11- LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - EVIL PERSONIFIED - SECTION 8

 

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

01- WORREN YOUKUP AS A YOUNG MAN

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

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

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

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

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

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

02- WORREN YOUKUB IN NIGHTMARE

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

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

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

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

03- WORREN YOUKUP (6)JP

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

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

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

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

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

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

04- WORREN YOUKUP (12)JP

This unexpected, atypical reaction baffled and astonished the steward.  

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

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

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

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

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

05- STEWARD CHUTEK 5- JP

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

06- OTHER STEWARDS AND STAFF

 

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

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

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

                                                                                        

07- GOVERNOR YENOKOS

                                                                                  

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

08- WORREN YOUKUP (13)JP

 

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

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

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

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

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

“What to do? What to do?”  

 

(END OF SECTION 8)

LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC – THE RENEGADE IMMORTAL – SECTION 10 

Lenny Sukzor having eventually returned home bit inebriated (for he needed something to dull his senses), disheartened and exhausted, he had at once retired to his sleeping quarters.

Shortly after, under the cover of darkness the same premises (Under secretary’s residence) yielded one then, after a period another covert (disguised) figure, both emerging from the secret passageway to be swallowed up by the murky (shadowy) street.

The first cloaked figure, heading north, was soon admitted through the secret Iron-gate, and escorted by an armed sentinel, into the prohibited, Inner Palace. Brought before the head of Zakhertan Yozdek’s Special Security force, the spy bowed respectfully and submitted her detailed report.

The second figure took a different path, heading southeast. Hugging the shadows, he quickly made his way to an old section of the city dotted with ancient temples, crumbling warehouses and, an area riddled with secret catacombs known to but a few.  The clandestine meeting was to transpire under the fifth watchtower.

01-

"You are late!"  A figure jumped suddenly out of the shadows to block his path. "A few minutes more and I would have left."

The cloaked figure apologized for the (unavoidable) delay and immediately got right down to business at hand; after receiving the small parcel (containing specific documents) he forthwith gave his personal assurances that all had been arranged to his satisfaction. The lucrative posting was to be his for the asking. This part of the business concluded, he then assured Zunrogo that as per payment for the second item, the gold itself had been deposited in warehouse 56, hidden in a stack of rice sacks.  Holding out the key to the warehouse, and thus the possession of the fee, the cloaked figure then demanded the item in question be handed over forthwith.

"Not so fast!" Zunrogo held out his hand. "How do I know, that is, what guarantee do I have …"

"None.", the cloaked figure was annoyed.

 "If you want to back out because of your short-sighted reservations, then so be it. This meeting is terminated!"  He pocketed the key and abruptly turned his back to leave.

“You have guts, Qunen Yummer.” Zunrogo smiled venomously for, despite the disguise, he had identified (recognized) the voice. The other contingencies he had laid in place in case of future betrayal were at once dispensed with. They were now unnecessary. Qunen Yummer's identity was all the insurance he needed. That very first meeting, when he had been covertly assigned to this other, more important case, Zunrogo had discreetly followed the cloaked agent at the end of their clandestine meeting to find the source of his orders. When the agent had disappeared into the mansion of the Prime Minister, Zunrogo had assumed, with some measure of certainty, who had been his employer; same time comprehended the very nature of this delicate assignment and its grave political implications which had, understandably, warranted such extensive measures. On the point of turning and walking away from Lamont Gudaren’s residence he had witnessed the re-emergence of the selfsame agent.

02- ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 21

Heeding his intuition, Zunrogo had again pursued the cloaked figure through the shadows only to see him disappear for good this time into the fire ravaged residence of Lenny Sukzor. Even so, until this very moment, he had failed to, proof positive identity, his contact. Now that he had recognized the distinct voice, this nagging mystery had been satisfactorily resolved for Zunrogo Tugo.

Qunen Yummer was the assistant to the famed architect Yazune Koz, who was employed to oversee the reconstruction of the destroyed wings of the residence. Naturally, Qunen would reside at the job site as part of his obliged duty until the project was completed.

“How opportune for the Prime Minister, to have an excellent chance (prospect) to spy on the honest and incorruptible Lenny Sukzor just as he was fast gaining in prominence. Hmm…,” Zunrogo mused, “if the Prime Minister is using Qunen Yummer in this way, I should be mindful of the junior architect's future postings. I will have to keep close tabs on him, just in case.”

As for the letter itself, when Zunrogo had first conceived of its true importance he had immediately considered the other avenues open to him for greater gain. He now regretted that decision. Setting those aside, he should have acted on retrieving it that very night after he had seduced (courier) Disaidun Agripe; alas, because of his short-sightedness, it had slipped through his hands and got replaced by the pseudo letter that would have brought about his sure demise. “At least I had avoided that catastrophe; better to admit failure than walk into a sure trap.”  He shrugged. 

"Don’t be so affronted,” Zunrogo now rushed over and hastily grabbed Qunen’s arm, to stop him. “I meant no disrespect.”  After a short apology he explained his real reasons for not accepting the key at this time.  He reluctantly (grudgingly) confessed to his abject failure in recovering the letter; succinctly stated the varied events, excluded (kept out) from the official report, which had transpired on the vessel (boat) and same time laid claim that, he’d been misinformed about the courier Disaidun Agripe.  That she had been duplicitous and same time the stooge, a false lead, but as he had other more promising leads, he presently forwarded his verbal request to his employer, through (via) Quenen, to be allowed bit more time to recover the actual letter.

“What are you really up to?” Qunen Yummer , inwardly scoffed; clearly angry for having wasted his time, he shook his head and then quickly departed the scene.

Zunrogo leered after him, relieved that he had bought (himself) some valuable time till he could figure out his next recourse (option). In truth he had no such sure leads on the letter’s whereabouts, only hunches. Zunrogo with a grim expression, stared thoughtfully for a time in the direction of the disappeared cloaked figure, then he too, advancing in a different direction, was quickly swallowed up by the darkness.

                                                                          ~

 

That same night another cloaked agent, one carrying the actual letter, had detoured to some small measure, backtracking to ascertain that he was not pursued, dogged as he had been few blocks prior.  Assured that he was in the clear he had then taken a decisively abrupt turn and, hugging the shadows as he veered this way and that, finally arrived at his destination.

Stopped by the stout and intimidating (menacing) armed guard at the gate, he at once uttered (pronounced) a seemingly ordinary salutation word, that was in fact (in actuality) the secret password, which allowed him apt (ready) admittance to the inside.

The cloaked agent swiftly advanced through the long, dark hallway which eventually led to a dim room where a clandestine meeting was already (been held) in progress. He quietly removed his cloak (cape) and uncovered his head; standing on attention now, he waited with due patience for his turn to speak.

When Zaur looked at him and slightly nodded his head, he briskly stepped forward and at this close proximity, he promptly presented the letter to the leader of the Sacred Brotherhood of the Kozurs.

"Was there any variation (inconsistency) I should know about?" Zaur Stugr in a low voice asked sternly.

"None to report, sir; It all went according to plan." Kaelan answered respectfully.

03- KAELAN  ( OR CREWMAN ZACK)

Zaur, detecting the ever so slight quaver in Kaelan’s voice, had sensed that Kaelan was holding something back but chose not to dwell on it at present.

From the start Zaur’d been quietly impressed by Kaelan’s courage, integrity, and tenacity.  Relying on these demonstrated abilities Zaur had, for the first time ever, gone against his firm policy of not involving an unseasoned member in matters of serious magnitude; and thus far, he had not been disappointed. He was confident therefore that, whatever was troubling Kaelan, at an appropriate time he would own up to it (make a clean breast of it).  

Turning his back to the assembly Zaur briskly strode to the desk and deposited the letter temporarily into his locked drawer.  Later it would be transferred to a safer home in the vault of the secret room.

Returning to listen to another’s report, Zaur Stugr continued to study Kaelan from the corner of his eye, as he same time, reflected on how hitherto, exceeded all expectations, invaluable this recent recruit been to their organization.

Unexpectedly just then Zaur was reminded of another outstanding recruit, a double agent no less, who had achieved a remarkable feat in a noticeably short while, won the Prime Minister's confidence sufficiently well enough, to be assigned to reporting on the actions of Lenny Sukzor.  His instructions had been to, by any means procure vital facts concerning this highly respected minister that could be of some use for future extortion or, to be merely employed (in some underhanded scheme) simply to be degraded (sullied, brought down) a notch or two when he got too powerful. And so, over the course of the ensuing weeks and months Qunen Yummer had dutifully fed the Prime Minister with profitable, juicy, and slightly harmful bits of data.  The items of real significance and those that were most damaging however, had been covertly and in regular intervals furnished to Zaur.

04- QUNEN YUMMER (15)JP

The final pay-off had come when Qunen had stumbled onto Lenny Sukzor’s secret identity as a Black Molochs and his involvement in this business of the Lord's extortion. Moreover, by his determining the last whereabouts of the (source) extortion-letter, Qunen had provided the Kozurs with the trump-card they had been waiting for.  Acting on this information at once, Zaur had conceived of the plan to involve Zunrogo Tugo. The summons of the scholar Fradel Rurik Korvald had been Heaven-sent, for it had also provided Kaelan (the strategically positioned mariner in that vessel) with the plausible cover to effectively conduct his key covert mission.

 Considering the result, Zunrogo's terms of payment had by no means been unreasonable or objectionable.  The Kozurs had been able to settle an old score by discreetly disposing of a corrupt and incompetent official, leaving his coveted post open for the promotion of one such as Zunrogo Tugo. Part of Zaur’s vice-ministerial duties involved selecting top candidates and their placement in apt (suitable) official posts.  As the final decision rested with the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren, Zunrogo had been furnished with the needed qualifications, and then presented as the best option (candidate) to fill the vacant post.  The Prime Minister had already been favorably disposed towards Zunrogo and quite impressed by the captain’s abilities, was only too willing to give his approval of the appointment. 

The funds Zunrogo had requested were but a trifling sum, considering the vastness of the reserves contained in the Kozur's vault; meanwhile another covert undertaking was to, decidedly seal, Zunrogo’s fate.

Not long after the anticipated word had reached Zaur that Kaelan, executing the plan flawlessly, had retrieved the coveted prize and then replaced it with the pseudo one. As Zaur Stugr had waited for the delivery of the letter itself, Zaur had weighed his options carefully and in the end had settled on the best recourse:  For the time being he would postpone any direct action and instead, utilize his competent agent Kanbi Dayu who was strategically positioned in the palace.

Posing as one of Egil Viggoaries's underlings, Kanbi as per instructed had discreetly contacted the maid Nijel Ping, Lord Shouzi's spy in the Palace, and then passed on in a seemingly involuntary manner the secret news that the Dark Eunuch was no longer in possession of, the blackmail letter.  For reasons of security, Kanbi had since then been reassigned to a more distant post (a different taskforce, team) in a maritime province, where their (Kozur’s) smuggling operations demanded closer scrutiny.

“Let the tigers turn on each other.” Zaur at the time had gloated, thinking of the future developments that would soon be manifesting between Egil Viggoaries and Lord Shouzi.

“Blackmail...?”  Well, that consideration was last on his extensive list of options. As it were, Zaur’s mind had already been set on the precise, most tactically opportune point in time where which to expose the Lord and his powerful affiliates. 

After Egil Viggoaries’s efforts were curbed or utterly frustrated Zaur, working through a third party would then win Lord Shouzi's confidence and, by colluding and tapping into his Lordship's resources, weaken the central government and consequently erode some of Sovereign Zakhertan Yozdek’s iron grip.

05- ZAKHERTAN YOZDEDK  (42) JP2

For some time now Zaur Stugr had been the surreptitious, real force (power) behind most of Lamont Gudaren’s ingenious machinations; nevertheless, it’d suited Zaur’s purpose well to have His Excellency claim full credit since it also lulled the P.M. into a false sense of security. 

“This most recent, sordid business with his nephew Yekov…” Zaur's mind had just then strayed, as he’d listened to Xifon Therrang's long, boring report.  “I cannot rely on those clumsy minions of Lamont’s to successfully carry out such an important task.  There is no room here for even the slightest margin of error; therefore, I must see to it at once that this business with Yekov is promptly and efficiently squared off (away).  Egil Viggoaries had already made (attained) great strides in his attempts to ensnare Lamont Gudaren with that business of the fire at Lenny Sukzor’s residence.”  Zaur Stugr waved his hand to stay Xifon’s report.  He had heard enough. Xifon Therrang bowing quietly stepped back.

Zaur now turning to the specific group in the room, he curtly dispensed his orders, "I want the word passed on to Koniko and Satoro that Yekov Gudaren is to meet with an unexpected accident within the fortnight. All evidence incriminating the Prime Minister is either to be destroyed or discredited."

Xifon Therrang’s tedious (tiresome) report had been the last one on the list; this night’s meeting hence, had presently come to a natural conclusion. Zaur was about to dismiss all when Kaelan again pressed forward decisively and bowed deeply.  He was now resolved to unburden himself, even if it meant his death.

"Something else," Zaur asked sharply impatiently turning to face Kaelan.

Unflinchingly, Kaelan looked Zaur straight in the eye and resolutely responded, “Sir, my mission was not entirely successful. There was another covert agent on the vassal whom I fought but could not defeat (best), so I fled with the letter. I also suspect that it was he who had fought and vanquished indomitable Lance Diostin, not Zunrogo Tugo. The cur took the credit for it nevertheless.” Kaelan swallowed hard. “He must have also at one point discovered the letter, which he had retrieved from secret courier Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi)’s body, was false and disposed of it; hence, escaping dire repercussions from P.M. Lamont Gudaren. Zunrogo Tugo’s presence in capital is proof of that. For these irregularities, I therefore, respectfully ask to be punished."  Head bowed; with intrepid resignation he awaited the dire verdict (consequence).

Zaur grimaced (frowned), studying Kaelan for a long while, and then nodded.  "Your failure in this instance can be forgiven."

06- ZAUR STUGR JP (4)

Zaur Stugr, seeing the puzzled expression on Kaelan’s eyes, he elaborated. "It may have actually worked out for our benefit.  Zunrogo will now believe with impunity that he has superior fighting ability, far more than he has.  Besides, he will be too wary of reprisals from the Black Molocks for killing one of their own, Lance Diostin. Faced with disappointing P.M and danger from Black Molocks, he may choose to flee.  If he does, he can much easier be disposed. “

“Either way we are well rid of him. So as far as I’m concerned, the matter has been satisfactorily resolved.  In the unlikely event that matters may go awry and take an adverse turn, then I would expect you to do the right thing.  Until then we are in need of your services."

Kaelan bowed in gratitude and thanked Zaur with unfaltering devotion for the chance to serve the Brotherhood once more.

Meeting dissolved, Zaur Stugr had stayed behind a while longer to ponder on a concern. 

Earlier this night, another, a valuable double agent known as Qunen Yummer, had expressed certain irregularity, a part failure, in his assigned task and, had as well, asked to be punished.  His guilt being that he had failed to obtain the letter which he then, would have presented to P.M. Lamont Gudaren and brought about Zunrogo’s ignoble death. But Zunrogo discovering letter’s falsehood had destroyed it; choosing to instead, admit (disclose) his failure as well, forego the payment. More importantly, during this clandestine meeting, Qunen had been, because of his cadence (voice), identified by Zunrogo.  Since part of his cover had been blown, and he’d been identified as P.M.’s secret agent, he’d asked to be duly (accordingly) punished or sent away. At the time this had seemed critically (disapprovingly) serious, as it had limited the agent’s efficacy (effectiveness); nevertheless, Zaur had provisionally (with reservations) postponed his final judgement on this matter. In view of Kaelan’s bold disclosure (confession, admission), Zaur at present was relieved to know, that he would not have to resort to drastic measures after all.

 

                                                                          ~   

(END OF SECTION 10) 

 LEGEND OF NEVETSECNUAC - ON THE WAY TO THE CAPITAL - SECTION 30

Zunrogo had not been bluffing, when he had earlier subtly hinted to Disaidun Agripe that he knew far more than he was letting on.  Few weeks prior, he had in fact, from the painstakingly gleaned information, pieced it all together to determine just who had written the letter and, more importantly, the contents of it.

01-SHOUZI YOZDEK 1 JP

Lod Shouzi Yozdek, only two years Sovereign Zakhertan’s senior, as children the two had been (inseparable) thick as thieves.  In fact, up till puberty, the mischievous duo, which shared similar characteristics and interests, had once embarked on many hair-raising adventures to nosh (nourish) their innate, perverse appetite for carnage. But for unknown reason or reasons, their close kinship had abruptly and drastically altered (changed) when the two were in their mid-teens; aside from the estrangement, it also transformed their once close bond to that of stealthy, adversarial one in nature.  

At any rate, well before His Highness Zakhertan Yozdek had solidified his rule, his second Cousin Lord Shouzi Yozdek, long since discontented with Zkhertan, had once colluded with Kujoge Yozdek to overthrow Zakhertan in an uprising.  In a moment's madness, forgoing his usual precautions, Lord Shouzi had sent a confidential letter to Kujoge, with certain incriminating words and some details of intended rebellion, with his trusted steward.  Unfortunately, the letter was intercepted, and the mutilated corpse of the steward was, after a frighteningly long time, sent back to Lord Shouzi with a single letter "R" carved into the corpse's chest.

Plotting a rebellion had always been regarded, by Zakhertan, as the most grievous of crimes; hence, even members of the Royal family were not exempted (spared) from the (horrendous) extremely abominable punishments.  Of course, the plot had been abandoned and all plans scrapped or, as Zunrogo suspected, temporarily postponed.  Since then, however, His Lordship Shouzi Yozdek had been living under the fearful dread of his entire family’s (his precious sons, as well as his wife’s family’s, this going back ten generations,) utter annihilation (extermination); meanwhile, his vast resources (funds, assets) were being perpetually (continuously) drained with exacting extortions (blackmails, shakedowns) from an indomitable secret foe (source).

Last two years Lod Shouzi had paid the steadily increasing ransom amount without fail, but of late, more was required of His Lordship, some of it highly dicey. In time the extortionists’ demands became even more unsavory, further contemptible.  The vile deeds which His Lordship Shouzi Yozdek was forced to commit, forever hunted the Lord’s conscience, and made him quake in dread. He spent many terror-struck days and evenings fearing his ignominious end, or worse, of his own flesh and blood beloved’s sons’ abduction and reprehensible demises.

Wishing to put an end to this intolerable (nightmarish) situation, His Lordship had naturally enlisted the help of his longtime friend, the Prime Minister Lamont Gudaren and they had jointly employed every covert means, sparing no effort or expense, to find the letter and wipe out (bring an end to) the would-be culprits. But despite years of effort, the perpetrators had ingeniously eluded detection, till now.

02-ZUNROGO TUGO - JP 23

Zunrogo mentally patted himself on the shoulder for his latest, crucial string of successes, and then turned his attention back to the woman.

Notwithstanding (despite) his seeming disinterest in the letter, his subsequent manipulative questions and the specific reference to the pouch and its seal, had presently (currently) beguiled Disaidun Agripe (Miss Jepipi) into suspecting that he already had the letter in his safekeeping.

“But how could he have stolen it without me knowing it? He did not lay-a-hand-on-me. And certainly, I’ve never not once, left it out of my sight. Earlier, roughed up by that beastly guard Tzan, could he have …? “

 Disaidun Agripe’s heart palpitated wildly just then and, as consequence (result) of the seed of doubt that he had so firmly planted in her mind, she absentmindedly placed her hand over the hidden pocket near her bosom.

“No, thank goodness, it's still there!”  Nevertheless, she knew she had been careless, way foolish, to even suspect that it could have been nabbed.

Disaidun threw Zunrogo a contemptuous look. “Well played…You think you're so smart, don't you?  All right, so you got me to betray its whereabouts, but you'll get it when Hell freezes over! “

“Furthermore, I have you know, I’m not afraid of death.” She then inwardly lied. “I’ll destroy it if you even so much as try.  Just try it!”  She sized up the distance to the cabin's porthole. Could she be fast enough?

Zunrogo had been thoroughly entertained by the web of conflicting emotions that had passed over her face, surmising the array of her thoughts.  “How delightful she was when issuing those silent threats.  How utterly delightful! “

“But now, it was time to put an end to this fun and plunk her in her proper place.”  Smiling mischievously, he asked, "How long has it been?"

"How long?"  Disaidun Agripe raised her eyebrows.

"Don't play coy with me.  How long has it been since you've had a good one?" he grinned.

This time she caught his meaning.  Her eyes hardened.  Glaring at him she snarled, "Since you seem to know everything, you tell me."

"Oh, why articulate such righteous anger?  You were proud once to be so well sought after in high circles.  You should be flattered that your reputation precedes you, even after all this time."

"That's right," she frowned. "That was all in the past.  I've buried it (former life) long ago."

 She’d denounced it hotly, indignantly then, lowering her head, ejected sadly, "It's so cruel of you to dredge up the past.  It all happened then, before I knew any better, before I had any sense."

"Before you were under eighteen years of age, I believe," Zunrogo cut her short, unfazed.

Truncating her subsequent, near comical retort and words of self- pity, "And don’t forget, just four months before your enlistment into Secret Society of KokuTizanrez…. Only eighteen, eh?  Still, even in that short time you had built yourself up quite a reputation, didn’t you?  Learned a few good tricks too, I'll bet."  He asked forcefully.

"But tell me, how was Zohuj Kez?  How does one worm one's way into the black heart of a eunuch when he lacks the proper equipment to satisfy a woman's desires?  You must indeed be exceptional."

The question had achieved its desired effect and Disaidun Agripe blushed profusely.  “Incredible,” Zunrogo shook his head in disbelief, “after all that she's experienced, succumbed, all she’s been through, the vixen can still blush!”

"How dare you!  What gives you the right to talk to me that way?" She cried out indignantly, trying to hold back her tears but she'd taken this insult to heart and, in-order-to shield herself from his piercing gaze, looked away as two defiant strings of saltwater pearls rolled down her cheeks.  Covertly, she wiped them away as she kept up the angry response, determined not to afford Zunrogo the satisfaction.

He threw his head back and laughed coldly, viciously with sure delight.

“Now she'll be ready.  Oh, but look how frantically she tries to purge guilt and shame from her heart.  How desperately she strives to maintain her dignity and prove me wrong. Oh, poor little vermin (mice), I almost feel sorry for you!”

In the ensuing moments, however, he sustained his heartless prodding, poked fun, and unreservedly enjoyed observing (watching) the predicted change taking root in her, the whole time each struggle ensnaring her deeper and deeper into his tightly woven net.

Disaidun Agripe realized too late that she was hooked, well and proper.

Earlier on she had discerned but foolishly ignored, her intuit warning, that her worst nightmare was about to come true.  Her feelings vacillated to each extreme, according to what he said.  Each tone of his voice seemed to manipulate her responses independently of her will.  Despite her valiant efforts to deny the feelings raging inside her, his insinuations, his rude, suggestive remarks both irritated and enticed her.

Satisfied with the end-result, Zunrogo eased off a bit, though by no means was he through toying with his prey.

“Now let’s see just how ambitious you are.”

 The time was now ripe to tempt her with some purpose, some hope.  Would she take the bait?

 "But tell me, “He changed the subject, "hasn't a capable girl like you ever aspired to some greater goals in life?"

"As if I have a choice," she huffed; the words had poured out of her unbidden.

Checking her discomfiture, she stared back at him questioningly.

03- DISADUN AGRIPE JP 222

“No sense appealing to his sympathy. He has no heart, no understanding.”

 What she had heard about him was all true; he was a cruel and manipulative brute.

“Oh, what's the use?” She hung her head.

She (for a time) thoughtfully affixed her gaze onto the floorboards of the cabin, to hide her deep resentment for him; then, bit the corner of her lip to get a grip and, again, looked askance at him.

“Why did you insist on dredging up the past, if not to humiliate me?  What was the point of all those mean, nasty questions? What am I supposed to believe when, you are stern (harsh, demanding, hardhearted) one instance then turns unexpectedly judicious (fair) and humane (caring, gentle, kindly, charitable) the next…Oh, my brain is so befuddled with all these mixed messages?  What could you possibly want from me besides that, same old, oh …?”  

Suddenly she recalled what he had said earlier on that he may have certain use for her in future.

 “Is he, by any chance, thinking of recruiting me?  Is this just a test?”  Narrowing her eyes, she overtly scrutinized him. “Why else? “

Suddenly Disaidun Agripe bounced back out from her deep depression.  “Then I'll show him a thing or two and just what I'm made of; but first, I’ll get him back for putting me through all that grueling.” she inwardly swore.

“I’ll show him that I have what it takes; then I’ll refuse him flatly.”   Her confidence fully restored; she had the spunk to plan apt retribution (payback).

Zunrogo grimaced as he surmised this turn in her thoughts. It was precisely what he had hoped to make her feel at this point.

“Nearly half the work is done; good!”  He sat back and braced himself for her anticipated questions.

"Why have you sent for, me?" Disaidun shifted uneasily in her seat, her soul unknowingly bending to his whim

"Two reasons." Zunrogo answered gravely after a deliberate, painful pause.  "You did say they meant nothing to you, but how do you feel about that old official, Luvet?"  He looked at her meaningfully.  He had had him checked out.  He was clean.  He was not a spy.  Still, he strove to be certain, to leave no loose ends behind.

"The same," Disaidun Agripe shrugged coldly.  Then, understanding fully what he expected of her, she asked, "You mean all three?"

"Is that a problem?"

"No.", she shook her head spontaneously, studied Zunrogo for a moment then nodded her cold commitment.  "Consider it done."

"It must look perfectly natural, you understand."

"No problem."  Her confidence mounting, already she had conceived the plan in her mind; it had been played out many times on countless opera stages.  "No problem at all. You'll see, even you will be impressed.”

"Good."  Zunrogo was pleased.

“What?  Not curious about the details, not in the least?”  Disaidun thought she was the mastermind of this brilliant plan, not realizing how subtly, methodically she’d been manipulated to contribute to this specific plot. As she was most eager to earn his praise, she now readily volunteered the specifics all in one burst. The simplicity and efficiency of her ideas did please him, but all he let show was his slight amusement.

"You said that there were two things.  What's the other?"  She, with racing heart, eagerly asked.

"Not so fast." Zunrogo chuckled at her keenness.  "Don't you want to know why?"

"Not particularly." Disaidun Agripe lied.  In truth, she was dying to know the reason.

"Good, then I’ll save my breath.”  He paused to watch her desperate attempt to remain calm, to control the emotions erupting within her.  He was sorely disappointed in her.

“You'll have to do better than that.  You're not so hard after all, and you can be read like a book.  One wonders how you've managed to survive this long unless you've fortuitously dealt only with morons!”

He's still testing me; she raised her hurt filled eyes up to him.  “Am I measuring up?”

"Perhaps,” His icy, spontaneous answer startled her.

 But then, “why be so surprised?  So, he’s discerning my thoughts. I made no conscious effort to conceal them.” She inwardly lied to herself; then, looking at him squarely in the eye, she asked: "You would really consider recruiting me?"

“No…It depends."

 The vague answer exhilarated her, nevertheless.  It was more than she’d hoped for.  A hint of gratitude and joy registered in her eyes as Disaidun looked at him needing, searching for some sort of confirmation.  Then a sudden darkness cast its shadow over her dreams. 

She lowered her eyes and shook her head in deep despair, "No, it can never be.  I'm under contract."  Disaidun looked up at him tragically, "They'll kill me before they let me go.”

“I…  I know too much."  Even this low-level assignment she was on had been sanctioned by their leader, of that, she was sure.

“Silly girl; even if I were to consider this in earnest it would not be their opposition I would be concerned with.”

Instead, he fed her further hope, "They are small fish.  They would not dare go against my wishes."

"Oh, I'd be ever so grateful."  Disaidun’s heart palpitated wildly.

Looking up at him with certain elation, as if he was some demigod, she utilized her winning feminine charms, wanting, needing further affirmation; but again, his unexpected stern composure froze her, dead on her tracks.  She abjectly (grimly) lowered her head and kept her silence.

"Your gratitude is premature.” He ejected coldly at this point, suppressing his laughter.

 "You have not yet proven your suitability, and there is still the High Council's decision yet to be made.  However, I may be able to sway their decision if I could tell them how you...” he deliberately left the rest hanging in air.

 

(END OF SECTION 30)