronged with incessant, beehive activity as most influential guests came equipped with their large entourage of wives, children, stewards, servants, and slaves.

These compounds stood vacant for the ten remaining months of the year; but during high season these and the rest of temple grounds came alive liken to the sleeping giant being awakened. Days were filled with the most elaborate set of ceremonies of worship, whether it is for the sake of the ancestors, or for specific deities, or for other sacrifices. The nights were reserved for modest vegetarian feasting sometimes lasting till dawn, in the wake of charged spiritual lectures, and grueling nocturnal sacred rituals that invigorated the appetite.

At appointed times during the week the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, aged 89 years and who, like his predecessors, laid claim to immortality, presided over the grandest of ceremonies. At this time, acting as host (emcee), His Eminence, through his silent prayers, directly communicated the requests of his guests to the appropriate God in charge.  For all this, privilege the guests paid handsomely.

Indeed, with those days long gone, some aspects remaining the same, the Temple welcomed the devout, affluent few during the summer months; whilst for the remainder, the inaccessible Sanctuary banned ingress to all supplicates. During such isolation, The Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, Prior Sckeno, Precentor Steran, Sacrist Yun, Hosteller Ruwo, Almoner Qure, Celarer Wou, Infirmarian Wuno were proficient in their various tasks. In addition, they and the junior priests along with the novices devoted their time to highly regiment cleansing rituals, prayers and other such cultivation of their souls. Each had to partake in grueling martial exercises, to strengthen the body as well. For humility, no task being too minuscule, they took turns in overseeing certain necessary chores such as working in the kitchens, dormitory, granary, lavatory, infirmary, as grounds’ keeper, work on building repair and so forth. They would cultivate gardens medicinal or otherwise, copy ancient manuscripts, practice art and calligraphy, meditate, and do mental exercises to keep in top physical and mental form.

Notwithstanding, for the purposes of security, Stark had deliberately chosen this particular period, of early spring, to gain admittance to the temple grounds.

The guards at the outposts, positioned in accordance with the four directions of the earth, had already forwarded notice of their approach to the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn. On His Holinesses’ explicit orders, no contradictory action had been taken to dissuade or impede their progress; nevertheless, as added precaution the party had still been detained at the gate house for a spell whilst pertinent things were sorted out.

Most intrigued, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, carefully observing the said object, to ascertain its validity, inwardly questioned, why would latter take such a risk, what indeed propelled him for this dangerous precedence? Then after some moments of thoughtful deliberation, shrugged, He would learn of the reasons soon enough.

His Holiness then gave his consent for their admittance and issued the orders to his subordinates accordingly. All inconvenienced, the monks hurried the novices to open apartments and make ready the necessary rooms to receive the guests.  Meanwhile Stark, Svein and Teuquob were directed to the waiting hall where, with great courtesy, they were shown to their seats and promptly served some fragrant, herbal tea. The horse had already been led away to the stables to be properly looked after there.

 No sooner had the guests finished their hot tea and the cups had been cleared away, then a priest calling himself Lucon, accompanied by subordinate monks, came forth to make official introductions and to extend prescribed greetings and felicitations.

LUKON

 It was then that prudent Stark, deciding on the spur of the moment, had introduced Teuquob and Svein as his offspring.

 Looking at them askew, Stark presently concluded, that the two were indeed most believable as siblings, so, none would question the validity of his claim.

 As the subordinate monks stood to the side, prudish Lucon acting in capacity as the spokesperson for the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, promptly relayed next his superior’s formal greetings, offered proper apologies and gave succinct reasons as to why his superior was presently indisposed to receiving them in person.  

Stark in keeping with this façade, with humble, yet grave demeanor, consistent with protocol- satisfied latter’s subsequent, circumspect inquiries, by offering his apologies in conjunction with his pseudo reasons for their inconvenient (ill-timed), yet compulsory intrusion.

Svein a quick study, had followed suit and played along his part admirably.

For even in this House of Gods, there might dwell unseen eyes and ears of a mole, a conduit for the sweeping tentacles of the reigning monarch that was known for his mistrustful nature.

Allegedly much in demand, Lucon, professing his apologies, had then regrettably entrusted his guests to a disciple Lu and took his leave.

 

Disciple Lu armed with a bound book and writing implements, first dipped his brush in ink and then promptly, with apt efficiency registered in shorthand script form, all the pertinent facts concerning their visit, their immediate and long-term requirements, the planned length of their stay and so forth. After thanking Stark and extending his assurance of speedy compliance with all the noted requirements, he also took his leave.

 Senior Monk named Fayet subsequently coming forth to introduce himself; he then announced that he was entrusted with the task of overseeing to all their personal requirements and needs during the length of their stay.

After their luggage was assiduously carried away by minion novices, portentous Fayet then ushered the honored guests to their hastily prepared quarters. On the way he apologized profusely for the lack of a welcoming committee, and later still, for the inaptness of their rooms, hinting, with brazen audacity, that more appropriate quarters could have been duly arranged had they only abided by the rules and came at the allocated time. Expressing astonishment cloaked in genuine concern, he then blabbed on endlessly about prior patrons that had sought the same but had been typically denied entry and in one or two such instances with the resultant, totally unwarranted reprisals/retaliation, which had been to their person.

SENIOR MONK FAYET

Lost in his own head, he continued mumbling to himself in audible form and venturing a guess that,  surely Stark’s manner of speech that had marked him as a man of great learning and of high position, and that his company also being seemingly significant personages- again deviating from norm of the prescribed rules of their order- they had been exempted from the forthright inquiry into their ability to meet the anticipated expenses.

Though annoyed, Stark kept his temper in check with this inconsistent monk, who with his persistent, not so subtle prying, sought to gain certain insights as to their person and endeavor.

After Stark, Svein and Teuquob were settled in their adjacent quarters they were left to refresh (clean up), have a change of clothing and take some well-earned rest.

The following day they received the expected invitation from the Prior to call on Abbot Boqast   Tizanzenn. Their visit to him, though brief, was still most informative and harmonious.

ABBOT BOQAST TIZANZENN

 Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn brilliant, quite discerning, and wise, was a most spontaneous, charming, unassuming and unconventional priest.  Despite his advanced age of over eighty (89), he was charged with energy and talked and moved with the vitality of a young man. His high office gave him no superior airs and he carried the humblest view of life.

 From the first, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had pretended and so treated Stark as though a new acquaintance, mere stranger; nevertheless, an influential person of means and a potential benefactor, decidedly one held in favor with the present Sovereign and so well deserving of deferential treatment.  This had been enough, though not entirely, to dissuade many resident monks, from unwarranted questions and interest.

 The next evening, according to protocol, the second invite had followed, requesting Stark, his son Svein and daughter Teuquob’s presence at a small ceremonial dinner in the secluded Jade and Gold Harmony Hall.  At this informal gathering the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, coming forward to greet Stark personally, had first inquired after the other’s health and comfort then escorted Stark to the place of honor, on the podium, to seat right next to him. 

Carefully selected small, combined group of covert loyalists, trustworthy associates and other such notable priests that were present, in response to this well calculated feat; expectantly, with their curiosity peaked, they strained their eyes and sharpened their wits, and so easily ingested, regurgitated, the ensued, so-called vital info pertaining to their guests. An accomplished mean, those suspect spies rested easy in mind, that Stark had to have been an influential personage in covert service of reigning monarch, and therefore, one not to be further prod, to be crossed, (to be trifled with,) or informed upon.

All through dinner, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn, endowed with a special gift of the gab, chatted amicably, cryptically with Stark, with nonbeing the wiser; and both in turn was apprised of the most recent developments, in that assumed role of honored guest and host. 

Also deceived, Svein took delight in the animated ease with which two brilliant minds Stark and His Holiness, conversed, in contrast to Stark’s usual reserved air. The contagious sincerity of delightful smiles and harmonious chatter permeated throughout the night, as they partook in that simple, yet most enjoyable fare.

Subsequent morning Stark received the customary request to provide the list of names for which he wished prayers to be offered to, by His Holiness. Stark quickly overcoming the slight mishap, completed the unusual list on the offertory paper provided, in Svein’s presence, so that he too will be in the know. After placing the information in a sealed envelope which had been courteously provided to ensure the guests a certain measure of privacy, Stark then summoned Fayet and handed it over, to be delivered to the hand of the Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn himself.

All during, owing to his training, Svein had most admirably masked his surprise, conducting himself with certain decorum. The instant Fayet and the attendant novices had cleared the room, Stark turning his attention back on Svein, his face bearing the strangest of expressions and forcing a half smile to his lips, he then said, “I am disposed to answer any questions you may wish to pose regarding the list, Svein.”

This unexpected turn threw Svein into a quandary. True, it was his wish to learn who the third name on the list had been, “Asger Thuxur Marrog Zhon” that of which his uncle had inadvertently, what it seemed to have been a moment’s lapsed judgment, had in encrypted form written it down, but then quickly, most meticulously taken the pains to permanently erase all traces of it, and supplanting it with “Furen  Bevrad ”.  First, he had ever seen of it, Svein had been rather perplexed by this presumably mystery relation or clansman bearing the surname Zhon?  More pressingly however, he wanted to know why had Stark, forgoing precaution, had written first on the list, albeit in encrypted form, the late Sovereigns name?

But, abandoning his curiosity of the first issue for the sake of the second and the disquiet it entailed, he replied, “Uncle, please forgive my audacity, but I must question the prudence…. umm, the first name on the list.….? Sir, I meant to say, how you can be ascertained of His Holiness’s….?”” Svein abruptly fell silent, noting Stark’s sudden stern expression, liken to gathering storm, as all color drained from latter’s face.

Now he’s s gone and done it; his uncle was furious with him! 

But, before Svein could explain, “Svein, by your words you have disgraced His Eminence and me.”  Stark’s icy retort resounded in the air. Then quickly curtailing his fury, he hissed: “I am aware of the far-reaching tentacles of that usurper, that villainous, self-proclaimed monarch who now sits falsely on the Celestial Throne...! How dare you be so impertinent as to question the soundness of my judgment?”

STARK

 Too choked up to continue, he abruptly rose and, with a sweep of his sleeves, left the room.

Svein was left in a most distraught state. Seated motionless in his chair, his head hung low, and his eyes stared blankly at the floor.  But his agony was not prolonged, as Stark, in an unexpected turn, re-entered the room in a more calmed state. Svein rushed to kneel before his uncle, offering his most humble apologies, “Forgive me, uncle, for speaking out of turn as I did just now!”

 “How do you suppose, in all the years of seeming isolation, I have been apprised of the most recent, pertinent developments? And where do you think most of your manuscripts that you have so diligently studied, were sourced from?” Stark drawing close whispered in Svein’s ear, same time offering a conciliatory hand, raised Svein to his feet. “Dear nephew, please do not burden yourself further with worry as it was only for a moment, that I had the lapse of judgment, before quickly rectifying it. But you are not entirely in the wrong; for as far as I can note, and His Eminence expressed the same, even in this remote segment, there have been some minor infractions, so called infiltration by the questionable, noted few. But as I understand it, they shall soon, along with their accomplices, be expunged.”

Once more seated, Stark thoughtfully stroked his beard and, after some time, added, “Meanwhile, we continue as before, only, despite all seeming appearances be more vigilant. Teuquob must be apprised of the developments also, especially, where that monk Fa, is concerned.”  Svein nodded his compliance; for Stark needed no further words to make clear his meaning.

But was it an oversight, Svein inwardly queried, why had Fa been assigned to such close quarters, to oversee their personal needs!

 “Sometimes it is better to keep those questionable beings in closer proximity, so as to steer them to the course of seemingly plausible misinformation.” Stark, anticipating this also, simply shrugged. “Regardless, Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn is a discerning man, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“As for the other matter,” Stark then strove to explain, “I am most appreciative of the tact you have demonstrated, despite your curious nature, and the way you have admirably abstained, even now, from questioning me on the supplanted name. I can therefore give you this assurance, when the timing is right, in not-too-distant future, you shall be apprised of the facts, and that is to say, your quandary shall be resolved.” However, Stark falling silent, inwardly professed, I could not leave out the first cryptic name off the list that was non-negotiable!

 “Nevertheless, “he then added in measured tone. “bear in mind that so long as I live and breathe, I was once, and still am, His Late Highness Zuronghan  Therran Valamir’s vassal and, as a son bears absolute loyalty to his father, so must every subject to their Leigh.”

He lapsed into prolonged silence thinking, “By rights, when His Royal Highness ascended into the heavens, I should have followed him there to serve him in the afterlife. But, alas, I must endure this great shame and go on living in this world of shadows a little while longer, because I was entrusted with the responsibility of caring for you, the last of your father’s line and, since I had given my most powerful oath to your father long before this great injustice to my Sovereign, I was bound by honor to keep it. But, once my obligation is fulfilled, and I am free…” Looking away, he again inwardly reiterated. “Yes, only then, can I join my beloved Sovereign and be able to carry peace and contentment in my heart.”

 Emotionally charged, thinking of his forsaken son, his eyelids just then brimmed with tears. But a long time ago Stark had dispatched orders that no action should be taken and in so doing, inevitably condemned his own flesh and blood to a lifetime of misery. The up-to-date news from Abbot Boqast Tizanzenn had again rehashed old wounds. He had hoped and prayed that his son would be spared and his life extinguished long ago. But all this time he had been kept alive, just barely, in a dungeon. Years of torment had so maimed and disfigured   Bern Teodemer Lothair, that informant had been repulsed by the gruesome image (that greeted his eyes), the prisoner more an animal than a being.

Pitying him, he had had entertained the notion of defiance and somehow effect a mercy killing.  Still kept as a decoy to draw Stark or his supporters out, Bern Teodemer Lothair had been so well guarded however, that the informant reluctantly in the end had aborted the intent.

This (fact that so little can be done) had always weighed heavily on Stark’s conscience and now even in this place all he could offer was his silent prayers of solace and perhaps a quick end to his son’s life. But that would not be (happening, transpire); he knew the extent of Zakhertan Yozdek’s barbarism.

All this while, an unspeakable sorrow had also grazed Svein’s heart, as he with shame, presently bowed his head in thoughtful silence. The grave atmosphere of the room dense with raw emotions was suddenly startled, when Teuquob just then knocked at the door and asked permission to enter.

 Before Stark, now composed, voiced his consent, he turned to Svein and mumbled, “Teuquob need not know, the entirety of the list.” 

Svein nodded his head, in understanding. He wished to say more to his uncle, but words failed him. Stark gave a placating smile as he looked sympathetically into the young man’s eyes then, remembering Teuquob at the door, called out to her, his permission to enter.

                                                                                         ~

(END OF SECTION 2)

 

(Stay tuned, for there’ll be more unexpected and amusing developments unfolding in the next post  of “The Trip to the Monastery” – Section 3)